#kids name necklace for mom

[nomairuins]

RLY EXCITING STUFF i got to be on parttime tooth fairy duty for the first time ^_^

[reshinless]

sylus is a girl dad.

sylus whose daughter loves telling everyone hi, with a wave and a cheeky smile (in hopes to find a mom and a wife for her papa)

she, who bumps into you while running around the candy isle.

"oh sweetheart, are you okay?" she immediately gets up to see who she bumped into-

"oh wow.. you're so pretty, lady!" she cheers as you pick her up. "mmhm? where's your parents, honey?" you search signs for any parents.bmaybe she was just wandering?

no no, a kid with this type of fashion would not just 'be roaming around'. she had a necklace with her own name on it.

"my daddy would like you." the small white-haired little girl looked at you with awe. playing with your hair as she leaned onto your chest, as if she was ready to call you mom.

you started to walk around the store, asking around if they'd seen her parents. but every stranger you met- to no avail did you get to find any clue. let alone the man himself.

"sweetheart, do you know what you're papa looked like?" tucking in one of her stray strands of hair behind her ears as she nods her head. "yeah, handsome and very nice. he is very tall too! and.. ummm... he has my hair!" huh.. you couldn't find anyone else that seemed to have similar hair to hers.

"ah, there you are scarlett. don't roam around aimlessly. you heard a low voice coming from behind you. oh this must be her father.

oh- wow. he was definitely a lot more different than expected. you expected an appearance similar to the way his little girl had dressed. "papa! look i found pretty woman!" she pulled on your collar, asking you to get closer.

'you.. you're her dad?" you looked back at the little pearl you had in your arms, she was wearing all pink and a dash of white. and compared it to the man in front of you's look. a black suit paired with a few touches of red here and there.

you chuckled at first, getting to converse a little deeper with the tall man, although he looked scary, he was not as unfriendly as he seemed.

"you're good with kids, hmm?" the white-haired male hummed, looking into your e/c eyes, he definitely could hold it. "I suppose!" you cheer as you watch the small girl run back and forth, grabbing unhealthiness off the shelves.

"miss! can you pretty please buy this for me?" she grinned, oh what a cute little smile! sylus suddenly stopped you by your shoulder; "I'm really sorry for her behavior, she doesn't usually act like this. scarlett, go put it back." the last of his sentence almost sounded nice, but a twinge of anger in it. well, understandably..

"don't worry, i can buy it for her. which one did you want again?" you stepped closer, kneeling down to her level, watching her point out what chocolate bar she wanted.

he had to marry you.

after a quick trip to the counter, the small girl happily munched on her candy, smiling a teethy grin at you. bits of chocolate over her mouth. "hey, careful now, chocolate can stain easily.." you walked to her, wiping her mouth with a part of your clothing.

"hey- you didn't have to do that." sylus was too late to stop you, the mocha already stained onto your shirt. "huh? oh it's nothing much really, I'm fine. they're just clothes anyway."

"let me repay you."

"no, no need really!"

"let me."

"no! it's fine!"

he grabbed your hand not too roughly, but places what looked like at least one-thousand dollars?!

by the time you looked up from counting the money, he had already gone. oh, what's this? a note?

"call me XXXX-XXX-XXX when you find something." huh. his number? now that's interesting!

[gullei]

[plomegranate]

i love palestinian and arab culture so much.

my grandma wearing thobes around the house and making us tamriyeh. my cousins wedding when we all wore thobes and keffiyehs and took photos downtown and we danced with someone playing the guitar on the street and this lady stopping us to tell us we all looked so beautiful. walking the graduation stage in a thobe. the girl who liked to guess arab peoples ethnicities telling me "you're wearing tatreez... do you want me to write 'palestinian' on your forehead?" the keffiyeh my brother keeps on the drivers seat of his car.

my dad sending me off to my last semester of college with 2 pomegranates and a jar of palestinian olive oil. my cousins wife coming up with new ways to make zaatar and cheese pastries. me and my grandma sitting on the floor and making waraq 3neb- my job was to separate the leaves so she could roll them easier. my mom sending me and my brother to school with eid cookies for my teachers and tasking us with delivering some to the neighbors. my aunt glaring at me and piling more food on my plate and then asking if i was still hungry (i wasnt). my mom always telling me to invite my friends and cousins over for dinner and asking me what they like to eat. my family getting my dad knafeh instead of cake for his birthday. the man who told me i made the "best fetteh in the western hemisphere".

the man in the shawarma shop who gave me my fries for free and baklava i didnt order because we spoke about being palestinian while he took my order. the person on tumblr who i bonded with because we are from the same palestinian city. the girl i met on campus who exclaimed "youre palestinian? me too!" because i was wearing my keffiyeh. the girl in my class that showed me the artwork about palestine her dad made and donated for fundraising. the couple in the grocery store who noticed my palestinian shirt and talked with me for 20 minutes and ended up being a family friend. the silly palestinian kids i tutored sighing in disappointment when i told them i was born in america because they were hoping that id have been born "somewhere cooler". my friends family who bought me dinner despite me being there by chance and having met me for the first time the day before.

the boys starting uncoordinated dabke lines in my high school's hallways. the songs about the longing and love for our land. the festivals and parties and gatherings where everything smells like shisha and oud. memories of waiting in the car for an hour as my parents talked at the doorway of their friends homes. my cousins and i showing up at each others homes with cake or fruit or games as if it was the first time we ever visited even though we always say "you dont have to".

kids stubbornly helping to clean and make tea after a meal while being told to go sit down because they are guests. the necklaces in the shape of our home countries. people hugging and laughing and acting as if theyve known each other for years because they come from the same city or know people with the same last name. the day i finally got to bully my friends into letting me pay the bill because i had a job and they were still students. my moms friend who calls us every time she's at the grocery store to see if we need something

palestinian people are so resilient and hardworking and charitable. they love their culture and their community and are so quick to share and welcome anyone in. everyday i am so thankful and proud to be part of such a warm and lovely culture

[teapartyprincess4two]

Can you make a Latina reader x Matt sturniolo smut? You can make it up how you want it

Lipstick- M. Sturniolo

pairing: Thick!Latina!reader x Boyfriend!Matt

classification: fluff, smut

inspiration: request^^

translations: embedded within the story!

warnings: 18+, MDNI, literal sex, use of Spanish, Hispanic/ Latino culture mentioned, established relationship, slight cursing, traditional parents, mentions of alcohol, didn’t name any of the side characters, long

summary: Matt’s nervous to meet your family, but after making a good impression you treat him to a night full of kisses and lipstick stains.

—

Matt sits in the living room, nervous hands playing with the keys that hang from his belt loop. Your mother keeps him company, sitting on the sofa across from him as she asks him a plethora of personal and uncomfortable questions. Latina mothers are unashamed to prod into the personal life of others, especially when meeting their daughter’s boyfriend for the first time.

You’ve only been dating Matt for a couple of months, and although he seems like a nice kid, she’s not entirely sure she can trust your judgment just yet. The few boys you’ve brought home before haven’t always necessarily met her high standards. Matt hasn’t done anything to throw her off yet, but she’s sure she’ll find something to dislike. If he manages to stick around long enough, though, he’d surely grow on her.

“So what do you do for work?” your mom asks, momentarily looking up from her latest costura project to catch Matt’s anxious gaze. She expertly weaves the string in and out of the white lace, forming an intricate floral design in the process.

[translation: costura- sewing]

“Oh um… my brothers and I we make YouTube videos,” Matt doesn’t know where to look, he’s afraid to make eye contact but also afraid that if he doesn’t it’ll come off as disrespectful. He’s never been so nervous in his life, and from the look on your mother’s face he can tell that that’s probably not what she wanted to hear.

Your mother scoffs, obviously unimpressed with his answer. “Esta niña, siempre saliendo con los más huevones,” she turns her head towards the stairs. Matt’s been waiting for you to descend for over 30 minutes, and the awkward tension was even becoming too much for her.

[translation: “This girl, always going out with the laziest ones.”]

Matt coughs, taking a quick swig of the water bottle in front of him. He’s nervous, his hands are clammy and he has no idea what your mom just said. What was taking you so long?

“So is YouTube gonna pay the bills?” your mom was abrasive and she knew it, but she couldn’t help it. In her eyes, nobody was worthy enough of her babygirl. Matt remains silent, he doesn’t even know what to say, so she continues, “You know, when you two start having kids.”

The thought of having children at 20 years old terrifies Matt beyond belief, he can feel his hands getting clammier by the second. He understands that it’s a cultural dissonance, though, so he keeps his mouth shut. “We’re not planning on any kids soon, ma’am. We haven’t— Um, we haven’t really talked about it,” his voice trembles slightly, your mom was doing a good job of intimidating him.

Matt takes another swig of his water, his mouth was dry and he felt like his throat was closing up. “Oh, but you’re having sex with my daughter right?” the question is so unapologetically bold that it causes Matt to choke on the liquid, some of it managing to dribble down his chin.

“I’m sorry?” he chokes out, but he heard your mom loud and clear.

Finally, as if on queue, Matt hears footsteps coming down the steps. ‘Finally!’ he thinks, watching as your curvy figure rounds the staircase and enters the living room. Matt shoots up from his spot on the couch, his eyes immediately dancing over your entire body.

You’re wearing a fitted, black bodycon dress that reaches just above your knees. The spaghetti straps work to hold your bust in place, a gold necklace dangling delicately above the curves of your breasts. You push your freshly curled hair onto your shoulders, luscious locks framing your face perfectly. White lace-up sneakers adorn your feet, your ankle bracelet glimmering as you walk into the living room.

Matt can’t keep his eyes off of, every aspect of your being pulling him in and putting him in a trance. Your mom notices Matt’s inability to hide his attraction for you, “her eyes are up here!” His face goes beet red, eyes immediately darting up to your face.

You roll your eyes before sending Matt an apologetic smile, “Ya nos vamos, Ma.”

[translation: “We’re leaving, Ma.”]

“Bueno, mi niña. Pórtate bien,” she warns, bringing you in for a strong, warm embrace. Your mom’s change in behavior is so quick it gives Matt whiplash, but he can’t blame her for being standoffish with him. He understands that it’s her mother bear nature.

[translation: “Okay, babygirl. Be good.”]

You kiss your mom on the cheek, your red lipstick staining her face. You turn to Matt with a big, toothy smile sprawled onto your face. “You ready?” you ask, taking his hand in yours as you guide him outside. He nods and hums in response, squeezing your hand as he trails behind you in a lovesick daze. Your ass jiggles with each step and Matt wonders how he ever got so lucky.

“Sorry for taking so long,” you apologize once you’re in the car, getting situated in the passenger seat. “No problem. You look really beautiful,” he replies, starting the car and doing another once over on your body. You lean over the center console with puckered lips, “kiss?” He happily obliges, your red lipstick instantly transferring onto him. His pants are becoming tighter by the second and you notice it right away. Your relationship is still in its infancy, so even this has you blushing.

“Was my mom nice?”

“Mm yeah, some like that,” he replies with a chuckle, adjusting his pants and beginning the drive to your destination. You know he’s lying, but you’re grateful that he’s courteous enough to put up with your mom’s attitude.

“Just wait till you meet my dad and my siblings. They’re not as bad,” you say, the hum of the car engine and the low music in the background creating a calm atmosphere.

“Can’t wait,” he laughs, and although he’s nervous for when that day finally comes, he’s actually excited to become a constant presence in your life. It might be too early to say it, but he’s definitely falling in love with you, the tent in his pants making it obvious as ever.

—

A year has passed since that day and, as expected, your mom has warmed up to Matt. They aren’t super close yet, but she definitely sees him in a different light. She can tell that he truly cares for you and that what you two share is real, but the real test comes when Matt meets your dad.

Your dad works a lot, the manual labor taking a toll on his body that puts him to sleep as soon as he gets home. So, even if your dad is home when Matt’s around, he’s usually asleep or resting in his room.

Matt was nervous when he met your mom, but he’s TERRIFIED to meet your dad. There are so many factors to take into consideration; the language barrier, the cultural dissonance, the fact that he’s your literal dad! It doesn’t help that your siblings are gonna be there too, all of it makes Matt tremble with unease. But he’s been invited to your family’s cookout so he can no longer postpone it.

It’s a sunny Saturday afternoon. The weather is nice, it’s not too cold or too hot. It’s the perfect day for a cookout, and Matt should feel excited, but he doesn’t. Sweaty hands grip the steering wheel as he anxiously drives to your house. Chris and Nick are being dragged along as moral support, but unlike Matt, they’re not nervous.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have brought you guys. I don’t even think they know I’m a triplet,” Matt’s words are coming out a mile a minute as he places the car in park outside your house. The panic is starting to set, and from the looks of it they’re the first ones here. Usually being on time would make Matt proud, but this just means there will be less people to hide behind.

“Dude, it’s gonna be fine. Plus, maybe Y/n has a cute cousin or something and we can be like brother in laws,” Chris is only half-joking. “Gross,” Nick grimaces, hopping off the car and beginning the short walk to your front door. Chris laughs, copying Nick’s actions and following closely behind.

That just leaves Matt. He’s glued to the front seat, mind racing uncontrollably. If he’s going to do this, it needs to be quick and painless or he’ll just psych himself out. He takes one deep breath in and out, unbuckling himself with such fervor that the seatbelt slaps the door. Once he steps out of the car, he takes a second to anchor himself before jogging to catch up to his brothers, who are already ringing your doorbell.

Three minutes pass and no one has opened the door, so Nick rings the doorbell again. “Allí voy, allí voy!” a voice shouts from inside, the door swinging open aggressively to reveal your little sister.

[translation: “I’m going, I’m going!”]

“Oh it’s just you,” she deadpans, moving aside so they can walk in. She slams the door shut, pushing past the stunned trio until she’s at the foot of the stairs. “Y/n’s upstairs,” she says, waving towards the staircase haphazardly.

“Y/N! YOUR BOYFRIENDS ARE HERE!” she shouts up the stairs, the loud outburst taking the triplets by surprise.

Your sister is a good 4 years younger and the complete opposite of you. She’s a thin tomboy, wearing an outfit so oversized that she’s drowning in fabric. Her style directly resembles Chris’s, chunky sneakers adorning her feet and a backwards hat resting atop her long, curly hair. A long gold chain that she stole from your older brother hangs from her neck, swaying back and forth as she shifts her weight from one foot to the other. Her makeup is nicely done and her glossy lips are resting in a smirk, she loved embarrassing you.

“Stop yelling, pendeja!” you shout back, head peering from your doorway. Your sister shoots you an unbothered shrug, turning on her heels and disappearing into the backyard. You descend the stairs, immediately hugging Matt and planting a fat kiss on his lips. Within seconds his lips are the same color as yours, your cherry lipgloss tasting all too familiar.

[translation: pendeja- dumbass (feminine)]

“You guys are early,” you chuckle, pulling away from Matt to greet the other two. “You can blame Matt for that,” Nick says, the four of you walking outside to the backyard patio. The setup is simple but nice, rows of foldable chairs and tables lining the grassy lawn. Coolers are up against the walls of the house, each one filled to the brim with soda, juice pouches, and alcohol.

As Matt is surveying the area, he sees your dad, or at least he thinks he does. A tall, muscular man is working the grill. His shiny, bald head reflects the sun and his tattoos are on full display past the sleeves of his ribbed cotton tank top.

Matt grabs your hand, pulling you back slightly, “Is that your dad?” His voice is hushed, afraid to be heard accidentally.

You follow his gaze, “What? No. That’s my brother.”

An audible sigh of relief escapes Matt, and you instantly clock it, “Don’t worry, babe. Everyone’s gonna love you.” The reassuring words momentarily calm his nerves.

Your older brother’s boisterous voice breaks the moment, “Y/n, go get the rest of the carne from the kitchen!” He’s pinching carne asada, elote, and cebolla off of the grill with long metal tongs, stacking it neatly on a metal tray.

[translation: carne- meat, carne asada- grilled meat, elote- corn, cebolla- onion]

Chris is the first to approach your brother, his friendly nature making it easy for him to talk to new people,“Dude, that smells good!”

Your brother is very kind, his scary appearance completely juxtaposing his hospitable personality. He’s wearing baggy jean shorts and black air forces with a matching gold chain and bracelet. The black sunglasses that rest on his face make him look unapproachable, but the warm smile he offers Nick and Chris makes up for it.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” you quickly peck Matt’s cheek, once again staining his face with your lipstick. Matt hums in response, joining the rest of the men around the grill.

“I feel like I’m seeing triple. I didn’t even know there was three of y’all,” your brother jokes, offering them each a firm handshake. Even though they’ve heard the joke millions of times before the triplets laugh.

“Yeah, we get that a lot,” Nick laughs.

“Bet you do. Which of you is dating my sister, though?” your brother asks, but he knows the answer; the red kiss on Matt’s cheek is a dead giveaway.

“That would be this lucky guy,” Nick replies, shaking Matt’s shoulders playfully. Matt’s cheeks burn a bright red and he can’t stop himself from smiling, he truly was lucky. “If the red lipstick on his face doesn’t tell you, then his smile surely will,” Chris chimes in, his finger smudging the makeup on Matt’s face.

Your brother laughs, “Yeah you might wanna wipe that off before el jefe gets back.”

[translation: el jefe- the boss (masculine, a nickname commonly used when referencing one’s father)]

“Oh shit,” Matt mutters, scrambling for a nearby napkin and rubbing it along his face feverishly.

—

An hour has passed and no one else has arrived yet, I guess the triplets didn’t get the memo that Hispanics are almost always fashionably late. Your brother is still working the grill, immersed in an entertaining conversation with Nick about God knows what. Chris, on the other hand, is playing soccer with your sister. He keeps either kicking the ball over the fence or missing it completely, his clumsy actions make your sister laugh uncontrollably.

You sit with Matt at one of the many tables, hands intertwined as you both anxiously await your parents arrival. “He should be back by now,” you mumble, a restless leg bouncing up and down. You knew Matt would make a good first impression on your dad, but you were still nervous.

It’s almost like you summoned him, the familiar sound of your dad’s pickup truck ringing in your ears as he pulls into the driveway. “Is that him?” Matt asks, grip tightening on your palms. “Yeah that’s him. Don’t be nervous, my dad is nice,” you reply, but you’re equally as anxious.

Your dad’s first words do nothing to help your case, you’re just glad Matt can’t understand them, “Vengan a ayudar, huevones!”

[translation: “Come help, lazies!”]

“Lemme go help, you stay here. Okay?”

“No, I’m coming with you.”

“Actually yeah, good idea.”

Matt follows you to the front yard, he’s so beyond nervous that his hands are practically dripping with sweat. Your dad senses Matt’s presence immediately, “Y este pinche güey que?”

[translation: “Who’s this fucking guy?”]

“Pa! No seas feo!” you exclaim, but your dad just rolls his eyes and silently instructs you to unload the truck. He bought more alcohol for the party, because when you’re Hispanic you can never have enough.

[translation: “Pa! Don’t be ugly!”]

“Es tu novio o que?” your dad asks, grunting as he picks up two cases of beer. He rests them on his shoulders with ease, he’s so strong that it intimidates Matt. “Yes, dad. He’s my boyfriend,” you reply, playfully rolling your eyes.

[translation: “Is he your boyfriend or what?”]

Your dad, much like your brother, is also bald. The greatest differences between the two men are the wrinkles that crease near your dad’s eyes when he smiles, his long bushy beard, and his protruding beer belly. “Nice to meet you,” your dad finally directs his attention towards Matt, offering him a genuine smile as his thick accent butchers the words.

“Nice to meet you too, sir,” Matt replies, picking up a case of alcohol as to make himself useful. Your dad can tell that Matt’s nervous, and even though he doesn’t like the idea of you dating, he decides to take it easy on him. He’s heard stories about Matt from your mom and by the way you look at him, your dad knows he’s the one.

As your dad enters the backyard, absolutely shocked to see Chris and Nick. Never in his life has he met a twin, let alone triplets, “Ay güey! Hay tres? No chingues, creo que me mareé.” Everyone, except for the triplets who have no idea what’s going on, laughs at your dad’s statement.

[translation: “Oh shit! There’s three? Fuck, I think I just got dizzy.”]

“I think he likes you,” you shrug, a sly smile playing on your face. Matt suddenly feels confident, all the nerves washing away.

—

As the hours pass, the party becomes less innocent as everyone becomes more and more inebriated. Matt’s chatting with some of your uncles and cousins, a cold beer resting in his hands. He’s been nursing the same bottle all night, only sipping from it occasionally.

You’re on the opposite end of the lawn, sitting at a table with your chismosa cousin. “Your man is so handsome, prima. If you find another one like that, send him my way.”

[translation: chismosa- gossiper (feminine), prima- cousin (feminine)]

“He does have a brother,” you joke, eyes still trained on Matt. You needed to get him alone in the house, away from prying eyes.

You could think of so many actual reasons you needed him right now, though. First, he was being such a gentleman with your family. He introduced himself and made small talk despite the evident language barrier. Secondly, when you served him a plate, he finished it faster than you’ve ever seen him eat anything. Then, when he got up for seconds, he moaned as the delicious flavors melted in his mouth.

Everyone loved him, and for whatever reason that turned you on. The longer you looked at him, the wetter you became. You’re clenching your thighs together, the sheer thought of him making you squirm. Before you know it, you’re excusing yourself from your cousin and walking up to Matt with a random excuse as to why you need him inside.

“Hey is everything okay?” Matt whispers, hands resting on your hips. His head is crooked down towards you, lips capturing yours briefly before resting his forehead against yours. “Yeah, just missed you,” your breathy words fan his lips as you place a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth and travel them down his neck.

Although he welcomes the feeling, you’re both standing in the kitchen and if anyone were to walk in they’d catch the intimate moment. That’s the last thing he wanted, especially not after making a good first impression, “not here, baby.”

You pout, completely retracting yourself from Matt, “okay.”

“No, wait. I said not here,” he pulls you back in as he looks around the house in search of another secluded area, not wanting to completely abandon your touch.

“Then where?” your voice is sultry and inviting.

“Outside?” it’s the first thing that comes to Matt’s mind, and the suggestion breaks you from the mood.

“Outside, Matt? Really? Like what, like a dog?” you have a dumbfounded look on your face, almost like you can’t believe he even suggested it.

“No, like, in my car,” he dangles the keys in front of your face before pulling you back in for a heated kiss.

The kiss seems to convince you because he’s successfully leading you to his car. The street is dark, only illuminated by a few street lamps, but you find it with ease.

You fumble into the backseat, Matt following behind you giddily. “We have to be quick, okay?” you whisper, pulling Matt in for another kiss by the collar.

“You know I like taking my time with my girl,” you can hear the smirk in his voice, a playful scoff falling from your lips. You scoot further into the back seat, making room for Matt as he situates himself between your legs.

“Did I tell you how beautiful you look today?” he brushes a stray curl away from your face, a gentle hand caressing your cheek. “Hmm yes, but I could hear it again,” you turn your face, kissing his palm.

“You look beautiful today,” he murmurs, leaning in for a kiss. You mould into each other, your lips fitting perfectly against his. Matt grinds himself down on you, momentarily breaking from you long enough for you to feather kisses along his neck.

With each kiss comes an affirmation, “I’m. So. Proud. Of. You.” It’s too dark to see, but you’re leaving lipstick marks all over him. The praises send blood rushing to his dick as you continue, “You did so good, papi. Just like I knew you would.”

[translation: papi- daddy (bear with me ppl)]

“Yeah? How good?” he eggs you on, relishing in all your sweet words. His hands push your dress up, the fabric scrunching up around your hips to reveal the red lace panties you wore underneath. Matt swears he’s in heaven.

“You did perfect…” your words trail off as you watch Matt remove your underwear in a daze. “How about you show me how good I did?” he grabs your waist, flipping you both over so you’re on top. You let out an excited squeal, your bare cunt coming in contact with his rough denim jeans. His dick is straining against the fabric, begging for release.

You grind onto his clothed penis, one hand resting on his chest as the other pushes your hair out of your face. Matt’s hands instinctively find your hips, a firm grip guiding your swiveling motions.

“Tell me how you want me, baby.”

“Ride me?”

As soon as he says it, you’re wiggling down onto his thighs and unbuckling his pants. Your fingers dance along his erection, teasingly tracing it. Matt bites his lip at the sight, “Please don’t tease.”

“So polite,” you giggle, finally tugging his pants down. His dick slaps against his stomach, the swollen tip already dripping with precum. Your thumb runs across the tip, spreading the lubrication along his shaft.

Matt’s a whimpering mess, propped onto his elbows to get a better view of you. When his hips subconsciously buck into your hand you decide to stop teasing and situate yourself above his crotch, dragging his penis along your wet folds before positioning it right at your entrance.

You’re going so slow, too slow, so Matt decides to take matters into his own hands. He grabs handfuls of your ass, pushing you down onto his dick with force. “Matt!” you gasp, the delicious stretch sending you into overdrive.

He doesn’t respond, instead he pushes and pulls your hips so that you’re bouncing on his cock. Your breasts are jiggling rhythmically, threatening to spill out of your dress. Animalistic grunts fill the car as Matt watches your pussy wrap around him, his jaw is slack and his eyebrows are furrowed in pleasure. Your soft whimpers and moans motivate him to keep going.

“You like that?” The car is rocking with the intensity of your movements, windows becoming foggier and foggier with each breathy moan that escapes your lips.

“Yes!” your voice is high pitched and squeaky, the pleasure choking you up. “Use your words, pretty girl,” he grunts, feeling the familiar wave of pleasure approaching.

“It’s so good, papi. So, so, so good,” you babble, struggling to formulate coherent sentences. Your pussy is fluttering around him, the sensation bringing Matt closer to his breaking point.

“Fuck! I’m gonna cum,” he whimpers, large hands squeezing the skin around your hips so hard that it was sure to bruise. You place loving kisses all over his face, especially on his cheeks and the corners of his mouth.

“I love you,” you moan, chanting his name again and again right after. He’s thrusting up into you feverishly, his pace faltering slightly as you both near your climax. “I love you too, princess. So much,” his voice is strained, strong arms wrapping around your waist and holding you in place as he shoots his warm load into you. His affirmations send you into a state of euphoria as your orgasm washes over you.

He’s peppering kissing all over your chest, whimpers escaping his lips as he comes down from his high. You delicately push his hair off of his sweaty forehead, admiring him as he continues his gentle attack on your chest.

“We should probably get back, babe. They’ll be wondering where we are,” you whisper, but he doesn’t want to let go. He wants to stay like this with you forever.

“Let me enjoy this a little longer,” he murmurs, hooded eyes finally looking up at you. Your lipstick is smudged all over your mouth. “Aww baby, your lipstick is all messed up. You look so cute,” he laughs, attempting to wipe some it off but failing.

He shifts slightly, the streetlights briefly managing to illuminate his handsome face. Your kiss marks are all over, a clear visual representation of how much you love him.

“You’re wearing more of it than I am,” you joke, earning yourself a playful slap on the ass.

—

MASTERLIST

A/n: clearly I couldn’t just write a smut right? Lmaoooo idk I had all the characters in my brain & it couldn’t just be smut 😭 hope u enjoy

This is so different from anything I’ve written before so lmk how yall like it & if you enjoy having Spanish in stories w/ the translations in the story💃🏻 also don’t kill me for using papi, i’d gladly call my man papi any day 😋

-L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

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[visenyaism]

HOTD blog post GRRM posted and almost immediately deleted under the cut for archival purposes

Beware the Butterflies

SEPTEMBER 4, 2024

Profile Pic

Back in July, I promised you some further thoughts about Blood and Cheese… and Maelor the Missing… after my commentary on the first two episodes of HotD season 2, “A Son for a Son” and “Rhaenyra the Cruel.”

Those were terrific episodes: well written, well directed, powerfully acted. A great way to kick off the new season. Fans and critics alike seemed to agree. There was only one aspect of the episodes that drew significant criticism: the handling of Blood and Cheese, and the death of Prince Jaehaerys. From the commentary I saw on line, opinion was split there. The readers of FIRE & BLOOD found the sequence underwhelming, a disappointment, watered down from what they were expecting. Viewers who had not read the book had no such problems. Most of them found the sequence a real gut-punch, tragic, horrifying, nightmarish, etc. Some reported being reduced to tears.

I found myself agreeing with both sides.

In my book, Aegon and Helaena have three children, not two. The twins, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, are six years old. They have a younger brother, Maelor, who is two. When Blood and Cheese break in on Helaena and the kids, they tell her they are debt collectors come to exact revenge for the death of Prince Lucerys: a son for a son. As Helaena has two sons, however, they demand that she choose which one should die. She resists and offers her own life instead, but the killers insist it has to be a son. If she does not name one, they will kill all three of the children. To save the life of the twins, Helaena names Maelor. But Blood kills the older boy, Jaehaerys, instead, while Cheese tells little Maelor that his mother wanted him dead. (Whether the boy is old enough to understand that is not at all certain).

That’s not how it happens on the show. There is no Maelor in HOUSE OF THE DRAGON, only the twins (both of whom look younger than six, but I am no sure judge of children’s ages, so I can’t be sure how old they are supposed to be). Blood can’t seem to tell the twins apart, so Helaena is asked to reveal which one is the boy. (You would think a glance up his PJs would reveal that, without involving the mother). Instead of offering her own life to save the kids, Helaena offers them a necklace. Blood and Cheese are not tempted. Blood saws Prince Jaehaerys’s head off. We are spared the sight of that; a sound effect suffices. (In the book, he lops the head off with a sword).

It is a bloody, brutal scene, no doubt. How not? An innocent child is being butchered in front of his mother.

I still believe the scene in the book is stronger. The readers have the right of that. The two killers are crueler in the book. I thought the actors who played the killers on the show were excellent… but the characters are crueler, harder, and more frightening in FIRE & BLOOD. In the show, Blood is a gold cloak. In the book, he is a former gold cloak, stripped of his office for beating a woman to death. Book Blood is the sort of man who might think making a woman choose which of her sons should die is amusing, especially when they double down on the wanton cruelty by murdering the boy she tries to save. Book Cheese is worse too; he does not kick a dog, true, but he does not have a dog, and he’s the one who tells Maelor that his mom wants him head. I would also suggest that Helaena shows more courage, more strength in the book, by offering her own own life to save her son. Offering a piece of jewelry is just not the same.

As I saw it, the “Sophie’s Choice” aspect was the strongest part of the sequence, the darkest, the most visceral. I hated to lose that. And judging from the comments on line, most of the fans seemed to agree.

When Ryan Condal first told me what he meant to do, ages ago (back in 2022, might be) I argued against it, for all these reasons. I did not argue long, or with much heat, however. The change weakened the sequence, I felt, but only a bit. And Ryan had what seemed to be practical reasons for it; they did not want to deal with casting another child, especially a two-year old toddler. Kids that young will inevitably slow down production, and there would be budget implications. Budget was already an issue on HOUSE OF THE DRAGON, it made sense to save money wherever we could. Moreover, Ryan assured me that we were not losing Prince Maelor, simply postponing him. Queen Helaena could still give birth to him in season three, presumably after getting with child late in season two. That made sense to me, so I withdrew my objections and acquiesced to the change.

I still love the episode, and the Blood and Cheese sequence overall. Losing the “Helaena’s Choice” beat did weaken the scene, but not to any great degree. Only the book readers would even notice its absence; viewers who had never read FIRE & BLOOD would still find the scenes heart-rending. Maelor did not actually DO anything in the scene, after all. How could he? He was only two years old.

There is another aspect to the removal of the young princeling, however.

Those of you who hate spoilers should STOP READING HERE. Spoilers will follow, at least for the readers among you. If you have never read FIRE & BLOOD, maybe it does not matter, because all I am going to “spoil” here are things that happen in the book that may NEVER happen on the series. Starting with Maelor himself.

Sometime between the initial decision to remove Maelor, a big change was made. The prince’s birth was no longer just going to be pushed back to season 3. He was never going to be born at all. The younger son of Aegon and Helaena would never appear.

Most of you know about the Butterfly Effect, I assume.

Yes, there was a movie with that title a few years back. It’s a familiar concept in chaos theory as well. But most science fiction fans were first exposed to the idea in Ray Bradbury’s classic time travel story, “A Sound of Thunder,” wherein a time traveler from the present panics and crushes a butterfly while hunting a T-Rex. When he returns to his own time, he discovers that the world has changed in huge and frightening ways. One dead butterfly has rewritten history. The lesson being that change begets change, and even small and seemingly insignificant alterations to a timeline — or a story — can have a profound effect on all that follows.

Maelor is a two year old toddler in FIRE & BLOOD, but like our butterfly he has an impact on the story all out of proportion to his size. The readers among you may recall that when it appears that Rhaenyra and her blacks are about to capture King’s Landing, Queen Alicent becomes concerned for the safety of Helaena’s remaining children, and takes steps to save them by smuggling them out of the city. The task is given is two knights of the Kingsguard. Ser Willis Fell is commanded to deliver Princess Jaehaera to the Baratheons at Storm’s End, while Maelor is given over to Ser Rickard Thorne to be escorted across the Mander to the protection of the Hightower army on its way to King’s Landing.

Willis Fell delivers Jaehaera safely to the Baratheons at Storm’s End, but Ser Rickard fares less well. He and Maelor get as far as Bitterbridge, where he is revealed as a Kingsuard in a tavern called the Hogs Head. Once discovered, Ser Rickard fights bravely to protect his young charge and bring him to safety, but he does not even make it across the bridge before some crossbows bring him down, Prince Maelor is torn from his arms.. and then, sadly, ripped to pieces by the mob fighting over the boy and the huge reward that Rhaenyra has offered for his capture and return.

Will any of that appear on the show? Maybe… but I don’t see how. The butterflies would seem to prohibit it. You could perhaps make Ser Rickard’s ward be Jaehaera instead of Maelor, but Jaehaera can’t be killed, she has a huge role to play as Aegon’s next heir. Could maybe make Maelor a newborn instead of a two year old, but that would scramble up the timeline, which is a bit of a mess already. I have no idea what Ryan has planned — if indeed he has planned anything — but given Maelor’s absence from episode 2, the simplest way to proceed would be just to drop him entirely, lose the bit where Alicent tries to send the kids to safety, drop Rickard Thorne or send him with Willis Fell so Jaehaera has two guards.

From what I know, that seems to be what Ryan is doing here. It’s simplest, yes, and may make sense in terms of budgets and shooting schedules. But simpler is not better. The Bitterbridge scene has tension, suspense, action, bloodshed, a bit of heroism and a lot of tragedy. Rickard Thorne is a tertiary character at best, most viewers (as opposed to readers) will never know he is gone, since they never knew him at all… but I rather liked giving him his brief moment of heroism, a taste of the courage and loyalty of the Kingsguard, regardless of whether they are black or green.

The butterflies are not done with us yet, however. In the book, when word of Prince Maelor’s death and the grisly manner of his passing (pp. 505) reaches the Red Keep, that proves to be the thing that drives Queen Helaena to suicide. She could barely stand to look at Maelor, knowing that she chose him to die in the “Sophie’s Choice” scene… and now he is dead in truth, her words having come true. The grief and guilt are too much for her to bear.

In Ryan’s outline for season 3, Helaena still kills herself… for no particular reason. There is no fresh horror, no triggering event to overwhelm the fragile young queen.

And the final butterfly follows soon thereafter.

Queen Helaena, a sweet and gentle soul, is much beloved by the smallfolk of King’s Landing. Rhaenyra was not, so when rumors began to arise that Helaena did not kill herself, but rather was murdered at Rhaenyra’s command, the commons are quick to believe them. “That night King’s Landing rose in bloody riot,” I wrote on p. 506 of FIRE & BLOOD. It is the beginning of the end for Rhaenyra’s rule over the city, ultimately leading to the Storming of the Dragonpit and the rise of the Shepherd’s mob that drives Rhaenyra to flee the city and return to Dragonstone… and her death.

Maelor by himself means little. He is a small child, does not have a line of dialogue, does nothing of consequence but die… but where and when and how, that does matter. Losing Maelor weakened the end of the Blood and Cheese sequence, but it also cost us the Bitterbridge scene with all its horror and heroism, it undercut the motivation for Helaena’s suicide, and that in turn sent thousands into the streets and alleys, screaming for justice for their “murdered” queen. None of that is essential, I suppose… but all of it does serve a purpose, it all helps to tie the story lines together, so one thing follows another in a logical and convincing manner.

What will we offer the fans instead, once we’ve killed these butterflies? I have no idea. I do not recall that Ryan and I ever discussed this, back when he first told me they were pushing back on Aegon’s second son. Maelor himself is not essential… but if losing him means we also lose Bitterbridge, Helaena’s suicide, and the riots, well… that’s a considerable loss.

And there are larger and more toxic butterflies to come, if HOUSE OF THE DRAGON goes ahead with some of the changes being contemplated for seasons 3 and 4…

GRRM

[wizard-on-whales]

Naughty Girl

(NSFW)

Attending a Metallica concert was a dream of yours and lucky for you, your mom had gotten you tickets as a college graduation gift, what you didn't expect was to get a gift from none other than James hetfield himself

Warnings: Age gap, smut, blowjob, pet names, lots of dirty talk, size kink, I think something possessed me when I wrote this

Word count: 3k

✭-----------------------------✭

This was for sure the most excited you had ever been over anything. Metallica had been your all time favorite band since you were a kid and now you were on the way to one of their concerts, and you had pit tickets on top of that. You patiently waited in line for hours just for a chance to get rail and somehow you did and it was right in front of James spot. You clung to that thing like your life depended on it. Your friend was next to you, just as ecstatic as she had been obsessed with them for years too. The only difference was she loved Kirk, you loved James. You watched Chad as he pulled out James guitars, tuning it up just as the iconic AC/DC song started blasting through the stadium. Your heart started racing in excitement, knowing the concert was minutes away from starting.

Cheers from the crowd picked up, hands flying over the railing and all around you as James makes his appearance, walking up to his station. You held your hand out, desperate for just one touch. His cigar hung from his lips, a necklace fastened around his neck which was proudly exposed by a halfway unbuttoned shirt. His eyes flicked towards yours, his mouth curling to a smile as he grabbed your hand and gave it a squeeze. You couldn't hold back the scream that escaped from your lips, causing him to laugh before moving onto the next person. He stopped his greetings, sitting down in his chair while The Ecstasy of Gold played. He took a sip of his drink, taking one last drag of his cigar before taking his Flying V from Chad and sprinting up the stairs of the stage, the first notes of Creeping Death blaring through the stadium.

The concert really was the greatest night of your life, each song they played somehow better than the last. The sound of James' voice ringing through your ears in person was better than you had ever imagined. And just as he got off of the stage for the night his eyes connected with yours again and he grabbed your hand, sliding his soaking wet sweatband onto your arm. He gave you a wink before walking off, leaving you a mess of screams and tears.

You and your friend walked through the city and back to your hotel room, the excitement from the concert still buzzing through you. She goes up to the room before you, leaving you in the lobby as you stare at the small concession stand, hungry for a snack. James' arm band was clinging to your arm, still damp with his sweat. You look down at it, a smile crossing your face as you fiddle with the black fabric. You look back at the snacks, reaching for the last snickers bar but a tattooed hand grabs it before you could. You freeze, instantly recognizing the knuckle tattoos and the “Papa Het” plastered on the hand. You look to your side and see him standing there in all his glory. You were sure your face was bright red as you froze in place, staring at him in disbelief.

“Did you enjoy the concert?” He asks casually, ripping the candy wrapper open and splitting it in half, offering you part of it.

“Yeah..it was great,” You squeak out, still unable to move. A smirk crossed his face, his eyes flickering up and down your appearance before he waves the candy bar in front of your face, trying to get you to take it. You break out of your trance and timidly reach for it, taking it from his fingers. The chocolate had melted a little against his fingers, causing him to suck it off, his eyes not leaving yours.

“How old are you?” He questions, taking a bite of the candy and leaning against the counter. By now he had changed out of his concert attire, settling on a more casual outfit of blue jeans and a Motorhead T-shirt. That didn't stop him from looking any less attractive though, if anything, he looked even sexier. His silver hair and tattoos shone brightly against the tight, black fabric of his shirt.

“I'm 22,” You say shyly, looking down at the chocolate in your own hand before taking a bite of it. A strand of the caramel drips from it, dripping down your chin. You wipe it off with your finger, licking it off, trying to ignore James’ intense gaze.

“You're just a baby,” He chuckles, glancing away from you to the floor. You could tell he was debating with himself in his head. You wondered for a second what it could be, your mind going to a dirty place but you try to shake it off. He was older now, you assumed groupies were a thing in the past for him.

“Yeah…I guess so…but I've always been told I'm mature for my age,” You reply to his comment. He glanced back up at you, checking you out again but not so subtly this time. He pushes himself away from the counter and takes a step closer to you. It's only then do you smell him for the first time, his natural musk and cologne made it hard for you to hold yourself back. All you wanted to do was leap on the man and fuck him right there.

“This your hotel?” He questions, popping the last bit of the chocolate into his mouth.

“Yeah, I'm staying here with my friend.” Your heart races In your chest, your palms sweaty as he steps even closer. You could feel the heat radiating from him at this point. His eyes look intently over your face, trailing down your neck and landing on your breasts. He wasn't shy about his gaze, that's for sure. You felt as if he could see right through your clothes. He grabbed your arm, seeming to study the armband he had stuck on it. His hand grabs yours and brings it up to your mouth, making you eat the last of the chocolate that was melting on it.

“Is your friend waiting for you?” He asks, trailing his finger down your arm, barely grazing the skin, causing goosebumps to rise.

“No…I don't think so,” A smile crosses his face as he loops his arm around your waist and starts leading you towards the elevators. You couldn't tell if you were about to throw up from excitement or nerves as you stood there. The elevator ride was the longest one of your life, his grip firm and calm against your waist. The doors of the elevator dinged open and the two of you stepped out into the quiet and empty hallway. Your legs felt like jelly as he led you right up to his room door, he removed his arm from around you, fishing his room key out of his pocket. He opens the door, gesturing for you to walk in first. You timidly walk past him and into the room, your eyes grazing over it. It was definitely a nice room, the largest hotel room you had ever been in. You walk up to the window, glancing out over the view of the city, slightly amazed at the sight. You felt his front press against your back, both of his hands resting on your hips.

“You ever been in a room this high up?” He asks quietly, his lips brushing against your neck. You couldn't keep your breathing steady as the situation unfolds.

“No, I've never been this high up in general,” You tell him, you feel him smile, placing a kiss against your skin, making you flinch.

“I like being this high up…wanna know why?” He turns your body in his arms, making you face him before he backs you up against the window, pinning you to it. Your heart leapt to your throat, nerves off the charts from your idol being this close and from the height. Only a layer of glass was stopping you from falling several stories to the concrete below.

“Why…” you ask him, your voice barely a whisper. You couldn't stop your eyes from flicking down to his lips, your tongue grazing across yours, wetting them.

“Because if I fuck you against the window…no one will see.” His voice was gruff and seductive as he spoke. He leaned down, his face just inches from yours, his eyes still locked with yours. His gaze flickers down to your lips, a smirk crossing his face again as your arms jerk against his tight grip. He sees your eyes flutter close, your lips parting slightly, he leans forward and presses his face to yours. The heavy taste of his cigars clung to his lips, invading your taste buds. You couldn't help the moan that slips out of you from his touch, making him grip you tighter. He moves one of his hands from your arms and loops it around your waist. His kisses were sloppy and wet but you could tell he knew exactly what he was doing. He pulls away from you, releasing you from his grip and stepping away, causing you to give him a puzzled look.

“Go ahead and strip for me, sweet thing,” Your cheeks burn, not expecting to have made it this far. Slowly you reach for the armband on your wrist to remove it first, the least revealing thing you could.

“Ah…not that. Keep that on,” His scolds, his eyes burning holes through you as he watches your every move. You grab the hem of your shirt and pull it over your head, dropping it to the floor next to you. He follows suit, stripping himself of his shirt as well. You bite your lips at the sight of his exposed chest and stomach, his dad bod proudly on display. You unbutton your jeans and push them down, stepping out of them and kicking them to the side. Again, he follows, dropping his jeans to expose his boxers, his boner straining against the fabric. He notices your gaze, a smirk covering his face.

“It's been like that all night, baby girl. Since I first saw that sweet face of yours,” His tone was cocky as he spoke, causing the arousal in your stomach to pool further. You unclip your bra, sliding it down your arms and piling it with the rest of your clothes. You were trying to act confident but you felt as if you could fall over at any second, your entire body shaking. You reach for your panties but James' sudden movements make you stop. He steps forward, pressing himself against you for a second before dropping to his knees. The unexpected action causes you to shiver, he looks up at you with a smile as his fingers push under the waistband and pulls them down. He was right in the line of sight of your dripping cunt, his eyes never leaving it as he peels your panties off all the way.

“God look at that pretty little pussy…dripping for me…desperate for an old man's cock, you're a naughty girl you know that,” Every word that spills out of his mouth causes you to ache for him further, a moan slipping from your lips in desperation. He grabs your thigh tightly, kissing your hip bone before rising to his full height again. He grabs your hands, putting them on the hem of his boxers, patiently waiting for you to remove them. You grip them, shakily dropping to your knees the way he did, peeling them down his legs. His cock sprung out, painfully erect and dripping with precum. You swallow heavily, your nerves building further as you take in the sight of him. You had only been with two other men in your life and neither of them were even half his size. James grabs you and firmly pulls you off of the floor, his hands move to grip your ass tightly as he backs you up against the window again. The cold glass sends a chill through you, his gaze causing you to tremble further.

“You want me to fuck you, baby?” He questions with a whisper, pinning himself to you, his erection pressed against your bare skin. You nod your head, unable to speak but he gives you a “tsk”

“Ah..ah…use your words. Tell me how much you want this old man's dick in you,” You could feel your entire body heat up at the teasing tone dripping from his words.

“Please, James, fuck me…I need you in me so bad,” You felt almost pathetic as the words spill out, your voice more desperate than you had wished. He gives you a cocky grin, leaning down to press an open mouthed kiss against your collarbone. He grabs your breast, his thumb swiping over your nipple before he does the same with it, giving it a sloppy kiss. You throw your head back against the glass at the sensation, your body shivering under his touch, practically calling out for more.

“Jump up,” James tells you firmly, his hands gripping your waist tighter. You jump up a little and he helps lift you up enough for you to wrap your legs around his waist. You tightly grip his shoulders as he presses you further against the glass.

“You sure you're not too old to do this?” you question him, a small amount of genuine concern but also wanting to tease him. He gives you an annoyed look, his features darkening as he leans his face closer to yours.

“Ooh..you're gonna get it now, baby,” He grunts before lining himself up and immediately plunging himself deep into you. You let out a high pitched squeak, the sensation and the pain from him stretching you overbearing. You could feel every bit of him throbbing against your walls.

“You're gonna take it like a good girl aren't you?” James growls in your ear, his words more of a demand than a question as he snaps his hips again, drawing another loud noise from you. The pain between your legs was almost unbearable but it felt good…so good. You could feel just how wet you were getting, it was practically dripping down the both of you as his movement picked up. You held on to his shoulders like your life depended on it as he pounded into you, your moans spilling out louder than ever.

You used to hate groupie, never understanding why they would do such a thing but as he fucks you against the window you finally understood. The feeling of him was addicting, a slight power boost surging through you as you think about the fact that he chose you.

“ah…fuck James,” You cry out, brain going blank under his touch. You wanted to bite your lip or bury your face against him to keep yourself quiet, the noises spilling out of you were almost embarrassing. James clearly enjoyed them as he watched your every move, an arrogant smile plastered on his face as he continued to hammer his hips against yours. Your legs tighten around his waist, your body quivering as your orgasm hits you hard, you practically scream his name, grabbing at him as if you were drowning. His movements come to a stop as he pulls out of you, gently letting your legs fall to the floor. He holds your trembling body up with his as he leans down to your ear, nipping at it again.

“Get on your knees, I want you to taste yourself on me,” He murmurs against your neck, slowly lowering your weak legs to the floor in front of him. You could still hardly think as you sit against the cold ground, shivering. James' large hand grabs a fist full of your hair, making a makeshift ponytail as he urges your head forward.

“Open wide, babygirl, I wanna cum in that pretty little mouth of yours,” you rest one of your shaking hands on his thighs, looking up at him as you open your mouth, taking him in it. He lets out a groan at the feeling of your tongue swirling around his swollen head. You push him further into your mouth, his large size already causing tears to prick at your eyes. You gag a little, trying to breath through your nose and stay calm as you suck him off, keeping your gaze locked with his. The feeling of your throat muscles contracting around his girth makes him let out another drawn out groan.

“You're such a dirty girl you know that…fuck…I don't even know your name sweetheart…just-oh- just gonna call you a naughty girl,” His words only encourage you, you bring your hand up, massaging his balls lightly as your tongue continues to taste him. You could feel his dick throbbing and twitching, his dirty talk getting replaced by strangled moans. You bob your head against him a few more times, tears rolling down your cheeks right as he busts his load against the back of your throat, causing you to gag again. He pulls your head back harsly, not wanting to cum in your mouth any longer but wanting to watch it drip down your face and breasts. With his other hand he jerks himself off a little more, pulling every last bit he had out of him and onto you. He keeps his gaze locked with yours the whole time, his stare and actions heating up your entire body.

As you sat there you were sure he had ruined you for any other man, nothing could ever come close to this night. He lets go of his heavy grip on his cock and brings his fingers to your body, watching it smear his cum over your skin. He scrapes a small amount up with his two middle fingers before shoving them into your mouth. You let out a small moan as you grab his wrist with both hands, keeping it in place as you suck his semen off of his tattooed fingers. Another smirk crossed his face as he watched you. He slowly lets go of his grip on your hair and pulls his fingers out of your mouth.

“Let's get you cleaned up sweet thing,” His words and gaze were soft, a stark contrast to just seconds prior. He disappears for a second before returning with a warm, wet washcloth. He gets down on his knees in front of where he had left you on the floor. He gently wipes his filth off of your face and breasts.

“You got your phone on you?” He questions as he finishes wiping you off. He tosses the washcloth to the floor next to you, grabbing your chin lightly as he speaks.

“It's in one of my pockets,” You speak quietly, your voice rough from your loud moaning and his dick against your throat. He nods his head, reaching over to your pile of clothes and digging through it for your phone. He hands it to you before speaking again.

“Tell your friend you're not gonna make it back to your room tonight.”

✭-----------------------------✭

[a-tiny-thing]

break in // m.l

burglar!mark x rich!reader

pt.1, pt.2, pt.3, pt.4

the sound of a lockpick rustling into a metal lock might be the only thing can be heard during the dead of the night, as mark struggled to open the safe he found inside the wealthy mansion of an old man he discovered in the streets.

mark was just leaning by a wall at the sidewalk, taking a break from stealing other people's wallets when he came across this old man who just went out of the jewelry shop, flexing their newly-bought golden watch and diamong rings that could cost millions of dollar.

his eyes sparkled at the sight and thought it was now his chance to get rich, that's why he ended up here in this fancy-lookin' mansion.

the jewelries are almost falling out of his pockets, his sweat is rolling down his forehead, and his veins are already popping out of his arms as he remained focus on opening the safe.

"c'mon you piece of shit" mark mumbled inaudibly due to the little flashlight placed in his mouth, shaking his head in frustration as he accidentally dropped the lockpick on the marbled floor, creating a huge sound.

"hello?"

and then suddenly a door swung opened, revealing you in a satin nightgown.

you only came downstairs to get a glass of water, but then you heard a loud thud of metal coming from your dad's office.

you thought it would just be your dad doing some work until you saw the guy in a black beanie and black clothes, hunched over the safe as he quickly turned to look at you.

"ah- hmmph!" before you can even scream, the guy already ran up to you and blocked your mouth with his hand to stop you.

"hey hey, don't scream, please" he said to you in a pleading tone while still covering your mouth, and you struggling to get his hand off your face.

"i'll let you go, just don't scream please..." you stopped pushing his hand away, to signal him to let you go now.

before doing something, you thought it would be a bad move to betray him, and scream your lungs out once he lets you go since you don't know if he's carrying a weapon with him.

this could be your last memory.

"my name's mark" the burglar introduced himself, you looked at him in confusion.

"why are you introducing yourself?" you asked, suddenly confused as to why this robber becoming friendly so suddenly.

"what? am i supposed to be evil and murder you instead?" mark joked, but you tensed up when you heard the word "murder"

"i'm kidding"

"okay, why are you in here? why are you trying to open my dad's safe?" you asked nervously.

'okay, so you're the daughter of that rich old man'

wow.

"i-i'm just curious.." mark stuttered, thinking of the next words to say.

you glanced down at his current outfit, you saw your mom's necklaces almost splling out his pockets.

"so you're a burglar!" you exclaimed, like you just unlocked a clue.

"i thought it would be that obvious" mark whispered to himself.

"i'm going to call my dad" you told him bravely, as you turned to the exit.

"hey! no, wait!" mark grabbed your arm and tugged you back to him strongly that made you whip your head back immediately to look at him.

"what can i do to stop you from snitching me out?"

and to realize both of your faces are dangerously close to each other.

you stayed silent and unmoving for a couple of minutes, locking your eyes into his until it moved down to his lips, then back at his eyes again.

you really didn't think mark would notice that little movement your eyes made. thanks to you, he finally knew what to do.

then suddenly mark's lips was on yours, both of your eyes closing in instinct as you two enjoyed the kiss that lasted shortly.

breaking away from each other's lips, you were completely silent and was just staring at him in awe.

in the other hand, mark started to get red and awkward, and decided to head towards the window where he broke in. completely forgetting about the safe.

"uhh, imma have to go now, see ya" he said shyly, scratching the back of his head before climbing down the ladder situated outside the window.

mark's gone and you were still standing there dumbfounded.

you don't know if you're just surprised or in love, but a part of you is hoping that he'll come back to rob your place someday so you could see him again.

you haven't even told him your name yet.

when the morning rises, just lie to your parents that you were asleep during the robbery.

[starkeyboy]

the archer

luke castellan x reader

inspired by

“Combat, I’m ready for combat

I say I don’t want that, but what if I do?

Cause cruelty wins in the movies

I’ve got a hundred thrown-out speeches I almost said to you”

i watched as luke smiled at me when i entered the cabin. home of hermes children. home of thieves. also the home of the undetermined. i didn’t smile back as i took a step back, guarding myself.

“this can’t be where i belong, my father promised i would be safe,” i looked behind me to see chiron gone. tears lined my vision as this was my destiny.

“stay strong my sweet y/n. my sweet kind y/n. don’t let them get you, be strong. don’t be scared for war. you’re the strongest girl out there, this is your destiny.”

my destiny he said. the boy stood in front of me as he smiled kindly. 13 years old. he held his hand out as he awaited a hand shake. i looked at him through his curls on his head covering his eyes. my eyes went to his hand and i shook my head.

“this is my destiny he said. i don’t belong here and i will find my way out.” i looked at him through my eyelashes. his hand dropped to his side. the boy beside him snickered.

“come back and get me when you’re out, ya?” the boy said. my eyes softened as his eyes shined through. no. don’t let him get to you. run.

“Easy they come, easy they go

I jump from the train, I ride off alone

I never grew up, it’s getting so old

Help me hold onto you”

year after year came. i was now 16 at camp half-blood. still undetermined. they eventually gave me a bunk as it became known i wasn’t gonna be claimed by my mother.

every kid came in and they went out like dust on the shelves. i watched as luke laughed with chris and his other buddies. i had grown a liking towards luke as it has been 4 years now living in the same cabin with him. i adjusted to his schedule and his ways in here. this was his home.

i felt his eyes drift over to me as i grabbed my necklace. 4 years. and still no mom. i felt like a kid. searching and searching for her mom in the grocery store.

i felt a hand on my shoulder. i looked at luke as his scent filled the air. i sighed as i brushed his hand off and walked off.

“I’ve been the archer

I’ve been the prey

Who could ever leave me, darling?

But who could stay…All the king’s horses, all the king’s men

Couldn’t put me together again

‘Cause all of my enemies started out friends

Help me hold onto you”

18 years old. 6 clay beads on my neck. my chest stood tall as the new boy entered the cabin. percy jackson they called him. chiron stood next to him as he welcomed the boy.

“everyone, everyone,” he clapped to grab our attention. everyone stopped talking. percy’s eyes dropping, avoiding eye contact.

“you’re attention please,” i looked over to luke. his eyes averting to mine. i grabbed my stuff and lost our contact. “this is percy jackson” chiron smiled brightly. percy made eye contact with me as he turned to chiron but he had left.

i turned and walked over to luke, his attention going to me.

“keep him close, he’s scared” his eyes pierced mine. he knew exactly what i meant. “please” i pleaded. “i’ll do my job behind the scenes”

“i promise,” he said as he nodded. i thanked him and i secured my bag and looked over to the boy. taking out a bag of blue candy and sighing. i felt my guard go down slightly and never in the past 6 years was my guard down. this boy was special.

°°°

i watched as luke showed him archery and percy failed at that. he failed with the Hephaestus kids and the list went on. i walked into the mess hall seeing the boys speaking and it was like luke felt my aura and he immediately turned to look at me. his heading nodding towards my food.

i sat down next to luke and i looked down at the choice of food.

“what’s your name?” percy asked as i analyzed my food. i looked up and looked to luke and back to percy.

“y/n.” i simply said. he nodded and smiled slightly.

“you were there when chiron introduced me. you look like you take business serious, i mean i’ve seen you around camp as well while luke was touring me.” my eyes back on the food, his words going through my head and staying.

“think of y/n as a protector percy,” luke stated and i felt a small smile rise but i immediately lost it seeing luke notice it. don’t let your guard down. “she sees a lot of her in you” the bell dinged as it was time to offer. i stood tall as luke and chris explained it to percy. they followed after me as i took a deep breath and scraped all my food in the pit.

i heard a sigh behind me as i knew luke wasn’t happy about this. not eating once again.

luke’s pov

we sat back down as y/n sauntered off back to the field. i looked back over to percy and he watched her.

“she didn’t eat” he said as he looked back to me. i looked over to chris and he nodded. we had to tell him.

“y/ns been here for 6 years and has been unclaimed since, percy. she’s a strong woman. she’s special to us.” i stated and his eyes fell. “her offering her plate is her silently pleading for her mom to come through. but she never has.” he looked down to his food and looked back over to where y/n walked.

“we think of y/n as the archer of the camp. the support of us. she won’t straight out say it but she struggles a lot with her mom not stepping up and everyday gets harder and everyday she slips farther away. but ever since you got here, i’ve seen her guard go down slightly. never have we seen that.” i said.

“why me?” he pleaded “i’m not special”

“y/n thinks you are.”

y/ns pov

“Dark side, I search for your dark side

But what if I'm alright, right, right, right here?

And I cut off my nose just to spite my face

Then I hate my reflection for years and years”

i stared at the bow and arrow before me. my eyes averting to every possible target. my hands gripped the wood as my eyes landed on the center. my attention was soon focused to the two boys dueling beside archery.

luke laughed as percy was once again on the ground. i lowered the weapon as my eyes focused on luke. he held out his hand to percy to help him up. he looked over to me and his face softened. i lost our eye contact and sighed.

luke was special in many ways. camp counselor, best swordsman in the valley. when we met when i was 12 i regretted turning down his offer of his handshake. my dads words stuck with me that day when i made eye contact with him. i was scared.

“don’t let them get you”

but i left out the words he spoken to me in the car on the way to the woods.

“can i give you some advice?” my dad said as i looked over to him. i nodded slightly.

“it’s okay to let go. to let your guard down, but not that easy.” he said. my head fell back on the seat, the rain pouring. “just keep them close” he whispered. i never asked him who “them” was. only to find out it was luke.

my arm stretched as i pulled the arrow back. i felt tears line my eyes of that day. the day luke welcomed me and i was a jerk. i hated myself for it for years. for 6 years. i felt my eyes sting harder. a small sob letting out. my hand letting go of the arrow as the wood fell. my knees lowering to the ground.

“it’s okay to let go.”

it was like slow motion when luke fell in front of me.

“to let your guard down”

“Cause they see right through me

They see right through me

They see right through

Can you see right through me?

They see right through

They see right through me

I see right through me

I see right through me”

sobs racked my body. pain going through my chest. luke held me close. my hands gripped onto his shirt as my tears coated his shoulder.

“i’m so sorry” i repeated over and over. “so sorry”

he held me closer to him and his hand ran through my hair. holding onto me.

“i’ve been the prey”

i felt my body grow tired on the grass as i grew exhausted. he pulled me back as my eyelids hooded. his eyes lined with tears as well.

“lets get you back home” he whispered as he kissed my forehead.

“but who could stay”

when he laid me down on the bed, i quickly grabbed his hand.

“stay” i moved to make room and he instantly made way into the bed.

as i had my head on his chest, i sighed as i ran my hand over his shirt.

“i regret not taking your hand” i said quietly. i moved my attention to his face. my eyes looking at his scar, fingers moving to trace it. his eyebrows furrowed. “this is my destiny he said,” as i recited the words i said to him. his eyebrows relaxing.

his hand came and moved hair away from my face to behind my ear.

“i’ve had my guard up for 6 years luke. i need to let go.” tears once again lined my eyes. “you’ve done so much for me, i was so rude before i finally opened up at 17 and let you in. i don’t deserve you. i deserve to be bullied and pushed around-“

“y/n, stop.” i looked at him as he cut me off. “that day you walked in the cabin when i was 13, i felt something immediately. the need to keep you close, no matter how many times you’ve pushed me away. and me doing that, i’ve seen the small things that you wouldn’t think i’ve seen.” he smiled as he cupped my face. “the blush when i called your name. the smile when i talked about you to percy. but the falter in your eyes when you saw him. the protectiveness when clarisse pushed him. the glint of sadness when the kids got claimed. and it’s the way i wanted to hold you, but you never let your guard down. so i didn’t make you, i would never. i knew deep down, that you would come to me when you were ready.” he said as he wiped a tear away from my eye.

i never noticed. luke was behind me when i needed him. he was in front of me when i needed him. he was there the whole time but i ignored the fact that i needed him. but i also never noticed the gleam in his eyes when i walked into the room. the immediate turn around when he felt my presence. the immediate thrown of his sword and helmet when i let out a sob and drop to the knees.

“luke,” i said to him as i moved to lay my hand on his neck. “im ready, i dont wanna be afraid anymore” he leaned down and kissed me softly. i closed my eyes and chased his lips as he pulled just slightly.

“i’m not gonna let you be afraid, i won’t leave you, i promise” he said he sealed the promise with a kiss.

“Combat, I'm ready for combat”

i never noticed that i fell in love with luke castellan.

[batmanlovesnirvana]

Martinez is the ultimate Wayne family fanboy, and it all started because his mom was totally obsessed with Thomas and Martha Wayne. In her eyes, they were like Gotham's own JFK and Jackie O—super glamorous, beloved by everyone, and surrounded by all that tabloid drama.

And, of course, Martha Wayne? Basically Gotham's Princess Diana, but with a husband who was actually supportive and a pearl necklace that cost more than your average Gotham salary. Naturally, Martinez grew up with this deep respect and borderline idolization of the Wayne family legacy.

So while other kids were memorizing sports stats, Martinez was that kid casually dropping facts like, "Did you know Martha Wayne wore a custom Dior gown to the '96 charity gala?" He was all about that Wayne trivia, and since Martha Wayne had this whole Lady Di vibe going on—graceful, charitable, and loved by everyone (with none of the messy relationship drama)—it cemented this untouchable image of the Waynes in Martinez's mind.

And don’t even get him started on Bruce Wayne… We all saw in the movie that Martinez has a soft spot for the guy, but Bruce Wayne’s fans in general? They’re like Frank Ocean stans. The second someone snaps a blurry pic of Bruce outside Wayne Tower or at some mandatory charity event, Martinez and the rest of his fans are like, “Omg, he’s still alive!” Cue the virtual fanfare and collective relief like it’s some kind of holiday. They’re basically throwing parties because their reclusive, tragic & mysterious billionaire is still physically breathing.

Side note though: not everyone in Gotham was obsessed with the Waynes before Thomas and Martha. It was really those two who elevated the family name to "golden" status, making the Wayne legacy something everyone looks up to.

[reshinless]

YAYYYY REQUESTS ARE OPEN AGAIN!! ive been rereading your works while i was waiting :') but anyway. can i please request kinich x reader having their first kiss? you'll probably have a lot of requests rn so don't feel too pressured to do this! just if you're feeling like it :3 love you!

-🌟anonniee

It'll happen within a time range that you don't even remember. If you can reach further back into your mind, it was back when you both were kids.

you and he were running around playing house. obviously.

you were the significant other, and he was the tired husband returning from work. a makeshift suit using leaves, and whatnot around you two, even a scenario you saw from a couple in the restaurant you both visited as reference.

"hello honey, welcome home!" you cheer and hand a leafy plate onto the table. then, you walk up to him and attempt to drag him to the dining table (made of tree logs).

he follows along with you before he acts as if his job is hard (he chose to be a hunter, of course). "my love, work was super hard today. You won't believe what happened." his tone is monotone, but you don't care too much; he is playing along anyway!

you land a kiss onto the surface of his cheek, as it slowly turns red. "okay! tell me while we eat, honey!" "o- ok..." he simply touches the spot you pecked and sit down opposite to you, making up a super cool adventure he had, as you gasp and clap.

wasn't much different to present time, this time you have another family member, or two. "oooh! is that really true mommy?! did daddy really fight in the night warden wars?!" your daughter was shocked, and positively interested in so. "yes, yes, multiple times even." you finish tying her hair, along with a little necklace that spelt her name around her nape.

"love, don't fuel her fixation." your now-husband, kinich, fixes his tie briefly before he frustratedly unties it to redo it without any success 'till to chime in to do so.

'this felt a little familiar' is what he thought, as he feels your lips on his skin once more. ah, that feeling.

"a- alright then, i'll be off, be good for mom okay?" he clears his throat momentarily before composing himself. you and your daughter excitedly wave (mostly your daughter on the enthusiastic part though), as he goes off for work again.

he can't wait to come home once more.

ILYT NONNIE <333

[pearlessance]

Forgive Me, Father - Idle Threats [viii]

Series Summary — Joel has watch duty with Jackson’s twenty-year old, smart-mouthed brat and gets more than he bargained for.

Chapter Summary — Joel hears your confession and breaks all ten commandments in the house of the holy.

Pairing — Joel Miller/Reader

Warnings — Explicit sexual content MDNI, brat taming, age gap, mean!Joel, religious imagery and symbolism, catholic guilt, reader has added backstory to progress the plot, mention of sexual assault, murder, canon typical violence, renouncing of god, desecration of a church, blood, brief daddy kink

SERIES MASTERLIST

[cross posted to AO3]

The following days are easier than any other you’ve had since leaving Jackson. It takes two days, but Joel hears your laugh again and feels himself release a heavy weight at the sound. Once, when the two of you are switching watch shifts, you sleepily mutter his name. And he goes to you like he always will—and you whisper an almost incoherent confession of your affection. “I love you, too,” you say, and he tries not to think about the way it makes him feel like a boy your age, hearing those words for the first time. 

You move slower, and it’s not because of the extra weight strapped to your horses. Joel doesn’t say it, but he knows it’s because you’re afraid of returning to Jackson. Afraid of things going back to the way they were before this run.

In truth, Joel worries about it too. Worries about finding a new routine, worries about Maria and Tommy and Ellie, worries about what they’ll say. It won’t make him change his mind, he knows. Nothing would ever make him regret this selfish decision to keep you. But sometimes, in a too-long moment of silence, anxiety builds in his chest when he thinks of it. 

But you still have several days before you return, and Joel intends to soak up this sweet, delicate time with you while he still can.

A little over halfway back to Jackson, you stop before the sun sets and make camp in an old, abandoned church. The very same one advertised on the billboard Joel had seen on the way to Casper.

Some of the pews are turned over while others have been broken apart and likely set ablaze in the pile of ashes in the center of the floor. There are no infected, but there’s a stone statue of Mary that looms ominously in the corner, covered in dust and cracked along its painted surface.

Joel feels uncomfortable here. Feels watched, judged. His skin crawls and he thinks about pushing on until you find some other place to rest.

The altar table has been left untouched, decorated with a yellowed, satin ribbon draped along its center. The bible lying on top is flipped open to a passage Joel knows well.

Corinthians 10:13 

No temptation has seized you except what is common to man: but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that which you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can endure it.

It’s bookmarked not with a scrap of paper but with a silver necklace tucked in its spine. A dainty thing with a cross dangling from the end of it. Joel picks it up, watches it sway between his calloused fingers. 

And when he turns to face you, you’re standing in the middle of the center aisle and the setting sunlight casts a shadow across your face, making you look like some angelic being sent to him by God himself. “Did you ever come to one of these before the world ended?”

Joel nods, takes the necklace in his hands and finds his way back to you. “Quite a bit when I was a kid,” he answers. “My mom was pretty religious. We went to every Sunday service and sometimes the ones on Wednesdays, too. Even sent Tommy and I to the church's after-school program for young kids.”

He holds the necklace out to show you, and a shiver runs down his spine when you trace the cross in his palm, your touch electrifying. It’s just the smallest brush of your index finger, but it makes the air get caught in his lungs. “Pretty,” you say wistfully. “Do you believe in God?”

Joel jerks his chin in a silent demand and you obey wordlessly, turning away from him. He unclasps the necklace as you hold your hair out of the way. “I did,” he answers slowly, wrapping the silver chain carefully around your throat. “And then I didn’t.”

“And now?” 

He secures it and runs his knuckles down the nape of your neck. No would be the closest thing to the truth, but it’s not quite it. Joel thinks about lying to save himself the shame but rejects the thought as soon as it comes. “I believe in you,” he says quietly.

Somehow this confession feels heavier than his declaration of love. Perhaps it’s because this is the thing he’s struggled with, this strange worship of Judas. You’ve come to him in pieces, a shell of a girl, a betrayer—and yet it’s your altar he crawls to. It’s you who holds the keys to heaven, who controls both his grace and his damnation.

Joel leans forward and presses his lips to your skin, leaving goosebumps in his wake. He can feel your breath falter, and so he does it again. This time a kiss to your shoulder, right above the collar of your sweater. 

His hands have a mind of their own as they find your waist. Joel knows this is wrong, knows how sinful it is, and yet he knows the only way to endure the taste of the forbidden fruit is to bite into it, to devour it, to consume it for as long as he’s able. He has spent so much of his life fighting, resisting, repenting—but maybe it’s time God asks for his forgiveness.

Your skin is smooth beneath his calloused palms. He slides them beneath your shirt, over your hips, up your torso. He pulls at the soft garment, and you lift your arms for him to make it easier as he pulls it off and discards it in the nearest pew.

And then his hands are on you again—this time tracing the edge of your jeans, pinky finger dipping slowly beneath the band around your waist, teasing. You’re panting now, chest rising and falling in quick succession. You say his name a little like a prayer and it brings a smile to his face. 

“Shh,” he says. “Patience is a virtue, little girl.” But he wants you, perhaps even more than you want to be touched, so his left hand finds the button of your jeans and undoes it. 

He moves slowly, and you stand completely still as Joel peels the too-tight jeans down your legs. You kick your boots off, and soon you’re standing in the middle of this crumbling church in nothing but a pair of baby pink panties and a white lace bralette, looking every bit the divine goddess he doesn’t deserve. 

When you turn to face him, there’s a playful glint in your eye. “Let me try it,” you say. “One question, though. Is it forgive me, father? Or is it forgive me, Daddy?”

Two things happen inside him at once. 

First, the crudeness of your words baffles him so completely that he laughs. Full-on laughs for the first time in twenty years. The vulgarity of it in a place of worship is somehow both amusing and horrifying. 

Second, all the blood in his head rushes south. Because the word daddy in your mouth is the most erotic thing he’s ever heard, the dirtiest thing he’s ever heard, and Joel knows right away that he will never have the strength to process why such a thing makes him so goddamn hard. Doesn’t even attempt it. 

He simply enjoys it instead. Allows it to drown him, consume him wholly. Accepts what is and what isn’t. Accepts that he is the most deplorable man that’s ever existed and it’s why he’ll never deserve you but it’s also why it’ll never matter. Because now…you belong to the most deplorable man. 

The devil and his pretty, perfect Judas.

And then you lower yourself to your knees in front of him and Joel struggles to keep his weary heart from bursting from his chest. 

His attempts at composure are blown to pieces when you press your hands together and look up at him through your lashes. With all humor bled from the moment, overtaken by a sudden hunger, you say, “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” and something evil stirs inside him.

Something more than sinful. Something ungodly. Something blasphemous. 

That cross is draped beautifully between your breasts, cleavage elevated by the angle of your arms.

Joel reaches out with both hands and runs them through your hair affectionately. “You look so pretty on your knees,” he says. “You got somethin’ to confess?”

You nod and a smirk graces your face. “I’ve been having wicked thoughts,” you say, voice taking on an innocent and girlish tone. “And…I’ve been giving into temptation, Father.”

“S’that right?” Joel licks his lips. His cock throbs in his jeans, desperate for your touch in a way it’s never been before.

He watches, transfixed, as you take your bottom lip between your teeth, taking your hands from the position of prayer and instead running them up his strong thighs. You slide them beneath his flannel, soft hands cool against his heated skin. “I’ve been letting a man touch me.” You’re whispering, but he feels each syllable down to his bones. “An older man,” you continue, pulling at his belt. 

Joel finds you mesmerizing. Thinks you’ve ruined him. Completely, utterly decimated the man he used to be. “Touch you how?”

You don’t take your eyes off his as his belt clinks against the button of his jeans. “I’ve let him inside me, Father,” you say, pulling down his zipper at a torturous pace. “I’ve let him in my mouth, in my heart, in between my thighs.” 

He never thought it possible, but his need for you grows teeth, morphs into some vicious, ravenous thing. Joel brushes his fingers through your hair, pulling lightly at the roots. “And what do you think you should do as repentance, sweetheart?”

Joel’s reminded of a siren’s song when you answer, “I think I should show a little extra devotion. Don’t you?” You pull his cock from his jeans, and the simple touch of your hand has him nearly shaking in anticipation. You break character for only long enough to giggle softly, wipe the back of your hand over your glossy lips, and say, “My mouth is watering.”

He smooths your hair back away from your face, admiring the way you look on your knees for him, just as desperate as he is. “Go’head, baby,” he says.

You don’t waste any time. You’re slow in your pursuit; tongue tracing the vein on the underside of his cock. Savoring, worshiping, devoting yourself to him and him only. You swirl your tongue around the head, licking up drops of precum.

When you finally take him into your mouth, you don’t stop until you’ve swallowed him whole, choking on it, nose pressed to the tuft of hair below his navel. It’s the most glorious thing Joel’s ever seen in all his life. And then you moan, and he can feel the vibrations of it down to his toes. 

You pull your head back far enough, and your mouth leaves him completely, connected by nothing but strands of saliva. Your lips are already bruised and swollen, but they pull into the prettiest, proudest smile he’s ever seen, and Joel’s weak in the knees. 

“Filthy little girl,” he says affectionately, hands still running through the silky strands of your hair. “Y’like that? Hm? You like that mouth filled up, don’t you?”

“Mmhm.” There’s so much love, so much worship in your eyes that he feels his chest pull tight. You take his cock in your mouth again, tongue sliding along the underside of it, cheeks hollowed out to take him in deeper.

Joel feels your devotion with each soft lick, each swallow at the back of your throat, each ragged, choked breath. He knows he won’t last long. Your mouth is too hot, too wet, too sweet. And when you pick up the pace, bobbing your head, fingernails leaving indentations in the exposed skin of his thighs, pressure builds at the base of his spine like a fucking noose. “There you go,” he encourages. “Doin’ so fuckin’ good, baby. Shit —just like that.”

Your cheeks are flushed, and Joel’s once gentle hands pull tight in your hair, guiding your mouth down onto him. It only makes those delicious moans around his cock that much sweeter. Your thighs are clamped tightly together, and he barrels towards euphoria as he thinks about just how wet he knows you are, his dirty little girl.

“Fuck, baby—fuck. Hold on, hold on.” He pulls your head back, cock slick and glossy, covered in your spit. He’s going to finish just like this if he’s not careful. “Gonna be over too soon if you keep that up.”

“Please, Joel,” you say. “I want to taste it. It’s all I want. Let me make you feel good.”

Joel thinks Michaelangelo never would’ve sculpted David, had his existence overlapped with yours. Because in all the time of the universe, a sight has never lived as beautiful as the one of you begging on your knees before him.

What kind of man would he be if he refused? Joel wants to give you everything you could ever ask for. Wants to give you the world at whatever cost to his soul.

So, he doesn’t stop you when you wrap your bruised lips around his cock again. You feel like heaven, or as close to it as he’ll ever be allowed.

He comes at the back of your throat with a groan and trembling hands in your hair. Hands that are all too aware that they hold something holy, something divine. “ Goddamn —fuck. Mm, yeah. There you go, baby. There you go.”

His cock throbs in your mouth, and you don’t stop sucking until he’s completely spent. And when you do finally lean back and stick out your tongue, he’s nearly hard again at the obscene way his come drips down your lips, down your chin. 

Then you swallow, and Joel grins and rests his palm gently on your cheek. He uses the rough pad of his thumb to push the last few drops back into your mouth, and you suck it down greedily. “Gotta take it all, little girl. Make me proud, hm?”

And as soon as you’re satisfied, Joel’s pulling you back to your feet and pressing his mouth to yours in a ravenous kiss. He can taste remnants of himself on you, and it’s the most comforting sensation he’s ever experienced. It’s proof of your union, evidence of your devotion. A physical, tangible way to convince him he’s not alone in his sacrilege.

Joel lifts you off your feet, and your legs instinctively wrap around his waist. He carries you to the altar table, lays you down, and pushes your knees apart. Normally, he likes to take his time with you. Likes to savor the way you taste, the way you feel. But he’s so hungry for you and you only that he cannot— cannot wait another fucking second.

But then you say his name and his every intention freezes. “You don’t have to,” you say, and it confuses him. You attempt an explanation. “I don’t want you to feel like you always have to make me finish, too. I just…I didn’t do it expecting anything in return. I want you to know that.”

You sound so sincere, so… benevolent. A far cry from the bratty little girl he first met. He presses a kiss to your temple and says quietly, “I’d never let my little girl go without. Not the kinda man I am, baby.”

He might be too old to go rounds with you, but he knows how to make you feel good. He’s real good at it, in fact.

Joel leans over and presses a chaste kiss to your clit, right over your panties. He delights in the way it makes you shiver, but it’s nothing compared to the sounds you make when he pulls the fabric to the side and slides his tongue through your wet warmth. 

He presses your legs back, opens you further, and laps at your pussy like a man starved for you because he is. You taste like redemption, like home.

Your hands weave into his hair, tugging lightly, and Joel moans when you press his face against your pussy like he just can’t get close enough. He takes your clit in his mouth and sucks hard, tongue rolling over it softly. 

“Fuck, that feels so good, Joel— God —”

A groan escapes him, lips vibrating with the sound of it. His cock begins to harden again, hanging heavy between his legs. He’s insatiable for you; returned to the needy, desperate stage of his masculinity he once thought he’d grown out of.

Joel quickens the movement of his tongue and slips a finger inside of you. Your back arches off the altar table and your hips grind against his face, smearing your slick down his chin, over his lips.

He hooks his finger inside of you and strokes the spot that makes you writhe. You look so beautiful he thinks you must be some divine being. It’s the only thing that makes sense in his head. 

Your legs begin to tremble around his shoulders and that’s when he decides to pull away. Because he wants you to cum for him, wants to be the reason you shiver and shake—but he wants to feel it. 

In one smooth movement, he pulls you to the edge of the altar table and sinks his cock into you deep.

“Oh my God,” you whimper. “Fuck, fuck, Joel, I’m gonna—!”

“Wait,” he says, stilling the instinctual rocking of his hips. You’re so tight, so smooth and wet as your pussy flutters around his cock. He pushes into you to the hilt but doesn’t move, doesn’t give you the satisfaction. He moves his hands to your lower belly, applying just a little bit of pressure. He can feel himself inside you, can feel just how full of him you are. “Want you to cum with me, little girl,” he says. “Can you do that for me? Hm?”

Slowly, experimentally, he shifts his hips the smallest bit, thrusting into you and laughing maliciously at the way you squeeze your eyes shut and whine for more. “I can—can try,” you stammer. “But it feels so —”

“Shh, I know baby,” he says, thrusting into you again, a little harder this time. It feels euphoric, indulging himself in you in a place of worship. He can feel faith in the air like magic, faith in you, in himself, in the love you share.

He moves again, fucking you slow and deep. If it weren’t for the way you make him feel, he thinks he might last a little longer. But the taste of ambrosia lingers on his tongue and he can see the pulsing of your clit and feel the tension in your muscles created from holding yourself back from the edge of pleasure.

Pride swells in his chest. His perfect girl, doing everything he asks, doing anything to please him. It makes him feel holy, like maybe the only godly presence in the room is him.

This is what you’ve done to him. You’ve taken this shell of a man and turned him seraphic, turned him sacred through your worship. Emotion builds in his throat when he thinks of it, when he realizes just how lucky he is to exist in this same universe as you, in the same lifetime. 

He kisses you deep and fucks you even deeper.

“Joel,” you pant, fingernails digging into the side of the altar table. The aged satin cloth has been wrinkled beneath your weight, hanging slightly askew off the edge. “Please, please, I can’t—!”

Warmth pools low in his belly. You sound so pretty when you beg. He presses one hand harder against your abdomen and uses the other to circle your clit. He can feel his cock move beneath his palm with each thrust and the sensation is the filthiest thing he’s ever experienced.

The pressure builds and builds and builds, and then finally —

“Go ‘head, baby. Cum for me,” he says, thrusting a little faster, rhythm faltering as rapture fills him like sunlight. Your legs tremble around his hips and your moans echo in the church as you find faith, too.

“I love you,” you say, and it feels like redemption. Like the opening of heaven’s gates. 

Like forgiveness.

You come down slowly, and Joel’s completely spent with almost no energy left. Yet still he helps you dress, pulls your sweater back on, and buttons up those too-tight jeans.

You eat together, rationing what little food you have left to try and stretch these precious days out a little longer. You admit around a bite of hard bread that you’re exhausted from the day’s ride and he is, too. And so you work together to stack the pews in front of the church’s double doors, sealing yourself inside but more importantly keeping anything outside from getting in.

There’s a window at the back of the church in a room Joel knows was once used for confessional. He leaves it cracked just enough to hear the horses outside if a commotion is caused. And then he holds you in his arms and sleeps. 

It’s the best sleep Joel’s gotten in twenty-five years, the sound of your voice echoing even in his dreams. 

But halfway through the night, the sound of whinnying and rambunctious laughter can be heard, jarring you both awake. 

You’re out of his arms and at the back of the church before Joel’s finished blinking his eyes open. 

He stands to his feet, heart racing behind his ribcage. 

Men’s voices, but far away. Several of them. 

He watches you move quickly through the church to the window at the front, watches you carefully peak through the dirty glass pane. 

Joel saddles up behind you and has never been more thankful that you skipped the warmth of a fire. Because fifteen yards away, there’s a group of men passing through. Some on horses, others walking casually beside them. They’re not subtle about their presence. 

Maybe they don’t think anyone’s around. And on any normal day, they would be right. Except this day, Joel’s here. You’re here.

He picks up his rifle from the makeshift bed the two of you created hours ago. 

You don’t move. You stay focused, transfixed as if you’re trying to see the minute details of their faces from this far away. You wipe the glass with the ivory sleeve of your sweater and it comes away grimy, covered in dust.

Joel knows there’s something you’re not telling him. Can feel the tension, electric and tight in the air, skin crawling with it. Your eyes are narrowed, focused on the sound of rambunctious laughter coming from the small group of men. 

And then your spine straightens and all concern bleeds from your face, replaced in an instant with rage. Red, murderous rage. Joel thinks he’s only seen that sort of frenzy in his own reflection. Now it stares back at him, mirrored and bloodthirsty. “What is it?”

You don’t answer. The scrape of your knife against its sheath at your thigh strikes a terror in him he hasn’t felt in years. His stomach turns uncomfortably because Joel knows, he knows something isn’t right. Something is going to go wrong. He can feel it in his marrow. 

“Stop,” he says. “Talk to me.”

It’s like his words don’t even register. You say nothing as you pull at the pews stacked in front of the doors. They scrape noisily against the hardwood floor, and Joel tries to find something to stop you, to get through to you—but that knife is still clutched in your blanched fist and he knows in your rage you’ll swing at him all the same.

“There are eight of them and two of us,” he tries to reason. “We have no ammunition, no bullets, no arrows. We have to let them—”

“Go?” You turn your frenzied eyes on him. “What’s now eight used to be twenty,” you say. “I won’t let them get away this time.”

“Then we plan for it,” he says, holding out a hand and taking a tentative step toward you. It doesn’t matter to him what your reasoning may be. Joel knows that sort of wrath, knows he’ll never change your mind. And he knows following you down this path of slaughter is bound to bloody his hands further, to taint his soul this time beyond repair. 

But he made a promise to you. Nothing in this world will you ever face alone. 

The problem is that Joel knows neither of you will make it out alive. Not in this. You got lucky back in Casper, and he’s got the knowledge and experience with age to know you won’t get lucky twice.

He can’t let you do this. 

“They won’t get far, okay? Not in an area like this. We go home— tomorrow. We ride to Jackson and we’ll get there in a day if we don't stop. And then we’ll come back for them, alright? We’ll stock up and track them down. I swear to you—”

“You don’t know,” you say, voice shaking. “You don’t know what they did—!”

“So tell me. Tell me everything. Give me the knife.” He reaches for it slowly, carefully. You eye him like he might grow claws and an extra head if you look away for an instant.

You don’t trust him, Joel realizes. Not at this moment, not with this. “Joel,” you say in warning. “Don’t.”

He wonders what’s led you here. Wonders about who’s distrusting hands you once placed your justice in. 

The answer comes to him the moment the question crosses his mind. 

“I’m not like her,” he says. “Look at me, baby girl. Look at me .”

You do. And though that frenzied look lingers in your eyes, something in you softens and he’s grateful for it.

“I’m not Maria. You understand me? When I make you a promise, I mean it. I will kill them. All of them. But we have to be smart about this. We have to do it right. Yeah?” He reaches out again. “Give me the knife.”

You angle it higher, just out of his reach. For a second Joel thinks all progress has been lost because he moved too quickly, too carelessly. But then you say, “Swear it to me. Swear on her life that you won't make me let them go.”

On her life. 

Not her death, but her life. A promise of certainty. An unbreakable oath. Because if he fails, if he shatters this trust, Sarah’s life means nothing.

Joel’s lungs ache. Everything hurts and his skin feels like it’s on fire because no one has ever seen him like this. No one has known exactly what to say, exactly which bruises to press. 

He nods slowly. “Okay,” he relents. “I swear on her life that we will find them.”

Carefully, you hand him the blade, and as if giving it away had flipped a switch, you deflate.

Joel slides your knife into the side of his boot when you turn away from him and go back to the window. 

He stands beside you, a looming presence at your back. Even though he wants answers, he doesn’t want to pry them out of you. And your silence allows him the space for his mind to wander into unspeakable places. Joel has seen firsthand the depraved, vile things that mankind spirals into beneath the weight of survival. 

For a time, even he had sunk so incredibly low. 

And because he’s seen so much, his brain is filled with gut-wrenching images, theoretical scenes of torture, corruption, and perversion. Each one is more brutal than the last. And in them all, you’re the center of it. 

You watch the group of men through the window until the blue illumination of their flashlights disappears from view. And the moment they do, you’re slipping through the window in the back of the church. 

Joel follows you, a million questions on the tip of his tongue. But he stays silent and does nothing but help you gather debris fallen from the trees in the wooded area behind the church. 

Once, he picks up a curved stick, and as if you’d seen it from the back of your head, you say, “No. Not that one. If they’re too curved, the arrows won’t shoot straight.”

 The two of you gather timber for over an hour. And when his hands are just as full as yours, you return to the church. Joel returns your knife and you attempt to teach him how to shave the stick correctly and to whittle the point of it into a weapon. 

He’s not even half as fast as you are. For every arrow he creates, you produce three. It’s a slow, tedious process, but eventually, you begin to speak. 

“It happened on the last run I did for Maria,” you say, eyes focused on the knife and wood in your hands. “I fell asleep one night. It’d been days since I’d given myself a chance to rest and it had finally caught up to me. I’d barricaded myself in a house and might as well have been dead to the world. Two of them found me. Didn’t wake me, didn’t try to kill me or anything. They just took my bow and my pack. My pack that was mostly empty, had nothing in it but a twelve gauge with two bullets, some cans of food, water, and those stale fucking barbecue chips.”

You shake your head dismally. 

“Should’ve fuckin left it. But I…I was afraid. If I came back to Jackson without the one thing she asked for, what use was I? What kept me there?”

It pains him to hear you say it. He wants to tell you you’re wrong, that despite what Maria has made you believe, your worth is not tied to what you can do for her. But he doesn’t. Joel just lets you talk. 

“I tracked them to a warehouse a few miles outside of Boise. Watched them for a while, memorized all the entrances, the windows. Even memorized their faces. They had two people on watch in rotating shifts. I didn’t want to kill them, considering they didn’t try to kill me. But I wanted my pack, and so I waited until four of them were talking during a shift change and slipped inside through the back.”

Your eyes darken, and Joel fears what you may say next.

“Didn’t go as planned. One of them saw me. Outed me immediately, of course. And I thought they’d kill me. Shoot me or something. But that didn’t go as planned, either. The leader was called Gabriel.”

Your hands around the arrow still and your eyes grow misty. You’re reliving it, as clearly as if it were happening now.

“He, uhm…held me down. Suggested the rest of them take turns with me.” 

Joel feels something inside him shift. Feels a decision being made, feels murder begin to drip down his fingertips like water.

“They’d already had my shotgun and took the pistol I had tucked in the back of my jeans the second they ripped them off. I thought…I thought it was the end for me. Because even if I survived it, even if I made it through all twenty of them…I might as well have been dead anyway.”

He understands now, Joel realizes. Understands why you were so infuriated about a run for a pregnancy craving when the price was this. His mouth runs dry.

Your words echo in the dark church. “Had my knife tucked up the sleeve of my jacket, though.” A small smile graces your face as you turn the blade over in your fingers admiringly. “Was able to stop Gabriel before he got any further. They were…stupid. Arrogant. Came at me one by one because why would you need more than that to fight a little girl with nothing but a knife ?”

Now there are only eight of them. The main perpetrator perished, his blood stained so deeply into your jacket that when you’d returned to Jackson they’d had to burn it. No salvaging anything from your destruction. 

Nothing but this vengeance, this promise to yourself to right those who wronged you.  He forced you to break it for your own safety. And though a surge of regret and sorrow trickles into his psyche, he knows there’s still an unbroken vow remaining. 

The promise Joel made to you. 

“Some of them ran. I tried to track them but after a few days, I just…I needed sleep. I wanted to go home.” You go black to fletching your arrow, whittling the end into a sharp point. “I’ll find them one day. Then it’ll be me taking turns with them .”

You don’t say much else for the next two hours. And he doesn’t, either. He helps you sharpen the timber into arrows and when you yawn three times in less than five minutes, he gives you his flannel and lets you lay your head in his lap. 

Joel smooths the tangles in your hair as you sleep. And when you begin to softly snore, he carefully shifts your head onto your sleeping bag and tucks the strap of his rifle beneath your arm.

When he slips out of the window in the back of the church, he latches it shut.  He decides against taking a horse, worried it’d create too much commotion. 

But he does take your serrated sawback knife, telling himself it’s poetic justice. 

They’re only two miles away, stashed in a rundown grocery store that’s been picked over one too many times. Two men sit outside the door. Old habits die hard, Joel thinks. 

One has his head tilted back against the stone wall, sleeping with an ease he doesn’t deserve.

Joel takes out the other one first. And he does it quicker than he’d like. He creeps up behind him silently, wraps one hand around his throat, and uses the other to cover his mouth. The snap of his spine reverberates through Joel’s hands, tingling from his palms down to his elbows. 

The other wakes with the commotion but doesn’t even have the chance to scream before your knife is lodged in his neck so deep the sharp point sticks out of the other end. 

Inside, the other six all rest as well. Joel wonders how they can do so peacefully, knowing they’ve given an innocent little girl fuel for her nightmares. A girl who’s lost enough, who’s sacrificed enough, more than anyone should—only to lose a piece of herself at their greedy hands.

He makes quick work of them. Even delights in the way life leaves their eyes. One by one, Joel uses your knife to slit each and every one of their throats. 

By the time he’s finished, his hands are caked in blood, splatters staining the sleeves of his heavy, canvas coat, and all that’s left of the men who hurt you are eight corpses.

You’re still sleeping when he slips back through the window of the church. It’s a little ironic, he thinks, to return here to this holy place with an angel inside, all while covered in the stink of death.

Joel sits beside you, back pressed against a pew. His hands rest on his knees, blood still drying beneath his fingernails. He watches you sleep and thinks his damnation is worth it if this brings you a sense of safety. 

Though he tries not to, Joel thinks an awful lot about Sarah. Thinks about how he failed her, how just a little more brutality could have saved her.

He’s spent years regretting that night, regretting holding on to the shred of humanity he had left when he should have been holding onto her. He makes a promise not to repeat the same bad habits. Makes a promise he’ll never let his naive desire for respite get in the way of his need to protect you, to keep you safe. He’s breaking the habit, the same as he did with Ellie, because Joel doesn’t think he'll ever survive a loss of such magnitude again.

It doesn’t matter what he has to become to keep you safe. Doesn’t matter the cost to his soul.

Your face looks peaceful but your fists are coiled tight beneath your head. As if even in your sleep you’re fighting something, always on the defense. He wonders if it’s a trait you inherited before or after those men, before or after your sister's death, before or after the accusatory way the inhabitants of Jackson look at you.

Joel feels something heavy rise up in him. Something akin to sorrow or grief. This deep, pensive heartache because it’s just not fair. You’re so young, so innocent, dealing with the same demons he still fights and sometimes loses to at age fifty-two. 

He doesn’t want this for you. Doesn’t want you to become volatile, murderous, monstrous in the ways he has. Joel spent so much time pushing you away and he thinks maybe it’s because there’s so much of his anger mirrored in you. That staring it in the face felt too harrowing, too raw. 

The longer he thinks about it the more pieces slot together in his brain. Your cruel words hurled at anyone who sets you on edge. Your inability to follow any direction that isn’t forced. The self-isolation, the distrust in even those you love most. That animalistic fight in you, flight and freeze be damned. The need to protect others before yourself—Joel, Ellie, Miley, even Maria.

You don’t deserve to live like this. Don't deserve eternal damnation or to experience the wrath of God for the monstrous things you result to when you feel all else is lost. Violence is the only thing that has never turned its back on you.

Joel’s melancholy manifests, a single tear sliding down his cheek. You’re just a little girl and it's not fucking fair. 

He doesn’t want this for you. He wants you to live a full, happy, peaceful life. Not one spent out here chasing ghosts, trying to find your worth in providing for others. He wants you to be protected, to know you’re loved even when you lash out, wants you to know that he understands. Joel wants to be that for you. Wants to be the unwavering support you deserve, wants to be the thing that pulls you back from that ledge you’re dancing upon. Joel wants to be for you what he needed in the darkest part of his rage.

But to do that, you’re going to have to relinquish a little more of that control you hold so tightly.

When you wake, it’s gradual. You don’t startle or flinch at the blood on his hands. But your eyes linger there on the red stain for some time before you ask, “All of them?”

Joel nods once. “All of them.” 

And then you’re crawling into his lap, straddling him, pressing your mouth to his, thanking him in the only way you know how. Your tongue tastes like sleep and ambrosia and sunlight, but when Joel cradles your face in his hands he leaves blood in the wake of his fingertips. The bright red is a stark contrast against the smoothness of your skin, the violence an antithesis to your innocence.

He slides his bloody hands into your hair when your hips begin to move. His cock hardens quickly as his body catches up with your intent, always needy and eager, always just waiting to join you in more than just soul.

While he unbuttons his jeans and slides his zipper down to pull his erection out, your mouth never leaves his. Even when you shove those too-tight jeans down your thighs just enough to make room for him. When you lift up on your knees and sink down onto his cock in one familiarized movement he can feel the vibration of your moan against his tongue, can feel the breath of air from your gasp as he settles in deep.

The stretch is blissfully painful, stinging in all the right ways. You rock your hips slowly at first, adjusting to the sheer size of him, adjusting to his all-encompassing warmth. Your fingers dig into his thick shoulders, desperate to keep your balance.

And then you lift just enough to come slamming back down, the friction setting his skin ablaze. Again, again, again —it’s hurried and needy and depraved. Your hips move fervently over his, seeking out what you know only he can provide.

Your eyes are squeezed shut when you pull your sweet mouth away from his. Joel watches you lean back and place your hands on his thighs for support, back arching, and somehow he finds himself even deeper inside you. You’re moaning and his breath is coming fast and he thinks you look more than just angelic from this angle. He watches you ride his cock and wonders if you were fucking made to do this. 

Cheeks flushed, lips parted, his name on your lips. Is this what Eve saw in the waxy reflection of the forbidden fruit? Is this what she saw when she knowingly abandoned paradise? 

Joel thinks it can’t get much better than this. Thinks the only thing that’s ever come close is the feeling of blood on his hands in the name of those he loves, in the name of you.

He wraps his hand around your throat, staining you even further red, and says, “I’d do anything for you. Anything .” 

He thinks about the Ten Commandments, about how he can cross off every single one of them with just this act alone. 

You shall have no other Gods before me. 

No divine being has made him feel like this. No divinity has ever reached up through his ribs and squeezed a fist around his heart. Not like you have. 

You shall make no idols. 

He thinks about the way you look in his canvas coat. Joel has found his own form of peace through you, has found forgiveness beneath your tongue. 

You shall not take the name of the Lord your God in vain. 

Your pace quickens. The obscene, wet sounds coming from the place you’re joined echo in the walls of the church. “Oh my God, Joel, I’m—I’m close.”

He knows you are. Can feel it in the way your pussy squeezes him like a vise, in the way your rhythm becomes sloppy and desperate.

Keep the Sabbath day holy. 

Joel doesn’t know what day it is. But he knows he wishes he could stay here in this home you’ve made together within the bones of an old religion, wishes he could stay inside you. He doesn’t know if there’s anything more unholy than this insatiable desire.

Honor your father and mother.

He thinks about that day in the dining hall when embarrassment climbed Maria’s cheeks as you screamed in her face. Joel thinks she deserved it more than he realized that day. He thinks about the way you spoke to him in that watchtower, thinks about the way he’d had to drag you there by your hair, all while listening to every disrespectful thing that came out of your mouth and how a few short weeks later you got down on your knees and called him daddy. 

You shall not murder. 

He takes the hand wrapped around your throat and flattens it against your sternum. The blood is drying but still marks your skin in the shape of his fingerprints.

You shall not commit adultery.

Joel knows he’s supposed to be with a lovely, soft-spoken, age-appropriate woman but knows, too, that death would be kinder than the loss of you. 

You shall not steal. 

He was angry at first, about the strawberry scone. Mike’s wife is a kind woman who spends her time baking for the community. But Ellie likely never would’ve had the opportunity to try it had you not nicked the pastry. If it was always going to lead the two of you here, together, Joel would have stolen every last scone on God’s green earth. 

You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor. 

Lying seems a small price to pay for you, for your safety. He remembers telling Greg and Bonnie that you were running late the night you left him in the watchtower alone. He wanted to keep you safe then even without noticing that’s what he was doing. Safe from ridicule, from judgment. 

You shall not covet. 

He recalls seeing Abel’s hands on you, seeing his lips against your hair in a chaste kiss. Joel had wanted to kill him then, for touching what was his. He knows by taking you for his own, he’s taking you away from someone like Abel. Someone with a little more moral in their heart, a little less blood on their hands. But he doesn’t care because you’re his now and always. 

Joel lifts his hips in tandem with yours, meeting each stroke, thrusting his cock even deeper inside you. Your legs begin to shake around his and Joel thinks damnation isn’t so bad. “Anything,” he repeats. “Lie, cheat, steal.” His hand on your chest slides up again, wrapping tight around your throat. “I’d kill for you, little girl.”

Your pussy flutters around him and your spine bends in the most beautiful arch he’s ever seen. It solidifies his belief in one very important thing, the last nail in the coffin that cements the two of you together eternally.

This filthy, sinful devotion is cosmic. Celestial. Unearthly. So much more than a bible and cross. 

It’s worth it. It’s worth everything. 

“You like that? Hm?” Your rhythm falters but his remains steady. “Like that I’d spill blood for you, s’that it? That’s what got you all wet, sweetheart?” Your moans turn saccharine— sacrilegious. “Pretty pussy’s so fuckin’ tight, baby. Such a messy thing. I’d kill anyone for my little girl. Anyone .”

“Joel, I—!” 

He knows, he knows. Because he is, too. “Yeah, thaaaat’s it,” he says, drawing out each syllable. Your hands squeeze hard around his thighs and your muscles draw tight. “There you go, baby. Cum for me. That’s it. Sweet fuckin’ girl. Gonna fill you up. That what you want?”

You rasp out his name and the words yes, please, please, and it sounds like a fucking prayer. It’s a hypnotic litany. It makes him feel cherished, adored. And the sound of it spoken in worship in the house of God sends him over the edge. 

Even though your legs tremble around his, you ride his cock relentlessly. Joel’s vision goes white and his hand on your hip squeezes tight enough to bruise. You feel so good, so warm and wet. You lift your hips and slam them back down until the oversensitivity becomes more than he can bear. His hand abandons the home it’s made around your throat and finds the small of your back instead, stilling you completely.

You lean forward, collapsing with your hands pressed against his chest. Joel wraps his arms around your middle and cradles you in his lap, all too aware of the divinity he holds in his hands. He presses a kiss to your temple and listens to your heavy breaths.

Some time passes. He’s not sure how long the two of you sit there with Joel still wedged deep inside you, basking in the afterglow. The sun rises outside and the songbirds of the morning begin to sing. 

Eventually, you lift your head and whisper, “Thank you.”

“For what?” Joel doesn’t understand. He’s stolen something he was undeserving of, only to be loved back. If anyone should be thankful, it should be him. 

It feels like a punch to the gut when you say, “For seeing me.”

Because he now knows no one else ever has. No one has ever seen your defiance as anything but a nuisance, has never seen you as more than a troublemaker, as a bad omen.  

But Joel does see you. He sees right through all that savage fight to the little girl beneath, that soft, childish innocence you keep under heavy guard. He thinks he’s been able to see through it since the first moment he laid eyes on you.

It’s her he wants to protect.

Joel takes your chin in his hand and makes you a commandment of his own. “I will always see you.”

[part seven] [part nine]

taglist; @heartbrokenlilbitch-nef @elliesr1fle @pascaltesfaye

let me know if you want to be added! thank you to everyone for all the insane support on this <3

[masterist]

[wasawattpadkid]

Housewife

Part - 8

Summery: Billy and Stu have been planning these murders for quite some time. Everything is going to plan until you show up. What happens when they meet someone who is just as mentally deluded as they are?

Pairing: poly!ghostface x fem!reader

Warnings for this series: ⚠️graphic⚠️ murder, blood, smut (will be more in depth on smut chapters), power dynamics, a dash of sexism, knives, stalking, perverse behavior, cheating, canon typical violence, guns, suicide,

Part 1

"Can this skirt go any lower?" You tugged at the fabric. "It can but any lower and your bush is likely to show." Tatum laughed fixing the skirt back where she had it. "Yeah no. I'm not wearing this. It doesn't fit anyways." She rolled her eyes grabbing your bell bottoms. "Okay then, wear these again but I'm going to pick out a shirt." Sydney was already changed. She was busy fixing her hair while you and Tatum fought over clothes. "Here." You changed into your pants and put on the crop top Tatum gave you. "Oh yeah this is 10 times better. Wait." She rummaged through her jewelry box handing you a gold chain necklace.

You pulled it on over your head and she just laughed. "No. Give it to me." She wrapped it around your exposed waist latching it behind you. "There, it's a belly chain." Of course she would have something with a name like that. "Now just fix your hair and we'll be ready to go." You walked into the bathroom with Sydney giving her a look. "Honestly you look really cute. Tatum likes to be a little over the top." She couldn't have warned you earlier? "Thanks." You quickly fixed your hair to the best of your ability.

Your lipgloss was sticky and your purse was light on your shoulder. Dewy looked you up and down quickly looking away when he realized what he was doing. "You kids ready?" He said as he looked around the room. "Let's go party!" Tatum shouted pulling you and Sydney to the car. Dewy barley had time to grab his keys. "Please don't drink too much tonight mom would flip if she found out." Tatum sighed. "I know Dewy thank you."

Dewy dropped you and your friends off at the grocery store leaving you to pick up some food. "Hey can you go grab the cheese dip?" Tatum asked you. "Sure thing." You walked through the store not sure where anything was. Hell you didn't even know what kind of cheese dip she wanted. You grabbed a random one hoping it would do the trick. "This work?" You met the two at the end of the isle. "Perfect." She sat the can in the cart along with other snacks. "Anything else?"

Once everything was paid for Dewy drove you and your friends to familiar house of Stu Macher. "Don't have too much fun." He said as you all jumped out bags in hand. "There's a lot of people here." You said a little anxious. "This is nothing you should've been at the pool party he threw sophomore year." The front door was wide open letting anyone in. You looked around the crowded house of inebriated teenagers. Tatum and Sydney walked with purpose towards the kitchen.

"Oh that's mature." Tatum said watching her boyfriend hold up a funnel that another boy was chugging a beer from. "You're late. The party's done started without you. My man." He high-fived the boy as he stood up. Sydney and Tatum shook their head with a laugh. "Damn I didn't know who you were for a second. Tatum you didn't say you were bringing Barbie to the party." Stu eyed you up and down but it made you feel gross. This outfit wasn't you and "Barbie" is not the nickname you unfortunately grew fond of.

"She cleans up nice doesn't she?" Tatum said proud of her work. "Hand me a beer." You said making Stu's smile fall just a bit. He knew he couldn't break character not when every little thing counted tonight. "One beer coming up." He turned grabbing an unopened bottle on the counter passing it to you. "You'll need this." He pitched you the bottle opener letting you pop the lid yourself. "Is Billy here?" Sydney asked looking at the crowd. "I sent him on a beer run so he'll be late." Sydney nodded deciding to find the nearest couch.

You took a swig of the disgusting liquid trying not to make a face. "Is it good sweetheart?" Stu teased knowing you'd never drank before. "It's great thanks." You said hoping to drink a couple more of those and speed up the night. Tatum soon dragged Stu away leaving you standing in the kitchen. "You're that chick that wears all that I love Lucy shit to school right?" Some asshole asked making you take a big swig of the fermented liquid. It was going to be a long ass night.

An hour passed with no sign of who you thought were your friends. The kitchen had cleared leaving you with a bunch of empty beer bottles that weren't yours. You were barley able to finish the one. "There you are I've been looking all over for ya." Your eyes were closed in all honesty they burned too much to stay open. Stu looked at your sleeping form quickly rewriting the plan. "Y/n?" He poked and shook you but you didn't utter a word praying for him to just leave you alone. "Works for me." He threw you over his shoulder similar to how he picked up Tatum earlier that day. Your purse strap drug into your neck as he held you upside down. All the kids were too excited to notice your limp body being carried around by the host. Quickly he laid you in the coat closet in a what he assumed was a drunken stupor.

It was a better idea than you getting hit in his book. He would hate if something actually bad happened to you. Stu shut the door and checked the time. "All right everybody curfew!" Stu shouted ushering everyone out of the home. "Tatum come on!" Sydney yelled to an almost empty house. "Do you know where she is?" Stu shrugged. "Nah I haven't seen her." Billy appeared at the front door on schedule. "Hmm what are you doing here?" Stu said his acting wasn't winning him any awards. "I was hoping I could talk to Syd alone."

"I'll tell you what why don't you guys go up to my parents room. You can talk or whatever." Stu clapped his hands suggestively. "Subtlety Stu you should look it up." Billy shook his head at his eager friend. Stu bit his lip in anticipation. "No, no he's right. We do need to talk." Sydney said holding out her hand. As Billy walked in he hit Stu in the groin playfully. "Ooh." Stu said in pain. Time went on, Tatum was still no where to be seen almost forgotten while Sydney and Billy holed up in the room upstairs. Stu laid out watching Halloween with some stragglers from the party.

Randy stood up pausing the movie. "There are rules to surviving a horror movie." He went on with his rant the crowd getting rowdy ever so often. "Alright I'm getting another beer you want one?" He asked randy as he walked towards the kitchen. "Yeah sure." Slowly Stu opened his eyes wide about to piss Randy off. "I'll be right back!" He said those forbidden words making everyone shout. "See you push the laws and you end up dead. Okay I'll see you in the kitchen with a knife." Randy proclaimed. Stu had no intention on going back into the living room.

Upstairs Billy started to put his shirt back on. "You okay?" He asked Sydney not really caring about her answer. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." She grabbed a hairbrush from the night stand brushing out her hair. "Where's the beer?" She asked as she pulled on her shoes. "What?" Billy asked fixing his shirt. "Well Stu said you were late to the party because he told you to go get beer. I was just wondering where it was because when I saw you, you were empty handed." Billy tied his shoes thinking of a quick answer. "I dropped it off in the garage."

Sydney shook her head to herself not believing him. "You don't think I'm the killer do you?" She breathed out a laugh turning to look at him. "No. I just think the timing is funny thats all. For you to show up at my place after Casey was murdered would be a pretty good alibi. Running out go murder people just to show up here with me after the fact. It would be smart that's all." Billy's eyes were hollowed of emotion as he starred at the woman he so despised. "Really?" His voice was flat different than just seconds ago. Slowly he stood up leaning on the bed with his hands. "What do I have to do to prove to you I'm not a killer?" His whole demeanor scared Sydney. "Oh my God." She said as everything seemed to make sense.

Sydney glanced up seeing the killer slowly come up behind Billy. "Huh?" He asked growing impatient. "Oh my God." She backed away terrified. "Sydney." Billy pleaded. "Billy watch out!" She cried watching her boyfriend get stabbed to death by the masked man. Sydney sobbed as Billy reached his bloody hand out whispering her name with what little air he had left. Ghostface chased after her all through the upstairs of the house. Luckily for the man under the mask it was his home. He knew the layout better than anyone. Sydney opened up the attic window screaming for help. She climbed through praying for someone to save her.

Ghostface grabbed her arm causing her to fall back off the roof and onto the boat. The wind was knocked out of her from the fall. As fast as she could Sydney rolled of the boat onto the ground. Looking up she could see her friend Tatum, hanging bludgeoned and bloody from the garage door. She couldn't bring herself to scream at the sight all she knew was she needed to run. Ghostface disappeared from the window running downstairs to see the coat closet door open with you no longer in it.

"Fuck." He cursed running outside to find Sydney. She had jumped into the news van screaming at the man inside that a killer was chasing her. The camera man stood with the door open waiting for the hidden camera placed by the News reporter to catch up showing where ghostface had went. As he turned around to look towards the house ghostface slit his throat like a warm knife through butter. Sydney screamed trying to shut the door but the man in the mask was faster. The hunting knife now wiped clean by the hygiene conscious killer stabbed the girls shoulder making her cry out.

Quickly she crawled through the van leaving ghostface behind. Dewy and the reporter ran towards the commotion hoping to help whomever needed it. Dewy wanted to save the day while his date wanted the notoriety from it. "Gale use the phone in the van and call for backup. I'm going inside." He said like a selfless hero not knowing what horrors awaited him inside. Gale saw the pool of blood quickly realizing she was in one of the many stories she's exploited. Without much thought she jumped in the driver's seat grabbing the phone.

"What's going on?" Randy asked being met with a phone to the face. She hit him several times till he eventually fell to the ground nose broken and bloody. She threw the phone starting the van instead. If she was saving anyone, it was going to be herself. Blood covered the windshield blocking the view of the road. Turning on the windshield wipers she gasped at the gorey scene. As she drove the car hitting the breaks, the body of her camera man slowly fell into view. She scream trying to fling him from the car. Just as he hit the ground Sydney ran out screaming bloody murder.

The van spun out of control off into the grass hitting a tree head on. Without checking on the driver Sydney ran back towards the house. Her screams stopped once she understood no one could hear her but the killer. She had lost all her friends. Billy, Tatum, and presumably you. She watched as Dewy stood at the front door. "Dewy!" She yelled thankful to have someone help fight off death himself. "Sydney?" He asked as he fell to the floor. The same hunting knife sticking from his back. "No, No!" She screamed watching ghostface pull the knife from his back.

Running back she shut herself into Dewy's car. Hitting a button to lock all the doors. Sydney searched for a key but it was nowhere to be found. Turning to her left she saw the killer shake the keys taunting her. He dropped to the ground out of eyesight. The doors all unlocked at once leaving her to quickly manually lock them back. Seeing the radio on the dash she grabbed the mic clicking the button on. "Hello! Help me please I'm at Stu Macher's house on turner lane. That's 261 turner lane please he's gonna kill me-"

Ghostface grabbed her by the neck but Sydney quickly flipped around kicking him repeatedly. She fell out of the car running to grab Dewy's gun. "Sydney!" Randy screamed. "Sydney, Jesus we need to get the fuck out of here!" She cocked the gun ready to fire if need be. "Stop right there!" Her words were deadly. Stu came from the left gaining up on the limping Randy. "It's him Syd." Stu said distraught. "He killed Billy, you killed my friend!" Randy inched closer making Sydney back up into the open house. "You did." Randy said and Stu yelled back "You killed him!" Stu cried.

"I didn't." Randy defended himself as Stu threw him to the gravel. "Sydney baby please give me that gun. Give me the gun it's him I swear." Stu cried with outreached arms. "Fuck you both!" She spit as she slammed the door in their faces. Stu and Randy beat on the door trying to convince Sydney to open it. "Go away!" She sobbed. Billy crawled to the steps in pain. "Syd?" She gasped as her boyfriend fell down the steps. "Oh my God!" She helped him up as he mumbled almost incoherently.

Billy inched his way to the door. "No the killer's out there!" Sydney warned. "Give me the gun. Give me the gun it's okay." His voice was clearer now lacking the debilitating pain that was evident moments ago. "It's okay." He whispered taking the gun from his girlfriend. He opened the door letting Randy run in. "Woah woah get in." He said looking around outside before shutting the door. "Stu's flipped out. He's gone mad." Randy said scared out of his mind. "We all go a little mad sometimes." Billy delivered his line shooting Randy for dramatic effect.

Sydney cried running to Randy's aid. Scratching his head with the barrel of the gun Billy spoke. "Anthony Perkins, Psycho." Sydney stood up looking at the stranger she's known for years. Sucking the fake blood from his finger tip he smiled. "Corn syrup, the same stuff they used for pigs blood in Carrie." The tired girl stumbled backwards mumbling small protests trying to tell herself this wasn't real.

Stu stood in the doorway to the kitchen looking just as upset as Sydney. She covered her face next to his chest seeking refuge. "Stu... Help me please." She pleaded. Slowly he revealed that little box that has helped end so many lives. "Surprise Sydney."

It was freezing outside but you've been through worse. Slowly you crept around the house trying to find a way in. The front door was opened a brunette walking slowly into the house. You watched as she quietly picked up the gun sitting on the counter. "I'm feeling woozy here!" Stu said in distress having more life threatening wounds than his partner. Billy and Stu turned towards the sound of a pained gasp. They watched as Gale Weathers and the gun hit the floor. "Y/n?" Stu asked as you stared shocked at what you'd just done. "She was going to shoot you."

"Y/n please help they're crazy!" Sydney cried out. "You had one fucking job Stu!" Billy yelled. "Give me the knife Y/n and I won't hurt you." Billy watched the facade fall. Like a scene in a play, the act was over. "Are you serious? You won't hurt me?" Both the boys were obviously confused not knowing what to do next. "Billy Loomis. You really don't remember me do you?" He cocked his head to the side not wanting to do this right now. "I'm not playing your silly game-" You picked up the gun switching the safety off.

"Shut the fuck up. I'm done hearing you talk. Bossing people around thinking you know everything. You don't know shit." Stu looked genuinely scared while Billy was just amused. "Middle school was hell for me. I was being beat up and mistreated every, fucking, day. Until one day you stood up for me. Broke the assholes nose who was trying to pull off my shirt, do you remember that?" His eyes lit up remembering that day very vividly. That was the first time he had ever hit someone. "I fell in love with you that second. You cared about me enough to stop the endless cycle of hate that was putting me on the fast track to an early death."

"I didn't even know you. Any guy would stop something like that." You laughed at that. "You'd be surprised. The teachers I came crying to didn't give two shits, my own fucking family told me just to "stand up for myself or grow a backbone" and things like this wouldn't happen. Is it so wrong to need someone's help?" Stu shook his head as if you were directing this whole thing towards him. "Do you remember what you did the week afterwards?" You asked Billy.

His brain frantically searched for some semblance of a memory. "No I don't." He replied honestly. "Well before school started I walked up to you and your friends. I told you that I liked you and wanted to take you out sometime. The old fashioned way. Your friends laughed because they knew me as the push over slut bag everyone took me for. But you." You pushed the gun forward gritting your teeth. The pain of it all coming right back to you like it happened yesterday. "You were different, you stood up for people. You were a hero, my hero. So what did you do? You saw your friends laughing and felt embarrassed. You laughed in my face calling me a "crazy bitch.""

"And you're not?" Billy snapped feeling like a fly caught in a web. You laughed. "What does all this make you Einstein. News flash you're not Norman Bates. You're just a man. That's scarier than every monster on the screen." You paced back and forth never taking an eye off anyone in the room. "Just give this up the cops are on their way I called them." Sydney cried making both the boys panic. "Did you check the cord to the radio Syd? I cut it after you took a little hike. Anyways where was I?" You tapped the tip of the knife in your other hand to your chin in thought. Sydney spewed curse words at you but you had bigger fish to fry.

"That's right. You laughed but that wasn't enough for you, no. You told your friends you slept with me and they told their friends, eventually everyone knew me as a whore. Funny thing is I had never done a sinful thing in my life. I was just a kid who wanted someone to care about me! To protect me in a way I couldn't protect myself." Tears fell from your eyes but you weren't crying. "I left my grandparents house moving away with my dad. It wasn't until I saw the headline "local woman murdered viciously in Woodsboro" that I came up with a plan."

Sydney hung her head loudly sobbing. "I saw a picture of You and Sydney and it all came back to me. You were good once Billy I could see that from the moment I met you but something rotted inside of you and don't you dare blame it on her or her mother." You pointed towards Sydney. "I dyed my hair, changed the way I dressed, the way I talked, the movies I liked, everything I made specifically for you. And it worked! Your sorry ass fell for it. Everything you thought you knew about me was a lie."

"You called Sydney..." Stu said in astonishment. This should scare him but it didn't in the slightest. Stu realized he had been looking up to the wrong person all along. "I did! That night at my house I put Zolpidem in your food. You two were too busy staring at my ass to notice. While you were both dead asleep I used the voice box I stole from Stu's home Wednesday night to call Sydney. Oh but how did I know about your little plan you ask? Well while I was roaming through your house that night I found the ghostface costumes and your little voice boxes. And Stu baby, you had your whole plan written down in your diary."

Billy's eyes widened with rage. "Don't look at him like that Loomis." You snapped at the boy grabbing his attention once again. "This is about you and me. All I wanted was to take care of you and when I found out you and Stu were a package deal I was down for double the chores. Cooking, cleaning, sewing, the works. I thought we could be our own fucked up nuclear family. But you can't do a damn thing right. I've got yet another mess to clean up." You gestured around to the blood splattered kitchen.

"Like I said before men are cocky. They go in and they play around. So I'll give you a choice Billy. You can finish this." You waved the gun at Sydney and her father causing her to cry out begging you to stop. "Sydney this has nothing to do with me. I'm here on personal business. Now either take care of this and we three walk out of here alive or I'll take care of it and be the sole survivor of the Woodsboro massacre."

"You're one sick bitch you know that?" Billy spat as he picked up his knife. "Yeah well we all have our flaws." You look over at Stu watching him go in and out of consciousness. "Stu get up and come with me honey." Slowly the injured man limped over to you. "I'm going to check his wounds. Don't think you're smarter than me cause you're not. Finish what you started." You walked Stu into the living room sitting him down on the couch. The sounds of Sydney's screams piercing your eardrums. You lifted his shirt seeing how many stabs wounds he had and where. "Why are you doing this?"

"Love makes you do crazy things Stuart. Now, most of these wounds should be fine but the one by your stomach looks really deep so I want you to put pressure on it." Sydney's screams stopped as you continued to help Stu. "I want you to know what you did here tonight was really fucking stupid." You said a little disappointed in your easily manipulated friend. Stu started crying pulling you into a bloody hug. "I just wanted to start over." You knew how that felt. "We will." You whispered as you pulled away. "Keep putting pressure." You reminded as you stood up.

Walking back into the kitchen you saw Sydney's lifeless body. "Okay before you kill him," You pointed towards the tied up man. "You need his DNA under her finger nails. Did she scratch you at all?" Billy shook his head. You leaned down grabbing her hand forcing her nails across her father's skin. "She doesn't look like she put up a fight." Billy quipped acting like a detective all of a sudden. "The moment she saw it was her father she would put her guard down a little thinking she could somehow talk him out of it. This is fine, take care of him and I'll make sure she's dead." You walked towards Gale hearing her ragged breath. "I'm sorry. I couldn't let you hurt them." You apologized before stabbing her once more.

Billy smiled at the words you thought he couldn't hear. He thought you were crazy and you certainly were but you were crazy for him. You could've turned them both in and saved yourself some time yet here you were helping out. Not cause your sick and love to kill. But because you loved them. You were protecting them, the one thing you wanted for yourself that's why you were so mad.

"Give me the gun and leave I don't want you to see this." You laughed rasing your voice slightly to ask Stu a question. "Stu, honey where do you keep your dish towels?" Stu answered with what little energy he had left. "Thanks." You walked over the corpse in the floor grabbing a red colored dish cloth. The gun was soon wiped clean of your finger prints. "Prop him up in the corner when you do it, make sure to keep the towel around the gun when you fire. After that put it in his grip. Do you know if he's right handed or left?" Billy just looked at you stupid making you face palm.

"Which wrist is his watch on?" Billy crouched rolling the man over as he yelled against duck tape. "Left." Billy stood back up waiting for your directions. "Okay so he's right handed. Don't fuck this up Billy." You handed him the gun wrapped in the rag. "We don't have much time. Speed this up." You stood waiting for him to finish it. "Please leave. Just go watch Stu. I don't want you to see this." You didn't understand the change in heart considering the amount of blood on every surface in this house and the body laying at your feet. Billy however actually listened to what you said. You'd never been taken care of and he was going to right his wrongs. He would fix this.

Stu would get his sequel, rom com or not and you would get the security you always wanted. "Okay but don't pull any shit or I'll kill you." Billy laughed at an incredibly inappropriate time. "Understood." You walked into the room with Stu noticing he was asleep. "Fuck. Wake up babe." You shook the boy slowly getting a response. "Hey come on I'm going to take you outside the cold air might help you stay away." Stu mumbled a response as you dragged him outside.

Stu jumped at the sudden gunshot making him cry once more. Blood loss sure does make a person emotional. "Hey, hey, shh. I'm right here." His head rested on your chest as you rocked him back and forth. "My mom and dad are gonna be so mad at me." He cried and you giggled. "Nobody's going to find out. It's okay." Billy stepped outside looking at the two of you huddled together. "Y/n?"

"Yeah what's up?" You asked laying Stu down on the porch. "I need help cleaning some stuff up." That's what you were good at. Quickly you got rid of some evidence, cleaned some things, and now came time for more blood. "The rags around it just stab me right here." You pointed to the spot knowing it wouldn't do much damage. Billy held your knife with a now shaky hand. "I can't." You scoffed. "You threatened to hurt me earlier just do it." He shook his head. "I can't hurt you." This conversation was starting to piss you off. "That's bullshit you've hurt me before just fucking stab me already."

"I won't." He said through gritted teeth. "You said everyone has a reason for doing something. I had my reasons for killing whether you think they're bullshit or not is irrelevant. I've got a reason to change now, to be better." You rolled your eyes grabbing the wrapped knife. "Where did you get that thing anyway?" Billy asked pointing to the exact same knife they had. "I just bought the same one that Stu had stashed at his place. It fit in my purse so the rest is history." You held the knife where you wanted it before running right into a wall lodging the knife deep within your skin. "Mother fucker!" You screamed at the pain.

"Why the fuck would you do that?" He said shocked by what just happened. "We've got to convince everyone we are the victims. Neil is a big guy he's killing everyone I'm not an exception." Billy cursed under his breath. "You are the smartest dumb woman I've ever met." Billy pulled the knife from your side making you cry out and hit the floor. Billy's hand rested on your forehead not really sure how to comfort you. "Just breathe?" He asked making you laugh through the pain. "I'm not in labor asshat go put his fingerprints on the knives while I call 911." Billy didn't move. "Now." You said trying to lift yourself up. He stood helping you up to your feet.

Billy laid the one weapon next to Sydney making sure to put Neil's finger prints on it. While the other fit in his pocket. "Now go lay somewhere and don't fall asleep. After all of this you can't die on me." You told him as you picked up the phone. "911 what's-" You coughed into the phone cutting the woman off. "Please help me!" You cried making it sound like you didn't have much time left. "What's your location ma'am?" Fuck you didn't know Stu's address but then again why would you. "I don't know... I- I went to a party with my friends and everyone's dead." You cried throwing in moans of pain. "Are there any mailboxes or road signs around?"

"I've been stabbed..." You said quietly actually getting light headed. "Ma'am I need you to stay with me is there a mailbox or road sign around?" She repeated being absolutely useless. You thought back to when you met them for the first time. Things were simple then. The drive over with Stu laughing and cracking jokes, and Billy spent the whole ride brooding trying not to laugh at your jokes. You could barley remember the bent up road side. "Turner lane." You said as you dropped the phone landing right beside it. "Ma'am? Ma'am are you there?"

Billy laid in the kitchen floor just a little away from the two corpses. As he looked up at the ceiling his body started to ache even more now that the adrenaline was wearing off. He had been selfish he realized that now. Billy had two wonderful people who loved and cared for him and he did nothing but use the both of you. He was going to change he swore on it. That sickening feeling of fear crept into his stomach once again at the thought of something happening to you or Stu. You may have lied to him. One could say he didn't know the real you at all. You were a first for Billy, you were the first person to scare him, the first person to stand up to him, and the first person he truly wanted to save.

(If your name has a line through it Tumblr wouldn't let me tag you.)

Part 9

Taglist: @katie-tibo @agustdeeyaa @bowlofceral @gonnapermashift @tati-the-fangirl @kozumewhore @tatijoestar @illyanam1011 @c4rved-pumpk1n @msghostface @gojosbucket @sammanna @lokigirlszendaya @reneki @fetusharryluvr @kadu-5607 @pumpk1n-writes @lovekeeho @tojisblood @zeysartzone @bluedevilss @life-of-music3 @flyestvenustrap @littleblondesoprano @imobsessedreader @loomiscorpse @nicciekawegosblog @reneemunson @miss-puregotti @ksgsfsgaj @zoleea-exultant @briefwinnerpersonaturtle @mistydreamscape @l4venderia @nex-crowley @ashreblogsnow @brynaa223 @your-desire666

[gh0stsp1d3r]

𝒯𝓌𝒾𝓃 𝓈𝒾𝓏ℯ 𝓂𝒶𝓉𝓇ℯ𝓈𝓈

I have seen so much edits of Luke with this song. I had to, this song was my national anthem in 2020! This one’s after this TikTok.

Warnings- Reader is child of Poseidon, established relationship, betrayal, all angst here bby

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

i. “It’s no big surprise you turned out this way,”

Luke hated the Gods. It wasn’t a secret to you. You knew it as you laid down in the bed with him, his body curled up to yours as he sobbed. His dad hadn’t answered his prayers again. It’s been years.

You held him, running a hand through his hair as you tried to comfort him to the best of your abilities.

You knew it when he was 17, coming back from the quest with a raised mark on his cheek. His eyes met yours in the crowd, and you ran up to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He didn’t have a smile on his face as he usually did when he saw you. He just gave you a small hug back.

When he had told you about the quest, how he had failed it, how he hated his father because of it. He cried in your arms that night, repeating how he hated them again and again.

ii. When they closed their eyes and prayed you would change.

You had been picked by Percy to join his quest. You were his sister. You were one of the strongest people at camp, he trusted you.

When Luke heard your name be called by Percy, he faltered. You knew how he felt about quests.

Before you left, he came to the cabin. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and giving him a kiss.

“I’ll miss you.” He mumbled, a hand on the small of your back.

“I’ll miss you too.”

“Be careful, okay?” He said, his eyes glossy.

“I will. I’ll come back and then we can spend the rest of the semester together.” You said with a small smile, giving him one more kiss.

If only you knew then what his plans were. He smiled back, it was a sad smile. He wouldn’t be spending the semester with you and he knew it.

He handed you a gift, a necklace. A necklace with a little sword on it.

You smiled at him, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“I love you.”

And when you heard about the plan to go to Hermes, you didn’t know if you could do it.

You saw him, for the first time in years you saw him. He looked at you first, his eyes widening in shock as he recognized you.

You looked at him, with a look that he knew all too well. And when you sat down with him he said a “hey, kid.” The first words he’s spoken to you in years, since you’ve last seen him when you were a child.

“Don’t call me that.” You snapped back, Percy was confused at your anger. He knew about Luke and Hermes but he didn’t know that you were with Luke through everything, even when he was a kid.

Annabeth interrupted what he was gonna say to you, thankfully. And business was done once you got the car.

Before you all went to get up, he grabbed your wrist.

“What?”

“I’m sorry. Can you… tell him I’m sorry? I just.. I-“

You grabbed your wrist away from him, face flashing with disgust.

“You can tell him yourself.” That was the last thing you said before walking away.

iii. And they cut your hair and sent you away. You stopped by my house the night you escaped.

He was 9 years old when he knocked on your door, it was night. Almost midnight. Your mom was sleeping. You got up and walked to the door, rubbing your eyes. Your unicorn pajamas were too big for your small figure, that you almost tripped on the ends.

“Luke?” You mumbled when you opened the door, his eyes were red and wide with fear.

“What’s wrong?” You asked with a frown.

“My- my mom, she- she-“ he said, stuttering and stumbling over his words.

You invited him in, knowing your mom wouldn’t like it but doing it anyways, and he followed you into the kitchen as you jumped onto the counter and got him a glass of water, handing it to him.

He sat on the floor, his hands shaking as you sat next to him now.

“What happened?” You asked him once he had taken a sip.

“She- she had another fit. She got crazy and woke me up, she started yelling and screaming at me, I don’t think it was meant for me though.” He said, still sobbing. His tears hit the floor, and you felt bad for the boy.

Now you had just gotten back from the quest. It was successful, and just like he had then, when he was a little boy, he stopped by at your house before he left.

iv With tears in my eyes, I begged you to stay.

“Y/n?” He mumbled, his face dropped as you came out from behind the trees. He dropped his sword now, Percy still at his feet.

“Luke, what the hell are you doing?” You asked him, drawing your own sword.

The fireworks behind you illuminated your face in the night sky. Even when you were angry at him, you were the most beautiful person he’s ever seen, Aphrodite couldn’t compete with you in his mind.

“You have to understand-“

“Understand what? That you wanna leave the camp for fucking Kronos?” You shouted, your yell scaring away the nearby birds.

“I don’t wanna hurt anyone. Please just- come with me-“

“Luke, don’t do this.” You started to cry, the tears ran down your face like a waterfall. “We could have stayed here. We could have been happy.”

“We still can be happy. Kronos will give us a better life, I swear-“ he walked closer to you, his sword forgotten on the ground.

You shook your head at him, sobbing. Tears welled in his own eyes as he saw your face, full of betrayal and hurt.

“Please. Just stay here.”

V. You said hey man I love you, but no fucking way.

“I can’t. You know I can’t.” He mumbled. He was now right in front of you. You raised your sword, the necklace he gave you dangling on your neck.

“I love you. But I can’t.” He said, turning to the portal. He grabbed his sword, running away into the portal, giving you one last glance.

Your lip quivered as your knees buckled, Percy looks at you, swallowing the lump in his throat. He went closer to you, helping you stand up. Annabeth revealed herself too, and you all walked to camp in silence, your eyes red with tears and exhaustion.

[aegoneggon]

GRRM's post since he deleted it

Back in July, I promised you some further thoughts about Blood and Cheese… and Maelor the Missing… after my commentary on the first two episodes of HotD season 2, “A Son for a Son” and “Rhaenyra the Cruel.”

Those were terrific episodes:  well written, well directed, powerfully acted.   A great way to kick off the new season.   Fans and critics alike seemed to agree.  There was only one aspect of the episodes that drew significant criticism: the handling of Blood and Cheese, and the death of Prince Jaehaerys.   From the commentary I saw on line,  opinion was split there.   The readers of FIRE & BLOOD found the sequence underwhelming, a disappointment, watered down from what they were expecting.   Viewers who had not read the book had no such problems.   Most of them found the sequence a real gut-punch, tragic, horrifying, nightmarish, etc.   Some reported being reduced to tears.

I found myself agreeing with both sides.

In my book, Aegon and Helaena have three children, not two.  The twins, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, are six years old.  They have a younger brother, Maelor, who is two.   When Blood and Cheese break in on Helaena and the kids, they tell her they are debt collectors come to exact revenge for the death of Prince Lucerys: a son for a son.  As Helaena has  two sons, however,  they demand that she choose which one should die.   She resists and offers her own life instead, but the killers insist it has to be a son.  If she does not  name one, they will kill all three of the children.   To save the life of the twins, Helaena names Maelor.    But Blood kills the older boy, Jaehaerys, instead, while Cheese tells little Maelor that his mother wanted him dead.    (Whether the boy is old enough to understand that is not at all certain).

That’s not how it happens on the show.   There is no Maelor in HOUSE OF THE DRAGON, only the twins (both of whom look younger than six, but I am no sure judge of children’s ages, so I can’t be sure how old they are supposed to be).   Blood can’t seem to tell the twins apart, so Helaena is asked to reveal which one is the boy.  (You would think a glance up his PJs would reveal that, without involving the mother).  Instead of offering her own life to save the kids, Helaena offers them a necklace.   Blood and Cheese are not tempted.  Blood saws Prince Jaehaerys’s head off.   We are spared the sight of that; a sound effect suffices.   (In the book, he lops the head off with a sword).

It is a bloody, brutal scene, no doubt.  How not?  An innocent child is being butchered in front of his mother.

I still believe the scene in the book is stronger.  The readers have the right of that.   The two killers are crueler in the book.  I thought the actors who played the killers on the show were excellent… but the characters are crueler, harder, and more frightening in FIRE & BLOOD.   In the show, Blood is a gold cloak.   In the book, he is aformer gold cloak, stripped of his office for beating a woman to death.    Book Blood is the sort of man who might think making a woman choose which of her sons should die is amusing, especially when they double down on the wanton cruelty by murdering the boy she tries to save.    Book Cheese is worse too; he does not kick a dog, true, but he does not have a dog, and he’s the one who tells Maelor that his mom wants him head.   I would also suggest that Helaena shows more courage, more strength in the book, by offering her own own life to save her son.   Offering a piece of jewelry is just not  the same.

As I saw it, the “Sophie’s Choice” aspect was the strongest part of the sequence, the darkest, the most visceral.   I hated to lose that.   And judging from the comments on line, most of the fans seemed to agree.

When Ryan Condal first told me what he meant to do, ages ago (back in 2022, might be) I argued against it, for all these reasons.    I did not argue long, or with much heat, however.   The change weakened the sequence, I felt, but only a bit.   And Ryan had what seemed to be practical reasons for it; they did not want to deal with casting another child, especially a two-year old toddler.  Kids that young will inevitably slow down production, and there would be budget implications.   Budget was already an issue on HOUSE OF THE DRAGON, it made sense to save money wherever we could.   Moreover, Ryan assured me that we were not losing Prince Maelor, simply postponing him.   Queen Helaena could still give birth to him in season three, presumably after getting with child late in season two.   That made sense to me, so I withdrew my objections and acquiesced to the change.

I still love the episode, and the Blood and Cheese sequence overall.   Losing the “Helaena’s Choice” beat did weaken the scene, but not to any great degree.  Only the book readers would even notice its absence; viewers who had never read FIRE & BLOOD would still find the scenes heart-rending.   Maelor did not actually DO anything in the scene, after all.   How could he?  He was only two years old.

There is another aspect to the removal of the young princeling, however.

Those of you who hate spoilers should STOP READING HERE.   Spoilers will follow, at least for the readers among you.  If you have never read FIRE & BLOOD, maybe it does not matter, because all I am going to “spoil” here are things that happen in the book that may NEVER happen on the series.   Starting with Maelor himself.

Sometime between the initial decision to remove Maelor, a big change was made.   The prince’s birth was no longer just going to be pushed back to season 3.  He was never going to be born at all.   The younger son of Aegon and Helaena would never appear.

Most of you know about the Butterfly Effect, I assume.

Yes, there was a movie with that title a few years back.   It’s a familiar concept in chaos theory as well.   But most science fiction fans were first exposed to the idea in Ray Bradbury’s classic time travel story, “A Sound of Thunder,” wherein a time traveler from the present panics and crushes a butterfly while hunting a T-Rex.  When he returns to his own time, he discovers that the world has changed in huge and frightening ways.  One dead butterfly has rewritten history.  The lesson being that change begets change, and even small and seemingly insignificant alterations to a timeline — or a story — can have a profound effect on all that follows.

Maelor is a two year old toddler in FIRE & BLOOD, but like our butterfly he has an impact on the story all out of proportion to his size.   The readers among you may recall that when it appears that Rhaenyra and her blacks are about to capture King’s Landing, Queen Alicent becomes concerned for the safety of Helaena’s remaining children, and takes steps to save them by smuggling them out of the city.   The task is given is two knights of the Kingsguard.   Ser Willis Fell is commanded to deliver Princess Jaehaera to the Baratheons at Storm’s End, while Maelor is given over to Ser Rickard Thorne to be escorted across the Mander to the protection of the Hightower army on its way to King’s Landing.

Willis Fell delivers Jaehaera safely to the Baratheons at Storm’s End, but Ser Rickard fares less well.   He and Maelor get as far as Bitterbridge, where he is revealed as a Kingsuard in a tavern called the Hogs Head.   Once discovered, Ser Rickard fights bravely to protect his young charge and bring him to safety, but he does not even make it across the bridge before some crossbows bring him down,  Prince Maelor is torn from his arms.. and then, sadly, ripped to pieces by the mob fighting over the boy and the huge reward that Rhaenyra has offered for his capture and return.

Will any of that appear on the show?   Maybe… but I don’t see how.   The butterflies would seem to prohibit it.  You could perhaps make Ser Rickard’s ward be Jaehaera instead of Maelor, but Jaehaera can’t be killed, she has a huge role to play as Aegon’s next heir.   Could maybe make  Maelor a newborn instead of a two year old, but that would scramble up the timeline, which is a bit of a mess already.   I have no idea what Ryan has planned — if indeed he has planned anything — but given Maelor’s absence from episode 2, the simplest way to proceed would be just to drop him entirely, lose the bit where Alicent tries to send the kids to safety, drop Rickard Thorne or send him with Willis Fell so Jaehaera has two guards.

From what I know, that seems to be what Ryan is doing here.   It’s simplest, yes, and may make sense in terms of budgets and shooting schedules.  But simpler is not better.   The Bitterbridge scene has tension, suspense, action, bloodshed, a bit of heroism and a lot of tragedy.  Rickard Thorne  is a tertiary character at best, most viewers (as opposed to readers) will never know he is gone, since they never knew him at all… but I rather liked giving him his brief moment of heroism, a taste of the courage and loyalty of the Kingsguard, regardless of whether they are black or green.

The butterflies are not done with us yet, however.  In the book, when word of Prince Maelor’s death and the grisly manner of his passing (pp. 505) reaches the Red Keep, that proves to be the thing that drives Queen Helaena to suicide.   She could barely stand to look at Maelor, knowing that she chose him to die in the “Sophie’s Choice” scene… and now he is dead in truth, her words having come true.   The grief and guilt are too much for her to bear.

In Ryan’s outline for season 3, Helaena still kills herself… for no particular reason.   There is no fresh horror, no triggering event to overwhelm the fragile young queen.

And the final butterfly follows soon thereafter.

Queen Helaena, a sweet and gentle soul, is much beloved by the smallfolk of King’s Landing.  Rhaenyra was not, so when rumors began to arise that Helaena did not kill herself, but rather was murdered at Rhaenyra’s command, the commons are quick to believe them.   “That night King’s Landing rose in bloody riot,” I wrote on p. 506 of FIRE & BLOOD.   It is the beginning of the end for Rhaenyra’s rule over the city, ultimately leading to the Storming of the Dragonpit and the rise of the Shepherd’s mob that drives Rhaenyra to flee the city and return to Dragonstone… and her death.

Maelor by himself means little.   He is a small child, does not have a line of dialogue, does nothing of consequence but die… but where and when and how, that does matter.   Losing Maelor weakened the end of the Blood and Cheese sequence, but it also cost us the Bitterbridge scene with all its horror and heroism, it undercut the motivation for Helaena’s suicide, and that in turn sent thousands into the streets and alleys, screaming for justice for their “murdered” queen.   None of that is essential, I suppose… but all of it does serve a purpose, it all helps to tie the story lines together, so one thing follows another in a logical and convincing manner.

What will we offer the fans instead, once we’ve killed these butterflies?   I have no idea.   I do not recall that Ryan and I ever discussed this, back when he first told me they were pushing back on Aegon’s second son.   Maelor himself is not essential… but if losing him means we also lose Bitterbridge, Helaena’s suicide, and the riots, well… that’s a considerable loss.

And there are larger and more toxic butterflies to come, if HOUSE OF THE DRAGON goes ahead with some of the changes being contemplated for seasons 3 and 4…

GRRM

[3xoticyanna]

I got you forever

Paring: KK Arnold x mom!reader

Summary: Your mom had died due to bad heart problems and your father was never in the picture so you had to step up to take care of your younger brother how was a freshman in high school while your a freshman in college soon you started dating kk but haven’t told her about your brother scared that she will leave you, kk starts to get suspicious why you been sneaking around her so she decides to confront you

Warnings: a little Arguing. my bad spelling

From yanna: I didn’t mean to make this so long😭 I hope y’all like it but am back to writing finally😌

“Brandon hurry up before you be late!” you yelled from the kitchen. it was your brother first day of high school you wanted it to be perfect.

“I’m ready, can you with my hair?” putting your keys in your pocket as you nod your head pushing him to the bathroom “get the gel and brush out, I be there in a minute”.

Walking to your room grabbing the box on your dresser. walking into the bathroom to see Brandon on his phone “Here you can open it now or later” handing him the box as you took his hair out of his ponytail.

he opened the box to see a necklace with a picture with you and him, he started at it for a sec you looked at him nervous “do you like it?” he nodded his head a smile coming on his face “yeah I like it thank you but you didn’t have to get me this” shrugging your shoulders slightly “I know but I wanted to”

A hour Later!

Walking up to kk dorm, you had drop off Brandon at school happy knowing he was going to enjoy high school.

The door open to a angry kk, walking in with confused look on your face “kk what wrong?” you ask only to be ignored calling out her name a couple of times. getting frustrated as she sat on the couch on her phone “kk answer me and stop being petty”.

kk turned her head towards you with no emotion on her face “Where were you?, you was supposed to pick me up so when can go on our date” her tone was demanded making you nervous.

“I over slept am sorry, I been stress over school you know that” you said half the of the truth, kk rolled her eyes not blelive any of it “Yeah yeah sure”.

“What that supposed to mean?” crossing your arms as you look at kk disbelief on your face “nothing i believe you” “you know I don’t care be mad all you want am leaving” kk looks at you not saying anything once again “Fine act like that then” you say walking out the door slamming the door as your did.

1 Week Later!

It’s been a week since you talk to kk you could admit it. It was petty but you couldn’t tell her about Brandon not yet at least or maybe never, you been down all week but trying to hide it from Brandon but knowing you can’t.

“Sis what’s wrong you been sad all week don’t think I didn’t notice” turning your head to look at your brother knowing you can’t hide anything from him “Me and kk got into fight” he sits next you putting his arms around you “What was it about?”.

laughing a bit about how stupid it is “Um just me not making enough time for her” “is it because of me?” Quickly shaking your head at his question looking down at your lap “No never it’s just that I haven’t told her about you” you say quietly “What?, you said you tell her” letting out a huff “I know but am Scared she leave me” Brandon moves his arm from around you making you face him all the way “Look if she loves you she wouldn’t mind if you have a kid”.

Laughing at his seriousness but nodding your head “Your right, do you want to meet her tomorrow?” “Mhm I guess but if I don’t like her she gotta go” he joked but half serious “Ok ok little boy, now let’s go make dinner” getting up wrapping your arm around your brother shoulder walking to the kitchen.

The Next Day!

You and Brandon waited at kk dorm door nervous sat in your body waiting for someone to open the door.

The door was open by Paige who stared at you then Brandon she point at Him then putting two together you open your mouth to say something before you hear kk shout “Paige who’s at the door?!” Feeling nervous as Paige let’s y’all in, you see kk on the couch watching a game one of her favorite shows “Paige omg who’s at the door!” kk yelled once again going silent once she saw you her face scrunching up in confusion.

“who’s this” she ask looking at your brother who was staring right back at her, you stood there for a bit trying to find the words, feeling a nudge from your brother “come on tell her”.

“Um can we speak just me and you?” you ask not wanting to do this in front of her roommates who were all in the living room.

She gets open from the couch grabbing your hand leading you to her bedroom closing the door behind her, nothing was said for a bit as y’all look at each other “um so that my brother look am sorry fo-” before you could finish kk engulfed you in a hug “it’s ok I understand why” the tears started to fall from your eyes hiding your face in her shoulder as you began to sob as you tried to form words out but nothing came out.

All the worry and nervousness you felt went away as you cried in your girlfriends arms. you soon fell asleep in kk arms, she moved you into a comfortable position walking to her closet grabbing a blanket covering you with it place a soft kiss on your cheek walking out the room closing door quietly behind her.

Walking into the living room seeing Brandon talking to Paige at the table.

Brandon turned his head to looking at kk confused to see her by herself “Where my sister at?” he says in a rude tone.

kk was a little shock at his rudeness but realizing he was just concerned for his sister “She fine. she fell asleep” she says sitting down at the table next to him only to receive a dirty look for him.

“Um so like how old are you??” kk ask not sure what to say “14 I turn 15 in next month” the air awkward as he answered, kk look at Paige for help not knowing what to say.

Paige only shock her head not knowing either,they say in more silence as kk said the first question that came to mind “so do you do any sport?” she watch Brandon face light up at the question as he shook head “Yeah i do track basketball and football I just got into volleyball too” he said he couldn’t hold back his excitement as he continued to talk more about his hobbies. Kk began to feel a smile come on to her face as the watch Brandon talk she could get use to this.

Couple Hours Later!

Opening your eyes looking around the room not seeing kk with you. Getting up walking over to kk closet grabbing a shirt and shorts changing into them.

Walking out the room being meet with kk and Brandon doing just dance as kk roommates recording kk as she lost to Brandon for the 3rd time.

“Bro i hate this game!” kk yelled as your brother laugh at the angry girl, finally turning there head’s hearing you clear your throat. “Hi baby!, how did you sleep?” Kk says walking over to you engulfing you into a hug place kiss all over your face.

“I slept fine kk” wrapping your arms around her, waving at Brandon who give y’all a disgusting look “Can y’all not do this in front of my please” letting out a laugh as moved away from kk walking over to your brother “you be fine now shut up so I can beat you in just dance” you shove him lightly as you start the game.

Kk watch you have fun with your brother, you look so happy even if she didn’t have this in mind for her College experience she just happy to see you happy.