#maybe it's because i read the series late at 16

[wilwheaton]

One very simple question :)

(Tv/comics)

Marvel. Or DC?

I have liked them both and disliked them both, at different points in my life, for a variety of reasons. At the moment, I'm not paying attention to them at all.

When I was a kid, I was all about Xmen and Fantastic Four from Marvel and, Batman and Justice League (Marv Wolfman's run in the late 80s) from DC. Never really cared for Superman. The 1967 Spider-Man was awesome as a cartoon, but I rarely read the comic book.

In the 70s, I was only allowed one comic per week, usually picked out from whatever was left on that spinning rack at the drugstore. So more often than not, I ended up with something like House of Secrets or House of Mystery or one of those horror anthologies that didn't need me to read the issues before or after, like the serialized superhero comics did. I got a lot of replay value from those books.

In the 80s, I had my own money and the ability to drive myself to comic conventions, and that's when I fell in love with Sandman, Watchmen, pretty much the entire Prestige Format that became Vertigo. I recall feeling like Marvel was for kids, then, and DC was serious. I was only 16, so take that for what it's worth.

But speaking of being 16, I'm gonna focus on Batman for a sec. I loved Batman 89, and I think all the efforts to make a Batman movie ever since have fallen short in ways I couldn't predict back then. It's gotten better with age and by comparison, for me. Michael Keaton is my favorite Batman, the way Christian Bale is my favorite modern Bruce Wayne (they both pale next to Pure. West. if anyone asks me).

The OG Batman series is maybe my favorite series of all time not called Star Trek or The Prisoner, and the 1966 movie is my favorite of all the Batman movies. Of course I love the animated series, and I get to be Blue Beetle in Brave and the Bold, so that's pretty awesome and its whole own thing.

Turning to the current moment, with rare exception, all the MCU and DCU movies do nothing for me. I thought I must have been missing something, so tried really hard to give them a chance to knock me out. I watched as many of the MCU movies as I could stand, and I just felt exhausted and bored by all of it, by the time I got to ... I can't even remember. Something with maybe Thanos and Ant-Man? I felt like it was a big, complicated mess of fan service and meetings that could have been e-mails, resulting in in a stew full of interesting ingredients that have all blended together into a flavorless paste. I do enjoy all the James Gunn movies, though, even if Chris Pratt is the worst Chris, because James always centers the characters and their conflicts, then uses the action and stunts to support the story.

I feel like a lot of this sounds harsh, but even Star Wars, my favorite movie when I was a kid, has grown into something I don't recognize or care about. I'm old. I know what I like and what I don't like. I'm not patient like I once was, and it's clear I'm not the person those studios want in the theatre, anyway. I could make that joke about how it's the children who are wrong, but I accept that I am not in the demo, and I am genuinely happy for everyone who loves the spectacle and the experience of seeing those films with an enthusiastic audience. I just won't be there with you, but you can find me in the parking lot, yelling at a cloud.

...wow that's a very big answer to a very simple question.

[fatehbaz]

About the entanglement of "science" and Empire. About geographic imaginaries. About how Empire appeals to and encourages children to participate in these scripts.

Was checking out this recent thing, from scavengedluxury's beloved series of posts looking at the archive of the Budapest Municipal Photography Company.

The caption reads: "Toys and board games, 1940."

And I think the text on the game-box in the back says something like "the whole world is yours", maybe?

(The use of appeals to science/progress in imperial narratives probably already well-known to many, especially for those familiar with Victorian era, Edwardian era, Gilded Age, early twentieth century, etc., in US and Europe.)

And was struck, because I had also recently gone looking through nemfrog's posts about the often-strange imagery of children's material in late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century US/Europe. And was disturbed/intrigued by this thing:

Caption here reads: "Game Board. Walter Mittelholzer's flight over Africa. [...] 1931. Commemorative game board map of Africa for a promotional game published for the N*stle Company, for tracking the trip of Walter Mittelholzer across Africa, the first pilot to fly a north-south route."

Hmm.

"Africa is for your consumption and pleasure! A special game celebrating German achievement, brought to you by the N*stle Company!"

1930s-era German national aspirations in Africa. A company which, in the preceding decade, had shifted focus to expand its cacao production (which would be dependent on tropical plantations). Adventure, excitement, knowledge, science, engineering prowess, etc. For kids!

Another, from a couple decades earlier, this time British.

Caption reads: "The "World's globe circler." A game board based on Nellie Bly's travels. 1890." At center, a trumpet, and a proclamation: "ALL RECORDS BROKEN".

Same year that the United States "closed the frontier" and conquered "the Wild West" (the massacre at Wounded Knee happened in December 1890). A couple years later, the US annexed Hawai'i; by decade's end, the US military was in both Cuba and the Philippines. The Scramble for Africa was taking place. At the time, Britain especially already had a culture of "travel writing" or "travel fiction" or whatever we want to call it, wherein domestic residents of the metropole back home could read about travel, tourism, expeditions, adventures, etc. on the peripheries of the Empire. Concurrent with the advent of popular novels, magazines, mass-market print media, etc. Intrepid explorers rescuing Indigenous peoples from their own backwardness. Many tales of exotic allure set in South Asia. Heroic white hunters taking down scary tigers. Elegant Englishwomen sipping tea in the shade of an umbrella, giggling at the elephants, the local customs, the strange sights. Orientalism, tropicality, othering.

I'd lately been looking at a lot of work on race/racism and imperative-of-empire in British scientific and pop-sci literature, especially involving South and Southeast Asia. (From scholars like Varun Sharma, Rohan Deb Roy, Ezra Rashkow, Jonathan Saha, Pratik Chakrabarti.) But I'd also lately been looking at Mashid Mayar's work, which I think closely suits this kinda thing with the board games. Some of her publications:

"From Tools to Toys: American Dissected Maps and Geographic Knowledge at the Turn of the Twentieth Century". In: Knowledge Landscapes North America, edited by Kloeckner et al., 2016.

"What on Earth! Slated Globes, School Geography and Imperial Pedagogy". European Journal of American Studies 16, number 3, Summer 2020.

Citizens and Rulers of the World: The American Child and the Cartographic Pedagogies of Empire, 2022.

Discussing her book, Mayar was interviewed by LA Review of Books in 2022. She says:

[Quote.] Growing up at the turn of the 20th century, for many American children, also meant learning to view the world through the lens of "home geography." [...] [T]hey inevitably responded to the transnational whims of an empire that had stretched its dominion across the globe [recent forays into Panama, Cuba, Hawai'i, the Philippines] [...]. [W]hite, well-to-do, literate American children [...] learned how to identify and imagine “homes” on the map of the world. [...] [T]he cognitive maps children developed, to which we have access through the scant archival records they left behind (i.e., geographical puzzles they designed and printed in juvenile periodicals) [...] mixed nativism and the logic of colonization with playful, appropriative scalar confusion, and an intimate, often unquestioned sense of belonging to the global expanse of an empire [...]. Dissected maps - that is, maps mounted on cardboard or wood and then cut into smaller pieces that children were to put back together - are a generative example of the ways imperial pedagogy [...] found its place outside formal education, in children's lives outside the classroom. [...] [W]ell before having been adopted as playthings in the United States, dissected maps had been designed to entertain and teach the children of King George III about the global spatial affairs of the British Empire. […] [J]uvenile periodicals of the time printed child-made geographical puzzles [...]. [I]t was their assumption that "(un)charted," non-American spaces (both inside and outside the national borders) sought legibility as potential homes, [...] and that, if they did not do so, they were bound to recede into ruin/"savagery," meaning that it would become the colonizers' responsibility/burden to "restore" them [...]. [E]mpires learn from and owe to childhood in their attempts at survival and growth over generations [...]. [These] "multigenerational power constellations" [...] survived, by making accessible pedagogical scripts that children of the white and wealthy could learn from and appropriate as times changed [...]. [End quote.] Source: Words of Mashid Mayar, as transcribed in an interviewed conducted and published by M. Buna. "Children's Maps of the American Empire: A Conversation with Mashid Mayar". LA Review of Books. 11 July 2022.

Some other stuff I was recently looking at, specifically about European (especially German) geographic imaginaries of globe-as-playground:

The Play World: Toys, Texts, and the Transatlantic German Childhood (Patricia Anne Simpson, 2020) /// "19th-Century Board Game Offers a Tour of the German Colonies" (Sarah Zabrodski, 2016) /// Advertising Empire: Race and Visual Culture in Imperial Germany (David Ciarlo, 2011) /// Learning Empire: Globalization and the German Quest for World Status, 1875-1919 (Erik Grimmer-Solem, 2019) /// “Ruling Africa: Science as Sovereignty in the German Colonial Empire and Its Aftermath” (Andrew Zimmerman. In: German Colonialism in a Global Age, 2014) /// "Exotic Education: Writing Empire for German Boys and Girls, 1884-1914". (Jeffrey Bowersox. In: German Colonialism and National Identity, 2017) /// Raising Germans in the Age of Empire: Youth and Colonial Culture, 1871-1914 (Jeff Bowersox, 2013) /// "[Translation:] (Educating Modernism: A Trade-Specific Portrait of the German Toy Industry in the Developing Mass-Market Society)" (Heike Hoffmann, PhD dissertation, Tubingen, 2000) /// Home and Harem: Nature, Gender, Empire, and the Cultures of Travel (Inderpal Grewal, 1996) /// "'Le rix d'Indochine' at the French Table: Representation of Food, Race and the Vietnamese in a Colonial-Era Board Game" (Elizabeth Collins, 2021) /// "The Beast in a Box: Playing with Empire in Early Nineteenth-Century Britain" (Romita Ray, 2006) /// Playing Oppression: The Legacy of Conquest and Empire in Colonialist Board Games (Mary Flanagan and Mikael Jakobsson, 2023)

[pinkynana]

aita - renjun teaser

read full series teaser here

summary : It has been awhile since you last met Renjun. Perhaps your last encounter was right after graduation. You’re back in your old neighborhood, having drinks with your favorite childhood best friend. And it slipped out of you that you had never had sex, despite a whole semester in college. Renjun took that as an invitation. Afterall, you experienced every one of your firsts with Renjun.

childhoodbestfriend!renjun x inexperienced reader

this is just a little preview of one of the first things that reader experienced with renjun.

Renjun had your first kiss.

At 16, you still had a crush on Tobey Maguire’s spiderman although Andrew Garfield already had two amazing spiderman movies. You skipped evening class to watch the rerun of the first three spiderman movies at the theatre. Renjun came with. He didn't have evening class like you did. He didn't need them, he’s smart unlike you.

Once the movies were over, you refused to go home. You knew you'd earn an earful and maybe some beatings once you get home because your mom would be furious about you skipping class just to watch movies. Instead of home, you were at the playground, climbing on the monkey bars.

“It’s getting late, y’know.” Renjun waited for you while sitting at the swings so you could finish playing around. “Renjun! Come join me! I feel like Spiderman. Do you think there's a spidergirl out there, maybe?” You never touched a marvel comic, obviously. Renjun huffed when you ignored his comment. He did, however, come towards you. He didn't climb the bars though. He let you have all the fun to yourself. He watched as you hung your feet on the bar as you let your body dangling upside down. You let out a laugh.

“Wouldn't it be cool to have my first kiss just like the upside down kiss from the movie?” He didn't answer, which concerned you. “Renjun?”

Before you knew it, he cupped your face as he planted a kiss right there where you were hanging your body upside down on the monkey bars.

The next day you pretended like it never happened and continued being his best friend as usual.

[tin-wufborf]

Tin's Favorite Sterek Fics (Part 18)

Hello again, and welcome back to Tin's Favorite Sterek Fics!

I am so sorry for the delay. Honestly, I've just been flat out fucking exhausted lately (I know, what's new?). This new job has been running me fucking ragged, but I like my job, my hours have increased, and it's almost certainly going to become a permanent position moving forward, so I can't complain too much about it. Still, I'll probably be posting the remaining parts of the series a lot slower than I have been, at least while things are as hectic as they are at work. But you can rest assured that they will be posted.

Just a little warning, it seems that we have hit a second wave of kid fic with this list (I must have perused a few fic rec lists or something, because hot damn, was I reading kid fic at this point in my bookmarks), so sorry about that if it's not your thing. But also you're welcome if it is.

As always, thank you all so much for your continued support of this series. I appreciate each and every one of you, and please know that it brings me such joy to know that you're all enjoying these fics as much as I have.

I'm not gonna ramble on for too much today. I hope you're all having as good a day as you can, if not a great one.

Smoochies and squeezies!

List and links to previous/next part(s) below the cut.

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DISCLAIMER: This is me warning you all that some of the fics I've included in this list may cover explicit, dark, and/or "taboo" subject matters. I cannot express enough how little I care what anyone thinks about any of that; all I want is for you to use caution when reading anything I've listed here and to please review and heed whatever tags the authors have provided in order to keep yourselves safe. Your experience from this point on is your own responsibility, not mine and not the authors'.

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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20

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ADHDecaf by prdskat (T | 1/1 | 2,765)

Stiles is 25 and runs his own coffee shop. Derek doesn't know this. Derek, a mechanic, thinks that Stiles is 17 and jail-bait.

Misunderstandings ensue.

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Potential concussions and best laid plans by alice9 (NR | 1/1 | 3,322)

“Stiles! Stiles, are you alright?” His father was craning around as if he could see Stiles in the dark. “Dad, I’m alright. She didn’t stab anything important.” “Stab!” Right, he hadn’t seen her stab him. Because he couldn’t turn around.

Or

Stiles and the Sheriff are taken by hunters and it isn't Stiles favorite, like at all.

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A Little Push in the Right Direction by crossroadswrite (G | 1/1 | 3,708)

“Can I see your wolf face?”

Derek flushes all over, ducks his head and kicks the carpet awkwardly. “I, uh, can’t really shift into my beta shift.”

Stiles squints at him and for a split second the color of his eyes turns liquid, like there’s whiskey sloshing around in the irises. It’s subtle enough that it could pass for a trick of the light but Derek knows better; growing up peeking at an array of supernatural creatures from behind his mom’s legs taught him enough to take a step back.

“Maybe you need a push.”

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From the Cradle to the Grave by jezziejay (T | 1/1 | 4,207)

It’s not that the sheriff doesn’t like Derek. It’s just that he thinks Stiles could do better.

 But Stiles has been an adult for over two years now, so he can make his own choices. Even if they are terrible.

 Also, the sheriff doesn’t like Derek.

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Faking It To Making It by gryvon (T | 1/1 | 4,565)

When the Alpha traps Scott and his friends in the high school, Stiles refuses to throw Derek under the bus.

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Children's Tales by artemis69 (G | 1/1 | 4,690)

Be careful, little girl.

Don’t go causing troubles in Beacon Hills, little girl, because the Hales live there.

Keep away from Beacon Hills, little girl, or the Hales will destroy you.

-- Or: In a world where the Hales are alive and the protectors of the town of Beacon Hills, the humans politely fake ignorance of their not-really-human status, and they all live happily ever after.

Then Kate comes in.

Well.

Tries to.

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Leave It All Behind by asarcasticwitch (M | 1/1 | 4,864)

A coil of panic tightens in his chest as, after just three short rings, Derek’s voice—raspy as if barely awake—echoes through the speaker. “Do you know what time it is?” he grumbles, and at any other time, Stiles would’ve made a joke or retorted with something so sarcastic it would’ve undoubtedly earned him a huff in return. But right now, he can’t think of anything to say.

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The Story's Going Somewhere by skoosiepants (T | 1/1 | 5,448)

Inside the station, a honey-eyed waif with a shorn head and a long pale throat is clicking away at a pen and swinging his chair back and forth behind the receptionist desk. Derek plasters on his most charming grin and leans up against it, bracing a hand in front of the guy and sliding his sunglasses down to give him a once-over.

The guy blinks up at him and flushes. His mouth falls open a little and Derek clears his throat around the way he kind of wants to press his thumb to it.

“Hey,” Derek says, still grinning. “I’m here for my sister?”

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Excuse Me, I Believe You Have My Children series by Elpie (Horribibble) (2 works | T | 7,188)

1. A Knight in Shining Flannel (T | 1/1 | 3,650) When a frantic phone call from his daughter sends him speeding across town, Derek Hale is prepared for the worst. What he finds instead are the Stilinskis. - An AU featuring tiny werewolves, awkward single dads, and one bad babysitter. 2. Hide and Go Scare the Hell Out of Daddy (T | 1/1 | 3,538) When Toby has a meltdown in the middle of the shoe department, Stiles has no idea what to do to calm him down. Derek provides a little helper. - An AU featuring tiny werewolves, awkward single dads, and an ill-timed clothing rack safari.

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The One Where They Adopt a Selkie by mikkimouse (T | 1/1 | 7,737)

"That's a kid," Stiles said.

Derek growled. "It's a selkie."

"It's a selkie kid," Stiles pointed out, because really, they did not need to be arguing semantics right now. "Do selkies just go around leaving their kids sleeping in caves on the beach?"

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The Truth Is by BulletBlaze (T | 1/1 | 8,851)

“Well, you should get going then-” “You could come around some time-” A pause. “Wait, what?” A blush bloomed across Derek's cheeks, barely visible over the top of his beard. He shrugged again. “If you wanted to. You could stop by while I'm fixing it up. Help me with some things. If you wanted to.” “You already said that,” Stiles, the idiot, mumbled in disbelief. Derek's blush grew a shade darker.

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Derek, Did You Steal That Baby? by SylvieW (M | 1/1 | 10,119)

When Derek suddenly shows up with a baby, everyone is suspicious. Except for Stiles. He doesn’t care where the baby came from, he just wants to play with her and explore the new side of Derek she brings out.

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Home With You by SylvieW (T | 5/5 | 11,527)

Stiles is sent to stay with the Hales so he can learn to control his spark and his impulses. Everyone treats him like a guest or a student. Except Derek.

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Wolves and Foxes Don't Get Along by Lissadiane (G | 1/1 | 14,557)

The first werewolf Stiles ever sees is a goofy looking dude with floppy brown hair and a crooked smile, leaning up against a black camaro outside the high school, wearing an oversized leather jacket, surrounded by half a dozen other preternaturally beautiful girls and guys, also in leather. Also probably werewolves.

They look like they stepped right out of Twilight and it’s not subtle.

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omnis cellula e cellula by twnkwlf (E | 3/3 | 15,302)

“You put the diaper on backwards,” Derek says.

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For If Dreams Die by veritas_st (M | 8/8 | 24,169)

“I had a dream about a boy last night,” Mischief says through a mouthful of pancakes. His dad points the spatula at him and he swallows before he says anything else. “His name was Derek. He called me Stiles. I want to be called that from now on.”

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California Never Felt Like Home to Me by CharWright5 (E | 1/1 | 31,343)

With the Kanima attacking, Hunters stalking him, and the looming threat of the Alpha Pack drawing near, Beacon Hills is no longer the home Derek once felt it had been. So when Boyd and Erica tell him that they're leaving, he joins them, along with Isaac, the Pack running into a ghost from his past as they leave California behind.

They eventually settle in a small town in North Carolina, where Derek finds himself falling for a local barista named Stiles, who shows Derek what "home" can truly mean and that it's okay for the Alpha to want something for himself every once in a while.

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Into The Open Air by Acherona, trulywicked (E | 22/22 | 99,482)

It was a little strange moving back to Beacon Hills. His daughter becoming enchanted with his odd and very attractive neighbor didn't really help matters.

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I Know Where Babies Come From, Derek series by DiscontentedWinter (4 works | G-E | 131,247)

1. I Know Where Babies Come From, Derek (M | 15/15 | 51,937) Stiles finds a baby on the porch. It looks exactly like him. Well, this is awkward. 2. My Life is not a Horror Movie, Derek (E | 12/12 | 38,993) Stiles keeps dreaming of people in robes with knives. With chanting. In Latin. And he mentioned the knives, right? That can't be good. 3. Nobody Fucks with our Pack, Derek (E | 14/14 | 36,082) There's no such thing as "unthinkable" in Beacon Hills. But this comes close. And Stiles and Derek are going to do everything they can to keep their pack together. 4. This is our Happy Ending, Derek (G | 3/? | 4,235) A collection of curtain fics for the I Know Where Babies Come From, Derek universe.

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I Was A Teenage Werewolf by HaleHathNoFury (My_Trex_has_fleas) (E | 50/50 | 456,244)

Stiles just knows he's going to get lost in the woods. There must be a Laura Palmer reference in there somewhere.

A fork in the road retelling of Teen Wolf where Stiles is the one to get bitten.

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[tossawary]

I went to double-check Iruka's age at the beginning of "Naruto" and apparently that man is 22 or 23 years old. That is SO funny to look at with hindsight. That's so YOUNG. He's only 10 years older than Naruto!

Like, he's carrying himself relatively well, because fresh teachers sent into classrooms of tweenagers tended to get eaten alive in my experience, and those tweens generally didn't even have knives. Iruka gives the vibe of someone who's been teaching for several years now at least, not inexperienced, but not yet jaded, so he could have started training to be a teacher and even started teaching in his teens. Konoha seems a little desperate for people who know what curriculums and rubrics are, and also, like, believe in the general educational concepts.

(Also, this world has child soldiers everywhere. It's definitely not unreasonable then for Iruka to perhaps start working as a teaching assistant at 15-16 years old, as a temp thing at the beginning maybe, or to get his own classroom as young as 18-19 or whatever, to give him more experience than the average 22yo teacher fresh out of college in the modern world. Especially when there are other teachers around to help out and supervise and trade off classrooms by subject.)

The series as I understand it tends not to give clear ages for most of the adults within the main story itself, so I think it's very reasonable for the audience to have assumed that Iruka was in his mid to late twenties. (I also think it's fine to make little universe alterations in AUs!) It just makes reading most "Iruka adopts Naruto" fics a little amusing when "adult" character ages are still left unclear, because I have to think to myself, "Okay, I am getting the vibe here that this AU Iruka is not adopting a 5yo Naruto at 15 years old, even though the (frankly pretty awful) "Naruto" timeline says that Iruka is supposed to be 16 at the oldest right now."

[from-the-clouds]

texas sun - joel miller x f! reader - vol. v

series masterlist | series playlist | writing masterlist | previous chapter | photo cred

chapter summary: You knew yourself, and the way that you could get hung up on the right kind of person. Joel was that kind of person. But you don’t like how formal this feels. So real. -- In other words, Joel takes you on your first date. pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader words: 8.6k chapter warnings: SMUT, 18+ ONLY (it's happening, folks!) - unprotected sex, please dm if you want specifics but I’m not trying to spoil too much. If you don't want to read the smut, it doesn't happen until about halfway through the chapter. Crying after sex. Angst. FLUFF. Mentions of anxiety & self-doubt, alcohol consumption.  a/n: Help! I can’t stop writing fit checks into this story!! This ended up being insanely horny but also shockingly sweet. I worked way way way too hard on it so please say nice things to me. Might need to take a couple days off because I'm really feeling burnt out. So please enjoy in the meantime.

-May 16, 2003-

Joel doesn’t like lying to Sarah.

Although, he’s not sure that he’s lying to her as much as he is simply….omitting information. Depending on who you ask, that could still be considered lying.

He’s fresh out of the shower when he steps into the living room, fishes through the catch-all basket located just inside the front door, and pockets his wallet and keys.

“Where are you going?” 

Sarah’s lounging on the couch, on her back, one of her hands slung behind her head. There’s a book opened on her lap, but she’s not reading. “You’re all dressed up.”

Joel looks down at his green flannel shirt, tucked into a pair of dark jeans. Truth be told, he’s a little ashamed he doesn’t have anything nicer in his closet. It’s not like he ever has any occasion to dress up, but he’s already feeling self-conscious and being (most likely) underdressed isn’t helping. Based on the very limited information he knows about your past relationships, you’re probably accustomed to crisp dress shirts, ties, blazers. He doesn’t own any of those things — he did, at one point, have the tux from his wedding, but he’d gotten rid of it after the divorce. Every time he saw it in the back of his closet, it made him sick. Regardless, tonight he’d done the best he could otherwise - showered, trimmed his beard, and even dug through his medicine cabinet for an old – probably expired – bottle of cologne. Hopefully it was enough. 

“I’ve uh….I’ve got a date.” Joel says. 

The theme song from That’s So Raven is blaring through the living room, but it immediately cuts out as Sarah presses mute and sits up entirely from her spot on the couch. “Really?”

“Don’t act so surprised,” Joel says. “Your uncle is coming over, though, he’s gonna drop me off and then he said he’d take you to the movies.”

As if on cue, he hears Tommy’s truck pull into the drive. “Yes!” Sarah leaps up from the couch. “I have to change first.”

“Hurry up, babygirl, I’m already runnin’ behind,” Joel calls after her. 

Tommy knocks twice on the front door before letting himself in anyways. 

“You’re late,” Joel informs, shutting the door behind him. They should’ve left five minutes ago, and the last thing Joel wants is for you to think he’s not punctual. To be fair, he’s not, and almost never is. But you don’t need to know that….yet. 

“Hello to you, too,” Tommy trails after him into the kitchen. Joel is tempted to chug a beer, or fish the half-empty bottle of whiskey he’s got in the cabinet out to take a shot — just to take the edge off. But he refrains. It wouldn’t be a good look to show up smelling of booze.

“So…who's the lucky lady?” When Joel doesn’t answer right away, Tommy presses. “Come on, Joel, who is it?” 

He contemplates telling his brother the truth, but he doesn’t want to give him the idea that he had taken his advice. He didn’t. Well maybe he did, but he knows Tommy will become insufferable if he finds out. 

“Is it who I think it is?” Tommy asks. “It better be.”

Unfortunately, Tommy knows him too well. They’re brothers, and really, Joel’s first and oldest friend. The answer is written all over his face. 

Tommy grins. “Fucking finally. Oh my god, dude, I thought you’d never-”

“Alright, alright!” Joel interjects, eyes darting nervously up the stairs, where he hears his daughter shuffling around in her bathroom. “Keep your mouth shut, I haven’t told Sarah yet.” 

Tommy raises his hands in defense, but at least seems to understand how serious Joel is. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna say anything. Are you excited?”

“Yeah,” Joel looks down at the countertop, and is compelled to be honest with his little brother. “I’m uh….I’m a little nervous, though. Been awhile since I’ve done anything like this.” 

Tommy grows serious. “Do you want my advice?” 

“Yours?” Joel feels like whatever advice he has to offer is likely questionable, particularly with someone like you. “No thanks. I’d rather make a good impression.”

His brother ignores the subtle dig. “You sure? Because unlike you, I actually go on dates. I mean, it’s been what, like….ten years?” He crosses his arms, pretends to think. It’s probably only been a couple of months since the last time Joel took someone out, and Tommy knows it, but he loves to dramatize. “I mean at this stage, you’re basically a born-again virgin. Do you even remember how to put on a condom?” 

Joel crosses his arms and glares at his brother, who begins giggling at his bad joke. “I knew I shouldn’t have fucking said anything to you,” he shakes his head.

“Oh come on Joel, you’ll be fine,” Tommy says. “Really. She’s into you. I could tell when we were all together the other night. Even when I was dancing with her, I kept catching her lookin’ your way…”

“Yeah, well….” Joel rubs the back of his neck to play off the surge of warmth he gets from this information. “Thanks.”

Sarah’s bathroom door opens, and he hears the staccato beat of her sneakers coming down the stairs. Joel points at Tommy one last time. “Not a word, understand?” 

Tommy nods just as she rounds the corner.

“Uncle Tommy!” Sarah raises her hand to give him a high-five, which they both purposely miss so they can collide palms on the downswing, grab each other’s hands and then begin a secret handshake so complex that Joel, who has seen it a thousand times, still doesn’t think he could execute correctly if he tried.

“How’s my favorite niece?” 

“I’m your only niece.” 

“Touche,” they shoot at each other with finger guns before she wraps him in a hug and Tommy presses his nose to the top of her head. Despite the fact that their little routine is costing Joel precious time, almost all the annoyance he’d been feeling with his brother dissipates at the sight.

“We all ready?” Tommy asks her, then points at him. “Don’t want to make this casanova late.”

“Yeah, of course not,” Sarah looks over at Joel with a smile that doesn’t seem entirely sincere. When she was younger and he’d gone on dates, she always had a lot more questions. Who is it? What is she like? When can I meet her? Is she pretty? Over the years, however, she became less and less interested. It was because she was smart, and had caught onto the pattern - he’d go on a date, maybe one or two more, then there’d be a long period of nothing before the cycle repeated itself every couple months. It rarely developed into anything that would concern her, and Joel always kept the details to himself.

While they’re en route to the restaurant – a little French bistro that had opened up recently — Sarah and Tommy bicker about what movie they want to see.

“I wanna see Holes. I just read the book.”

Tommy grimaces. “What about Matrix Reloaded? It just came out.”

“I already told dad I’d go to that with him.”

“So?” he looks between Sarah and Joel. “Why can’t you just see it twice?”

“No,” Sarah says emphatically. “I have to see it with dad first. It’s not fair.” 

Tommy groans, mutters under his breath. “I can’t believe you let her watch that crap,” as if he wasn’t about to do the same thing.

“She likes it,” Joel shrugs.

“All the more reason to see it tonight.”

“Tommy,” Joel warns. 

“Fine.”

“I don’t really like it, though. I just like to keep dad company so he doesn’t have to see it alone.”

“You’re too nice,” Tommy takes a beat. “Are you sure you aren’t adopted?”

“Shut up,” Joel and Sarah answer at the same time, and Joel holds his palm behind him for his daughter to slap. 

Tommy acquiesces, his truck jolting as it pulls into the parking lot of the restaurant. Joel’s heart rate picks up immediately. The car rolls to a stop and Joel turns to look at both of them. “Alright, I’ll be home by midnight.”

“Sounds good,” says Sarah. 

“Have fun,” Tommy raises his eyebrows, winks, and thankfully Sarah doesn’t see it, because she’s getting out of the truck to take Joel’s spot shotgun. He makes sure she’s settled with her seatbelt on before he shuts the door.

He isn’t trying to waste time, but Joel watches them pull out of the lot and back onto the street before he goes inside the restaurant. Really, he just needs a minute to collect himself. There’s no good reason for him to be as anxious as he is, he’s already kissed you once, and you had seemed to like it — quite a lot too. For the past week the feeling of your body pressed up against him, legs around his torso, was pretty much all he thought about when his mind wandered. Mostly at night before bed, and even today, in the shower when he was getting ready - just to try and calm down. Even now, the idea leaves him flustered.

Nevertheless, this probably isn’t even technically a first date. He hasn’t had issues speaking to you in the past, so this should be easy. Right? But what if you change your mind? And what if it dawns on you that he’s not your type? Even worse, what if you realize he’s just not good enough? 

Joel forces himself inside before he talks himself out of this. When he enters, he sees you first. You’re across the room, leaning over the small bar where a few other patrons are. Greedily, he takes you in, and it’s easy to trace your figure in the tight black shift dress you’ve got on, sheer black tights underneath. It’s sleek, stylish - not that Joel knows much about that. As usual, you stand out in stark contrast to every other person in the place. He likes it. But he feels underdressed. He’ll look ridiculous standing next to you, and he briefly considers turning around, leaving, and saving himself the embarrassment.  

That’s until you move, angling yourself towards him and scanning the restaurant, an elbow resting on the bar, a hand on your knee. You’re looking for him, waiting for him, and finally, you’re rewarded when your eyes catch. Suddenly, Joel doesn’t care about what he’s wearing. He doesn't care that he’s not good enough. At the very least, he doesn’t have to guess if you’re interested in him anymore, not with how you’re gazing at him — a soft smile and narrowed eyes that betray your enthusiasm. Sure, he's not good enough, but he decides if he’s going to go down in flames, he’ll do it trying to convince you otherwise.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Maybe I should’ve eaten a proper lunch, you think to yourself. You’ve barely touched the drink in your hand, but you’re already starting to feel it. And even though you are the designated driver tonight, for now, the slight buzz is welcome, working to soothe. 

Over the years, you’d been on your fair share of first dates. Unlike most…you don’t hate them. For whatever reason, getting to know new people had always come easy, particularly if they were the right person. Being a lawyer, you had a knack for talking yourself into or out of almost anything. So it was just as easy to let someone know if they weren’t the right person. The best part of first dates, however, was that they lacked all the things you hated — promises, expectations, and conversations that went deeper than general pleasantries. 

So all things considered, you shouldn’t feel as tense as you do right now.

There’s a few factors that might have something to do with it, and your brain turns them over,  biding your time until your date arrives. 

First is the text that sits opened on your BlackBerry.

Dad’s home from the hospital. Doing better. Call when you can. - Vince

Your father has been in and out of the hospital for the last month or so, his health rapidly declining. But every update from your brother, however innocent they may be, feels like veiled threats. You should be here. You should know this. I shouldn't have to text you about it. I can’t believe I’m the only one looking after him. A part of you wants to believe that Vincent wouldn’t play that sort of game with you, but as you’ve gotten older and grown apart, you’d gotten worse at deciphering his motivations. Vaguely, you acknowledge that you could just be projecting, and you are the only one trying to make you feel bad. 

And then there’s Joel. 

He’s running late, you hope, or he’s stood you up. And you have already promised yourself that you’re only gonna wait ten more minutes before heading home with your tail tucked between your legs. The thought of that makes you regret agreeing to this in the first place. You’d already embarrassed yourself the last time you were together, practically begging him to take you on the kitchen countertop, but he’d insisted on doing this right. You should’ve pushed harder because you’re starting to think that maybe, just maybe….a zipless fuck would’ve sufficed. Oh, who were you kidding? You knew yourself, and the way that you could get hung up on the right kind of person. Joel was that kind of person. But you don’t like how formal this feels. So real. 

He knows you better than most first dates do. You’ve told him more about your family, about your fucked up childhood, about your aversion to committed relationships more than any friend you’ve made since moving to Texas. And he listened. It should make you feel better. He knows what he’s getting himself into, and he asked you here anyways. Maybe he’s having second thoughts. 

For what feels like the thousandth time, you check your emails and take a sip of your dirty martini – your preferred vehicle for alcohol consumption. Ultimately, you like the idea of a martini more than the actual taste, but you appreciate how direct they are. You scan the restaurant one last time, doing your best to look casual, like you don’t really care. Like you’re supposed to be there alone. 

But when your head turns towards the entrance, Joel is standing across from you. 

He gives you a bashful smile, one that makes your stomach flip, and makes his way over – though he doesn’t seem to be in a rush. It’s like he knows you’d sit and wait for him for as long as it takes – you would, you will, you are. 

When he finally lands in front of you, one thumb hooked in the belt loop of his dark-wash jeans, he leans forward and presses his lips to your cheek for the briefest moment, and pulls back, looking you up and down. 

“It’s good to see you, darlin’,” he murmurs softly. The term of endearment makes your ears feel hot. You're shocked at the effect he has on you, almost can’t believe it. It scares you, too, but you want to chase the feeling. “You look great.”

“So do you,” because you’re not one to lie. He does. As good as always, but he might’ve trimmed his beard for the occasion and maybe….put on cologne? It’s hard to tell, and in your brief experience being so close to him, he’s always smelled good regardless. 

“Sorry I’m late,” he apologizes. “Can’t count on Tommy to get me anywhere on time.”

“It’s alright,” you say casually, like you hadn’t had your whole exit strategy planned out just minutes ago. “I got to have a drink while I wait. You want something?” you gesture towards the bartender. 

“Sure,” Joel answers. “How about an old fashioned?” There’s no room for him to sit, so he leans next to you, arm on the bartop, invading your personal space while you wait for your table. Your skin buzzes like you’ve never been this close to a man before in your life. Pathetic. 

He orders his drink before he speaks to you again. “Have you been here before?” he asks. 

You shake your head no. “I was planning on coming a couple months ago but….never got around to it.”

“It’s good,” he says. “I’ve been a couple times.”

“Is this where you take all the girls you go out with?” you raise an eyebrow, grateful that your voice sounds even despite the way your blood is fizzing, your heart pumping so fast you can feel it in your ears. 

Joel shakes his head no. “That’s down the street.”

“Oh?” you nod, sip your drink. Whatever buzz you’d been feeling is gone in the wake of adrenaline. “So….why didn’t you take me there, then?”

“It’s not as nice,” Joel smirks, leaning in a little closer – if it were possible. His lips are practically touching your ear, and his voice is raspy for what comes next. “And I’m trying to impress you.” 

“Right,” you can’t help but smile, pulling back so you can lock eyes. He’s so sincere you can’t even think up a clever quip in return. “How thoughtful.” 

He gives you a cheeky grin. You want to touch him, want to hold him, want to fist the front of his shirt or tug on the hair at the back of his neck and stick your tongue down his throat like you aren’t surrounded by an entire restaurant of patrons. 

It’s going to be the longest fucking dinner of your life. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You survive. 

But at a cost. 

And you don’t learn anything new about Joel, except for the fact that your memory hasn’t exaggerated how charming he is, how charismatic, how thoughtful. All the times you’d allowed yourself to daydream about him didn’t hold a candle. Enjoying the meal is difficult, because you just want to get him alone. He can sense it – you’re pretty sure, because he orders himself a coffee after dessert, and sips on it ever-so-slowly, smirking at you over the rim of the mug.

When dinner’s over, you offer to drive Joel home, since he’d gotten a ride here. By this point, the martini is long gone from your system and you sort of want to pour yourself another when you get home. Even if you don’t drink much, the nerves have resurfaced. 

He walks a few paces behind you as you leave the restaurant, taking his time, and you step to your side of the car, making to unlock it – until something grabs your bicep – briskly – and spins you around. 

It’s Joel. He snuck up behind you, you hadn’t heard, and he’s right in front of you now, pinning you between the car and his body, surrounding you entirely. He lifts a hand, cups your cheek, and kisses you. It happens so fast you let out a whimper of surprise – directly into his mouth, but he swallows it down, and cradles you so gently, but still firm. Resolute. I’m not letting you go.

When he pulls back, you notice his cheeks are flushed, ever so slightly. It makes you wonder what you could do to see them get even redder. Your arms have found their way to rest on his shoulders, and you’re boxed in, the handle to your car door digging into your ass. Without a word, just a cheeky grin, he retreats to the passenger's side of the car and gets inside. 

You settle in the driver's seat beside him, and he looks over at you. “Hope that was okay, I couldn’t wait…” he says, almost apologetically. “But I was tryin’ all night to be good.”

“Yeah, well….not much use in that anymore,” you tilt your head. “Do you want to….hang out at my place?”

“Yeah, we can ‘hang out’ at your place,” Joel quips.

Scoffing in mock offense, you offer a retort. “What would you rather me have said? Come over for a nightcap? That’s a little cliche.”

He grimaces, as if he’s in agreement. You continue. “Or would you rather I be more direct? Joel, why don’t you come over so we can have sex?”

That makes him laugh, loudly, and it’s such a warm, comforting sound, you wish you could find a way to capture it and hear it over and over again. “Oh, is that what’s going to happen?” he asks. 

“Guess we’ll find out,” You shrug, trying to play it off, in case you overstepped. Then you focus on putting the keys in the ignition without fumbling. 

It’s not a long drive back to your place, but Joel seems determined to make sure it feels like it is. Either that, or he’s trying to get you to cause an accident. First his hand is resting on the back of your neck, brushing through the hair at the base of your skull. Then it’s on your shoulder, his thumb pressing into your taut muscles. You actually have to bite your tongue so you don’t moan. It’s not even sexual, really, but it just feels good to be touched, especially by him.

Eventually, you hit a stoplight, and while you’re waiting, his hand continues to wander…and comes to rest just above your knee. His hands are fucking huge, first of all, which maybe you’ve noticed before, and there are a few scars and scratches on the backs of his knuckles. It's the weight of it, the warmth of it, the way he’s settled it so casually like it’s nothing – like it belongs there, and he doesn’t even have to ask. Of course he doesn’t. And the confidence, the cockiness. It feels like someone’s taken an arrow to the pit of your stomach, and something thick and hot starts curling down, down, down….

You swallow hard, and he’s looking at you. He doesn’t speak right away, just stares, something dark and unfamiliar in his eyes. 

“I hope I’m doing alright,” voice raspy, low, but still smooth as ever.

Shaking your head, you’re able to surface just enough over the haze of arousal. “You want a performance review?” you tease, giving a small smile. “We should hold off on that until later…” 

That makes Joel laugh again, your stomach flips, and his thumb begins to stroke your kneecap, his fingers kneading into the soft flesh, inching forward to clasp farther inward, nearly grabbing at you, squeezing. The only thing separating his skin from your own is a thin pair of stockings that end dangerously close to where his hand is working. If he finds out that he’s just a few centimeters away from meeting bare skin, you’re afraid of what could happen.

“Joel,” you warn.

“What?” he asks, voice light and innocent.

“You’re distracting me.” 

“You want me to stop?”

No. The light turns green, and you have to hold back the impulse to break every traffic law if it means you’ll get to have him just a second sooner. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“--my room is–” Joel cuts you off with another searing kiss, and it takes a second before you can conjure the self control to pull away again to finish the thought. “--down the hall.” 

“Yeah?” 

He’s got you crowded back against the entry closet of your house, hovering over you, one of his hands bracing itself beside your head, and the other slowly dragging down your body, his lips following….moving down your neck. 

“Uh-huh,” you barely can get it out between strangled gasps for air. 

And then he’s hooking his hands behind your knees. “Are you sure you don’t want, like-” Joel lifts you, and you lock your legs around his torso. “An amaretto or something?”

“No,” he’s gripping on to you so tightly it hurts, but you don’t mind. 

“I could put on….a record-”

“No,” he repeats, and you’re being carried down the hall. 

You hadn’t expected him to pounce on you the instant that you came in through the garage door. Not that you minded. It’s just that usually you’d play it a bit more coy. You’d set the mood, light a candle, have a chat. But, you suppose you don’t need to do anything to get you in the mood. You’re already there. 

Joel’s mouth never separates from you, not until you’re in your room. He’s so sure of himself, you think he might be the type to throw you into the mattress, climb on top of you and rip at the zipper on the back of your dress. But he doesn’t. You’re laid down delicately, like you’re made of glass, and he’s being careful not to break you. 

He weaves his thumb and forefinger around both your wrists, then pulls them up so they’re pinned above your head. This way, you’re completely at his mercy. When he lowers himself between your legs, and you feel the weight of his body pressed against you, you groan, fighting against the restraint, desperate to touch him. So you do the best you can and wrap your stocking-clad feet around his waist, trying to get some leverage, to bring him closer.

“Just wanna take my time with you, darlin’,” he murmurs softly, like he can read your mind. You’re starting to think he can – how else can he be so irresistible on his own accord?

Joel makes good on his promise. With you all docile beneath him, he takes the opportunity to kiss every inch of exposed skin available – even though you’re still fully clothed. Each press of his lips has you breathing unevenly – sighing, then gasping, then sharp, short inhales. When he finds a particularly sensitive spot on your neck, you can’t help but giggle and quirm. 

Joel huffs in response, releasing you from his hold, and he tilts his head to whisper in your ear. “Do you have any idea how much I like hearing that? Knowing it’s because of me?” Immediately, you lower your hands to cup his cheeks, to regard him. He can’t be serious. 

“You’re too sweet,” you mutter. 

“So are you,” he answers, and ducks his head to return to your neck. “So sweet, and so fucking pretty, too…” His hands begin wandering, one of them cupping your breast, thumb finding a peaked nipple even through the fabric of your dress and your bra. The words he’s saying are too much, you’ll do anything to make him shut up, arching your back so you can feel him – already hard – against your clothed core. 

“Joel-” 

“God, I want to see you-fuck!” he pulls back, rolls you over, and you shift your weight so he has access to the dress’ zipper at your side. He makes quick work of it, and brings you to a seated position, helping you remove it all the way before kissing you again, then abruptly stopping. He wants you so badly….but he’s trying to savor the moment. “Let me look at you for a second.”

He takes you in, the stockings you’re wearing and the matching set of black lace you’d picked out beforehand. Of course, you’d thought about this. You always did for occasions like this, but Joel had stumped you. What would he like? This….was pretty understated, but he seemed like a salt-of-the earth guy. Not what you were used to. It probably wouldn’t make a difference whether or not you were in full-on lingerie. And even if you knew he wouldn’t care, you still had wanted to impress him. All the more reason to try.

“This for me?” he asks, hooking his finger on the inside of your stockings and snapping the elastic. 

“Yeah,” you nod, honest. “I want you, Joel.” And there’s more to it, too. You’ve thought about just how badly for months. It kept you up at night, then helped you fall asleep when you couldn’t shake his image from your head. For now, you are going to keep that to yourself. But it doesn’t mean it’s not gonna slip out. Not when he’s looking at you like this. 

“Yeah?” he says, steps forward, towers over you. “I want you, too, so fuckin’ bad. So fucking pretty, baby,” Dropping back to your elbows, you feel…small. Any other time, you might sit up, try to feel some kind of control, but for whatever reason, you stay where you are.

Joel wasn’t exaggerating when he said he wanted to take his time. It’s frustrating. It’s torture. He worships you, makes sure his mouth is on nearly every part of your body before he finishes undressing you. Your ankles hook over his shoulders, his hands grazing, dragging thin nylon up and off each leg. He kisses your calves, the inside of your knees, your thighs. He uses one hand to unhook your bra and pulls it away. He spends what feels like hours with his mouth on your breasts – sucking, licking, nipping – hands cupping, grabbing, pinning you down. The whole time, he’s telling you how badly he wants you, how pretty you are, how good you’re being for him. He’s either touching you too much, or maybe not enough. It’s hard to say. Only after he’s reduced you to an incoherent, whimpering mess do you somehow find the strength to fight back. 

By this point, you’re lying in the middle of the bed, your leg hooked over his hip, the waistband of his jeans digging into bare skin. He’s still got all his fucking clothes on, which makes everything so much worse, because it’s clear whose in control here, and it’s certainly not you. 

The button of his flannel is where you start, and then you work downward. Joel doesn’t stop you at any point. You think he might, just because of how things have been going. But he’s as easy as you are, and you take him in all the same after you’ve shucked off his jeans, and he’s closer to your state of buff.

To be fair, you’ve spent enough time lingering by the windows – when he’s outside mowing the lawn shirtless, or picking up his newspaper in the morning, or doing workouts in his garage with the door open (such a tease!) – to have an idea of what to expect. He’s not ripped by any means but neither are you – and you’ve never liked that anyways. But it’s not hard to ascertain that he spends all day in the sun, lifting and hauling things around. His muscles are defined, rippling lightly under his skin with each panting breath he takes. Joel’s a spectacle – broad and tan, a line of dark hair dipping from his belly-button down into the waistband of his dark-gray briefs. You can make out the way his cock is straining against the fabric.

Once you’ve appraised him as best as you can – you can see that he’s studying you, almost like he’s anxious, like you might not like what you see. As if he doesn’t know. Ridiculous. You aren’t going to leave him guessing. “You’ve got to be kidding me, Joel,” you shake your head. “You’re a fucking stud.”

Joel’s face breaks out in a grin and he yanks you back so you’re on top of him, legs on either side of his chest. And finally, finally, you can touch him like you’ve been wanting. His skin is warm – it’s kind of hot in your room, you’d forgotten to turn on the A/C, so you’re both a little sweaty. But and it’s unclear if it’s because of the heat or just how worked up you are. It doesn’t matter, because it only turns you on even more. You trace the broad plane of his chest, hand snaking down…all the way to his boxers, but he stops you. 

He’d let you undress him, allowed it, but this…it crosses a line. Joel hooks his hands behind your thighs and begins to drag you up, up, up, while he shifts lower. It takes a second to register what he’s doing, and when it does, you try to stop it.

“Joel, wait I-” 

“I have to taste you darlin’, that okay?” His dark hair is fanned out around his head, resting on your floral pillowcase. In the dim light, his pupils are so blown out you can barely see anything else except black. “I’ll give you whatever you want, but you’ve gotta let me taste you first.”

It’s not that you don’t want it, but he’s taken you off guard, and you’re already overwhelmed by how intimate all this has been, gentle and languid while he whispers honeyed words into your ear. His mind seems already made up, and you don’t really want to tell him no.

“Alright,” you manage, and you grip the top of the headboard. 

It’s embarrassing how wet you already are. It started with his hand on your knee in the car, and you have spent the last hour clenching around nothing, squeezing your legs together and searching for friction. Anything. Well, you are about to get it.

Joel’s lips press to the insides of your thighs, once more, dangerously close to where you’re weeping for him. His nose bumps your clit when he turns his head, and you whine – hips sinking to seek the contact that he’s been denying you, and then immediately pulling back in a moment of clarity.

“No, no,” Joel’s hands immediately land on your hips to hold you in place, bringing you lower. “Stay right there for me.”

You don’t dare move. 

Finally, his mouth finds you. You think he might tease for a little bit, go slow, because he’s been doing that all night, and it’s become infuriating. But he doesn’t. He eats you out, laves at you. A hot, velvet tongue that works up a steady rhythm. It’s interrupted only by the vibration of his moans every so often, which only add to the pleasure. For a moment, you miss how he’d been talking to you before, but you’re so sensitive, so eager, that you think you’ll sacrifice anything if it means he’s not going to stop. Joel keeps you still with a bruising grip on your hips. All you can do is let him have his way and whimper his name over and over, listen to him groan in response. 

Being consistent is key for you. And Joel is nothing but. Practiced, but feral….like he’s been holding back all night. It’s been a long time, or maybe he’s just that excited, it’s hard to tell. Either way, it doesn’t matter. Can’t bring yourself to care about much more than him, the man below you working you over with just his mouth. 

“I’m…Joel, I’m-” you try to pull off again, it’s too much, but he doesn’t allow it. Even if the position he’s in is compromising, he’s managed to find a way to assert himself. The coil inside you has wound so tightly that almost every muscle in your body is tense. Now, can’t even move, not even if you wanted to, and he keeps going, your words have only made him more determined.

The coil snaps. You cry out, using the headboard to stifle your noises – not worried that it will probably leave a mark. If you get nothing else from Joel, then at least it will serve as a reminder that he was here, beneath you, lapping up everything you have to give him. The orgasm leaves you weak, trembling, but he holds you up, works you through it until the waves begin to cease, and then you’re so overstimulated, so sensitive that you start to feel lightheaded. “Fuck, Joel, I can’t-” You tug on his hair, hope he’ll get the hint and release you, but he doesn’t. If anything, it only spurs him on.

His mouth is white hot on you, his tongue damp, firm as it circles your clit and drags downward. He gives you nowhere to go, no opportunity to come down from the high, so within minutes, or seconds – at this point, you’ve lost track of time – he’s worked you up to the precipice of release, and you’re coming again, crying out to him.

At last, he eases off, lets you relax. You do, carefully, and so does he, gradually removing his mouth from you while your hand untangles from his dark curls. Joel holds you steady as he sits back against the headboard, keeping you splayed across his lap. You don’t waste your time saying something stupid like “you didn’t have to do that,” because you’re not gonna pretend you didn’t love every second, but mostly because you’re not sure you’re capable of speaking just yet. His hand catches your jaw, and he looks at you – innocently, like he hadn’t just done what he had done, like his fucking beard, and chin, and lips weren’t still wet with you. But the ornery glint in his eyes gives him away. “You liked that?” he has the audacity to ask. 

A shaky hand comes to pinch your eyebrows as you let out a weak laugh, nodding. “Yeah, Joel….yeah.”

“Good,” he answers. 

“I was right about you,” you manage. 

“Yeah?” He murmurs, and his hand skates up your arm, the other settling on your waist. It’s grounding, reassuring as your heart attempts to steady its beating. 

“You’re trouble.” 

“Yeah,” Joel murmurs, and he leans in close. “Only for you, pretty girl.” 

Your hips jolt back at the term of endearment, so much so that you feel the length of his cock, hard against your ass. It’s your turn to take care of him, but it shouldn’t be difficult, because your arousal is already building again. It’ll be much, much, easier to come again, specifically around him. Plus, right now, you are willing to do just about anything for him. You kiss him, and it’s sloppy, lick the taste of yourself out of his mouth. Heat curls again in the pit of your stomach, and you grind yourself down on him through his underwear.

Joel’s head falls back, bonks the headboard, and the thud of impact is overshadowed by his agonized moan. You reach down between your bodies, let your touch land over his clothed cock. He pants out your name. So many things you could do – with only your hand, or your mouth, but before you can decide, he speaks again.

“Wanna be inside you,” he grits out. “So fucking bad.” 

“You don’t want me to-”

“No,” he cuts you off. “No, no. I need you.”

“You can have me,” you nod, leaning forward to kiss his neck, pushing down the elastic of his underwear. Joel lets you, his hips stuttering, until he freezes. “Shit.” He reaches out to halt your movements.

You look up, his eyes are wide. “What is it?”

“I’m sorry, I uh, I left my wallet in the car,” Joel’s voice is pinched, palms leaving your body to press against his eyes, frustrated. “I brought condoms, but they’re - I’ll have to go get them.”

“I have some,” you pipe up, nodding towards your bedside table. Joel reaches for it, but it's your turn to stop him. “But I mean, I’m clean,” you say. “...And I have an IUD, so…” 

Joel pauses, stares at you under thick lashes. “You sure that…” So tentative. “....That’s okay with you?” 

You feel yourself smirk a little as you look at him. It’s not something you’d allow anyone to do. But you’re feeling a little lost in the moment. The part of your brain that usually tells you to run for the hills whenever things get too real has turned off. It’s not the first time he’s caused that, and you sort of enjoy the delusion. There’s no question. It’s Joel.  “Oh, yeah.”

The words ignite something in him that you weren’t entirely prepared for, and he’s pulling you hard against his mouth with one hand, while the other pushes his briefs down the rest of the way. You don’t get the chance to see him, to feel him, before he’s lining himself up with your slick cunt. 

It’s a soft glide of sensitive skin across sensitive skin, and you shake with anticipation. You don’t even know you have your eyes closed, focusing on the sensation, until you hear Joel’s voice. 

“Open your eyes,” he commands. “Please just-” he swallows hard. “I wanna watch you. So fucking pretty.” 

You obey, and he guides your hand to replace your own. It’s not until your hand wraps around him that you’re aware of just how thick his cock is, throbbing and leaking, and it makes you all the more eager. Slowly, you start to sink down, but it’s too challenging to take him all at once. So first, just the tip, you roll back to ease the sting, then gradually sink lower and low. 

Joel moves closer to you, holding his breath, guiding you along, propped back against the pillows. “That’s it, so fucking good, baby…”

You understand why he was moving so languidly earlier. This is meant to be enjoyed. After some time, and lots of praise, your hips settle flush with his own, and he’s seated fully inside of you. It’s a delicious stretch that your body isn’t fully ready to accommodate, but it has your toes curling and mouth hanging open, bearing down on him involuntarily. Under Joel’s watchful gaze you feel terribly, terribly exposed. 

“Keep going,” Joel encourages. So you move. It’s experimental at first, small ruts against him, getting used to the way it feels. It doesn’t take you long to find the spot that makes you abandon eye contact, throw your head back, and –

“Oh, Joel.”

“Yeah?” he asks, and he sounds strained, pinched – he’s holding back, but still enjoying every second. “That feel good?”

You nod furiously. He lets you find a rhythm that works for you, lets you take your time, and once you do, he starts to match your pace. His hands don’t stay in one place for very long. First, they’re resting gently on your ass. Then they’re cupping your tits, watching them bounce as they sway with your movements. He brings his knees up behind you, pressing his feet into the bed, and uses the leverage to fuck himself deeper each time you lower yourself onto him. 

At this point, you’re unaware of what types of noises you must be making, and you’re thankful that you’re alone so you can be as loud as you want. His cock is hitting places inside you that you didn’t know existed, and rolling across the same spot over and over and over. 

“You feel so perfect for me,” Joel says, his jaw clenched, his chest rising and falling. “So, so good, baby, so fucking pretty.” 

“Mm-hmm,” is all you can answer, nodding furiously and feeling yourself grow wetter and wetter with every thrust. 

You’re too easy for him. And you were too worked up to begin with. “Joel, I can’t-”

He slams his hips up into yours so hard you cut yourself off with a choked gasp. Then he does it again. “You gonna come for me?” he asks. “I can feel you, baby, I know it’s close.” 

“Y-yeah,” he’s got you stammering on your words. You’re clamping down onto him so tightly it hurts. But you’re so desperate to come, to feel what it’ll do to him, that you don’t stop.

“Come here,” he murmurs, hands around your waist, pulling you down so your lips are nearly touching. “Stay close to me.”

“Oh, fuck, oh-” The warmth of his body so close to yours, your hands bracing themselves on his chest, the comfort of his arms around you, all coupled with one vicious rut of his hips has you right there. Joel tilts your head back just enough so you’re forced to look directly at him – and then you come undone. 

You want to close your eyes, turn your head, but you’ve got nowhere to go, and he’s right in front of you. Joel’s touch slides up your back, draws you even closer, and you ride out your third orgasm of the night while pressed entirely against his chest, forced to be vulnerable in a way you’ve never been with anyone before. “So good, baby, so good. Such a good fuckin’ girl for me,” he praises you through it, works you through it, until you’re all but melted in his arms, and he still hasn’t pulled his eyes away.

Utterly spent, you know, distantly, somewhere, that he has to come. However, Joel takes over, flips you both so you’re underneath him, and presses himself deep into the cradle of your pelvis. He’s heavy on top of you, but the weight is somehow soothing.

“I thought about you,” you murmur, hoping it’ll help. His jaw is set, solely focused on his own release. “How good you’d feel.”

“Fuck, really?” he grunts. “I-I- did too.”

“Yeah?” you ask, feeling flush at the admission. “I thought about….letting y-you use me.”

Joel groans your name, curses loudly, ruts into you even harder. You can feel him throbbing, so fucking close, and you arch yourself up to meet him, pleasure already building again, even though you thought it wasn’t possible. 

“It’s so much better, Joel, you’re so much better–” 

Than I imagined. But you don’t have to finish the thought. The idea of you, thinking of him, seems to be enough as it is, and you feel him pulsing, warmth blooming and spreading out as he groans, throws his head back and spills himself impossibly deep inside you. If you weren’t utterly spent, the feeling of him coming – and nothing between you, probably would have set you off again. For now, it’s enough.

His whole body goes limp as he relaxes his arms from where they’re braced on either side of you, his head falling into the crook of your neck. You hear him take a few, haggard breaths once it’s over, and then a deep chuckle vibrates in your ear. “Fuck, baby.”

You rub his shoulder lightly to soothe him, and his lips find the underside of your jaw, kissing lightly his beard scratching your cheeks. For an undetermined amount of time, he remains there. Normally, you’d probably check his watch, but you’ve noticed that the one he always wears is broken, and really….you feel content.

Finally, Joel pulls away, cursing under his breath and withdrawing from you. He runs his hand through his hair, and flops on his back by your side, and you feel horribly empty. After he’s cupped your cheek, turning you gently to look at him – he gives you a tender, affectionate smile. 

It hits you like a freight train. 

He was not the type of man you dated. The men you dated liked to slap, choke, withhold. That had always been what you’d gotten off to. The more frenzied, the more impersonal – the better. That wasn’t to say Joel hadn’t been passionate. But you’d never experienced anything like this before.

You tear away from his gaze, focus on the ceiling. Heart pounding, threatening to break through your ribs, you feel your mouth dry up, your eyes burn and fuck – you’re about to cry. Try to turn yourself away from him, but he sees it. 

“You alright?”

“Yeah, just uh-” your voice catches on the lump forming in the back of your throat and cracks audibly, raw. 

“Hey– ” you hear the mattress shift, he’s moving closer, and you start to scramble. You’ve gotta leave. Get to the bathroom, compose yourself. “Where are you goin?”

“Joel, I just need to-” but his hand circles your wrist, and you don’t have the power to resist him. The bones of his hand press firmly in your cheek, turning your head so you have to look at him. There are tears in your eyes.  

“What’s wrong, baby? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Up close you can see that his eyes aren’t brown – they’re hazel. Mesmerizing, long lashes – gold and green rimming his irises. How had you not noticed that before? 

“No, no not at all it was just…” you’re talking so fast, not even sure where you’re going with the sentence. “I’m sorry, I liked it I just-I don’t know,” you stutter. Shaking your head, you cover your face. You don’t want to feel this way with him here. “I’m not used to-” 

Joel, who has never seen you at a loss for words, frowns, draws you against him. “Come here.”

“It’s okay,” he lets you press your face just below his jaw. He’s being so soft, it makes everything that much worse. Tears slip down your cheeks, landing on his skin. He strokes your hair, holds you so tightly, firmly, "It was intense, huh?” 

You want to resent the way he’s speaking to you – like you’re a child who fell off her bike and skinned her knee, and not a grown ass woman realizing how disconnected she’s felt with every other partner until now. But unfortunately, it’s kind of working. You murmur an affirmation in response. ”I’ve got you, it’s okay,” he promises. 

He holds you until the tide of emotion swells, settles, lips against your temple, his fingertips tracing up and down your spine, and gives you the time to compose yourself.

“That was really nice, I promise,” you say, eventually. And then, because he’s been so gracious, you’re honest. “It’s just been…a long time…” Forever, really. “Since I felt…”

“I know,” Joel nods. “Me too. It’s alright.” 

“Yeah,” you bob your head. He holds your face reverently, and pulls you in for a chaste kiss before tucking you back against his chest. You close your eyes, nestle against him. He strokes your hair while you listen to the steady beat of his heart.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The next thing you know, you’re being gently shaken awake. Somehow, you’d fallen asleep. 

“Hey, baby,” Joel murmurs softly. 

“Mmm?” you groan in response, exhaustion clinging to your limbs. 

“I’m sorry, I gotta get going.” 

You scoff into his neck and make a noise of protest, still not entirely roused, he’d woken you too delicately. When he speaks, his lips brush against your forehead, hands still tracing up and down the lines of your body and making you shiver. “I told Sarah and Tommy I’d be home by midnight.”

“Right,” you mutter, finding the strength to push yourself off of him and stretch. Joel sits up, very tentatively releasing you from his grip. 

“I’m sorry I had to wake you, I can see myself out.”

“No, no,” you shake your head. “No, please. Do you need anything?”

“Can I use your bathroom?” 

“Of course,” you point towards the ensuite. 

Joel collects his discarded clothes off the bed, then the floor, and disappears. You hear the sink running, watch the shuffling shadows he casts in the crack below the door. While he’s doing that, you slip into your robe and run your fingers through your hair, taking in the disheveled state of your bed, before deciding to clean up in the extra bathroom down the hall.

On your way back, you run into Joel, who looks better than ever, tanned skin glowing, a soft smile on his face. “Hey,” he says. 

“Hey.” 

“This was nice. I had a really good time.” 

“Me too.”

“Will you…” he trails off, rubs his jaw. “Will you be okay? I don’t want to-”

“I’m fine,” you say, dismissively. “I just had a moment.”

“You sure?”

“Of course.” Joel studies you carefully, and you’re prompted to continue. “I promise. Joel. This was nice.”

“It was,” he grins. “I’d like to see you again.” 

“Me too,” you don’t even think before you answer, despite everything. It surprises you, how willing you suddenly are.

“Good.” He kisses you, slow and lingering. “I’ll give you a call.” 

“Okay.”

-

part vi

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[finnsbubblegum]

Yes, Maybe, No (Joel Miller X Reader)

Pairing: no-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

Warnings: 18+, fluff, sweet joel, domestic joel, rom-com, smut

Summary (Series): reader as Joel’s neighbor. Joel’s wife left him so Joel asked his neighbor for help in babysitting Sarah. 

Summary: 2.3k

Words count: Pov: Sarah asked you and Joel for a sibling.

A/N: I’m trying to make this as a rom-com, hope you like my new series! This is part 13 of Where It All Starts. But it can also be read as a standalone. I'm so grateful for all of you! Thank you for your comments, reblogs, and likes ❤️ There are still more chapters for this series so stay tuned! Love you!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20

There were not many changes to your life since you got married to Joel because you had lived with him before the two of you got married anyway. The differences were probably that you were now Mrs. Miller, Sarah’s legally your daughter, she called you mommy now, your house was sold, and the walls were full of your wedding and family pictures. You asked for a big frame for the picture of you with your wedding dress, Joel with his tux, and Sarah in the middle with a flower crown. She was your flower girl for your wedding. You hang the picture in the living room.

“Let’s go babygirl, you’re gonna be late for school.” Joel waited for you and Sarah at the door.

It was Sarah’s first day of preschool and she was so excited and asked you to help her dress up like a princess. On the other hand, you were nervous. She had never made any friends before so you were worried she might have some problems in school. You loved her so much that you didn’t want anyone to hurt her. 

“Pretty.” You finished tying her hair and kissed her forehead.

“You look beautiful, princess.” Joel held his daughter’s hand and walked her to the car.

You followed them from behind and sat in the passenger seat. 

“You excited, babygirl?” Joel looked at the rear view mirror to see his daughter.

“Yes! Yes!” She bounced on her seat excitedly.

You turned your head to look at her and smiled when you were actually trying to hide your worries. Joel recognized you being anxious but he didn’t want to talk about it in front of his daughter. So he just looked at you, held your hand and kept driving.

“We’re here.” Joel parked his car.

“Yay! Yay!” Sarah was so excited for her first day of school.

You got out of the car and helped Sarah out of the car. Joel grabbed her purple backpack and helped her carry it. You and Joel walked Sarah to her class and met her homeroom teacher.

“Good morning, I’m Ms. Andrews.” She shook Joel’s and your hand.

“Good morning, I’m Joel Miller and this is my wife. This is our daughter Sarah.” Joel rested both of his hands on Sarah’s shoulder.

“It’s her first day, please take good care of our daughter.” You smiled at her. 

“I will. Don’t worry.” She assured you.

“Come one Sarah, class is starting.” She invited Sarah inside the class.

After you and Joel waved Sarah goodbye, both of you walked back to the car. You sighed as you closed the car door.

“You okay, darlin’?” Joel asked you as he put on his seatbelt.

“She’ll be okay, right?” You looked at Joel.

“Hey, she’ll be fine. I’m sure she’s gonna make a lot of friends.” Joel put his hand on top of yours that was resting on your lap.

“Okay.” You nodded. 

“She’ll be fine. Don’t worry.” Joel reassured you and rubbed your hand with his thumb.

Joel drove you to the cafe then he went to work. Joel promised to pick you up earlier to pick up Sarah from school together. The day felt long as you were worried about how Sarah was doing at school. Your mind was full of thoughts thinking what you should do to comfort Sarah if she went home from school sad. You tried to distract yourself by helping to bake and decorating the cakes. It was finally time to pick Sarah up from school. Joel’s car was in front of your cafe so you took your purse and said bye to your employees. 

“Where is she?” You tip-toed to get a clearer view behind all of the other parents. 

“There she is.” Joel pointed at Sarah who just got out of her class. 

“She looks happy. You have nothing to be worried about.” Joel rubbed your back in circles as he assured you.

You couldn’t see Sarah because you were too short and Joel was tall enough to see what was in front of him. 

“Daddy! Mommy!” You heard Sarah’s voice.

She ran through the adults and jumped to hug your legs. 

“How was your day?” You crouched and stroked her hair.

“I made lots of lots of friends. I met Emma, Lily, Katie, ..” She went on and on.

You nodded and smiled at her. You were relieved she had a good day and made some new friends. Joel chuckled as he saw his daughter so happy. He was proud that her daughter made it through her first day of school.

“You wanna get some ice cream, babygirl?” Joel lifted his daughter and kissed her cheek.

“I get ice cream?” She squealed.

“Yeah, baby. You did well on your first day of school.” Joel chuckled.

“Yay!” Sarah raised her hand to the air.

You chuckled and followed them to the car. Joel drove you and Sarah to the regular ice cream place that the three of you always went to. 

“Stwabewwy!!” Sarah loved strawberry ice cream.

“I’ll get chocolate as usual.” You ordered.

“Coffee, please.” Joel ordered coffee flavored ice cream. 

You loved chocolate, he loved coffee, Sarah loved strawberry. Each of you had your own favorite and the three of you always shared a spoon for a taste with each other.  Any family that saw the three of you were definitely jealous of how harmonized your family was. 

"Can I have a little sister or little brother?" Sarah suddenly asked. 

"Hmm?" You raised your eyebrows with the ice cream spoon still in your mouth.

Joel didn't expect his daughter to ask for a sibling so he was shocked too.

"Emma has a baby sister, Katie has a baby brother. I want to have one too." Sarah ate her ice cream and bounced on her seat. 

"Well, that's uh.." Joel didn't know what to say because he needed your consent because you would be the one carrying a baby inside you for 9 whole months.

You just stared at Joel because you also didn't know what to say. You hadn't had the time to talk about having another baby with Joel since you got married because you were too focused on putting Sarah to school, expanding your cafe, and Joel also got another big project. So the two of you were super busy. 

"What do you think mama?" Joel passed the question to you.

You widened your eyes.

"Hmm." You just hummed and chuckled. 

Sarah pouted and finished her ice cream. The three of you went home after.

"I'm happy she had an amazing first day, Joel." You sighed as you sat on the couch after putting Sarah to bed.

"Me too, baby." Joel sat across from you on the armchair.

You and Joel enjoyed your night in the living room with a glass of wine. Talking about his day, your day, Sarah and what she asked you and Joel earlier. Suddenly, Joel stared at you. 

"Can we have one more?" Joel suddenly asked.

"What do you mean?" You sipped on your wine. 

"You'll look so beautiful pregnant, baby. And it would be nice to see our little one with a mix of you and me running around, playing with Sarah." Joel chuckled.

"All of sudden?" You raised your eyebrows.

"Can we have one more? Pretty please." Joel begged you with his brown puppy eyes.

You just gave him a smirk and shrugged.

"Is that a yes, maybe or a no?" Joel didn't understand your reaction.

You smirked and shrugged again.

"Just so you know, I'm ovulating today which means.." Joel cut you.

"Oohh I'm sooo gonna make you pregnant." Joel put his wine glass on the table and crawled his way to you and started kissing you.

You chuckled as you put your wine glass on the table then leaned back to get a comfortable position. You knew you and Joel were gonna make babies tonight. And yes, on your couch.

"We can't let Sarah see us." You whispered. 

"She's sleeping, don't worry. We just have to be quiet." Joel whispered to your ear. 

"Okay. We gotta stay quiet." You giggled.

Joel pressed his lips to yours as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, caressing his back. He put his hands on your waist and snaked his way to the back of your thigh. Pulling and lifting you suddenly to sit on him. Your legs were now locking his waist. You started feeling aroused and you grinded on his hard cock under his pants. He groaned at your movements and his hands moved its way to your breast under your tank top squeezing it gently. You moaned in his mouth. 

You couldn’t wait to feel him so you slipped your fingers to his pants trying to pull his pants off. He understood what you wanted and took off his pants and shirt. You pulled your shorts then he helped you take off your tank top. The two of you went back to position on the couch kissing, touching, and moaning. Joel’s hand cupped your cunt and he felt you so wet.

“So wet for me darlin’.” He mumbled while kissing you.

“Uhm-hmm.” You were so aroused and you couldn’t speak any words.

Joel smirked as he brushed his tip to your clit making you moan loud.

“Shh..” Joel covered your mouth.

You squeezed your eyes shut trying not to make any sound as much as possible. Then Joel brushed his tip again on your clit, teasing it before he slid himself inside you. Both of you moaned softly. You clenched your hand on Joel’s shoulder and he buried his face to your chest. Taking your breast to his mouth, sucking your nipple, biting it gently, arousing you. He started to move his hips and thrusted inside you. You wanted to scream his name but you couldn’t wake Sarah so you clenched your jaw and buried your face to his shoulder. Joel too was trying so hard not to make any loud noise because he didn’t want his daughter to see their parents doing it. 

Joel kissed the inside of your breast before he raised his head needing to kiss your lips. His hand cupped your jaw and kissed you, licking your lips and tongue. Swallowing each other moans. Your hand caressing his back and he did the same to you. 

His moves suddenly got faster and the sound of his skin bumping on your skin were louder. You bounced on him and lost your balance. So you flew your hand to the couch instinctively for balance. Joel’s arm wrapped around you and kept his pace. You whimpered as you felt close. 

“Fuck.” Joel groaned.

“J-joel..” You called his name feeling so close to your climax.

Joel knew you were coming so he quickened his pace and he was close to coming too. You suddenly felt vibrations throughout your body and you shook. You clenched your hand that was resting on the couch and squeezed your eyes shut panting. You came. Joel groaned as he came inside you, releasing his seed to grow a baby inside you. He buried his face to your chest as he caught his breath. You rested your chin on top of his head and chuckled. Joel put his hand behind your head, laid you on your back, and rested your head on the couch's arm. He kissed your lips, then your cheek to your right jaw, and your chin. 

“Hope that works.” Joel chuckled and kissed your lips again.

“I can’t wait to be pregnant.” You chuckled and caressed his bearded jaw.

“Another round?” Joel bumped his forehead to yours and you nodded.

*door creaking*

"What was that?" You gasped.

Joel froze and looked towards the stairs. 

"I think that's our cue." You whispered and giggled softly. 

“Wait, let me finish.” Joel kept thrusting inside you.

"Mommy! Daddy!" You heard Sarah scream and cry.

"Shit! Joel!" You pushed Joel and he groaned softly as he pulled out from you.

You grabbed your clothes and hurriedly dressed up ignoring the dripping cum on your thigh then ran upstairs to check on Sarah. Joel followed you behind.

 "Hey, sweetie. Why are you awake?" You crouched to her and stroked her head.

"What's wrong babygirl?" Joel panted. 

"I had a nightmare." She buried her face in your chest.

"Oh baby, come on, mommy and daddy’s here. You’re okay." You lifted her and brought her to your bedroom.

Joel looked at you and made a cross with both of his arms. He was giving you a sign to put Sarah back to her bedroom because both of you weren’t done with your night. You chuckled softly and shook your head. Joel pressed his palms together and mouthed “Please”. He begged you. You mouthed back at him, “Tomorrow, I promise.” He put his hand on his waist and the other rubbed his face in frustration.

“You’re sleeping with mommy and daddy tonight.” You laid her on the bed.

Joel climbed to his side of the bed. And Sarah was now lying between you and Joel. 

“Daddy’s here.” Joel patted his daughter’s tummy gently to help her sleep. 

After a few pats, Sarah was already back in her dreams. She was probably having a sweet dream now because you could see a smile on her face.

“I think she’s asleep.” You whispered and giggled.

“But I’m not.” Joel smirked and snaked his hand to cup your breast.

“Joel!” You yelled but in a whisper. 

You slapped his hand and he pulled back his hand rubbing it. 

“Ouch!” He whispered.

“So Sarah’s your number one?” He asked you with a  soft voice so he didn’t wake Sarah.

You smirked and shrugged. Just like he did to you last time.

“I guess I’m number two then.” Joel chuckled, moved closer, and extended his arms wrapping you and Sarah. 

To be continued…

Taglist:

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[golbrocklovely]

mr. fantastic // sam golbach

A/N: first off, sorry this is getting posted so late. had to make some last minute revisions. so, for this one and colby's fic later on, i need to give some slight context. basically in both of these, they are AUs were snc are corrupt ppl, or have a bit of a corruption aspect to their personalities. some of these fics are/can be seen as dark, so i totally get if you don't feel comfortable reading it. just give a good look over of the trigger warnings and see how you feel. if you do enjoy it, please lmk what you think. also this fic is very vaguely based off the boys, the tv show/comic book series. sam is a smidge (and i mean a very tiny amount) reminiscent of homelander. do with that information as you will. happy haunting!

prompt: everyone around you loves sam, or as he's commonly known as - mr. fantastic. but you can see right through his facade. but when he starts winning over your friends, you know something is going on, and it's not good. || AU!superhero!sam x fem!reader

trigger warning: SMUT, enemies-to-lovers, you used to have a crush on sam in high school and now he's a superhero, superhero!sam, corrupt!sam, twist ending, i would say a hint of dubcon (but y/n never says no or stop, but just to be on the safe side i'm letting yall know), manipulation via powers and magical handcuffs (it will make sense in the story lol), hate fucking/rough sex, unprotective sex, cursing, mentions of: babygirl, slut, good girl, my girl, baby, degrading language

word count: 6769

I couldn't stand him, or anyone else like him. Everyone praised the ground he walked on, but me? Every time I saw him, he made me sick to my stomach.

Well, maybe not sick. But I did hate seeing his dumb, stupid face.

You would think with superheroes becoming known to the public, life would get easier. Crime would go down, more criminals would be off the streets, and the overall quality of life would skyrocket. But that just wasn't factually accurate. Did you know in my city alone, the crime rate has gone up 25% since last year? And what exactly are the superheroes doing about it? Causing more destruction and chaos. I swear, bad things only truly started happening once they came out to the public all those years ago.

The only saving grace I had in my life was that I wasn't alone in my feelings towards superheroes. I had my two best friends, Macie and Rachel, and they both felt the same way I did. Especially towards the best-known superhero in our city, Mr. Fantastic. His real name was Sam Golbach, and I hated him deeply.

He and I had history, you could say. We both went to the same high school. We were both nerdy, and just overall losers. We graduated and moved away to the same city, and then a couple years ago, all of a sudden, he is shown on the news as the newest superhero to save us. It made no sense to me because I remember him from high school. He never had powers. And there's no way that he, the guy that got shoved into lockers and made fun of for being a band nerd, would have tolerated being bullied like that if his powers were super strength and flight. And not only that, but the way the news describes his upbringing: it's all a lie! They paint him to be this all-American boy. They say he was a jock and just a bit shy for most of his life until finally growing into his powers at 19. Most superheroes get their powers by 16, so that alone should be telling that something is off with him. But no. Everyone just believes the lies he tells them. And that is why I hate him.

I may also hate him because I had a huge crush on him in high school and he never gave me the time of day. But I mostly hate him for all of the superhero stuff, not the high school bullshit.

Mostly.

It was like any other normal Tuesday in our office. Our manager, Sally, would bring in donuts, George would make some comment about the week moving too slowly, and around ten o'clock we would all have to stop working to watch the daily superhero news. It was mandatory in our office, as our jobs revolved around fixing superheroes’ fuck ups.

It was almost ten, and we all sat around the flatscreen hanging in the middle of one of our bigger conference rooms, waiting for the news to begin. I glanced around, noticing that Rachel wasn't in. I furrowed my brow, leaning towards Macie.

"Have you seen Rach?" I asked.

She shrugged, "No but I talked to her last night and she seemed fine. Maybe she's just running late or is taking a half day."

I hummed, "Maybe..."

The news turned on loudly, quieting everyone in the office. I leaned back in my chair, sighing deeply. God, please let today be a normal, boring news day.

"Hello everyone, thank you all for coming out this morning," the police commissioner nodded his head, looking at the audience that had formed outside of the precinct. "As always, we like to start with the positives and then move onto the, uh, wreckage. Please hold all questions until the end of the press conference. And now, I pass the stand to Mr. Fantastic."

A bunch of people clapped in the office, some wooing lowly. I grimaced, rolling my eyes the moment he popped on screen.

"Good morning, hello. Oh no need for cheering, thank you. You're too kind," He smiled brightly, shushing the crowd politely. "First, like I always say during these press conferences, thank you for letting me protect this city. I wouldn't know what to do with myself if I couldn't protect the lovely citizens of this place."

"You'd probably be working at a Burger King by now." I mumbled, getting close to Macie. She snickered, gazing back at the screen.

"So last night was eventful, like most nights here. I was able to stop two car jackings, and finally put an end to the mask thief that's been vandalizing all of the inner city's school buses. You can all be glad that today, your kids are riding on safe, clean transit." Sam pointed, giving his trademark wink and smile.

I groaned, lulling my head back in the chair. Could this day get any more boring?

"I also have some fantastic news to share with you all," He chuckled, the crowd following suit. "I saved a special young woman from a purse nabbing and possible assault last night around 2:30. Now as you all know, I know many of the people I save like to remain anonymous, but this one really wanted to let you all know how she felt. And of course, I just can't say no to any of you. So please, allow me to give her the floor." He let out another laugh, backing away from the mic. I glanced at the clock, realizing only five minutes had passed. God must have been punishing me, specifically.

Suddenly, everyone in the room gasped, Macie being the loudest. She slapped my leg, pointing at the tv. I turned and my eyes widened at the sight. Rachel, with tears welling up in her eyes, stood at the podium, smiling brightly. "Thank you all. I just wanted to say that Mr. Fantastic," she turned to him giving him a sensual gaze, "Sam, is one of the best superheroes around. This man saved my life, and I couldn't be more grateful for him. He is amazing and so handsome, and this city should be thankful to have a man like him. I love you, Sam. Thank you so much."

She reached over, giving him a huge hug. He accepted her embrace, allowing her to run her hands almost up and down his body too many times.

My mouth dropped open, unable to comprehend what I was watching. Rachel hated Sam just as much as I did. Literally last week she wished a car would fall out of the sky and squish him because he held up her commute stopping a supervillain from breaking out of the state prison. And now she was on tv, basically ready to suck his dick, because he saved her!

Macie and I looked at each other, knowing we needed to talk to Rach as soon as possible. I sent Rach a quick text, telling her to meet us at our usual lunch spot.

~~~~

My eyes narrowed at Rachel, her smile irritating me. "Please, repeat the story one more time for me."

"Okay, if I must," she giggled. "Last night I went to the corner store because I was craving some ice cream. As I was walking home, a man rushed me and stole my purse. I tried to chase after him but couldn't catch him. He ran across the street, and out of the shadows... there was Sam. He swooped in, grabbed the man, roughed him up, and got my purse back to me. God, it was seriously so hot to see him in action like that."

Rach lightly fanned herself, and I had to hold back my vomit.

"So, he saved you, gave you your purse back. And then what?" Macie questioned.

She continued, "He walked me home and... I woke up this morning knowing I had to thank him for saving my life. So on my way to work, I stopped by the police station, saw him and begged him to let me speak at the conference."

I blinked hard, "He didn't save your life. You weren't threatened. Some random dude just stole your purse."

She pouted, "Yeah, but he saved me so much hassle of having to call my credit card companies and tell them to shut everything off and having to get a new I.D.-"

I jumped in, "I get that, and I'm not trying to downplay it, but like.... last week you wanted a car to fall out of the sky on top of him."

"And the week before that we betted on the subway crushing him between the tracks during that pipe burst. What's changed?" Macie argued, taking a sip of her coffee.

"He saved me," she stated plainly, with a soft smile. "You know, I think we've been so focused on this idea of him that I think if we got to really know him, we would know he's a great guy."

"Have you forgotten that he is lying to the public about his upbringing and reputation? Or the fact any time he saves someone, there is destruction in his wake that our company has to clean up, causing our jobs to be more difficult?" I scowled at her, unable to hold back.

She rolled her eyes hard, "Oh, come off it, Y/N. The only reason you care about that is because he rejected you in high school and you're too hung up on it."

"Excuse me?" I deadpanned.

Rach crossed her arms defiantly. "You heard me. I will no longer be a part of your rain-on-Sam parade. He is an amazing man. And a great superhero."

"Even if any of that were true, you gotta admit that this 180 you're doing is weird. You fucking hated him last night." Macie argued.

"And now I want to marry him." Rach smirked.

My eyes widened, "What the fuck did you just say?"

"If you want me to be honest, I'll say it. I think he is the man of my dreams and everything I could hope for in a partner. I want him, and I hope he'll have me." She turned to Macie, almost giggling, "I slipped him my number at the conference."

"You can't be fucking serious, Rach." I groaned.

"I just know he’s great in the bedroom..." Rach thought out loud.

"Oh... so you've completely lost it. Good to know." I remarked, taking a quick sip of my coffee.

"Don't be jealous of our love. Maybe one day he'll save you too." She quipped.

I laughed sarcastically, "I would rather get crushed by a car, thanks."

~~~~

Two weeks had passed since Rach's incident with Sam. We hadn't been talking to one another all that much, just casual conversation in passing. Maybe she was right to some extent. Maybe I was holding onto this hatred for Sam just because he didn't care about my existence back when we were kids. I should let it go, and stop being such a hater.

At least, I thought that way, until this morning.

I had tunnel vision as I glared at the tv, unable to peel my eyes away as I watched the news. Another press conference. Another day of kissing Sam's ass. But this time, he again introduced another woman that wanted to thank him publicly. And this time... it was Macie.

Her spiel was the same, her mannerisms almost identical to Rach's speech. I watched, my mouth a gaped, as she thanked Sam profusely for saving her from the purse nabber. She leaned up and kissed his cheek multiple times, her hands gripping the collar of his shirt desperately.

You've got to be fucking kidding me. There's no way that this was actually happening. Something fishy was going on, and it had everything to do with Sam. I fucking knew he was trouble. I just needed to get proof.

I met with Macie alone at our usual spot. I begged her to tell me everything in detail, and her story was eerily similar to Rachel's.

"So a guy stole your purse as you left some club, Sam got it back to you, walked you home, and then you woke up today knowing you had to tell the world how great he is." I reiterated her story, annoyed.

"Exactly. He really is truly a fantastic guy." She snorted, rolling her eyes, "Oh my God, sorry. Such a bad pun."

"Yeah... that." I blinked, holding in my rage. "So, you don't happen to feel the same way as Rach, tho, right? Like... you're not in love with him?"

She thought about it for a moment, "I do think he's amazing, and I would love to be married to him... So I guess you could say yeah. I am in love. Am I blushing?"

I sighed deeply, "What exactly changed? I know he saved you, or your purse, and that's great. I'm so happy he did that. But what exactly made you wake up today and feel this need to wish to have his children?"

"I don't know. It's like... this light just switched off in my head. I just feel that deep down in my soul, I want to be his. And I really hope he'll have me." She smiled dreamily.

Hearing her say almost the exact same thing as Rach made my composure crack. "Do you hear yourself? You want to be his?! He is a douchey superhero who makes our jobs harder, and not to mention barely does anything to actually help the crime rate in this city! He got you your purse back, and all of sudden you want to... be his? You can't be serious."

She shook her head, glaring. "You know, I think Rach was right. You are jealous of the love he and I share, all because he rejected you."

"He didn't even reject me! He didn't know I existed! There's a difference," I took a breath, trying to calm down. "You don't think it's odd that all of sudden you want to have his children? You don't even want to have kids."

Macie ignored me, continuing her argument. "Either way, you come across really bitter and I hope if he comes to save you, you change your attitude. To be held in his arms would be a dream come true."

She stood up dramatically, leaving the restaurant in a huff.

~~~~

After the shitty month I had, I needed to buy some alcohol to drink my troubles away. Rach and Macie hadn't talked to me since their "savings", so work had become even more tedious and annoying. And now, it seemed like I was the only one in the office that didn't like Sam. Morale had really gone up once he saved two of our coworkers, and I had to quietly sit there, pretending I did despise the man or the situation as a whole.

As I walked home from the liquor store, I noticed how quiet the streets had become as I got closer to my apartment. It was like anyone that was out on the street moments ago disappeared. There were sirens off in the distance and the light rumble of the subway underneath the streets. The low buzz of the street light above me caught my eye, and as I looked up, the light flickered. A chill ran up my spine suddenly.

Okay, maybe I was just freaking myself out for no reason.

A body slammed into mine from behind, almost knocking me flat on the ground. A man wrestled my bag out of my hand, sprinting off down the street.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me!" I screamed. I began to chase after him, my speed not even remotely catching up to him.

My thoughts swirled of all the things I had in that bag. My wallet, my phone, and my key to get into my apartment. I groaned loudly, annoyed.

Where the fuck were any of the superheroes when you needed them?

The man ducked into an alleyway, a loud crash coming from there. I ran to where he was, finding him passed out in the street. His nose had blood running down it, like someone punched him. My purse was nowhere in sight.

"Are you looking for this?" A voice said from behind me.

I spun on my heels, coming face-to-face with Mr. Fantastic himself, Sam.

I opened my mouth to speak but was unable to say anything. I had so much I wanted to say, but couldn't decide on what.

"No need to be shocked, miss. I know, superheroes are a lot to take in." He smiled softly.

Hearing his voice brought me out of my stupor. "That's not why I'm shocked. You kinda just... came out of nowhere."

His face dropped, surprised by my tone. "Oh..."

We stood there awkwardly for a moment, both unsure what to say next.

He reached out, my purse in his hand. "Um, here you go, Miss...?"

"Y/N. My name is Y/N." I stated.

"What a beautiful name for a beautiful girl." He complimented me.

"Thanks, I guess," I mumbled. "And thank you for getting my purse back. It means a lot."

"It's all in a day's work. Or night's technically." His well-known laugh escaped his lips.

I blinked, slowly walking away from him, "Yeah.... Anyway, I gotta get back home. It's late, and I wanna get drunk."

"Oh, well, why don't I walk you home?" He asked, keeping in step with me.

"I don't think there's any need to." I argued politely.

"No, let me. It's clearly unsafe on these streets." Sam responded.

"Well, you just stopped the purse nabber... again. For the third time. Maybe this time he can finally get arrested." I smiled bitterly, trying not to sound it.

"The police have already been called and they are on their way. So, why don't I walk you home?" He stopped in front of me, looking me in the eyes genuinely. "I will be worried if I don't make sure you get there safely."

I exhaled, "...Okay, fine."

I walked home silently, not wanting to speak to Sam. He stepped in time with me, never speaking. I almost forgot he was with me, until he cleared his throat once or twice.

I pointed up at my building, pulling my keys out to go inside, "Well, we're here. Thanks for walking me home, I gotta get upstairs and get to drinking. So, goodbye."

"Wait, before you go up, can I ask you something?" He queried.

I squeezed my eyes shut, opening them again and turning back to him. "Sure, I guess."

He crossed his arms, cocking his head. "How did you know I stopped the purse nabber before? Those were such minor crimes I solved; I'm surprised anyone would remember them."

"Well, you didn't really solve the crime since clearly the man never got put away." I retorted; my voice sickeningly sweet.

Sam raised an eyebrow at me, waiting for me to answer his previous question.

"My friends were the two you saved." I deadpanned.

"Oh really, what a small world." He pursed his lips in thought, "Their names were... Rachel and Macie, correct?"

"Yep, them exactly." I nodded.

"They were kinda like you, in a way." He mentioned.

I furrowed my brow, "What do you mean by that?"

His tone shifted. It was no longer the public persona one he used on the news. Now, it was more... casual. Equally as snarky as mine. "They too didn't like me. Or were a little... snippy with me."

Oh, well if you wanna play like that... "Yeah, and weirdly now, they want your babies."

He faux-gasped. "What a strange turn of events."

"I guess you changed their minds. How exactly did you do that?" I glared at him, accusatory.

"My charming personality." He smirked.

"Right." I jeered.

"I mean, if you really want to know the answer, let me into your apartment," his voice was almost sultry, his eyes mischievous. "Let me have one drink with you."

I narrowed my gaze at him, blinking slowly. "You're serious."

"100%. But I mean, if you don't want to know, then I can just leave." He pointed to the street, backing away.

"No, you can come up." I felt this overwhelming sensation that I had made a grave mistake, but I continued. "But if for even a second you make me uncomfortable, I have every right to resend your invitation."

"You know I'm not a vampire, right?" Sam snickered. "I'll respect your wishes regardless, but you can't just kick me out that easily."

"Okay fine, if you don't get out of my house when I say so, I'll stab you. Got it?" I grinned crazily.

He raised an eyebrow playfully, "Feisty... Sure, I hear you loud and clear."

We walked up to my place, my eyes catching his form out of the corner of my eye. What the hell was I even doing? Why was I inviting this asshole to my apartment?

I mean, I know why. But God, I just hope this ends quickly.

I cleared my throat as we both stepped in. Sam glanced around my apartment, giving a soft whistle. "Fan-cy."

I rolled my eyes, knowing he was joking. "Well, some of us aren't government paid employees with apartments in skyrises."

"You are a very defensive person. Do you always feel like you're being attacked, or is that just your general tone with me?" He shot back.

"I guess you just bring it out of me." I popped the bottle of whiskey open, the sound reverberating as I smiled bitterly. I poured two cups, dropping a cube into both.

"You're into whiskey, huh?" He gave me a quick once over, "That's kinda sexy."

"No one asked." I raised my glass, "Cheers."

"To new beginnings." He toasted.

"Sure..." I took a long sip, the whiskey burning a little extra hard.

He let out a light cough. "Hooo, that's has a kick."

"So, are you gonna tell me how or why my friends all of sudden started liking you or not?" I asked coldly.

"You don't mess around." He chuckled.

"I only invited you up here for that reason." I replied honestly.

"It wasn't to sleep with me?" He hummed, "I'm surprised."

"I wouldn't sleep with you if you were the last man on Earth." I spat.

"Well, thank God I'm not." He quipped.

I placed my hands on my hips, annoyed. "So... the reason?"

Sam walked over to my living room, taking in everything. His eyes scanned my bookshelves, stopping suddenly. "Hey, how do you have this?"

I glanced up at the ceiling, hoping God could feel my glare from down here. "Have what?"

He pulled a book out, its green and white cover I knew all too well. "This yearbook. This is the school I went to, the year I graduated."

My heart dropped and I raced over to him, "Hey that's mine!"

He flew across the room easily, flipping through the book. "God, I haven't seen this in so long. But again, how did you get this?"

"Give it back to me." I demanded, stomping up to him.

"Wait a second. Is this you?" He opened up to a page with my high school portrait, little writings around it from friends of mine from back then.

I felt a rush of heat to my cheeks, making me speechless. I yanked the book out of his hands, going back to the bookshelf.

"You went to my high school. Wait, Y/N...." He gasped suddenly, "I remember you! Wow, you got a lot hotter."

"Thanks. Can't say the same for you." I grunted, hating how warm my face felt.

He spun me around, his eyes staring into mine. "Now, there's no need to lie to me."

"You don't understand personal space, do you?" I bitched, trying to push him back.

He barely moved; his eyes unchanging. "Am I not allowed to be close to you? Do I make you nervous or something?"

"No, I just hate your presence." I did my best to hide the shakiness in my voice, my body hitting the edge of my window and radiator.

"Strangely, you are the only woman that's like that." He jested, "Is it because you're hiding a crush or some-"

"No!" I cleared my throat, huffing. "No. I don't have a crush on you."

For a second it looked like he moved, his face holding back a smile. "Can you say that again for me?"

"I definitely have a crush on you." I breathed, my brain feeling like it buffered for a second. Why the fuck did I just say that?

He backed away, cocking his head. "Oh you do? Glad you could admit it."

"I wasn't admitting anything. I was just joking, and the joke is that I've had feelings for you since high school." I gasped, "What the fuck?!"

He teased, "I'm so happy you feel comfortable telling me the truth."

"Why am I saying this?" I whispered to myself.

He pointed down to my hand, "It probably has something to do with the handcuffs I put on you."

"Wha-?" I glanced down, and sure enough one of my wrists was handcuffed to the radiator by my window.

"You gotta be a bit more observant than that." He laughed sincerely, lounging on my couch.

I let out a ragged breath, pissed. "How the fuck did you-"

"Those handcuffs are really only meant to be used by me on criminals, that way they confess. But sometimes I like to use it for more..." He gazed at me longingly, "spicier reasons."

"You're a fucking creep." I hissed.

"And you're into it." He snapped.

"Yes I am." Oh my God...

He bit his lip, pleased at my answer. "So, your friends actually told me, without needing the handcuffs B-T-W, that you had a crush on me since high school. And now seeing you, I remember who you are. You were just as nerdy as me."

"Oh, at least you're admitting that now. Why, because there's no cameras around to lie to?" I sassed, pulling at the handcuffs.

"Hey, it's not a lie that I tell. I just... fib a bit." He settled into my couch, fluffing up one of the pillows, "I did play sports, so that would qualify me as a jock."

I scoffed, "Ping-pong is barely a sport."

"Says you," he grumbled. "But that can't be the only reason you hate me slash love me."

"I don't love you." I stated honestly.

"Oh, but you will," Sam uttered lowly. “You still didn't answer my question though. So, is it really just the crush bullshit?"

"No. It's not just that," I started. "You lied, not only about your upbringing. But your powers. You didn't have them in high school. You got bullied just as much as me, if not more so. If you had super strength, you would have kicked Joe's shins in."

He chuckled mockingly. "God, are you, like, obsessed with me? How do you know so much?"

"Joe bullied me too, dumbass. I'm not obsessed with you, I just don't understand you at all. And I know you're a liar. And I try to use those reasons to hide the feelings I still have," I groaned, pulling at the handcuffs more. "Jesus Christ get these handcuffs off!"

"Not yet," Sam commented. "So... you are right. I do lie, in a lot of ways, to the general public. Sometimes I throw in extra crimes I 'solved' during the night, when usually I'm just chilling at the 24-hour Taco Bell."

I gaped, "I fucking knew it!"

He sat up, sitting on the edge of the couch. "Jokes on you, it's actually the 24-hour Wendys."

"Why do you lie? People love you. There's no need to pretend." I argued.

"Ahh, but there is. I have a lot riding on me to be one of the best superheroes around." He remarked.

I hid my eye roll. "Like what?”

"You're right about one thing. I didn't have superpowers in high school. I wasn't born a superhero. When we graduated, an up-and-coming bio-tech company, Malusvir, reached out to random people asking if they wanted to be part of a study for $50k. I thought, I have no idea what I'm doing with my life, might as well go see what's up. Go be a guinea pig for some money." Sam shook his head, his anger brewing, "Come to find out, they were testing out if they could grow superheroes."

"What the fuck?" I squeaked.

"I was injected a whole lot of times with... something. And while I was basically comatose for months, all of a sudden, superheroes started bursting on the scene. The government was finally letting them out of the bag, and they were allowing all heroes to sign up to become part of the Superheroes Task Force." Sam stood up, starting to pace. "When I awoke, I was one of the only ones that survived the trial run. This company ended up getting bought out by the government, and they covered it up by going bankrupt and saying they were making chemical weapons, which isn't technically wrong."

"Does the government know about you being... home grown?" I inquired.

"No. The bio-tech company used an alias for all of us, so no one found out. And the secrets disappeared with the CEO when he flew out of the country back to his home country and mysteriously died. I'm pretty sure he's just hiding. Or was killed for what he knew." He informed, his eyes almost glazing over.

"Why are you telling me all of this?" I questioned, confused.

"Because no one will believe you." He replied softly, his voice taking me back. Then, he switched back into his cocky self. "So... that's my story. But back to you, how long were you into me?"

"Since junior year." I confessed.

"You liked 17-year-old me?" He winced, "Oof, now that's a choice."

"So was that haircut." I quipped lightheartedly.

He leaned towards me, whispering. "And those cargo shorts."

I snickered, and he smiled genuinely for the first time.

A silence fell over us for a moment, then he looked up at me and asked nonchalantly. "So... do you wanna fuck?"

I choked, "What?"

"Is it really that surprising of a question? You're into me, and I find you hot," his eyes snaked down my body. "Especially handcuffed."

I stammered, "I-I don't-"

"Look, if you don't want to, understandable. I am a bit of a dick. But let me put it to you this way, have sex with me and get all that anger out that you feel towards me." He stepped closer to me, teasingly. "A good hate fucking helps out everyone involved, really."

I breathed, "You're insane."

"Or, if you have sex with me, and I'm bad... you can brag to your friends that I suck." He offered.

I sucked in a deep breath, already knowing my answer. "You raise a good point there."

"So, will you let me make you feel good or no?" He wrapped an arm around me tightly, bringing his face close. Our bodies were pressed together, my heart speeding up. "Do you wanna fuck me or not?"

"Yes I do." I admitted.

"See, and I didn't have to keep the handcuffs on you for you to tell the truth." He raised up his hand showing the cuffs, smirking.

I scoffed, shoving him back. "You are such a dick."

"And you love every second of it." He taunted, back up to the couch.

"I do, I can't lie." I bit my lip, staring at his mouth.

He sat down, pulling me towards him. "Go ahead, sweetheart. Fuck me like you hate me."

I straddled his lap, grinding down on him as our mouths connected. He shoved his tongue into my mouth, a moan falling from my lips. He gripped my ass, pushing me down more onto his lap. I yanked on his hair, digging my nails into his scalp and chest.

He winced, chuckling darkly as he pulled away from our kiss. "Oh you like it rough, baby?"

"Yeah." I smirked.

"Well good," he bunched up my shirt, tearing it away from my body suddenly. The ripping fabric fell apart in his hands and he chuckled darkly. I gasped loudly, a pleasurable chill running down my spine. "Me too."

I whined, "I liked that shirt."

"I don't care." He slammed his lips back onto mine quickly, taking my breath away. He nibbled on my lip, our teeth clashing together from the intensity of the kiss. I grinded myself against his growing bulge, my wet panties pressing into my sex achingly. I hadn't even realized how hot and bothered he had made me, but I wasn't complaining. I needed this, and clearly so did he.

We removed our clothes desperately, needing each other. He sat back against my couch, gazing up at me hungrily.

"God, your body is killing me." He grunted, "Give it to me."

I settled back down onto his lap, my sex grazing his leaking cock. Our breaths stifled, hitching at the feeling of our bodies being so close and so bare. I lined up my hips, slowly taking in every inch of his dick.

Breathy moans fell from my lips, his groans almost covering up my sounds. Once he was completely inside of me, we stared into each other's eyes intensely.

He began moving his hips, his eyes never leaving mine. "How's it feel, baby? Riding the dick of someone you hate."

"I love it." I whimpered.

"Of course you do. You take me so well, babygirl." He grinned.

I grimaced, "Ew, don't call me that."

"I'll call you whatever I want to, and you'll enjoy every second of it." He slapped my ass hard, pushing into me harder, "Won't you?"

"Yeah, I will." I laughed, moving up and down on his cock, "Fuck, you are so annoying."

His voice was raspy as he glared at me, "Oh, I am? Well, you ain't any better."

I snickered, "Nice comeback, nerd."

He grabbed my face, forcing me to look into his eyes. He pounded into me faster, "Nice cunt, slut. Take this dick."

"Oh my God, fuck yes Sam!" I whined.

I bounced up and down on his cock, his hips meeting with mine, making him go deeper and deeper each time. Sweat slid down our bodies, the room rising in temperature from our movements.

His lips brushed against my ear, nibbling along my neck. "Baby, baby, do you wanna know something? I forgot to tell you something."

I groaned, displeased. "Do you know how to not fucking talk?"

"But babygirl, I think this is really important. You'll want to hear it." He hummed, his thrusts stopping.

"What? What is it?" I slowed my hips, my pussy quivering around him, needing more.

He let out a breathy laugh, pushing my hair out of my face. "So, I forgot one major detail when I told you about the bio-tech company that made me the way I am."

I rolled my eyes, not interested in this conversation at all, "What did you forget to tell me?"

"Malusvir..." The lights behind Sam's eyes dimmed, his face dropping. "They weren't making superheroes."

My heart skipped a beat, my eyes fluttering, "What do you me-"

His hand wrapped around my throat quickly, squeezing tightly. My breath hitched, and Sam began to pound into me again, his hips picking back up the pace they were at once before.

"You are such a silly, dumb girl. Your friends were just as dumb as you. Maybe even dumber." His almost sinister gaze sent shivers of pleasure down my spine as his grip tightened.

I held onto his shoulders, my heart rate picking up as he made it harder to breathe. "S-Sam, fuck."

"You wanna know how I got your friends to fall in love with me?" He pressed his mouth against my ear, whispering harshly. "I fucked them. Just like I'm fucking you. All three of you were so desperate and needy for this dick. But you? God, you're so much sexier."

I shook my head, "You're fucking joking..."

"No, I'm not. And yet, even as I tell you this, you're still riding me." Sam smirked, growling, "God, aren't you pathetic? Your crush runs real deep. Just like my cock."

"Fuck you." I spat.

"Fuck you right back." He leaned in again, biting my earlobe and neck. "I could literally feel you squeeze around me when I called you pathetic. Don't pretend you don't like this."

I tried ignoring him, but he was right. My body reacted to him saying it again, throbbing around him. "How did you make them-"

"Love me? Pheromones, mostly. Thanks to all of those..." His eyes closed tightly as he got lost in thought. "Injections. Fuuuck. God, you make it hard to think sweetheart."

He had to be lying. He had to be fucking with me. "So they fucked you, and that made them fall in love with you? But Rach said-"

“I fucked them but made it so they can't tell anyone. They remember it, but will never say a word. No one would believe them anyway." He winked, releasing his hand from my neck and sliding it down my body to my clit. "Oh baby, you are in for a world of change once you come. Or once I come inside of you."

"S-Shut up Sam. Shit, fuck yeah..." I let out a breathy moan, my hips stuttering. His cock was hitting the right spot repeatedly, his thumb rubbing my clit gently, making it hard to do anything but whine. "You're just fucking with me."

"Believe what you want to, Y/N. In the end, you're gonna be mine." His lustful blue eyes bore into mine, his voice husky as he continued fucking me. "My girl to use whenever I want to. My girl that gets love drunk on my cock. Aren't you excited for that? Don't you want that? To be my little plaything forever?"

"Yeaahhh," I mewled. My eyes widened, realizing what I said. "Fuck, h-how did you-"

"It's already happening. You can't stop it now. But you don't want to, either. Take this dick more and more, slut." He gripped my hips, slamming me down onto him over and over again. My brain grew quiet, mindless. All I could think of was his leaking cock deep within me and needing him to come inside of me. I needed his come. I needed him.

"Aww, baby. You're in love, aren't you? You love me, don't you?" He mocked, a feign innocent smile on his face.

I tried shaking my head. I was not in love with him. But my body didn't listen to me anymore.

I nodded my head, unable to stop myself. My heart surged, a wave of adoration washing over me as I took in Sam's face. God, he was so handsome, even more so when he was fucking me. I cried out in pleasure, my hips bucking hastily.

He bit his lip, his head falling back against the couch. "Good girl. You're my good girl. Forever."

"Forever." I repeated, my heart soaring.

"Who's are you? Tell me." He ordered, his eyes staring into mine.

"Yours." I whined wantonly.

He sped up his actions, fucking me faster and deeper. "Say it again."

Borderline sobbing, I stuttered out, "I'mmmm youuurss."

"Again!" He yelled, rubbing my clit harder.

"I'm yours, Sam!" I panted, bouncing on his dick as fast as I could.

"That's it, baby. You're so close. Get close for me!" He shouted darkly.

I begged desperately, my body overwhelmed, "Fuck Sam, please! Let me come! I fucking need it! I need you."

"That's right babygirl." He grabbed my neck again, growling, "Fucking come! Come for me!"

I exploded in ecstasy, my brain turning off as I came the hardest I ever had before. My body took over, my hips rutting against Sam's. My nails dug into his arm and shoulder, holding onto him for dear life as I rode him through my orgasm. Suddenly, he came inside of me, his groans thundering off the walls of my apartment. His hips bucked into me with abandon, pounding me once more before dropping back down onto the couch. I felt his cum leak out of my cunt, sliding down my inner thigh. Our bodies collapsed against one another, completely spent.

As I passed out, the last thing I heard was a small whisper that escaped his lips. "Mine."

[harrystiddess]

DRUMMER GIRL

A/N: If my scenarios before bed were a fanfic haha

WORD COUNT: 1.1k

SUMMARY: She’s a drummer and a cop and he’s in need of a drummer. Will she “stick” with his offer?

DRUMMER GIRL SERIES

Content Warning: None as of yet!

Read Part II here!

On a sunny day in central Manchester, I found myself at my friend's house, agreeing to fill in as the drummer for her band's gig due to their drummer falling ill. Although playing gigs wasn't my thing, I preferred doing the favor over enduring my friend's constant yapping and crying about it. After two weeks of practice and one gig with the band, Elena and I were forced to get coffee for everyone before our gig in the evening. As we strolled and chatted along the sidewalk, discussing the most random things, I saw my friend suddenly freeze in shock. Concerned, I asked what was wrong, only to find her gripping my hand tightly and pointing across the street with excitement. Curious, I looked over and found myself uttering under my breath, "Oh hell nah" at the unexpected sight before me.

“Oh, you’re doing this”

"Elena, no, I'm not."

"Are you out of your mind? This has been your dream since you were 12!"

"I can't let you miss out on this opportunity."

"Is it that you don't want me to miss the opportunity, or YOU don't want to miss the opportunity to do it yourself?" I said, raising my eyebrows.

"Maybe a bit of both," Elle said mischievously, pulling me forward.

"No let’s go back, I need to.. i need to uh.. take a piss!!” I try to come up with an excuse.

“No you don’t, I know you took a huge dump before we left” I was definitely taken aback by her answer looking at her absolutely flabbergasted.

“I fucking hate you. You're going to do the talking, and if you embarrass me, I don’t know you." I said irritably as I crossed the road, ignoring the sceptical look Elena continued to give me. As I reached the other side, I began to realise that maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all, just as I had feared.

It was too late now. I could see Elena approaching the moment I feared.

.

.

“Excuse me” she said poking his arm. It was quite humorous because she was half of the tall gentleman’s size. I was holding onto her hand, standing behind her like a child hiding behind their mom.

‘The moment you have feared yet dreamed of, all your life, is here.’ You thought to yourself silently

You see him turn around and remove his sunglasses, putting his hand forward.

“Hi, I’m Harry.”

“Oh. My. God.” I say to myself as I find myself getting lost in his eyes.

“Are you okay my love?” You hear him chuckle.

He watches me intently as my eyes widen when i realise that i fact had said that out loud.

“Uhh yeah yes I am” You clear your throat. I thought I saw a spider that’s all” I try to cover up the fact that i was totally star struck and defiently impressed by his appearance. By this point Harry was completely facing me with Elena looking at us like she knew about this all along.

“Oh is it? A spider I see” he says seeing through my bullshit.

“I’m Harry” he shakes my hand.

“And you are?”

“Oh I’m Ava”

“Ava. That’s a cute name!”

I just pursed my lips and smiled. That’s all I could do! What would you do if Harry Styles called your name cute? Exactly.

“So you’re drummer I see”

You raise your eyebrows sort of creeped out.

“Haha I saw the drum sticks in your bag. I’m not as creepy as they say” he said leaning towards me, winking in the end.

It’s like i was snapped out of my suspicions to a realisation.

“Oh right sorry yeah. I’m a bit distracted today”

“So how long have you been drumming for Ava?”

“Oh Uhm since I was uhh 16”

“Hmm.. so since how-”

“8 years”

“Wow that’s impressive”

“You wouldn’t be interested in drumming for me would you?” He said after a long pause, unsure of whether he should’ve said it.

“Drumming for you?” I know exactly what he means but I’m too utterly taken aback to say anything.

“Yeah”

“You don’t even know how I play? For all you know I’d not even be able to hold the sticks”

“Well then that that’s just an excuse for you to come in for an audition!”

“Orrrrrr…” I see Elena sliding in and before I can say anything she’s said it.

“We have a gig at Bardo’s tonight! You can come and see for yourself” she says chirping.

He looks at me for to find a glint of expression but sees fails considering I was trying to deny his offer at all costs and I just failed.

“Then Bardo’s it is” Harry says delightfully looking at the both of us.

“Great see you at bardo’s, 7pm” Elena being a little to excited was pissing me off real bad at this point.

“That’s great…See you tonight…” I say almost sounding excited as I walk past him, leaving him stood right there.

I know he’s looking at us walk away I can feel It, so I keep walking silently until we’re out of his hearing range.

.

.

“ELENA! What did you do!” I say pinching the bridge of my nose in distress.

“Your kids will thank me one day”

“No. No kids are thanking no one. I DON’T WANT TO DRUM FOR ANYONE LET ALONE HIM!!” I say whisper shouting

“The only difference is, you do!”

“Elle you Know I’m happy with my job, a job I’ve dreamed of doing since I was 5! Why do you want to ruin that for me?”

“I’m not ruining anything for you. You can do both at the same time! I know that you’ve wanted to be a big shot Artists drummer too. Just because you’re scared of change doesn’t mean you have to ruin the rest of your life for it. That’s what I’m here for. Ruining your life is my job. And so is making sure you don’t give up opportunities like these.”

I can’t help but let out a small smile..

“Well meeting your Celebrity crush of over 8 years and having him offer you a job doesn’t go well together that’s all” I breathe out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

“Can’t believe I’m saying this but You’re right. I’m going to go to the gig, give my best, which I do either way and see what he has to offer…. I mean 16 year old me wouldn’t believe this happened if I told her” I say screeching in excitement, holding her hand and jumping and and making incoherent noises like a madwoman.

_

Read Part II here!

Reblog, like and comment! DM if you have any prompts! Hope you guys like this Series!

♡ ♡ ♡

[steddieasitgoes]

written for @eddiemonth Day 16 Prompt: Library & Curious a/n: This one might be my favorite one I've written yet! It's set at the start of season 2! read on ao3 | link to my ao3 Edde Month series

Eddie’s well aware there are a lot of stupid classes that Hawkins High requires its student body to take. Algebra (there’s no reason for the alphabet and numbers to mix, except in very rare cases, like D20 type cases), Physics (what more do they need to know beyond what goes up, must come down), French (as if anyone from Bumfuck, Indiana could afford to go to France — okay maybe some can, but Eddie’s certainly not one of them that’s for damn sure), goddamn Physical Education (only way he’s running is if someone is chasing him, thank you very much). But the stupidest class of all has to be Study Hall.

An entire class dedicated to doing work for other classes? What kind of idiot dreamed this one up? Instead of letting them out an hour early, some guy, probably in a suit because all bad ideas come from guys in suits, decided to hold them hostage to do more work. It’s ridiculous. Not to mention, it’s one of the few times, outside of lunch, that the grades get to mingle with each other. Sure, lots of studying goes on in between freshmen drooling over seniors and sophomores paying juniors for last year’s test answers.

The only time Eddie actually liked study hall was during his sophomore year when he had it first period and could do all the homework he neglected to do the night before. It’s the only time it actually made sense. And the only time, thus far in his high school career, that Eddie actually turned in more assignments than not.

But now, he’s a senior stuck with study hall as his last class of the day, and he wants to die. Okay, maybe not die die. But die in the sense that he’d rather risk bodily harm escaping the hellscape that is the Hawkins library during 6th-period study hall than sit here. His freedom is so close — nothing but a few windows and a brick wall separating him from the brisk late-October air. Eddie can’t risk it, though. He’s already reached his detention quote for the semester, and if he wants to keep using the drama room for Hellfire meetings, he has to sit in this damn library seat and at least pretend to get some work done.

Which, honestly, isn’t the worst thing in the world. At least it gives him time to work on his latest Hellfire campaign without the prying eyes of Jeff and Gareth or the unnecessary questions from Freak. Sure, he’s supposed to be working on an essay for English Lit, but he doesn’t think Ms. Washington is going to appreciate his take on Frankenstein, so he’ll worry about coming up with a dumbed-down idea another day.

Besides, even focusing on his new campaign is hard enough with the idle chatter going on that the librarian is either pretending not to hear or is too tired of shushing them for.

It’s the usual sort of study hall gossip. Who’s screwing who. What teacher is going to pull a pop quiz tomorrow and become the biggest asshole at Hawkins High. The occasional nervous whispers of the geeks actually studying.

It’s all mindless chatter that drifts into the background when the topic of Tina’s Halloween Bash comes up. That’s the real gossip of the night. Who got the keg, and what other alcohol is being provided? Who is going to be the best dressed? What couple is going to get caught screwing in Tina’s parent’s bed? Are there going to be any good fights or breakups?

Eddie rolls his eyes. Jesus H. Christ, can’t anybody be original around here?

Unfortunately for Eddie, there’s no escaping Tina’s Halloween Bash since he’s been summoned to provide some extra party favors, as the “cool” kids like to call them. Eddie, never one to back down from being a thorn in a “cool” kid’s side, always responds with the same spiel: “Drugs. What you want is drugs, right? Or should I go raid Melvald’s for you?”

Whatever. Money is money, and Eddie can take all the money he can get his grubby hands on if he wants to get out of this shit-hole town when he graduates in June.

Glancing at his watch, he tips his head back in a silent groan of annoyance. Only ten minutes have passed since he slunk into the uncomfortable library seat. Christ, why does time move so slow, sometimes? Eddie tries to focus on his Hellfire notes in front of him, and he’s successful for all of thirty seconds before something catches his attention in the corner of his eye.

Nancy Wheeler and the former Hawkins High King, Steve Harrington, are whispering to each other by the pencil sharpener. He rolls his eyes. Of course, no one else in the library is paying them any mind. And why would they? Harrington fell from grace last year, and Wheeler isn’t exactly the “look at me” type. Still, Eddie finds them morbidly interesting in a way he finds all the tragic heterosexual couples in this stupid small town interesting.

Before Eddie has a chance to fall deeper into his cynical outlook on this stupid Hawkins High couple, Wheeler starts tugging Harrington toward the private study room in the back of the library. It’s a move that shocks Eddie to his core. Don’t get him wrong, he’s heard all bout Harrington’s little trysts in that very room over the years (thank you gossip mill for the very cheap porn), but he never would have assumed Wheeler would be the one tugging him toward it.

It’s that detour from who she’s supposed to be that has Eddie peeling himself off his chair.  At least, that’s what he tells himself as he saunters toward the stack of books in the back of the library closest to the private room. If he hears moaning or anything remotely sounding like they’re hooking up, he promises himself he’ll leave. He’s a freak in many ways, but a creep, he is not.

Glancing over his shoulder, Eddie can see the two of them in the small room. They’re close but not close enough to be doing anything beyond talking. From the look on her face, doing anything of that sort isn’t even on her mind.

Interesting.

Eddie creeps closer.

“Barbara. It’s like nobody cares. Except her parents. And now they’re selling their house.”

“Nance—“

Wheeler rants about something, but he misses most of it. Only catching the very end.

“It’s destroying them.”

No shit, Eddie thinks with another dramatic eye roll. Of course, losing their only daughter is destroying them. The Hollands are one of the few families around here that actually have a heart. At least they did before Barbara tore it from them by running away. Or so the story goes. Eddie’s always been a bit suspicious of Holland’s disappearance. He knows the runaway type, and a straight-A girl, with a well-off family who loves them like Holland had doesn’t fit the bill.

“I know. Okay? I get it,” Harrington says, glancing away from Wheeler to peer out the window. Eddie grabs the first book on the shelf and buries his face in it. It must fool Steve because he starts talking again. “But listen, there’s nothing we can do about it.”

“Yeah, we could tell them the truth.”

“This isn’t some game, Nance. If they found out that we told any…” He trails off again, and Eddie reaches for another book.

Eyes peering over the pages, Eddie watches as he shuts the blinds before presumably returning to Wheeler. With the blinds shut and their voices even lower, he can no longer hear what they’re talking about. Which is a damn shame because Eddie’s never been more curious about what the disgraced King was about to say than right now. 

+ + +

“M’telling you guys. It was weird,” Eddie says through a mouthful of Doritos.

They’re hanging out in Gareth’s garage. Jeff sits in the old recliner while Gareth stays perched behind his drum kit. Freak is running late, as usual, though Eddie’s not too pressed about it today. Too distracted filling the boys in on what he overheard in the library.

“I don’t know man; it sounds like she was just concerned about her best friend,” Gareth says, lightly tapping his drumsticks on his snare.

“Yeah, those two were inseparable, remember.”

“All the more reason why it’s weird she’s been mopping around lately. Obviously, she knows where Holland is. Or what happened to her.”

“Not this again,” Jeff groans, sinking further into the recliner.

“Yes, this again,” Eddie retorts, throwing Jeff an intense glare. “This town is weird as shit. If the Byers kid can come back from the dead—“

“I thought they proved it wasn’t actually Byers they found in the quarry,” The Freak says, finally joining them in the garage. 

“They did, but Eddie still thinks—“

“Shut up!” Eddie shouts, taking a moment to throw a Dorito at all of their heads. “Let me level with you for a second, okay? Yeah, sure, they said that kid wasn’t Byers, but they never said whose kid it was, which is weird. And then right after that, they “find” Holland’s car? It’s too coincidental, man. You know a story isn’t right when it’s too easy.”

“This isn’t one of our campaigns,” Gareth sighs. “Sometimes things really are just accidental coincidences.”

Eddie shakes his head, running his Dorito-stained fingers over his face. “Nah, man, m’not buying it this time. Harrington and Wheeler know what really happened to Holland. And I think they’re responsible for it.”

“So, what?” Jeff asks, leaning forward so his elbows rest on his knees. “You think they made her disappear or something.”

“Maybe Harrington got Holland knocked up, and his family gave her money to leave.”

“See!” Eddie shouts, slapping his hands together as he jumps on the balls of his feet. “Freak gets it! That’s the kind of thing I’m talking about.”

“Okay, but if Harrington knocked Wheeler’s best friend up, why would she still be dating him?” Jeff asks.

“And why would they both be hiding her from her parents?” Gareth adds.

Okay, so maybe these are valid questions, but Eddie doesn’t appreciate the doubts they’re throwing at him. “I don’t appreciate you doubting me,” he says plainly. “You’ll see. M’gonna figure this out.”

“Right, just like you figured out that Ms. O’Donnell was actually failing you for a reason and not because she had some vendetta against Wayne for not dating her.”

“Hey. That was a good theory, okay. One I still think is true, by the way.” Turning his back on the boys, Eddie crosses the room and tosses the empty bag of Doritos into the trash bin before heading towards his badly parked van.

“I thought we were practicing!” Gareth shouts after him.

“Just let him go,” Jeff sighs. “He’s impossible to work with when he’s in conspiracy theory mode.”

Eddie flips Jeff off, climbing into the van. “I’ll see you boys tomorrow.”

+ + +

Eddie’s been at Tina’s party for an entire hour and a half, and there’s still no sign of Harrington or Wheeler. Not that he’s actively searching them out, of course. He’s just had some downtime in between upselling Hagan for the world’s shittiest pot he could get his hands on, and explaining to some cheerleader how Special K hits differently if you snort it. Plus, his supply ran out about ten minutes ago, so he’s just buying time before someone notices him lingering and kicks his ass to the curb.

He’s about to save himself and whatever jock gets thrown his way the trouble, when he spots Harrington and Wheeler arguing by the punch bowl. He’s too far away to hear what they’re saying, but he has a sneaking suspicion it has less to do with the conversation he heard in the library and more to do with Wheeler’s drunken state. Case in point: the red liquid she just spilled all over her blouse.

Chasing after her, Harrington cuts through the crowd and makes his way toward one of the bathrooms. Eddie waits a minute before following them down the crowded hallway. Thankfully, no one is in line for this bathroom — still too early in the night for the alcohol to have hit their bladders — so he’s first in the unofficial bathroom line. Leaning casually against the wall, Eddie angles his ear closer to the door so he can hear inside.

It takes a minute for his ears to tune out the music and nonsense chatter, but when they do, he can clearly hear Wheeler slurring her words.

“You’re pretending like everything’s okay. You know, like we didn’t… like we didn’t kill Barb.”

Eddie’s never experienced shock before, at least, he doesn’t think he has; the early days of his life are a little hazy around the edges, but that’s the only word he thinks fits what he’s experiencing right now. Part of him wants to shove his ear closer to the door to continue listing, while the other part of him wants to run for the hills, screaming in victory. And if he’s straight with himself, maybe screaming in fear a little, too. Harrington and Wheeler murderers? Who knew?

He knew, that’s who!

He knew there was something shady going on between those two.

Pressing his ear closer, he can hear Wheeler slurring more words, though he’s not exactly sure what she’s saying. Honestly, he doesn’t really care what she’s saying. He’s listening for Harrington’s response right now. What does the mighty King have to say about the bomb she’s just dropped?

“This is bullshit,” she slurs.

“Like we’re in love?” Steve asks.

Huh, clearly, Eddie missed a step or two in his shocked state.  He’s not exactly sure how the conversation strayed from them killing Holland to their, clearly, toxic relationship, but the fact it did is all the proof Eddie needs. If they didn’t kill her, Harrington would have been vehemently denying her claim. And yet, he sounds like a kicked puppy dog right now because she doesn’t love him.

Join the club, Harrington.

The doorknob starts to jiggle, and Eddie bolts. It’s not that he’s afraid about coming face-to-face with the two who apparently killed Holland. It’s just that, well, he needs a minute to think about the information he’s just learned.

+ + +

With Gareth and Freak both busy supervising their siblings around Hawkins and Jeff on candy duty for his family’s house, Eddie has no one to share the good bad news with. RIP Holland and all that, but he’s sitting on some serious dirt right now.

The good part of Eddie’s brain knows he should head straight for the police station. Pull good ole’ Chief Hopper aside and gloat about how he did his job for him. But Eddie’s spent enough time at the stuffy station to know no one is going to believe him especially not against Harrington and Wheeler. He’d have better luck marching in there and turning himself in for her murder. Not that he’s going to do that.

He supposes he could tell Wayne about it, but he doesn’t need to be dragging his uncle into any more of his messes. And since Eddie has no proof beyond overhearing a drunken confession, a mess it’ll surely turn into.

So, he opts for the third option and heads out to Skull Rock to do some thinking.

Maybe Freak is right, and it was some sort of jealous rage brought on by a Holland-Harrington pregnancy. Or maybe Holland saw something she shouldn’t have; the possibilities are endless, and Eddie’s imagination is limitless.

Eventually, he circles back to what he’s supposed to do with this information. Should he turn them in? Maybe not Wheeler; she seems like she’s experienced enough guilt as it and the girl has a bright future or whatever it is the teachers are always talking about. Harrington, though? Harrington, he should turn in, right? I mean, he didn’t even seem phased when Wheeler brought up the murder. Eddie’s watched enough horror movies to know that’s psychopath behavior right there. Besides, it would be nice to see the King behind bars. But then again, he hasn’t been the King in a while. And Harrington’s never really done anything to Eddie beyond standing idle while Hagan threw slurs at him. But he’s not hanging out with Hagan anymore, so maybe he should cut him some slack.

Though they did murder someone.

Jesus H. Christ.

Maybe this is why they say curiosity killed the cat — Eddie’s head is throbbing. He’s about to take another hit from his joint when he hears leaves crunching in the distance.

Shit.

Someone’s coming.

Snubbing out his joint against the rock, Eddie tries his best to make it seem like he’s just here, escaping the busy Halloween night. Which, like, he definitely is, but he can’t be too safe. Especially not when there are two teenage murderers on the loose.

“She thinks m’bullshit? She’s bullshit! Bullshit.”

The voice is unmistakable.

Jesus H. Christ could tonight get any weirder.

Eddie’s only escape is to run deeper into the forest, and he’s not about to do that so he makes himself comfortable on top of Skull Rock like a fucking sitting duck. Searching the pockets of his vest, he yanks out a pack of cigarettes and his lighter. Neither of which he was looking for. Of course, he left his pocket knife in his van. Stupid. So stupid!

There’s a moment of silence before Harrington emerges from the clearing. The moon is bright above them, making Steve’s tear-stained cheeks and red-rimmed eyes glow in the otherwise dark forest.

Maybe he is feeling guilty after all.

“Ah, fuck,” Harrington groans, stumbling to the ground.

Eddie watches as he rolls around for a moment, struggling to find his footing. If Eddie were a mean person, he might let Harrington suffer. But something about his behavior reminds him of a wounded animal, and Eddie’s always had a soft spot for bruised and broken things.

“Shit, Harrington, you okay?” Eddie asks, jumping down.

Eddie’s boots crunch against the leaves, startling Harrington. He manages to pull himself into a seated position and brandishes a near empty beer bottle in Eddie’s direction. “Stay back!”

“Woah, man,” Eddie yelps, hands raised in surrender in front of him. “Don’t kill me.”

“Oh, s’you,” Steve says, slumping against the tree behind him. He tosses the beer bottle aside and runs both his hands over his face. “Jesus. Why does everyone think I would kill s-someone?”

“Uh,” Eddie stutters, glancing around. Now’s his chance to make a break for it. Put those hours of physical education to good use and sprint to the van before Harrington has a chance to make him his next victim. But there’s something in Steve’s sad eyes and dejected voice that makes Eddie stay. “‘Cause you have killed someone before?”

“Man, what the hell are you talking about?” Harrington snaps, fumbling to get out of his jacket. “I’ve n-never killed anyone.”

“So, you didn’t kill Barbara Holland, then?”

“No! Jesus, ‘course not. Barb was… Barb was nice. She was good. Like Nance. Better than Nance, maybe. I don’t know,” Harrington whines, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Barb she’s… yeah, man, she’s dead. But I didn’t have anything to do with that. N-not in the way you think I did, at least.”

Harrington’s not making a lot of sense, which only spurs Eddie’s curiosity on more. Closing the distance between them, Eddie hops to a squat in front of him. “But you did have something to do with what happened to her?”

“Shit, man,” Harrington groans, words slurring more more. “S’complicated, okay. I can’t talk about it with you or her parents or anyone. Or else they’ll come for me or Nance or our families and then we’ll all be toast like Barb. And that… that thing that came out of the Byers’ wall.”

Complicated? Jesus H. Christ, Eddie’s never heard anything more complicated than the jumble of words that just left Harrington’s mouth. He can feel his heart racing in his chest, the realization that they’re alone in the woods talking about something someone doesn’t want Harrington talking about.

“What?” Eddie says more to himself than to Steve. “Harrington, what thing in the Byers wall? You’re not making any sense!”

“The thing. You know, the… the,” Steve hiccups. “The thing we can’t talk ‘bout, else they’ll come for us next.”

Someone will come for him and his family if he reveals what happened to Barb? And the thing in the Byers wall? He wants to ask who would come. What would happen? Is he being blackmailed? There are so many questions dancing on the tip of his tongue, but none of them win the war.

“Harrington, man,” Eddie says, shaking his head. “Are you in trouble? Do you, like, need help or something?”

Finally, freeing himself from his jacket, Harrington lifts his head and looks up. There’s a moment where Eddie’s life flashes before his eyes, but then the sad replay of his life is interrupted by Harrington’s hand on his cheek. A dopey-looking grin on his face as he squints up at Eddie.

“You have pretty eyes, M-m-munson. Anyone ever tell you that?” Steve slurs before promptly passing out against the tree.

What the hell has Eddie gotten himself into?

[gumnut-logic]

Diary of a Fanboy Engineer

Alexander Sweetapple series on Ao3

What's this? Is this Nuttyfic? Not a nuttyfic reblog? The first in ages?

Why yes, yes, it is.

Consequently, the writing muscles are a bit rusty so don't expect much.

However this was prompted by conspiring Thunderfam on this post.

It is a bit of a 'let's see if this idea works or not', but since most of my fic comes under that category, I'm hoping it works at least a little :D

So we have the beginnings of some possible Sweetapple Diaries :D

Many thanks to the wonderful @onereyofstarlight for proof reading and pointing out the bits that really didn't work :D ::hugs you tight:: And many thanks to the Sweetapple cheering squad - without you, there would be no Sweetapple ::hugs you all to bits::

Warnings for m/m fic and a bucket of fluff.

I hope you enjoy these little scribbles :D

-o-o-o-

14 Jul

We are going to Paris.

Mr Tracy told Virgil in no uncertain terms that he needed time off. I can’t agree more. Hell, all the brothers need time off, but Virgil has been flagging lately. He denies it, of course. Workaholic to the core. I can see where he is coming from, but really, he needs to take better care of himself - they all do.

Paris was an interesting choice. I’ve never been to Europe, but I guess that comes with the billionaire territory.

I am excited, there are so many opportunities in Paris. I’m particularly looking forward to seeing some real Da Vinci. Climbing the Eiffel Tower is also on my list.

But for our next holiday, I think we’ll choose a spot more close to home. I know some quiet seaside towns where we could rent a bach and just lay back and relax.

Maybe France has a few hidden corners we could climb into.

Anyway, it’s something to look forward to. Really, anytime, anywhere, would be fantastic.

-o-o-o-

15 Jul

Today wasn’t a good one. We had multiple failures in the latest prototype.

Erica isn’t happy. She says it isn’t my fault, but honestly, I should have seen at least one of them coming. The effect of vacuum on micro air pockets in a flexible solid is so obvious it was ridiculous. How did I miss it?

Dearest had to cancel out again. Mount Etna tried to take out some tourists.

Virgil isn’t happy. Apparently, he has been warning the Italian authorities about the destabilisation of the volcano’s eastern face, but because their equipment can’t detect what International Rescue’s equipment can, they don’t want to sacrifice the tourism euros to close the tours.

Fortunately, it was only a partial collapse and IR was able to save those caught in the landslide. I have to say though, Commander Tracy was furious in the holoclip shown on the news. I wouldn’t want to be person responsible right now. Scott can get scary.

I did get to see some cool shots of Virgil in action though. That, I could never get tired of. He and Gordon manoeuvred Two and rappelled down to pull people out of the dirt and ash.

They are such heroes.

I do miss him, of course, but those poor people needed him more than I did.

Maybe we can holochat later…oh god, it’s 3am already!

-o-o-o-

16 Jul

Erica woke me up this morning. Really, I love her, she is so good to me, but bloody hell, can’t she knock?

Okay, it was nearly eleven and I had my phone on silent and I didn’t answer the door and…

At least I had my pyjama pants on, I guess.

What if Virgil had been here?

She said that was the reason she barged in, Virgil wasn’t here - no great green ‘bird and Tracy Two wasn’t logged at the airfield, and I was late for work. I might have been dead or something.

She cares and I appreciate that.

She could have held off the laughter, though.

Besides, I wasn’t late for work. Work is on flexi-time and considering I was up until 1am last night analysing yesterday’s screw ups, my sleep-in was natural and totally allowed.

Virgil left me a message with a ‘maybe tonight’. I’m hoping, but if there is one thing I’ve learnt it is that whatever happens, happens. No hoping too hard.

So here I am writing this entry a little earlier to kill some of that hoping time.

We solved two out of the three problems we had yesterday. The third is being a pain in the ass. Erica says I should speak to John as this lies in his speciality. I said, not until we’ve exhausted all our resources because John is a busy man.

We’re all busy, she said, and he offered to help. Gordon helped with the water issues. I could even ask Alan.

Really? It’s not at the point where I have to go to the top to help solve the problem. We’ll give it a few more days. It’s urgent, but not life threatening like the Tracy brothers need to attend to. They’ve got enough on their plate.

But John has such a lovely voice, she said.

I swear she does this just to rile me up.

That or she does have a thing for John. You would think she would have a thing for Mr Tracy, he was the one who saved her from the earthquake. Hell, she and Fireman Fred still have a mutual flirting thing going on.

—!

Virgil is here!

-o-o-o-

17 Jul

The sun rose early this morning. Somewhere in our haste we forgot to close the blinds and the first rays of dawn woke me.

I’m not a morning person, I’m the first to admit that. But this morning…

You’re lying on your belly and the covers have slipped down to your waist. The sun is painting your skin in shades of gold and your hair is glowing.

You are beautiful.

…

PS: I haven’t read anything, I promise. I just needed to write the image down and this book was the closest at hand. Can I paint you some time?

…

He read the above to me when I woke.

Let’s just say I was late to work again.

-o-o-o-

17 Jul (cont.)

Virgil stayed at Māhia today. He helped with the issue we were having with the prototype, though we did end up calling John.

John was happy to help - man, he thinks fast. Don’t get me wrong, I love my math and my physics, but John seems to be able to bend both to his will. It took him a total of five minutes. Five minutes! To design a solution to our problem - in between rescue calls.

It was one of those daunting moments where I could see exactly why they work so well together.

Of course, I am working with V.T. Green. Just let me name drop that right here. And the Voice Who Answers…is my life real? How the hell did I end up here?

Frickin’ bloody amazing.

-o-o-o-

[talesofesther]

sweet calamity | ch 5

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Series Summary: It was something people described as the sweetest pain, the feeling of when the soul that's destined to find yours is closer to you. Wednesday saw it as a curse, promised herself she would hate whoever was chosen for her; but it's easier said than done.

A/N: I think this might be my favorite chapter yet. Let me know what you think. <3

Masterlist | Read ch 4 here

The clock on your bedside table read 1:16 AM. It was a little late, but also the only time when, technically, everyone was asleep.

You snuck out — well not really, considering you're not leaving the school, only your dorm — with careful and calculated steps, you made your way down the dark stairs and to the quad.

The reason for that, is that a particular flower you want to add to the quad's flowerbed only blooms at night. And you need to make sure that its color fits in well with the rest of the plants already there. Maybe it was futile and maybe it was your perfectionist side speaking, but you genuinely wanted the place to look nice when you were done.

Or you were just taking any small excuse you could get to keep your mind busy.

You could use your abilities if you wanted to, make the flower bloom during the day so you could see it in its full glory, but it didn't sit well with your heart to disturb its natural cycle.

So here you were, in your pajamas, shivering because of course you forgot your jacket, sneaking out into the night only to watch a few flowers bloom. It reminded you of the times that you'd do the same thing when staying over at your grandparents when you were younger; a smaller you hugging a huge cardigan around your shoulders, your bare feet feeling the grass between your toes as you sat down on the lawn and just waited for it to slowly happen.

The moon was high in the sky when you reached the quad, almost full and casting a pleasant glow for you. The air was cold, much colder than it was during the day but there was a certain comfort to it, you realized.

You closed your eyes for a moment, tilting your head up and breathing in deeply.

Quiet moments like these have always been some of your favorites.

She would probably enjoy it too.

Your mind drifted. You opened your eyes only to see a blanket of stars above you; endless, timeless.

Maybe she would complain about the colors, but you'd gladly add a few black flowers to the mix if she asked you to.

You shook your head, scolding yourself for missing someone who wasn't even yours, to begin with.

Five days ago, Wednesday found out you are her soulmate, and you haven't spoken with her since. It could be wishful thinking, but sometimes you had the feeling that she wanted to speak with you, however, you didn't feel much ready for that. The changes were small, like finding a new partner for a few classes that you used to sit with her, taking the longer path to some of them so you wouldn't end up bumping into her; little things to postpone what was most likely inevitable — you live in the same place after all, it was bound to happen — but for now, you didn't know what else you could do, other than avoid her.

With a soft sigh, you sat down on the ground, eyes fixed on your flowers in the middle of the quad. You hugged your knees close to your chest… and waited.

The night was serene, you could hear the rustling of leaves in the distance, crickets singing, and music.

A beat passed, and you frowned.

Music?

The melody was a little distant, but not much, you could hear it pretty clearly; soft notes coming from the cords of a cello.

You couldn't put a name to the song even if you tried, but you could tell it wasn't a happy one. The melody was somber; not creepy though, closer to sorrowful. It comes from the tallest room in Ophelia Hall, echoing through Nevermore's corners and undoubtedly waking a few students from their slumber.

You know it's Wednesday. Enid has complained to you about her cello solos in the dead of night one too many times already.

If you close your eyes and focus hard enough, you can picture her fingers moving with the cords, shaping the notes of the song.

From your spot on the quad, you look up at what you can see of the half-colorful round window. You stay there until her song ends and a little bit after, part of you knows she's still out there too. In times like these it feels like the universe is fighting to keep you close to Wednesday; you wonder when it'll see reason and give up — though secretly, part of you doesn't want it to. Because you could pretend you shared this little moment with her, after all, it was just you and her who were awake and out at this hour.

The thought of somehow feeling connected to her made you smile.

—

Wednesday dragged out the end notes of her song, the tip of her fingers burning and stinging over the cords; a pleasant, grounding feeling.

Thing closed her sheet music book, gesturing softly at her after.

"That's a silly question," Wednesday told him, setting aside her cello, "considering I have nothing to be worried about."

The disembodied hand gestured again, causing Wednesday to narrow her eyes at him.

"Her childish behavior does not bother me, I'm not sure why you would even assume that." She huffed, looking away from him with a clenched jaw, "she's the one who chose to keep it from me in the first place, so if she wants to keep her distance now…"

Wednesday breathed in deeply, she got up from her chair, and walked over to the edge of the balcony to let the cold wind kiss her cheeks, "it's just less work for me," she finished then.

Wednesday feels stuck in limbo sometimes, she doesn't understand the weight on her chest whenever she thinks of you, can't decide on how to feel about you nor why she even cares at all. She detests not knowing things, yet when it comes to soul bonds and flower perfumes, she sees herself walking blindfolded on a tightrope.

Thing came to her side carefully, he tapped her elbow, waiting until Wednesday's dark eyes settled on him. He gestured gently, his fingertips tapping the back of her hand once he finished.

In a quick move, Wednesday pulled her hand back and took a step away from him. She shook her head, breathing in deeply. "That could never be true," she pointed a finger at him, "say it again and I'll pick out each of your nails."

Wednesday turned around and walked back inside, leaving Thing alone in the night; but she laid in bed wide awake, staring at her ceiling for hours on end until the first birds started singing, his words replaying over and over in her mind.

———

The tall doors of the fencing room creaked when Wednesday pushed them open, the sunlight coming from the huge windows reflected on the pristine white walls and made the clashing blades shine.

The Addams girl walked between her peers, helmet in hand and chin held high. She could see their teacher instructing Xavier on his poor stance, holding his own blade in the correct position so the boy could copy. Wednesday scoffed when he failed again. He should stick to the bow and arrow, she thought.

Wednesday's gaze still looked for you in the crowds — while the teacher was busy getting frustrated with Xavier, she found you adjusting your uniform in the far corner of the spacious room.

She stalked closer, closing the distance between you and her. Your eyes found hers just before you lowered your helmet on your head and Wednesday could almost see the way your breathing faltered. She had caught you off guard.

You make to take a step back but your boot hits the wall, and it's suddenly very familiar to a recent memory that has been plaguing Wednesday's nights. She should hate you for it, for making her care about something she promised she wouldn't; but oh, she can't.

It's okay if you like her, there's nothing wrong with that.

Thing's words still echo in her mind.

Wednesday is quick to reach beside you, grabbing a blade for herself from the support on the wall and turning around to give you your desired space, because the image of you running away from her makes her stomach turn unpleasantly.

"Ready?" Bianca's voice caught Wednesday's attention and she looked up, only to see that the siren wasn't speaking with her, but with you.

You walked in front of her slowly, blade in hand as you took your stance, "yeah, ready."

Wednesday's grip on the steel handle of her own blade tightened; who was the absolute moron who paired you up with Bianca?

You were awful at fencing and Bianca was, arguably, even more competitive than Wednesday; and as much as she didn't want to admit it, the siren was good.

Your blade clashed with Bianca's for the first time, and a foreign feeling took over Wednesday's body as she watched the sparring unfold. She was restless, chest tight as she anticipated your every move.

Her lungs had a distant ache, because she's been holding her breath. Bianca's blade grazed the side of your head and Wednesday didn't know where to focus her unblinking eyes. She took a step closer when you almost lost your footing.

What the hell was happening to her?

Bianca was fast, too fast for you to follow. She striked, and you ducked out of the way but the movement caused the tip of her blade to scratch the side of your free hand.

Droplets of crimson red were quick to fall on the floor, staining the polished wood. The sharp pain made you wince, dragging your attention to the blood slowly flowing from the recent cut.

It was a blink-of-an-eye kind of thing. Bianca didn't see your wound, and you didn't see her going for the next blow until it was too late to defend yourself.

All that was heard was the loud clashing of steel against steel.

Wednesday stood in front of you, her blade holding Bianca's in place, with a look in her eyes that could send the bravest man running for the hills.

"What the hell, Wednesday?" Bianca snapped, lowering her weapon.

"This fight is clearly over," Wednesday tilted her head towards your bleeding hand, she still had her blade pointing to Bianca, daring her to object.

Bianca shifted her attention to you, her eyes softening, "shit, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"It's alright," you cut her off with a wave of your hand and a small, reassuring smile, "I'm alright."

"Addams," the teacher called, walking over to where you stood, "you're not allowed to interfere when other students are sparring".

Only when Wednesday saw Bianca walking away, did she lower her weapon. "Then you should learn how to properly pair up your students," she bluntly stated, raising an eyebrow at him.

The older man huffed, turning his gaze to you, "go to the infirmary." Was all he said before walking away.

You angrily took off your helmet, messing up your hair. "I had it under control," a frustrated scoff escaped you as you threw your blade to the floor. You refused to look up and meet Wednesday's eyes.

"Obviously not," she countered, "given how she was about to impale you with her sword had I not stepped in."

"Whatever, it's not like I asked for your help," you argued back a little too loudly and felt warmth rush to your cheeks when it attracted a few curious glances.

Wednesday flinched at your sudden tone, blinking a couple of times. You never snapped like that. After a beat of silence, she tried reaching out, "let me see it."

Only for you to take a big step back, holding your bleeding hand close to your chest as if trying to protect it. This distance, this brick wall you were trying to build up between you and her; it got Wednesday striving to keep her face impassive, to pretend like it wasn't taking away her sleep.

"I don't need you pretending like you care, Wednesday," you told her quietly, turning around to walk to the door, and Wednesday watched you leave. Again.

Her classmates were anything but subtle with the way they watched the two of you, no doubt wondering what about you was so special that prompted Wednesday to do what she had just done. To be honest, she was wondering the same thing.

With each of your steps — morning sunlight bathing you aureate as you walked — Wednesday could feel the thudding beat of her heart against her ribs, trying to escape her, trying to go after you.

Wednesday closed her eyes, mumbling a thousand curses under her breath as she shot down her ego. Damn you. She discarded her blade and helmet, hurrying to fall into step beside you.

"You're mine even if I don't want you to be," she forced out, sparing a single annoyed glance at you; her hand took hold of yours in a strong grip as she pulled you along, "I'm not letting anything happen to you."

—

The cut on your hand wasn't big, but the antiseptic still stung like a bitch.

You sat on one of the hospital beds of the infirmary, swinging your feet back and forth as the nurse wrapped a small bandage around your hand.

Wednesday was leaning back against the wall to your right, you could feel the weight of her eyes on you, unmoving; you felt like a deer under a panther's gaze.

But that analogy didn't work, did it?

You dare to steal a glance at her; you catch her straightening her posture, clearly not expecting you to do what you just did. Her eyelashes kiss the corner of her cheeks as she looks down at her boots, her arms crossed over her chest. There's something about her that wasn't there before, you just can't put your finger on it yet.

I'm not letting anything happen to you.

Why? You thought to yourself as you looked back at your hand, the white gauze now slowly turning a soft shade of pink. Why did she have to say that?

"You can come back later to change it one more time if you want to, but you should be fine by tomorrow," the nurse gently told you.

"Thank you, I will," you smiled, flexing your hand to test if the pain was still there. It was.

The older woman smiled back, before turning around to attend to a vampire girl who's accidentally eaten garlic.

You didn't move, only pursed your lips and gripped the edge of the bed; you had a feeling of what would happen next.

And it did.

Wednesday pushed herself away from the wall, her steps slow as she came to stand in front of you. She stopped closer than you thought she would.

"Lemon and salt will help," Wednesday told you.

Your head instantly snapped up to look at her, you frowned, eyes a tad too wide. "It'll sting like hell."

There's a ghost of a smile on Wednesday's lips that she never intended for you to see. She reached a hand to you, slowly, carefully, half expecting you to reject her touch again.

You didn't, and you're not sure why. But you did hold your breath before she even touched you.

She took hold of your injured hand, her fingers holding yours with a gentleness even she didn't know she was capable of. Wednesday turns your hand around, and somehow she knows you're back in that moment too.

She gulped, her thumb brushing over the dried blood stain on your uniform; "for the stain," Wednesday simply said.

"Oh," is all you can breathe out, afraid to break the spell that's holding this moment.

You allow yourself to savor her touch just for a second more before pulling your hand back.

Wednesday didn't comment on it, she refused to acknowledge the effect you have on her. She sets her jaw tight before saying; "I've been meaning to apologize."

You raised an eyebrow at her.

"For what I said when we first met," she continued, and you closed your eyes, because you were done crying.

"Had I known it was you I'd-"

"You what?" You interrupted her. "You'd tell me I'm not a burden? Or maybe that I shouldn't grow attached to you because you hated me before even knowing me?"

Wednesday's lips parted yet no words came out. This is wrong, this is all so wrong. She decides. This is not how our story should go.

You pushed yourself off the bed, picking up your bag to leave the infirmary.

And Wednesday follows, because that's all she can do now.

"Listen, Wednesday," you started after a sigh, pushing open the door and being welcomed with the chatter of Nevermore's busy hallways, "we can be friends if that's what you want us to be."

The students walking around you caused Wednesday to move closer, her shoulder bumping into yours with each step.

"But right now… I need time. And I need space." You shrugged, a melancholic smile coming to your lips.

Wednesday can't decide on how to feel, the thought of it brought a sour taste to her mouth. She should be glad, but that doesn't sit right with her either. And she thinks she should probably say something anyway, but before she could, someone else called out your name.

Both you and Wednesday turned to see Andrew waving animatedly to you as he molded his way between the students until he could reach you.

"Hey you," he greeted with a smile, then turned to the girl beside you, "Wednesday." He gave her a nod, and when she didn't answer, he looked back at you, "ready to present our work?"

You breathed in deeply, you hated talking in front of the class. "As I'll ever be."

"Relax, I'll be by your side the whole time." He offered.

You glanced at Wednesday before following him, the glint in your eyes resembling something akin to longing; "I'll see you around, yeah?"

Affection isn't a word Wednesday uses much, but she thinks of it a lot when it comes to you.

"Okay," she uttered quietly, and as you walked off with the guy, Wednesday managed to catch on to little bits of your next conversation;

"Hey so, you know how the Rave'n party is less than two weeks away, right? I was wondering if you'd like to go with me?" The annoying boy asked.

"Uh, yeah sure, I- I'd love to," was the last of your words that Wednesday could hear.

And she felt the strange urge to grab your hand and drag you away with her all over again.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Read ch 6 here

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keep me motivated to continue posting here, so I'd appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

Wednesday’s taglist: @milkiane @bookfrog242 @heelaechan @imagine-reblog @simp4wanda26 @sakurarukas @bluetreecloud20 @the-night-owl-blr @imlike-so-gaydude @user284747 @dreifhraniquo29 @emeraldevan @simp4nat @boobabietch @impossibleliv1031 @deadpool-in-a-snood @rainbow-love4ever @maria-403 @pompompuri @halleest @wandaromanova @marveloussimp @rainbow-hedgehog @left-and-right-up-and-down @get-the-fuck-outta-here @awolfcsworld @elduster @alexkolax @georgi-salva @imdumbhi @ladey @youralphawolf72 @reginassweetheart @justyourwritter69 @yangsroboarmm @8e-h-e8 @irish-piece-of-trash @femalehomosexual666

[darkreaderdan]

₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪

ᴍɪᴄʜᴀᴇʟ ᴄʀɪsᴛ 𝒂 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒚𝒔𝒊𝒔

✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲

Okay so this is a post that I have been planning for a while now to be honest. Devil's Night Series as been a series that honest got me hooked on reading again and all the characters hold a special place in my heart especially Michael and Rika. I have bared witness to all the hate that Michael gets and as a person who like and can relate to him on some level it actually rub med wrong. I also find it crazy how Michael and Emory are literally the same character in different font but Michael gets a lot more hate. (𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒂 𝒘𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒆 𝒔𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒆𝒔) But this is a Michael post so I will be sticking to just my analysis of him and maybe this can shed some light on his actions and have a discussion. Keep in mind this isn't me trying to justify the shit he does but instead explain his actions.

❦ So first I wanna touch on who Michael is as a person. We have seen throughout the series and especially in Corrupt that he is a for the most part a loyal person especially when it comes to his chosen family which at the start of the series was solely the other 3 horsemen. But let's go see where this stems from. Michael is considered to be the black sheep of his family despite being the eldest son. We have seen in flashbacks that his father has an unwavering hatred towards him ever since he was younger (a literal toddler), even though we never found out the reason why. I have a theory however, that Evan's hatred stem from the fact that Michael is similar to him when it comes to their stubborn mindset making him harder to manipulate and control compared to Trevor who is literally his father's dog. Now back to regular program... this dysfunctional dynamic in his family is what lead him to find companionship, brotherhood and trust in Kai, Will and Damon. They became his real family. He has proven time and time again that he would and will do anything to protect or even avenge them. He was always giving them advice and even cleaning up after them whenever they fuck up, which we know is a lot.🤣🤣 But nonetheless because of his pact and loyalty he will do all this even at a risk of hurting himself both physically and emotionally.

❦ During the events of Corrupt it is noted on several occasion that he is also extremely self destructive. This can be explained as a direct result of his upbringing. One of the things that I realize that alot of readers and fan of the series like to skip over is the extreme abuse that Michael suffered at the hands of his father. I get that as opposed to Damon and Emmy, it wasn't a main highlight in his novel so people tend to downplay it or outright ignores it. Michael was physically & mentally abused by his father simultaneously for years, from his childhood to when he was mid to late teen (he was 16 if i recall correctly). It was at this time that he finally fought back against Evan, with Rika being an unknowing witness to the event that lead to the stop of the physical abusing but the increased in the verbal and mental abuse. And where was his mom during all of this? Acting and being oblivious ofc. But we can see that he still; in present day Corrupt; is affected by his fathers words which reflects in his self loathing and believing he doesn't deserve to be happy or the love of anyone, especially not Rika. The Rika he loved and his world revolved around since he was 3. The same Rika that his dad as been grooming and basically training to be the perfect match/wife for Trevor. And he would rather continuing to live in emotional pain than accepting that someone can love him, that's why he was so hellbent on avenging his friends at the risk of burning the bridge with Rika in the process.

❦ I will be the first to admit that he is blunt, brutal and overall mean in his speech especially at times when he speak to Rika. Michael is not one to cut words and will things in the most brutal of ways especially when he is angry or hurting as I genuinely believe he is one of those 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 type person who believe that if they are hurting others should too. Though for some reason this doesn't extend to when it comes romantic feelings. Wit that let's focus on his interactions with Rika. Even from the first encounter we saw of the two of them we knew that they had history between them and that their relationship runs deep, this is something that is immediately confirmed. I think one of the biggest issues that the fandom have against Michael is that he is hard on Rika, which is true, but the thing is I think readers are so used to the MMC babying the FMC that the concept of hard love is so alien to them. I will say though some of the things he did say to her are beyond harsh and outright so fucking cruel, like calling her just a pussy or even this:

"𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚋𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚔," 𝙸 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚠 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔. "𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚞𝚗𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚢, 𝚁𝚒𝚔𝚊? 𝙱𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚜. 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚕 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚢, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚝. 𝙽𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎." "𝙸'𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚔," 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚞𝚎𝚜, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚛 ���𝚑𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚗��𝚠𝚊𝚢. "𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚢. 𝙸𝚝 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛." 𝙸 𝚜𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚗𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚢. "𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝙸'𝚖 𝚋𝚊𝚍? 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚎? 𝚆𝚎𝚕𝚕, 𝚐𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝? 𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚊 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔! 𝚈𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚊 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗-𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛-𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚙𝚒𝚎𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚋𝚊𝚐𝚐𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗-𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛-𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚙𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚍𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚔 𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛!"

❦ This was just uncall for, but it goes back to what I mentioned before of him believing that if he is hurt, everyone should also hurt, not an excuse but merely an explanation. And as harsh as he is some of his actions are from his perspective a way of teaching her to be stronger and fight her own battles and not wait on others to come to her rescue. He was the first to recognize her fire help her make it shine brighter:

"𝙾𝚠𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚊𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚣𝚎. 𝙳𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍? 𝙾𝚠𝚗 𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚛 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞." -

"𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘔𝘪𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘦𝘭-𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘴 𝘋𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘯, 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘒𝘢𝘪-𝘐 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦. 𝘐 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨." - 𝘙𝘪𝘬𝘢.

❦ Another instance that I see people always judging him about is the events of Conclave which I find fucking ridiculous cause he literally reacted how any normal person would. For month Rika as been distant from him, all methods and efforts to try and get through to her as been futile, fast forward to that night on the ship, he walked in on his fiancé in the arms of his best friend finding comfort, when she has been brushing him off for months. Rightfully so both him and Banks were upset but everyone tend to only judge him. Come to find out that the woman he loves thinks so low of him, that he would leave her because of fertility issues and even confided in someone else. So yea him walking away from the situation was honestly a normal and natural reaction. Like he is allowed to feel and react like anyone in his shoes would. and I find it crazy how people love saying he doesn't care for, love or respect Rika when there is evidence proving otherwise.

𝑹𝒊𝒌𝒂 𝒊𝒔 𝑴𝒊𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒆𝒍'𝒔 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅. 𝑱𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒂𝒔 𝒉𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅 𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒂 𝒓𝒐𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒆. 𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒏. 𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒆 𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓.

"𝑰 𝒄𝒂𝒏'𝒕 𝒇𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒖𝒍𝒆𝒔," 𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒚𝒔, "𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖, 𝑰 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒐. 𝑰'𝒎 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒆. 𝑰 𝒄𝒂𝒏'𝒕 𝒈𝒐 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒆." 𝑯𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒚 𝒍𝒊𝒑𝒔, 𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒎𝒐𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒔 𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒓𝒚. "𝑰 𝒄𝒂𝒏'𝒕 𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓.

𝑾𝒆 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝑴𝒊𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒆𝒍 𝑪𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝑬𝒓𝒊𝒌𝒂 𝑭𝒂𝒏𝒆'𝒔 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒏 𝒊𝒕. 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅 𝒊𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒔. 𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝒉𝒊𝒎, 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒃𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒔.

𝑰 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓. 𝑻𝒐𝒖𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒔, 𝑰 𝒓𝒂𝒏 𝒎𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒃 𝒂𝒄𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒄𝒆, 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒕. "𝑰 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖, 𝑹𝒊𝒌𝒂. 𝑰'𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖."

𝑺𝒉𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑺𝒂𝒎𝒆, 𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒍𝒍. 𝑾𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒅𝒂𝒚, 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒘𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒍𝒆𝒕 𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍 𝒖𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒆'𝒅 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓.

"𝑶𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒄𝒓𝒂𝒑𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒓𝒖𝒊𝒔𝒆𝒔, 𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒐𝒐𝒔, 𝒔𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒔, 𝒔𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰 𝒅𝒊𝒅𝒏'𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒂 𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒑𝒊𝒆𝒄𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒘𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒑𝒂𝒑𝒆𝒓. 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔."

❦ Like you can bring up that he didn't apologize to her and it is clear that this is one of people's biggest freeze moment but let's not forget that people have different ways for expressing themselves and in MichaelRika case, they have proven over and over again on multiple occasions that they prefer and believe in actions over words. Rika wanted Michael to show her that he is sorry to basically dedicate his life to her and guess what? He did just that.

❦ I could go on more but as this post turn out longer than I anticipated I will end it her on this note. Michael to me is the perfect representation of a complex character, he is a product of cause and effect and it shines through alot through the series. I wanna finish by saying that I am in no way shape or form defending his actions but simply highlighting and explaining them.

[roosterforme]

The Deployment Diaries Part 16 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley talks to Mav, and it helps him see things a little clearer. And you know exactly how to make Bradley feel special on his birthday.

Warnings: Smut, swearing, fuff

Length: 5300 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots! Check my masterlist for the reading order!

The weekend trip to La Jolla had been one of your best ideas ever, if Bradley's opinion counted for anything. He kept thinking about how much fun the arcade had been and how good you looked playing skee-ball in your bathing suit. Plus, you and he had fucked almost nonstop all weekend long, to the point of exhaustion. 

He had woken you up late on Sunday morning and told you it was almost time to check out of the hotel. You'd responded by riding his face until you came and then getting on all fours for him. When you finally checked out of the hotel, looking like two disheveled messes, the woman at the front desk just smirked. 

You had both slept most of the afternoon at home on Sunday, only waking up in time to take Tramp for a nice long walk before dinner. Bradley and Tramp were perhaps a little too similar; the way they both looked forward to family walks was a bit ridiculous. Your laugh in response to he and Tramp both running to get the leash lit Bradley up from the inside.

On Monday afternoon, Bradley got flagged at work to test out the software update that your team had patched for the Super Hornet fleet. He got to take notes and attend a meeting which included you and a bunch of other engineers. 

He was so good about keeping his hands to himself at work. He'd been a model citizen, really. Except for that one time in your office. And that other time in the storage closet in the tower. But that didn't prevent him from needing to adjust himself a bit when you gave a thirty minute presentation to everyone in attendance. 

Bradley was trying his best to pay attention, but there were two problems. First of all, you were way smarter than him when it came to the technical stuff about his aircraft. He was trying his best to follow along, but you lost him a few times when it came to software calculations. 

And second, he knew which bra and underwear set you were wearing under your uniform, because you had gotten dressed right next to him this morning. It was a light pink set that he was particularly fond of. He adjusted himself again. He couldn't wait to get home. 

But that's when the trouble started. When he parked the Bronco in the driveway and walked up the porch steps, you were coming out the door with two huge shopping bags full of stuff. Your hair and makeup were done up and you were wearing a dress and heels. 

"Where are you going, Sweetheart?" he asked, brow scrunched up.

You kissed him hurriedly on his cheek. "I need to go to Oceanside for a few hours. I'll be back in a little bit," you told him, rushing to your car and throwing the bags in the trunk. "You can have leftovers for dinner, or maybe see if Mav is around? Bye, Roo!"

Bradley was still standing on the porch steps as he watched you pull out of the driveway. What the hell was up in Oceanside? And why were you all dressed up?

Bradley found himself bored and lonely after about twenty minutes in the house. He changed and tried to watch a show with Tramp, but he ended up calling Maverick, who was still on base and agreed to swing by with a pizza.

"Where's the missus?" Mav asked when he arrived. "I got the toppings she likes. Assumed she would be here."

Bradley shrugged and made a face. "She ran to Oceanside for some kind of errand or something. I'm not sure." He grabbed two beers from the fridge and opened the pizza box on the island. 

"Everything okay?" Maverick asked, accepting a beer. 

"Yeah, I think so?" Bradley said before taking a bite of pizza, but it was more of a question than an answer. 

Maverick hummed. "I know you said she had an incident with that guy while you were deployed and I was away with Penny. I wish I'd been here, Bradley. I really do."

"Nah, don't say that. You were on vacation! And things have been good since we talked. This past weekend was... it was great, actually," he said, thinking back to pouring champagne all over you and cuddling in bed with you while you giggled. Bradley tossed his half eaten slice of pizza onto his plate. "How do I know if it's too soon to propose?"

Maverick looked at him, completely gobsmacked. "I....well, Bradley, I don't know if you're asking the right person, actually. I've been on and off with Penny for decades."

Bradley ran his fingers through his hair. "But you're serious with Penny now. You have been since Halloween. I just don't know how to do this shit correctly half the time. I never really dated anyone too seriously, I just messed around. And I never intended to fall in love, because it was so distressing to me as a kid, the way my mom was lonely for twelve years. But like how the fuck am I supposed to live like this?" Bradley held his hands up in the air before letting them drop back to his sides. "Part of me is terrified of marrying her and having kids with her, knowing I could burn in one day. Every time I think about that, I convince myself to wait a little longer. But the other part of me, the part that is obsessed with the way she makes me feel.... well, that part thinks we should get married tomorrow."

Maverick studied Bradley, took a sip of beer, and studied him some more. "I wish I could be of more help here, I really do. All I can tell you is that your dad was set on marrying your mom the same day he met her. He said those exact words to me. And they got married after six months together. Six months to the day, actually. And I have no doubt they would still be married now. So no, I don't think it's too soon for you. And if fear is what's holding you back, then you need to decide if you love her enough to trust that she's all in, no matter the outcome."

Bradley felt his eyes stinging. "Fuck. This is so hard, Mav. My mom would have loved her though, I know that much. And I can't run the risk of hesitating and losing her, but that's selfish when she's more likely to lose me. I just wish this was easier."

"Me too," Maverick replied. "It's not fair that Goose isn't here for this conversation. He would have known exactly what to say. But it sounds to me like you're ready, and she is too." Bradley let Maverick pull him in for a quick hug before they returned to the box of pizza. 

-------------------------------------------

"Where the fuck is mommy?" Bradley asked Tramp. He kept checking the time on his phone. It was nearing 11 o'clock, and Bradley was getting a little worried. When he had texted to make sure everything was okay, you simply replied with Yep!

He had also been looking up flights from San Diego to Norfolk and eating cold pizza. God, this house was just sad without you in it. Did you feel this way when he was deployed? Shit. If so, he was never going to leave again, because this was awful. 

He channel surfed and fed pizza crust to Tramp, and about twenty minutes later, he finally heard your car in the driveway. 

"She's home!" Bradley and Tramp both ran to the door to greet you. Your hair was a mess now, and you were wearing different clothes than when you left. "Where did you go, Baby Girl? We missed you."

You hugged him around his waist. "I just needed to take care of something. I'm sorry it took so long. Let's get ready for bed." And that's all you would say about it.

Bradley pushed it from his mind. He focused on work during the day and spending time with you at night. When he brought the mail inside on Friday evening, he opened a thick, cream colored envelope with his name on it. He smiled as he took it over to where you were currently making pancakes for dinner in your tight yoga pants and one of his shirts. 

"Feel like buying a fancy dress, Baby Girl?"

"For what?" you asked, turning the music down on your phone. 

Bradley held up the invitation to the ceremony and reception at which he would be promoted to lieutenant commander. "It's in four weeks, and I'm allowed to bring a date. Please don't make me take Tramp."

You laughed. "Tramp would look adorable in a little tuxedo! But I'm going. I'm definitely going! It's going to be fancy as hell! Better than a wedding! You lieutenant commanders and captains and admirals get all the good stuff."

Bradley wrapped his arms around you from behind and kissed your cheek. "You could just wear your dress whites like me, if you want to."

"No!" you shouted, scandalized. "Absolutely not, Roo! I'm buying something fancy! I can wear my uniform for my own promotion. Maybe I'll go shopping for a dress when I go back to Oceanside tomorrow morning."

Bradley frowned. "Why do you have to go back to Oceanside? I thought we were going to spend the day together."

"I'll be home in the afternoon," you told him, flipping over the pancakes. "We can do whatever you want. And then Sunday is your birthday!"

Bradley let go of you so you could plate the food. "Can I come with you in the morning? I can help you look at dresses."

You frowned. "I'd rather you didn't. I promise I'll be back right after lunchtime."

-----------------------------------

Trying to get out of the house on Saturday morning was made very difficult by Bradley who was actively trying to keep you in bed. "One orgasm isn't enough for my girl. Let me give you another one," he said in his raspy morning voice from where he had his head between your legs. You were still riding out the first one when he looked up at you with hopeful eyes. 

You had told the photographer you would be there at 9:30, but thankfully the photographer was Maria's sister's roommate, and she would probably understand why you were running late if you showed her a photo of your boyfriend without a shirt on.

"Two would be nice," you told him as you tried to catch your breath, and he was immediately grinning and crawling up your body. He was too good at this now. You'd been having sex with him for more than nine months, and he could read you like a book. You wanted him slow and steady right now, and you knew you wouldn't have to tell him that. He would just do it, exactly how you wanted him to. 

And that was how he got orgasm number two to come screaming out of you after twenty minutes of slow fucking and a little dirty talk. 

Bradley looked pretty smug as he strode into the bathroom behind you on your wobbly legs. He kissed your neck while you brushed your teeth, and then you pulled your hair up as neatly as you could. "You definitely made me late," you informed his reflection in the mirror as you put on some lip gloss and mascara.

"Well, since you won't tell me where you're going, I don't feel bad about it. I also gave you a nice hickey right here, so I hope that's not going to be a problem," he said, running one beautiful finger along the side of your neck. 

You turned your face to the side to check out the pink mark he had given you. "Naughty. Don't make me withhold birthday sex."

Bradley's eyes went wide. "You wouldn't."

You just smirked and walked back into the bedroom.

"Sweetheart! I'll be good the rest of the day!"

You ran your fingers along his abs and nodded. "I know you will be."

-----------------------------------------

An hour later you were apologizing to the photographer, Flora, as she handed you Bradley's birthday present. You opened the calendar up to January and almost dropped it as you slammed it shut again. 

"Oh, my God. I can't give this to him! I just... oh, my God!"

Flora just laughed softly and gently took the calendar from your hands as you shook your head. "I get that a lot with this kind of photoshoot. But I can guarantee your boyfriend is going to go bananas over this," she promised, tapping the calendar with one finger. "Here, start with September. You've got a good amount of clothing on in that one, and it's taken from behind."

You took a deep breath and looked at the glossy photo of yourself. In it, you were turning back to look over your shoulder. You were wearing a tiny black skirt and black stockings with seams up the backs of your legs. You had on red heels and one of Bradley's white dress shirts, pushed down to reveal your bare shoulders and upper back. 

"Oh, that looks pretty good," you agreed. Then Flora flipped to April, and it was the photo of you wearing cutoff jean shorts with Bradley's aviators. You were covering your breasts with your hands. 

"This one is great, because your smile is so genuine," she told you.

"I was almost laughing in it, because he had no idea I took his sunglasses with me."

Flora flipped through the entire pin-up calendar with you. You saw the photo of you wearing the red bustier and matching thong that Bradley favored. There was also one of you on your knees with your hands on your thighs, pulling up the hem of your white nightie. One of you in your own flight suit had made it in there, and so had one with garters, stocking and lots of lace.

Then there was one of you laying on the bed with your back arched. It looked a lot like the photo you had sent to him that one time you and he were out to dinner with the other aviators. That evening had resulted in back seat Bronco sex, so perhaps you didn't have anything to be scared about. 

The photo for next June was perhaps the most intimate one. Your hair was purposefully messy, and you were completely nude, tangled up in a sheet with your left breast just peaking out. And your golden necklace charms were visible in almost all of the shots.

"Okay, I think you're right. I think he'll like it." Flora just laughed as you added, "You did a great job, honestly. You can barely see the cellulite!"

"Oh stop, I hardly had to do any touch ups. Some of them just needed a little color saturation. I'll tell you what, if your man doesn't lose his mind, come back and I'll give you a refund."

So with that, you took the calendar to your car and went to find a formal gown.

------------------------------------

As soon as you got home, Bradley was snooping in the garment bag. "What does your dress look like? Are you going to try it on for me?"

"Maybe," you replied with a wink. But you did try it on for him, and he stood in front of you speechless, rubbing his chin.

"Shit," he rasped. 

You looked down at yourself and back up at him. The form fitting, dark blue satin dress was insanely formal for most things, but it seemed perfect for his big day. Plus you figured he would appreciate the slit up your left leg and the low cut front. "Do you like it?"

He nodded his head vigorously. "You look amazing. I can't believe I get to have you there with me." He started reaching for you, but you backed away. 

"This dress is delicate, Bradshaw! Delicate!"

"I can be delicate," he whispered, running his fingers along the enticing fabric as you started to undress. 

You rolled your eyes good naturedly. "I'm saying your birthday weekend starts right now. So what do you want to do for the rest of the day?"

He helped you out of your dress as he told you, "Have sex with my girlfriend, walk our adorable dog to the ice cream place that gives out doggie treats, eat dinner, and have sex with my girlfriend again."

"You're going to give me more orgasms today? Is it your birthday or mine?"

------------------------------------

Bradley couldn't believe he deserved you in his life. That perfect weekend away with you in La Jolla had been enough for him. More than enough, really. But here you were, on his actual birthday, waking him up with a blowjob. He felt your wet, hot mouth on his length, and he opened his eyes to the most glorious sight. 

"Oh, hey," he rasped, smiling at you as he propped himself up on his elbows. 

You popped him out of your mouth, kissed his tip and said, "Happy birthday, Roo," in your sweet voice before sliding him between your pretty lips again. He watched your tits swaying, just getting harder and harder for you. He was aching in your hands and mouth as you sucked and licked him so well. 

When he was almost there, you opened your mouth wide and set him down on your plush tongue. He watched himself paint your mouth with his cum while you gently squeezed his balls in your soft hand. 

"Shit, sweetheart. You look so pretty like that," he told you, caressing your cheek. He really wanted to take a picture of you with his dick in your mouth and his cum everywhere, but he didn't know how to ask you for that. 

Bradley watched you swallow him down and lick your lips. Then you crawled up his body and kissed him. "I'm going to make you breakfast, birthday boy."

Bradley followed you into the kitchen and watched you put on your I Love Meat apron over your naked body. He stood behind you as you cut up vegetables and cracked eggs into a bowl, squeezing your bare ass and kissing your shoulders.

"This is already the best birthday I have ever had," he mumbled against your skin. He so badly wanted to be selfish. Marry you and be with you forever. The deployments sucked, but if that was the worst thing you had to deal with, you'd both manage. He couldn't control anything beyond that. 

"I love you, Roo," you told him, turning your head to kiss him briefly while you made him an omelet. That was it, he would buy a ticket to Norfolk tomorrow.

-------------------------------------

You took Bradley on a lunchtime hike and picnic that ended at the cliffside beach where you and he had played dogfight football so many months before. You ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and laid out on your beach towel, and Bradley tried to convince you to take a week off this year and take a vacation with him. In theory that sounded great, but work was going so well for you right now, it would be hard to take any time off. 

After baking in the sun for a while, Bradley said, "It's fucking hot out now. Feel like jumping in the water to cool off?" 

"In our clothes?" you asked, but he was already taking his tee shirt off and pulling his shorts down.

"In our underwear, Baby Girl."

You glanced around the beach, which wasn't crowded at all. You bit your lip before unbuttoning your jean shorts and sliding them down over your hips. The smile on your boyfriend's face was instantaneous. You glanced around again before pulling your tank top off and leaving it on the towel. You hoped your blue sports bra and green underwear were providing enough coverage for that old guy walking his dog to refrain from yelling at you.

Bradley pulled you to your feet and you ran into the water with him. "It's cold!" you complained, but he had already scooped you up into his arms. You clung on to the front of him, legs around his waist and arms around his neck. "Oh my God, don't go out any further! It's freezing!" But Bradley walked out until the waves were crashing against your back. "Bradley!"

He just chuckled and kissed you. "We'll get used to it." 

You threaded your fingers through his hair and kissed him back. His hands splayed along your back, keeping you warm against the onslaught of the Pacific Ocean. You thought about how many millions of times you must have kissed him since that first time in this beach parking lot. Thought about everything that had happened since that day. Falling in love, and almost losing him, and Tramp, and Josh, and how much you loved Bradley.

"I love you," you whispered against his mouth as he devoured you. "I love you so much."

--------------------------------

It took a bit of coaxing, but you finally agreed to let Bradley carry you up the rocks for old time's sake, even though you were wearing perfectly sensible shoes this time. Bradley listened to your laughter as he climbed with you on his back. Your wet underwear had soaked through your clothing, and so had his. You were both a sandy, sweaty mess by the time you got home. 

Wordlessly, you led him to the master bathroom and turned on the shower. Tramp came to investigate what was going on as you peeled Bradley's damp shirt off and let it fall to the floor. The fabric was replaced by your hands and lips on his chest and abs, and Bradley's head tipped back. Your hands were gritty with sand as they worked down to his shorts, and the sensation had him panting for you. Soon he was naked and you were stroking him.

"Baby Girl," he whispered, and you looked up at him expectantly. He kissed you hard, both of his hands in your messy hair, his front pressed to yours. He lived for these moments. Everything with you was so pure, it was almost painful. "You're mine, Baby Girl," he told you, and you moaned. 

Bradley ripped your clothing off, tossing it across the room and scaring Tramp back into the bedroom. You both stumbled into the steamy shower, hands and mouths everywhere. He had you pinned against the tile wall, one hand wrapped around your neck, the other thrusting two fingers into your pussy until you were soaking wet for him. The steam swirled around your bodies, and the little noises you made were echoing inside the glass shower. 

Then he thrust his cock into you, running his thumb up and down along the side of your neck. He could feel your shallow breaths and gasps as he sped up. When you wrapped your leg up around his hip and whispered his name, he was too close to the edge. He pulled out of your pussy and sprayed your belly and hips with his cum before dropping to his knees in front of you. 

"Mmm," you moaned when his mouth met your clit and you started grinding against his face. He worked his tongue, steadily getting you there as his cum mixed with the water from the shower and trailed down your body. You were his birthday present. He wanted the same present every year for the rest of his life. 

You were still leaning against the wall catching your breath when Bradley got the soap and started to wash your body.  You let him do your hair too, because now you were exhausted from all of the day's activities, and you still had to make his dinner. 

A few hours later, you were perched on Bradley's lap eating Marry Me Rooster and listening to some music. "Thank you," he whispered, and it struck you once again that probably nobody ever did anything special, just for him, from the time his mom died until he met you. It made you want to keep doing it and doing it. 

You checked the time on your phone as Bradley happily twirled his second serving of chicken and pasta into his fork. "I hope you're almost ready for dessert," you told him and he just grinned at you. 

"Oh, I know what that means." But then he jumped a bit when someone started pounding on the front door. 

The smile on your face gave you away. "What did you do?" he asked, but you just laughed and told him to go open the front door. 

"Holy shit," Bradley said, as Phoenix thrust a dozen balloons into his hands and made her way inside. She was followed by Fanboy, Payback, Bob, Hangman, Maverick and Penny. Coyote was missing, as he was currently deployed, but everyone else greeted Bradley while you put a pie and a chocolate chip cookie tower on the dining room table. Penny popped a few bottles of champagne, and everyone started eating dessert. 

When you stuck a glittery pink candle into the top cookie and everyone sang happy birthday to him, Bradley pulled you against his side. And when Fanboy told him to make a wish, Bradley grinned at you before blowing the candle out.

-----------------------------------------

After everyone finally left, it was pretty late. Tramp was already in his bed, exhausted from all of the attention he got. Bradley had watched Nat feed him four treats in a row, and when he said something about it, she told him, "Mind your own business, birthday boy. This is between me and my god-pup."

So by the time Bradley noticed you shifting nervously around the kitchen, cleaning up after everyone, he had already had an epically wonderful day.

"Leave it, Sweetheart. I'll clean in the morning before work," he told you, gently taking your hands in his. "Now tell me why you're being weird."

You sighed. "I got you a birthday present. It's in my dresser drawer." you said, staring at his chest.

"That was nice of you. Can I have it?"

"Yeah...." you trailed off, heading for the bedroom and rooting around in your drawer. "But I'm really nervous to give this to you, so please be kind." You thrust a wrapped box into his hand and backed away a few steps, chewing on your lip. 

Bradley started to unwrap and open the box, brow furrowed about what could be making you apprehensive. But then he dropped the wrapping paper and box to the floor as he read the front of the calendar in his hands. 

Rooster's Calendar starring Baby Girl

"No fucking way," he whispered, meeting your guarded eyes before flipping it open to January. He almost fell over. "Oh my God," he almost yelled, briefly waking up Tramp. 

There was a high quality photo of you wearing a sheer champagne colored lingerie set, and you were laying on your back with your legs up in the air. You had on your bright red high heels with your ankles crossed and you looked like a fucking dream, your tits practically spilling out of the sheer top.

Bradley's jaw was hanging open as he flipped to February. He didn't know how things could have possibly improved, but somehow they did. You were wearing his favorite color, the red bustier and thong. "Shit, Baby Girl," he whined. His dick was plainly hard in his jeans, and he was gasping for air, but you looked nervous as hell now.

"Do you like it?" you asked softly, eyes wide, chewing on your thumbnail. 

He just stared at you with his mouth open, blinking, trying to formulate words. He glanced down briefly at March to see you in a black string bikini he had no idea you owned. You looked sinfully good, and now Bradley was throbbing. 

"Don't look at that one. You can see my love handles," you told him, reaching for the calendar, but he held it up high, out of your reach. Then he tossed it softly onto the dresser and grabbed you.

"Don't talk about my future wife that way," he growled, baking you up to the bed. "She's perfect." He reached down and yanked your shirt off and then your bra. "That calendar is the fucking hottest thing in the world, and I only saw three months," he groaned, grinding against you. "It's safe to say, yes, I like it."

You moaned as he touched you. "You said you wanted it."

"Yeah, I did. Thank you, Sweetheart," he whispered against your neck, placing kiss after kiss there as he worked his hand down to the front of your shorts. "Best gift ever."

"How are you going to thank me for this wonderful idea?" you asked, running your fingertips along his scarred cheek.

Bradley pushed you down on the bed, and you rolled over onto your belly to make room for him. He eased himself onto the bed and straddled your ass, rubbing his hands down the smooth planes of your naked back, making you arch your spine. You moaned and ground your ass up into his dick and balls. He was picturing your nipples straining against lacy fabric, and he was so hard he thought he might explode. And here you were writhing and moaning under him after a few touches.

"I'm going to thank you like this," he told you, grabbing you by both hips and popping your rear end up into the air. He pulled your jean shorts down your legs and tossed them aside, and he ran his finger over your thong before removing that as well. He kissed along your ass cheeks and listened to you moan as he palmed you with his hands. He eased his face down to your pussy and gave you a nice long lick, collecting your sweetness on his tongue. 

"I love it when you do that," you huffed between groaning and whining his name, face buried in a pillow.

He teased your clit and ran his fingers through your soaking wet slit, pumping them into your pussy a few times until you were thrusting back again. Then he let his fingers trail up a bit further until he was gently caressing your other hole. 

"Oh!" you gasped and froze. 

Bradley placed a soft kiss on your thigh and then one on your lower back. "Is this okay?" he asked, and he stopped moving his hand until he heard you gasp out an answer. 

"Yes, I think so."

Bradley groaned as he let his fingers trail along once more, the moisture from your pussy making everything look slick and even prettier. "Can I lick you here?"

"Okay," you whispered, and Bradley ran his tongue back and forth across your asshole a few times, fisting his cock in his hand. He'd never done this before, and it sounded like you hadn't either. 

"Do you like this, Baby Girl?" he asked before pressing a little harder with his tongue, licking up all of your essence that he had brought there with his fingers. You were wiggling your ass a little bit for him as he placed another kiss there.

"I don't hate it. God, your mustache feels good everywhere. I think it made my pussy even wetter for you, Roo," you gasped, and Bradley was immediately in position, thrusting his dick into your warm pussy. He could feel your walls gripping him almost immediately. Everything felt too good. You turned him on beyond belief. 

And when you were both ready for bed, and you had yourself draped across his body, you whispered, "I love you, birthday boy." 

You yawned as he wrapped his arms around you. "Can I have this same day every year for my birthday? Just like this, me and you?"

"Absolutely, Roo," you muttered, snuggling against him and dozing off to sleep. 

-----------------------------

Happy birthday, Roo! SO MANY OF YOU ASKED FOR BUTT STUFF, SO HERE IS A BIT OF THAT FOR YOU! Thanks for reading!

PART 17

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[the-badger-mole]

I read your If It's Not Too Late series. the two stories where Zuko is dating that girl Sayaka. It's good, really good! I just want to know why Iroh is so oblivious! How did he not see that Katara and Zuko liked each other? Why wasn't he trying to push them together instead of Sayaka and Zuko?

This is not the first criticism of Iroh in this scenario I've gotten, so I guess it's time to address it. Now, this is probably just my own personal take, but I feel like Iroh's insight into Zuko's love life is overblown in fic. Iroh is only human. He did suspect that Zuko had feelings for Katara, but he didn't know her well enough to tell if it was reciprocated.

Here's a bit of behind the scenes info for you about why I wrote this the way I did: Iroh does know that his nephew has a crush on Katara. The problem is, this isn't new knowledge. This is a few years after the end of the war. Katara and Zuko are in their 20s now. Iroh probably did encourage Zuko to pursue Katara...when he was 16. But when Zuko started dating Mai and Katara started dating Aang, Iroh let it go. After they broke up with their respective partners, Iroh didn't notice a huge change in their dynamic (which in itself was a clue that Iroh missed because he's human and that happens). Maybe Iroh suspects lingering feelings on Zuko's part, but he doesn't know Katara well enough to tell she reciprocates Zuko's feelings (Katara hadn't been acting off until this story, and she avoided both Zuko and Iroh while she wasn't in control of her emotions). Why would he encourage Zuko to pursue his best friend and possibly ruin their strong friendship if Katara doesn't feel the same way? Iroh let it go because he knew having Katara in Zuko's life as a friend was more important than trying to force Zuko to pursue a romance. But he still had to get Zuko to take finding a wife seriously, so enter Sayaka, who is truly perfect for Zuko on paper.

In summary, Iroh didn't encourage Zuko to pursue Katara because he didn't know Katara was into Zuko like that, and why would he set his nephew up to fail that way? If he knew, he would've set up a fanfic scenario for them in a heartbeat.

Part 1 , Part 2

[tangledbea]

I found this interesting post talking about Varians' age and the general series timeline.

Link: https://www.tumblr.com/rachelbethhines/623037451732123648/tangled-timeline?source=share

There are some interesting tidbits, and I have questions about a few of them. The OP references Varians fanon birthday of March 24, which makes sense when discussing Varians' age, but they also reference Rapunzel having a fanon birthday of May 12th. I know about the Varian birthday headcanon, but is this a common birthday headcanon for Rapunzel? If not your headcanon of the summer solstice, I would've figured people would headcanon her birthday being in July or August because it is canonically in summer. If it is a common headcanon, why May? Isn't that a bit early?

It also talks about S3s timeline a lot, particularly Coronan holidays that happened more than once in the series. The post says the day of hearts is 6 months after Rapunzels birthday, yet it's just a few episodes after Rapunzels return (the S3 premiere may not have involved Rapunzels birthday, but it definitely happened arounf that time.) I can explain the S1 goodwill festival happening 6 months after Rapunzels 18th birthday and S2 goodwill festival happening a few weeks after her 19th because it wasn't the real Coronan event, it was something Rapunzel planned in Varados. But the other holiday discrepancies can't be explained this way. So this post says S3 takes place over 2 years instead of 1 like the other seasons. It also says "the series creators" said 4 seasons were originally planned instead of 3. This is why S3 is theorized to take place over 2 years. Thus, due to this extra year, Varian would be 17-18 at the end of S3, not 16-17, as many people think. It would end on Rapunzels 22nd birthday, not her 21st. But is this true? Were 4 seasons originally planned? Was S3 meant to be 2 years instead of 1 as a result?

Also, sorry again if this is really long.

(Lately, I've been finding myself apologizing a lot at the end of these long asks, ever since you said you were gonna turn off anon. I don't even know why I'm apologizing, I know you don't mind...)

Let's tackle this one question at a time.

If you Google Rapunzel's birthday, you'll get May 12th. This is because someone at some point read the star charts she painted on her ceiling in the movie to determine her birthday and decided it meant her birthday was May 12th (for some reason -- I can't read star charts, so I have no idea how they're getting that). I, frankly, like my headcanon for her birthday much more and completely ignore the May 12th thing. It's not her official birthday, though, any more than the summer solstice is.

No one who worked on the series ever said the series was going to be four seasons. No one. Ever. At some point, towards the end of season three, people started saying there would be a season four, partly because they really wanted one (even though it had only ever been planned to be three seasons), and likely partly because originally the series was announced to have more episodes than it ended up having. I more than covered in my FAQ why this is. And therefore, S3 was not meant to take place over the course of two years. S1 is six months, S2 is (approximately) one year, and S3 is (approximately) one year when you include the epilogue (even though we don't know how long after the end of the episode the epilogue takes place). Varian is 14-15 in S1, 15-16 in S2 and 16-17 in S3. Or, alternately, he might be 13-14 in S1, 14-15 in S2 and 15-16 in S3. After all, we don't know when his birthday is, and since the series begins six months after Rapunzel's return, we don't know if his birthday falls before or after hers in the calendar year.

As for the inconsistencies of the holidays, have people even seen the writing of that show? It's inconsistent. They literally do what they want when they want. Maybe the Day of Hearts is based on a lunar cycle, rather than on a day on the calendar, and so the date it falls on fluctuates. Maybe the episodes aired out of order (some of them definitely did). There is definitely an inconsistent amount of time between episodes. It's not like one episode takes place every two weeks.

Maybe the fans just put more thought into it than the writers did.