#poor lime...maybe next time | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

punkshort · 3 months ago

Text

Something Unexpected

Thank you @pasc4lfuzz for this request!

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: It's been ten years since you lived in Texas, and of course the first week back, you run into a familiar face from your past.

Warnings: language, alcohol consumption, mention of OC death (reader's father), romcom vibes (bc of course), meet cute, shy!joel, flirting, sexual tension, smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected piv sex (reader on BC), sex in public

WC: 4.8K

Dirty Bill's bar was exactly as you remembered.

As the name implied, the place wasn't the cleanest. Even after Bill locked up for the night, your shoes used to stick to the floors and it was almost a guarantee to find a stray lemon or lime somewhere on the bar top.

His definition of clean never matched yours. Hell, it didn't match anyone's, but that didn't stop locals from frequenting the place regularly.

It had been years since you lived in Austin and worked at the bar. At least ten, maybe more. When you tended bar, you actually kept the place relatively clean, but you knew the second you walked in that Bill clearly went back to his old ways once you quit and moved.

To his credit, the place was still packed. You had to stand up on your tiptoes and crane your neck to find your oldest friend, Leah, sitting at the bar nursing a gin and tonic. You grinned and pushed your way through the crowd, doing a double take when you recognized a few poor souls from your bartending days drinking the same bottles of beer.

Some things really never do change.

"Leah!" you cried out excitedly as you approached. She swiveled around on her barstool with a huge grin when she heard your voice. Jumping down, you enveloped her in a huge hug, swaying her back and forth and holding each other as tight as you could. She looked a little older and she gained a bit of weight since she had her kids, but otherwise she was the same. Same bright blue eyes, same wavy blonde hair, same toothy smile.

"Oh, my god! I can't believe it's really you!" she exclaimed, leaning back but still gripping your shoulders so she could get a good look at you. "You look amazing," she added before dropping her hands.

"I was about to say the same to you," you said before sliding onto the barstool next to hers. She scoffed and shook her head.

"Don't bullshit me. After I had Aiden I was never able to lose the extra weight."

"I'm not bullshitting you," you laughed. "You were always too skinny before, I told you that tons of times. You look incredible. I mean it."

She blushed and waved you off. "What're you drinking? They have some specials til nine, that's when the fireworks are supposed to start, but sadly that's also when I'll have to leave," she said with a pout. "Babysitter's got plans. Can you believe the audacity? A twenty year old daring to make plans on the Fourth of July?" she asked, voice dripping with sarcasm. You laughed and took the stained piece of paper she held out for you.

"I can't believe he's doing specials now," you told her while you perused the menu.

"It ain't anything earth shattering. Bud's a buck cheaper and well drinks are two bucks each."

"And here I thought he dreamed up a cocktail menu," you replied with another laugh.

"Oh, honey, you know Bill won't even buy a goddamn blender for daiquiris."

It had been ten years since you left Texas and saw Leah, but just the way good friends do, you fell right back into each other without skipping a beat. Although the topics of conversation that had once centered around boys now focused on her children and work, you still found her so easy to talk to.

"And what about you? Now that you're back, what's the plan for work?"

You winced when you tossed back the rest of your drink and shook your head. "Don't know yet. I gotta get my head around going through all of dad's things and trying to sell that house. Hell, maybe Bill will hire me again," you joked.

"I know you're just kidding but he would in a heartbeat," Leah said before clearing her throat and taking on a more somber tone. "How're you holding up? Dealing with your dad passing 'n everything?"

You shrugged and smiled at the cute bartender who gave you both refills without having to ask. "I'm alright. It was a long time coming, he was sick for so long. I'm just glad he's not in pain anymore, but I miss him. This whole town just reminds me so much of him, you know?" you said, furrowing your brow while you watched your ice swirl in your glass. She nodded sympathetically and put a gentle hand on your arm. "It's so weird being back here now without him. Like I keep waiting for him to walk through the front door. It's why I can't keep the place. Too many memories, it's messing with my head," you said with a dry laugh before taking a sip of your drink.

"I get that. I can come by this weekend and help you for a few hours if you like," she said. You smiled at her and tilted your head to the side, overcome for a moment at how generous she was, knowing full well she had enough to deal with at home.

"Thanks, Leah. I'll let you know."

After another hour, the cute bartender cupped his hands around his mouth like a megaphone and announced last call for drink specials. Leah's face fell and she pushed off the bar with a sigh.

"Guess I oughta get going."

Sadness rippled through your chest at the thought of being alone again, but you tried not to let her see it. She had a family to go home to, a life.

"Thanks again for meeting me, I know it's hard for you and your schedule is so busy now," you said, giving her a hug.

She opened her mouth to reply when the cute bartender you had been eyeing up all evening put a drink in front of you.

"Oh, sorry, thanks, but I'm just about to leave," you told him. He wiped his hands on a towel and tipped his head to the side.

"It's on him."

Your gaze followed the direction in which his head tilted and you could hardly believe your eyes.

"Oh, boy," Leah muttered under her breath.

The man on the other side of the bar lifted his beer bottle to you before stepping away into the crowd. You could see his greying curls making their way through the throngs of people fighting to get one or two more cheap drinks and you felt anger slowly bubbling to the surface.

"Play nice," Leah warned you. You clenched your teeth and shook your head.

"I'm always nice."

She chuckled and gave you a kiss on the cheek. "Call me about this weekend."

"Yeah, okay," you replied distractedly, your heart thudding faster in your chest when the familiar looking man stepped through the crowd and sidled up next to you at the same time Leah disappeared, heading towards the door.

"Hey, darlin'. Hope you don't mind me buyin' you a drink," he said, his southern drawl thicker and slower than you remembered. "I'm Joel," he added, sticking his hand out for you to shake.

You stared at it too long, the alcohol buzzing through your veins and slowing down your train of thought.

"Yeah, I know who you are, Joel," you replied, ignoring his hand to glare up at him. "Do you really not recognize me?"

He swallowed and let his hand fall limp as he scanned your face, the gears in his head working overtime to try and place you, and the fact he didn't remember you hurt your feelings more than you expected.

"I, uh..." he trailed off and scratched his chin nervously. You rolled your eyes and leaned against the bar.

"I used to date your brother. For like, eight fucking months in high school. He stood me up for prom?" you reminded him, your tone turning icy. The realization clicked and his face softened when he quietly murmured your name.

"Oh, shit. Sorry, I didn't... thought you moved outta town."

"I did," you snapped. "I'm back now. Just got here last week."

He nodded and shifted his jaw to the side. It was like you could see the wave wash over him in real time: his memory recalling images of you in his mother's house, probably remembering stories Tommy told him when you weren't around, and finally, the uneasiness settled in when it dawned on him his brother could find out he made a move on his ex girlfriend.

But much to your surprise, Joel didn't come up with some feeble excuse and run off. In fact, he took Leah's abandoned stool and put his beer next to your untouched drink.

"Tommy was an asshole to you, wasn't he?" he asked. And even though it was ages ago, you could feel that wound in your chest slowly begin to open back up.

You shook your head and looked down at your hands.

"He embarrassed me. Dated me the entire school year, went to football games and every single house party together just to bring Jill fucking Parker to prom." You angrily took a long drink from your glass before setting it down a little too loudly on the bar. "Didn't even break up with me. Just... pretended like I didn't exist. Do you have any idea how much that hurt? I showed up an hour late, my hair and makeup all goddamn perfect, just to walk into the gym and see him dancing with her. Kissing her. Fucking dick," you muttered, raking your fingers through your hair.

Joel listened quietly, a sympathetic look on his face while you continued.

"I couldn't stay there. I turned right around and walked home. Cried the whole fucking night in some stupid fucking dress that matched his stupid fucking boutonniere."

Joel winced and shook his head. "I'm sorry. I - I remember some of that but I was too wrapped up in my own shit back then. Had one foot out my parents' door, had a girlfriend and was gettin' started in construction. I remember you at some family dinners but... I don't know, I'm real sorry, sweetheart. Didn't mean to ruin your night."

You sighed and rolled your shoulders. "You didn't, it's fine. It was a long time ago."

"Yeah, but it still hurts you. I can see it," he replied, his soft brown eyes boring into you.

"It shouldn't. I just haven't thought about all that in forever and so far, being back here is only bringing up shitty memories," you said sadly, stirring your drink absentmindedly.

Joel glanced around the bar, noticing it was beginning to clear as patrons filed out to the parking lot to get a good spot for the fireworks show about start in the town park down the street.

"C'mon," he said, abandoning his beer and taking your hand before sliding off the stool. "Let's go make a good memory. Fireworks are 'bout to start."

Your eyelids fluttered in surprise, first at the way he was holding your hand, and second at his proposition.

"Oh, we don't have to. I was going to head home, anyway," you told him. He was nicer than you expected about the whole situation, but it was bordering on pity, and that was something you certainly were not interested in.

"I ain't gonna keep you from leavin', but I could sure use the company," he said, still holding your hand. You chewed your bottom lip as you silently weighed your options. He smiled softly and gave your hand a little tug when he saw your resolve crumbling. "C'mon. I don't wanna watch fireworks alone."

You rolled your eyes and fought back the stupid smile from spreading across your face. "Alright, why not?" you said, hopping off your stool. You allowed him to drag you by the hand through the crowds of people mingling in the parking lot, through clouds of cigarette smoke and boisterous laughter until you reached his truck parked at the very corner of the lot.

Joel dropped your hand so he could unhook the tailgate, then jumped up with a grunt to unfold the pile of blankets he had shoved in the far corner. You took a few steps forward and watched curiously as he fluffed up two pillows, and you wondered if this was some kind of move he often pulled on girls.

"You came prepared," you said, trying to subtly test your theory. He glanced over his shoulder with a grin.

"Got stood up tonight," he replied, and the irony of it was too much. You burst out laughing, clapping your palm over your mouth.

"I'm sorry, it's just... what are the odds?"

He chuckled and, once he was satisfied with the blanket arrangement, extended an arm out to you.

"It was a blind date. Wasn't nearly as bad as bein' stood up for prom, but still stung a bit," he admitted. He clasped your hand in his and pulled you up into the bed of his truck with so much strength, you nearly fell against his chest.

"Oops, sorry," you said shyly when you had caught yourself from falling into his lap just in time. He just gave you another smile that was beginning to make your knees weak and leaned back into the bed of the truck. He readjusted his head on one of the pillows, one arm tucking behind his head with a sigh, and gazed up at the sky.

You looked around nervously, unsure what to do. The setting was a little too intimate to be in with your ex's brother, but no one else was around. The closest car with people in it was fifty yards away. And besides, if someone were to report back to Tommy, they would have already seen you together in the bar.

"So, why'd you move back?" Joel asked, his voice so much deeper now that you weren't surrounded by classic rock and loud conversations. You tucked your legs underneath you and looked down at him all stretched out. His shirt was riding up just an inch, exposing a sliver of tanned skin and a trail of dark curls leading past his waistband. You swallowed the lump in your throat and forced yourself to look away.

"Um, my dad died," you told him. His brows pinched together, giving you that look of pity that you had grown too familiar with.

"I'm sorry," he said, and you could tell he meant it.

"Thanks. He was sick for a long time," you explained, trying to downplay it, but he shook his head.

"Don't matter. Losin' a parent ain't ever easy."

You pursed your lips and nodded, staring down at your fingers twisting together in your lap.

"Suppose that's true."

He allowed you to sit quietly for a moment while you gathered your thoughts, waiting to see if you wanted to talk about it more or let it be.

"A blind date, huh?" you asked him, changing the subject.

"Yep. Blind date," he repeated, eyes flickering briefly down your body. "Don't wanna use no apps or shit. Thought it might be easier to do things the old fashioned way. Guess I was wrong."

"I know what you mean," you said. "It feels like it's impossible to meet anyone organically anymore."

He hummed and took a deep breath. "Like buyin' a girl a drink in a bar?"

You giggled and he grinned, the sound of your laugh sending a rush of adrenaline through his veins.

"Yes, but we already met before," you reminded him.

He nodded, smile still playing at his lips. "You use a lot of them apps?"

You felt your cheeks warm and shrugged. "Not really. I have used them, but not lately."

He bit the inside of his cheek and tried to ignore the nervous flutter in his chest when he asked, "That 'cause you got a boyfriend now, or..."

You laughed again and his nerves immediately calmed at the sound.

"No. No boyfriend."

He felt his hands shake while he struggled to come up with the right thing to say or do next when fate intervened and gave him the perfect answer.

A loud boom echoed from behind you and you jumped in surprise, then grinned when you tilted your chin up to see the fireworks had started. Joel cleared his throat, pulling your attention onto him.

"Gonna pull a muscle in your neck if you keep that up for the next half hour," he said, then patted the empty area next to him. You smiled shyly and it made his stomach flip.

"You're pretty smooth, Joel Miller," you teased before sliding down onto your back next to him so you could look up at the dark sky all lit up above you.

He tapped his chest nervously with the tips of his fingers, hardly paying attention to the fireworks now that you were so close that he could feel the heat from your soft skin and smell the scent of your shampoo burrowing its way into his blankets.

Unsure how to make the next move, he chose to go with a classic. He figured at the very least, you might laugh again.

"Why don't you get closer, darlin'? You look cold."

Sure enough, you did laugh, making his heart soar but to his shock, you also inched closer to him. Nestling into his side, you gently placed one of your hands on his stomach, but he could tell it made you nervous because your shoulders felt stiff and your breath was shallow.

"Is this okay?" he murmured after he wrapped an arm around you, his fingers brushing delicately over your arm.

"Mhmm," you said, feeling your skin prickle under his touch. He felt it, too, and pulled a blanket over you both.

How the hell did you end up in the back of your ex boyfriend's brother's truck, cuddled up under blankets and watching the fireworks? When you were getting ready earlier, your only hope was to find some distraction with an old friend for a couple hours. Whatever this was was a complete and pleasant surprise.

Both of you watched as your hand slowly crept up from his stomach to his chest, your hearts beating fast with anticipation. You tilted your chin up to look at him, those deep brown eyes meeting yours and in that moment, an unspoken understanding passed between you.

You met each other half way at the exact same time, pressing your lips together tentatively at first, then with more desperation. He tasted like stale beer but you loved it. It felt comforting. He was so warm and strong under your touch, his hand so big when it came to rest on the side of your face as he plunged his tongue greedily into your mouth for the first time. Somewhere in the back of your mind you realized what you were doing was probably wrong, that it could very well cause a problem between him and Tommy, but he was a grown man who knew exactly what he was doing when he took your hand in that bar.

You weren't exactly sure how it escalated, but it did. He rolled on top of you, pinning you with his weight while one hand skirted up your side, squeezing your breast before tugging the cup of your bra down underneath your shirt and rolling your nipple between two expert fingers. You moaned into his mouth and arched your back, pressing yourself into him.

"Joel," you whispered when his mouth trailed down your neck and his hips began to rut against yours.

"I know, 'm sorry," he panted, yet he didn't make a move to stop. "This probably ain't a good idea," he added, but just tilted his head so he could suck on the other side of your neck.

You bit your lip and tipped your head back, giving him better access.

"Probably not," you agreed when your hands found his belt. His lips stuttered against your throat when you deftly undid the leather and popped the button on his jeans.

"Shit," you whispered when his hand slid down the front of your shorts, his fingers petting at your sex through your panties.

"You want this, baby?" he asked, nipping at your collarbone. You squeezed your eyes shut and nodded, the fireworks in the sky matching the ones behind your eyelids.

"Say it," he commanded, voice dropping an octave and sending a shiver down your spine.

"I want it," you breathed before palming his erection through his jeans. He groaned and pressed himself further into your hand, encouraging you to rub his cock through the thick denim, your mind spiraling at how hard he was already.

He undid your shorts in record time, helping you shimmy out of them as quickly as possible, each of you panting for air, the excitement overwhelming.

"Joel, what if - shit," you cursed when he yanked your panties down and off, tossing them to get lost amongst the blankets. "What if someone sees?"

"Don't worry, I got you," he said, eagerly pushing his jeans down so they bunched up mid-thigh, then settled between your legs and tugged the blanket back over you both. "Ain't no one gonna see us, they're all lookin' up," he whispered before slotting your lips together once again.

Your brows pinched together and your mouth fell open when he first pressed inside, his impossibly hard cock parting your walls and making room for himself deep within your body. His hand cradled the side of your face, fingertips digging into the soft flesh of your cheek when he buried himself inside you with a grunt.

Your fingers found their way to the back of his neck, wrapping around the thick muscle there, threading through some of his hair and holding him close.

Joel bumped his nose against the side of your throat, his own gasps being drowned out by yours as he hid his face against your neck and slowly dragged his cock in and out. Each flex of his hips made you soften under him until you moaned his name into the night air, your voice being muffled by the fireworks overhead and oh, he liked hearing that. His name falling from your lips in ecstasy while he buried himself as deep as he possibly could inside your warmth caused him to think stupid thoughts and feel stupid things.

You wanted to ask him how he did it, how he made you feel so fucking good, how he managed to reach a place inside you that had your mind going numb and your skin tingling with anticipation, but you couldn't find your voice. You could only offer him small whimpers and throaty moans, hoping it would be enough to encourage him.

He panted against your skin, his wet exhale mingling with the humidity of the air, leaving your throat sticky and warm. His hand gripped your thigh, tugging your leg upwards, shifting you around until he found a position that pleased him.

His hips began to move faster when, in the back of his mind, he knew the fireworks would be wrapping up soon. He wished he could take his time with you. He wished you didn't have to hold back those pretty sounds that fell from your even prettier mouth. But fuck, you just looked so beautiful and you felt so good wrapped around him that he couldn't stop himself.

"Oh, god," you whined, fingernails digging into his upper back so hard that he could feel the pinch through the fabric of his shirt. "Right there, Joel, please," you whimpered, and he grinned.

"Y'feel so good, baby," he murmured in your ear, making sure to maintain the same pace within you, not wanting to deny you any pleasure. "So fuckin' good. Wanted you from the second I saw you tonight, y'know that?"

You moaned and continued to claw at his back, your eyes prickling with tears as your climax swelled low in your belly.

"I lied earlier," he admitted, watching your face closely when he said, "didn't sting at all that my date didn't show. Wouldn't've been able to keep my eyes off you the whole time, anyway."

You groaned and cried out his name, your hand slapping over your mouth and once again he grew angry with himself that he didn't just take you home.

"Joel," you whimpered behind your hand, and he yanked it down, uncaring if anyone heard at that point.

"Tell me what you want," he said roughly, hips fucking into you at a steady clip that made beads of sweat form against his hairline.

"Harder," you groaned, biting at his jaw, then latching onto his neck and sucking wet, open mouthed kisses there, hoping to leave a mark. "I'm close, fuck me harder," you repeated, and something primal in him unfurled at the command.

You buried your face against his shoulder when he started to snap his hips into you, his arms caging you in and keeping your body from sliding up the bed of the truck. You wrapped your legs around his waist like an anchor as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge, all the while his mouth dragged up and down your neck, your face, your shoulders... anywhere he could find skin, he left his mark.

Then he felt a familiar tightening around his cock and your body began to tremble underneath him, causing his stomach to tense and his hips to stutter. Your teeth clamped down on his shoulder when you came, your words muffled against his body, your hands scrambling against his back as if you were about to fall.

Maybe you were.

"Where?" he whispered frantically, and when you took too long to respond he grabbed your chin, forcing your eyes to lock. You were all fucked out, your body slack and your breath haggard as you gazed up at him, confused. "Where?" he asked again with more urgency, and finally it clicked.

"Inside," you replied, voice cracking. He shook his head like he was in pain and dropped his hand from your chin back down to your hip, pulling you impossibly closer while he continued to plunge inside of you. "It's fine, it's safe," you clarified for him, and that was all he needed to hear.

His mouth crashed over yours when he came, his kisses sloppy and his throat hoarse from the way his words turned into growls against your lips. He pulled back, breaking the kiss, and cupped your face again. Your noses brushed together and your eyes locked as his hips slowed down but still rocked into you, each surge of his cum punctuated by a soft ah until he finally stilled and collapsed.

"Christ," he grumbled against your shoulder. You gently raked your fingers through his hair while you each caught your breath, his body shivering when your nails scraped his scalp just right. He turned his head and gave you a little smile before tenderly pressing your lips together, then carefully sliding out of you with a grunt.

He rolled onto his back and yanked his jeans back up before searching around the ruffled blankets for your clothes. Right when the big finale began, he handed them back to you.

"Perfect timing," you giggled as you squirmed around under the blanket to put your clothes back on. Joel glanced around, his veins still pumping his body full of dopamine, and confirmed that nobody had been close enough to overhear, let alone see, what happened.

Once the fireworks stopped, the crowds of people in the parking lot clapped and began to head to their cars, headlights and engines turning on all around you.

You sat up and straightened out your shirt, trying to play it cool but internally you were freaking out. Was this a one time thing? It had to have been. Right? Did you want it to be a one time thing?

Then, Joel broke the awkward silence.

"Can I ask you somethin'? And you can be honest, it won't hurt my feelin's none," he said. When you looked over at him, he was looking off in a random direction, unable to look you in the face when he asked, "Was this just to get back at Tommy?"

You raised your eyebrows in surprise.

"N-no, of course not," you stammered. "I haven't even thought about Tommy in years. Besides, I wouldn't do something like that."

He tilted his head back in your direction and grinned.

"That's a relief, 'cause it mighta hurt my feelin's."

You laughed and tossed a pillow at him.

"You liar."

He chuckled and gently tossed the pillow back. You tucked it against your stomach as you stared at one another, each of you trying to work out what happened next.

"I wanna see you again," he said, answering your unspoken question, and you couldn't hide the delight from spreading across your face.

"Me, too," you said, and he smiled. A big smile, one that definitely made your knees weak that time. "But what about Tommy? I don't wanna cause some problem with you two."

Joel shrugged and took a deep breath. "Then maybe it can be our little secret."

A slow, mischievous smile tugged at your lips and you knew in that moment he was going to be trouble.

Please follow @punkshort-notifs and turn on notifications for fic updates ❤️

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller tlou #joel miller fanfic #joel x reader #joel the last of us #joel tlou #joel miller x you #the last of us au #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction

830 notes · View notes

thriftedtchotchkes · 1 year ago

Text

old dogs don't change

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: weeks after sleeping together, your no-strings-attached agreement goes up in flames when joel goes on a date with another woman. you make sure that never happens again. (sequel to keep it on the low)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, ex-boyfriend!joel, jackson era, tlou 2 jesse appearance, age gap, hurt, angst, smut, unprotected piv, post-breakup sex, rough sex, public sex, rough oral (m!receiving), exhibitionism, possessive behavior, jealousy, alcohol use, briefly dating other people

word count: 10.6k

You have no idea who she is, but you bet she’s a total bitch. Is that mean? Maybe. Do you give a shit? Nope.

To be fair, you’d probably say that about anyone Joel started dating after you, but that doesn’t mean it can’t still be true. Sure, you've never actually talked to her…or seen her before in your entire life, but that’s beside the point. She’s cute and bubbly, and everything you’re not, and that’s the point.

It’s honestly a little comical how different the two of you are, and you can’t help but wonder if Tommy did that on purpose. You know he was the one who set them up. Everyone in the dining hall was talking about it this morning. The latest, hottest piece of gossip, bouncing from table to table like a cruel game of telephone.

He probably thinks he’s protecting his big brother, but you think he needs to mind his own fucking business. It’s not like he knows anything about your relationship, not really. Well. It’s not your relationship anymore, is it? And Tommy, along with everyone else in this town, blames you for that.

Poor Joel, dumped by the biggest bitch in Jackson, who took advantage of his kindness and patience for years, and broke his heart when all he did was love her. Selfish, cold, and uncaring. Nothing like the pretty, perky girl sitting next to him in the booth they’re sharing at Seth’s.

If only they knew what really happened.

The bar is especially busy, even for a Saturday night, so you figure no one’ll notice you blatantly glaring at them. It’s not like you care, anyway. You’re feeling warm and loose, and maybe a little too tipsy for your own good, but tonight, you get to do whatever the fuck you want.

Because Joel’s sitting ten feet away with his arm slung around another woman, and it hurts.

It sucks way worse than him avoiding you since the last time you slept together, after all of the things you did and said on that couch. The things he said. You shoo away the thought with another swig of beer, wishing you were drinking something stronger. It's for the best.

If you get any drunker, you’ll probably end up doing something stupid, and the last thing you need is to prove everyone right that he’s better off without you. But you can’t seem to shake the anger that’s starting to simmer below the surface.

With the emotional toll this night has already taken, you kind of don’t want to. So, you surrender to it. Fuck him. He’s a piece of shit for parading his new girl around right in front of you, and for breaking off your agreement without so much as a word.

If he wanted to see other people, he should’ve opened his mouth and used his big boy words. Then again, he’s always been terrible at that, so why are you surprised?

Maybe he’ll fuck her tonight. Touch her all of the ways you like because that’s all he knows anymore. She’ll moan for him, soft and sweet, gentle in her affection, just like she’s touching him right now. But it won’t satisfy him, and when he’s panting on top of her, chasing that all-consuming release only you can give him, you know he’ll be pretending she's you.

Asshole.

You’re still watching them, shooting daggers from your spot at the bar, when your wish from earlier is granted. Two overflowing shot glasses topped with lime are placed in front of you, and you look up to see a very attractive dark-haired, brown-eyed man smirking down at you.

"Looked a little lonely over here," he says in a raspy baritone even lower than Joel's. He clinks the top of your beer bottle with the bottom of his own. "Thought you could use some company, maybe another drink."

Well, he’s right. You could use some company, and you’d love another drink. There’s no harm in having a little fun, right? If Joel’s doing it, then there’s nothing stopping you.

"So, both of these are for me, then?" you smile coyly, reaching for one. He nods, his own smile widening.

"Could be. Can I join ya?" he gestures to the empty stool next to you.

He has this cocky look on his face like he already knows you'll say yes, and in your inebriated state, you think it's kind of hot. It reminds you of Joel when you first met. How he knew exactly what he wanted and wouldn't give up until it was his. Until you were his.

You consider him for a moment. He’s young, maybe even younger than you, and obviously confident enough to make a move on you. Fleetingly, you think he might end up being that stupid thing you do tonight, but then you down one of the shots and decide you don't actually care.

What turns out to be tequila burns the entire way down, and you immediately pick up a slice of lime. You’re hyperaware of the way his eyes lock onto your mouth as you suck on the sour fruit, lingering when a droplet of juice dribbles down your chin.

It’s not a total surprise when he reaches up to thumb it away, but you are taken off guard by how strange it makes you feel. The pad of his finger is disappointingly smooth, no weathering or even a hint of a callus. You're not sure why that matters to you, but you can take a decent guess.

You chance a glance over at Joel's table and, of course, you have his full attention now. His entire body looks tense, from his hand clenched on the table to the prominent vein bulging angrily in his neck.

Good. Now he knows how it feels.

Looking back up at your mystery guy, you run your tongue along your bottom lip, catching any remaining lime before you finally give him an answer.

"Sure. Pop a squat, cowboy," you giggle. It doesn't even sound like you and feels wrong the second it passes your lips, but as long as Joel heard it, that's all that matters. "You got a name?"

He replies, but you're too busy keeping an eye on Joel in your peripheral to catch what he says. In the back of your mind, you think that’s probably a good thing. You'd rather not know, especially if you do end up taking him home.

Mystery guy laughs at your noncommittal hum and you realize you’ve been caught. But he doesn’t seem upset. It’s clear he’s amused by your obvious interest elsewhere and that piques your curiosity.

Any other guy here would’ve been pissed by your apathy, especially if they’d bothered to buy you a drink that you accepted, but apparently not this one.

He sits down on the stool next to you, pulling it close enough that his knee presses against yours. You unconsciously lean into him, your skin erupting in goosebumps despite your growing unease.

He's...baffling. A total enigma. You can’t figure out what his deal is or why he’s choosing to keep pursuing you when your eyes have been glued to another man all night.

The thought of letting this continue long enough to find out is a little thrilling. Might as well see where this goes. If it escalates, you’re more than confident in your ability to care of yourself.

But it happens sooner than you expect. His hand finds the back of your stool and, then, his lips are suddenly right next to your cheek. You can feel the warmth of them as he tilts his head to whisper in your ear.

“Look, not try'na to overstep, but…,” his eyes dart to where Joel’s sitting, unreservedly ignoring his date. The poor thing barely notices, chattering away about something not nearly as important to him as watching you. His gaze returns to you, and you can feel him smirking. “You wanna make that guy you've been staring at all night jealous?"

That’s—wow. You didn’t see that one coming. He’s got a lot of audacity to assume that’s something you’d want, let alone offer…what? His services?

But, then again, he isn’t wrong. Joel’s been the only thing on your mind since you walked into Seth’s tonight and saw him with her. He’s always on your mind if you’re being totally honest with yourself. It’s plain to see, obvious to every single person in this bar including the man himself.

You eye your mystery guy curiously for a second before nodding, your lips quirking into a small smirk. Maybe it’s time to prove to Joel and everyone else in this judgmental town that you’ve moved on, too. That you’re not the sad, bitter shrew that deserves to be alone.

"Yeah, actually, I do," you reply cautiously. But there's still one lingering question that has yet to be answered. "I just…why? I don’t get why you’re helping me. What are you getting out of this?”

He shrugs, and somehow you can just tell by the look in his eyes that there’s no hidden agenda. You’re not sure how you’re just noticing, but he has kind eyes. This whole time, he’s been nothing but patient and attentive, like Joel always was—...is?

Was.

You almost wish you could fall for someone like this man instead of pathetically clinging to your past. Maybe you’ll at least get a friend out of this crazy night, if nothing else. But then you remember one, tiny problem with that idea.

“Can you tell me your name again? I promise you have my full attention this time,” you smile sheepishly. He chuckles good-naturedly and, again, doesn’t seem to hold it against you.

“It’s Jesse,” he says with a deep, southern drawl you should probably be more attracted to. “And let’s just say I know how it feels to want someone ya can’t have.”

You nod slowly, understanding perfectly. Except—you didn't realize up until this moment that that's exactly what you want. Someone you can't ever have.

And it took seeing Joel with someone else, his body pressed up against a woman that isn't you, to realize it. Well, that fucking sucks.

You decide not to ask about Jesse's situation. It's not your business and, anyway, you're both trying to feel better about your circumstances, not worse.

There’s a silent sense of camaraderie between you that tells you to throw caution to the wind. Tossing back the second shot, you turn your stool to face his, literally and figuratively turning your back on Joel.

“It’s really nice to meet you, Jesse,” you murmur, and you genuinely mean it. He grins, leaning in slowly, still giving you time to back out if you want to, but you don't.

Eat your heart out, Joel Miller. This one's for you.

"S'nice to meet you, too," he replies softly.

Then, his lips are on yours. The kiss is wet and open-mouthed, and yet he handles you so delicately. He cradles your face in his hands as his tongue brushes against yours, and you moan softly into his mouth, letting your body get lost in the way he feels. And he feels so—

Much different than Joel.

All you can think about is how much you miss Joel's rough touch, the way he'd thread his fingers through your hair and tug you into his mouth, nearly devouring you whole. Joel kissed you like every time might be the last, right up until it actually was.

Fucking hell, why can't you just enjoy this without him ruining it for you?

You try to forget about it, about him, licking into Jesse's mouth a little more aggressively, and he groans, his body eager and responsive. It's probably more than you should be doing in public, sitting at a bar surrounded by people but, hell, you want them to see.

They can say whatever they want about you. You're done giving a shit.

And, boy, will they have a lot to talk about after tonight. Joel makes sure of that. It happens so fast, you barely register that Jesse’s lips aren’t on yours anymore like they should be.

One moment, Jesse's hands are trailing down your sides to your waist, and the next, he's being forcibly dragged off you. Between you stands a broad, imposing figure ensuring you stay separated.

Your mind goes blank, and all you can do is watch in shock and disbelief as Joel lets loose on him, his words possessive and almost nonsensical.

"The fuck you think you're doin' touchin' her like that? Y'need to learn how to keep your hands to yourself, kid, before ya get yourself in trouble," he grits out angrily.

To his credit, Jesse stays cool and collected, but it’s not enough. There’s already a few pairs of eyes on you, drawn by the physical altercation, and it won’t be long before the rest of the bar notices the impending fight.

"Respectfully, sir, s'long as the lady consents, I'll put my hands wherever she wants," Jesse replies, standing his ground. He tries to move around him to return to your side, but Joel fixes him with a look that sends a shiver down your spine.

"S'that really a good idea?" Joel sounds menacing and looks even more so the longer the conversation continues.

You’re still numb to everything unfolding in front of you and it’s not until Jesse’s next to you again, snaking an arm around your waist, that you finally come to. The reality of your situation hits you like a ton of bricks and now you’re mad. You open your mouth to retaliate, but Jesse cuts you off before you can get a word in.

“There a reason it wouldn’t be?” he turns the question back on Joel and you tense, anticipating a less-than-friendly answer. Jesse squeezes your hip in reassurance, but it does nothing to soothe your unease. He doesn’t know Joel like you do.

“Kid, do I look like I’m fuckin’ around? Take your hands off her and walk away. M'not gonna tell you again,” he all but growls, taking a threatening step forward.

Neither of you back down. Jesse’s arm stays firm around you as your nails bite into your palm. It's taking everything you've got not to make a bigger scene than you already have.

You knew it. Since the breakup, you’ve been trying to reconcile this increasingly unfamiliar man with the Joel you gave your entire heart to all those years ago. With each passing month, the differences between the two become more and more obvious.

He's angrier now and has so much less patience. It's not that he's unkind. You know that no matter what his circumstances are, Joel will continue to be a good man. But he has a hair trigger, especially when it comes to you.

And he wants. God, he always wants you. It’s not that you didn’t have an active sex life before everything fell apart. He just...fucks you differently now. Possessively and without restraint, like he needs to be sure you're satisfied enough to never need anyone else. The agreement to keep sleeping together was actually his idea. And it worked for a while—until it suddenly didn't.

Now, you're forced to come face-to-face with that reality. Sitting at this bar, you spent the entirety of the night believing he'd decided he didn't want you anymore, that he was ready to find happiness in something simpler than sneaking around with his ex.

Except, it's starting to feel like maybe that's not as true as he made it seem. Like he never should've gone on this date in the first place.

"What the fuck, Joel?" you hiss, fighting to keep your volume under control. Not that it matters. The entire bar is staring at you, their eyes ping-ponging back and forth like they're watching a tennis match. "Back the fuck off. Now. This is none of your business."

"The hell it ain't my business. Some kid's runnin' his hands all over another man's girl and y'think that ain't my business?"

His trembling hands clench into fists at his sides and, while you’re betting the rest of the bar thinks he’s preparing for a fight, that isn’t Joel. It might be you, though, if he keeps this up.

"Excuse me? And whose girl am I—yours? Because I'm pretty sure your girl is sitting over there in that booth. Or did you forget about your date?"

For a moment, he actually has the nerve to look ashamed, like he feels bad about leaving her all alone at their table and for humiliating her in front of all these people. He avoids her crestfallen gaze, likely not ready to face the hurt he’s caused.

But it only lasts for a second before his eyes darken again, focused solely on you. As if Jesse, his pretty date, and everyone else in this bar disappeared, and it's just you and him. This conversation doesn't include them anymore. It's a private matter now.

"We're leavin'," he says with finality, his tone leaving no room for argument.

He should know better. That's not how things work with you. You’re a fighter, a trait he’s always loved about you, even if your ire was directed at him. Back then, it rarely was.

"You're out of your mind if you think I'm leaving with you," you scoff bitterly. "Go back to your date, I'll go back to mine, and we can forget about this. All of it. We're done, Joel."

He shakes his head, mouth tipping down into a frown like he's thinking something over. Then, he huffs out a laugh. Like, an actual laugh, and you start to think maybe he really has lost his mind.

"Y'know, I really don't think we are, darlin'," he drawls dangerously.

He's on you in an instant, his hand wrapped tightly around your arm as he drags you out of the bar. You briefly consider resisting, but he's moving too quickly. All of those shots you downed combined with the beer you drank earlier go straight to your head, and you're suddenly overwhelmingly distracted by the feeling of his skin on yours.

Fuck, it feels like it's been so long. In reality, you know it's only been a few weeks but, god, you missed it. His hands on your body, anywhere at all on your body. You'd hate how quickly you forget about Jesse if you could think about anything else but those familiar, rough fingertips.

The way they dig into you, reminiscent of how he'd squeeze your thighs or clutch your waist when he was making love to you.

...Wait, what? No...no, fuck. Why is he making this so difficult? Why—Christ...why can't you just leave each other alone? If he never planned on letting you go, he shouldn't have broken up with you. And if he still wanted you this badly...all he had to do was ask. You would've said yes in a heartbeat.

So, you let him steal you away, out into the brisk, wintry air that does little to cool your fury or the heat beginning to coil in your belly. The door shuts noisily behind you, and you immediately wrench your arm out of his grasp before he can say a word. It's your turn to talk now.

"What is wrong with you? You can't just...fuck, you can't do shit like this!" You're seething, practically shaking in your rage, and his expression doesn't look much different.

"And you can? I dunno what the hell you were thinkin' gettin’ cozy with some goddamn kid, lettin’ him touch ya like that in front of the whole town," he reiterates harshly. He's starting to sound like a broken record. It's the only leverage he's got, and you both know it's flimsy at best.

"Some kid? Jesse's a fucking adult, clearly more mature than you," you bite back. "And it’s a bar, Joel. That's what people do at bars."

Joel scoffs, and you can tell he hates the way Jesse's name falls from your lips. Especially when those lips were on yours not even ten minutes ago.

"And who are you to decide who can and can't touch me? You broke up with me," you continue resentfully. "You don't get a say anymore."

At that, his face becomes unreadable. He didn't need the reminder, and you know that, but it needed to be said for both of your sakes. Sometimes you think maybe he actually forgets it was his choice to give you up. That he didn't realize his decision would hurt you as much as it hurt him.

"So, what? You gonna take him home then, let him fuck ya?" He leans in close, so close you can feel his soft, graying curls against your temple and the coarse drag of his beard across your cheek.

"Kiss ya here—," a finger trails delicately down the side of your neck to his spot above your collarbone, then continues down to where you've been aching for him for weeks, "—taste ya here."

You slap his hand away before he can get any further, but your reaction only spurs him on. How could you forget? He likes that.

"Y'know he can't make ya feel as good as I do. Fuck you just how y'like it, make ya cum as hard as I do," he drawls confidently, almost smugly, in your ear. "Don't ya?"

It's less a question than a statement, because you both know he's right. Joel knows your body better than anyone ever has, maybe even better than you know it yourself. Just as much as you know his. And it's sort of funny. You were thinking the exact same thing about him with his date earlier.

"Sure, Joel. Just like you were gonna take that girl home, right?" You raise an eyebrow, turning your head so your lips graze his skin. "Pretty little thing like her, I bet she likes it slow and romantic. She’ll probably even stick around for a snuggle and some pillow talk. You'd love that.”

Even as you mock him, the sneer marring your face doesn’t quite meet your eyes, and the spiteful nature of your words tastes acrid as they pass your lips. He’s so good at that. Always able to bring out the worst in you to prove his point—that he’s no good for you.

But you stand firm, your chest pressed flush against his in a show of determination. You're still in control here, unlike Joel, whose fingers are twitching noticeably at his sides like he's just itching to get his hands on you again.

"Maybe I would. Liked it with you, didn't I?" he murmurs wistfully, and that catches you completely off guard.

His words are almost too gentle to belong in this argument, and it doesn’t feel fair. What's worse, he looks like he means them. You’d prefer the fight, the aggression of the man who dragged you out of the bar. Not this. Not these traces of your Joel.

You can already feel your resolve slipping, and the rapid thrum of your heartbeat tells you to let it. When his hands finally take their rightful place on your waist, he’s in control again.

The cool evening air is suddenly stifling, and you’re starting to feel like you’re suffocating, your thoughts a jumbled, heated haze of anger and fear and want. He squeezes hard enough to pull your hips into his and you unintentionally buck, allowing his hands to travel up your shirt.

There's an intensity to his gaze, tinged with an unexpected tenderness. He almost looks...sated. Fulfilled, now that you're back in his arms. But not completely, not yet.

"You still haven't answered my question," he mutters. His hands splay across your ribcage, high enough for his thumbs to tease the undersides of your breasts.

You bite down hard on your bottom lip, sliding your hands up his chest to push him away so you can catch your breath, but your body won't cooperate. It's been well-trained to crave his touch. Exhaling sharply through your nose, you fist his shirt and instead pull him impossibly closer.

"You asked a lot of questions tonight. You're gonna have to be a little more specific,” you pant heavily.

It's getting more difficult to think, now, with the warmth of his body against you, his thumbs shifting higher to stroke your stiffening nipples. He urges your hips forward again to meet his, and you can already feel him straining in his jeans.

You whimper helplessly, unable to curb the way your body's reacting to him, and the soft sound causes something in him to snap. He suddenly backs you up against the hard brick of the bar's exterior and begins to grind languidly into your stomach.

"Y'really believe that boy can take care of a woman like you? Hm?" He interrogates you, his voice gravelly and uneven in your ear. "Tell me I'm the only one who can give you what ya need. Wanna hear ya say it."

Fuck, you can't lie to him. As much as you want to, it's just one more thing your body won't allow you to do. Not when he's working you up like this.

"You're the only one," you moan around your admission. He's still crowding you into the wall, his hands greedily roaming your soft curves.

His eyes meet yours, darting quickly to your mouth before he leans in to kiss you passionately like he’s rewarding you. It only lasts for a second, one deliciously fleeting second, before he pulls away. You’re not sure why you let him. Or why you kissed back.

"Who's the only man who can make ya scream?" he demands a little more urgently.

"You, Joel,” you murmur obediently, your lips already parted and ready for your prize.

And he acquiesces—another insistent kiss that doesn’t last nearly long enough. This time, you chase him, but he jerks his head back. He still has one last question for you. Except, this time, he looks afraid of the answer.

"Whose girl are ya?"

He whispers it so softly, you barely catch it over the whistling, nighttime breeze. As he brushes a few ruffled strands of hair behind your ear, you answer without hesitation.

"Yours, Joel."

His entire body relaxes. Now, he's complete.

"Damn right, you are—"

Then, the front door bursts open next to you, and he's abruptly cut off. Joel is quick to tug you around the corner into the alleyway before anyone can spot you, but he's not fast enough to keep you from seeing who just left the bar.

Jesse.

And there it is. A shock to the system, enough to clear some of that smoky, nostalgic haze and bring you back to the present. But as everything hurtles back for the second time tonight, this time around, you can’t be mad because he’s right.

Of course, you're not Jesse's girl. As pathetic as it sounds, you'll always be Joel's because he’s the only one who can take care of you and give you what need. The only man who can make you scream. But that goes both ways.

Even though he’s been picking fights all night, he hasn’t raised his voice once. It's not the way he wins his battles. So, maybe it's time to remind Joel Miller that there is someone who can make him scream. But he isn't allowed to unless you say so.

It all feels eerily familiar—his fingers digging into your waist and your lips crashing into his hard enough to bruise. You lead him deeper into the alley, back to where the glow of the string lights above the bar can't reach you, before you separate from him.

Neither of you wants to be the one to say it, but it needs to be heard. Here, in the dark, you can be his completely, but once you part ways and return to your empty beds, that's it. Just like last time. The reasons for your breakup are still very real, and that means your relationship can't be.

"Only here. Right, Joel?"

He stays silent for a moment, his gaze filled with deep longing and sadness. It almost makes you want to take it back. Take him back. So, when he shakes his head and cups your cheeks, kissing you like this might be his last chance, you're not surprised in the slightest.

And after this whole night—this whole confusing, fucked-up night—you let him. Right now, he needs this. Maybe you do, too.

His lips taste like whiskey and relief, and you return his kiss with all of the passion and fervor he’s pouring into you. You’re both a little frantic in the way you touch each other, but as much as you don’t want it to, it makes perfect sense.

Those few weeks without each other felt like years, and now that his hands are back on your body and his voice, deep and dulcet, is in your ear telling you how badly he wants you, you don’t want to let him go again.

You grind the heel of your hand into the front of his jeans and his responding groan pleases you more than it probably should. This. This is yours—his pleasure, his attention, him. They belong to you and you alone. Not his pretty, perky fucking date.

The sudden possessiveness stuns you for a moment, but it's not enough to stop the feeling from consuming you. This must be how it feels for Joel. It's potent and feels so, so…right. You're starting to think you've felt this way for a while.

"I needed you, and you made me wait so fucking long," you gasp against his lips, and the fingers cradling your face tense. You’re still fisting his shirt, nearly hard enough to tear, and you wrench it up from where it’s tucked into his pants.

"M'sorry, darlin', I know. I know I did,” he rasps back, following your lead and dropping his hands from your cheeks so he can unbuckle his jeans. “M'gonna make it up to ya. Tell me what you want, I’ll give it to ya.”

You want everything. Everything he has to give, you want it all. After everything you've been through, the hurt he caused you, you deserve it. And right now, what you want is for him to feel so good, he'll never go on a date with someone who isn't you ever again.

Sharp gravel bites into your bare skin as you drop to your knees in front of him. He's already so hard under all that heavy fabric and looks desperate above you. Just as desperate as you are for him to replace the flavor of Jesse's tequila and lime on your tongue with something saltier and headier, and undeniably Joel.

You hastily unbutton and unzip his jeans, not wasting any more of the precious time you have left together, before tugging them down just enough to free his cock and balls. He looks...fucking mouth-watering—flushed and red and leaking, and so goddamn thick. You wrap your hand around him and he sighs gratefully, dribbling precum onto your fingers.

"This is what I want," you finally reply, keeping your eyes locked on his as you lean forward to lick a broad line up his cock. He hisses in a breath through his teeth, his thighs already beginning to tremble, and you brace your hand on one. "But you're gonna be quiet, okay? I'm gonna suck your cock and you're not gonna make a single sound."

His expression darkens, but he agrees to your terms, nonetheless.

"Sure, darlin'. Whatever you say," he nods, gazing down at you with furrowed brows. He cradles your face in his hand and brushes his thumb along your cheekbone.

The affectionate gesture isn't lost on you, but this time you accept it. Instinctively leaning into his touch, you revel in it for a brief moment before his cock pulsing a frantic rhythm against your palm becomes an unignorable distraction. But a welcome one.

"That's my boy," you mumble against the tip. Just as a pained noise escapes his parted lips, you swallow him down as far as you can take him, purposely gagging yourself on him before you can dwell on the words that accidentally just tumbled out.

Your boy. Your boy. It echoes in your mind, ricocheting wildly and painfully like a bullet. Before you can take it back, maybe even to keep you from taking it back, he buries his fingers in your hair and holds you in place. You choke around him, trying your best to breathe through your nose, but in doing so, you take in a lungful of the heady musk at his base.

The familiarity of it all sends you reeling. He only gives you a second to adjust before he's fucking into your mouth and biting back a litany of needy sounds that rival your own wet, audible gagging. Your grip on his thigh tightens as your throat relaxes, allowing you to take him deeper, and you can feel yourself clenching around nothing every time he grazes the back of your throat.

Tears stream down your cheeks and he wipes them away with a much too tender swipe of his thumb, even as he continues to force you up and down his cock. But you're too lost in your pleasure to notice anymore. So fucking good, you feel so, so good. But you need more, and you're not willing to pull off of him just yet.

Tugging down the front of your shirt, you roll a sensitive nipple between your fingers, and, god, that helps. You imagine they're Joel's and it amplifies the sensation, though your fingertips are still too smooth and delicate. Then, they're replaced by exactly what you've been yearning for all night.

“You don’t even know how beautiful y'look like this,” he grits out, his fingers running through your hair with one hand and roughly cupping your breast with the other. His hips stutter, and you moan around him. “Fuckin’ perfect. How are ya so fuckin’ perfect?”

Beautiful. More beautiful than her? Well, you must be, because you’re the one here on your knees, choking on his cock, and she’s still sitting in the bar wondering if her date will ever come back.

He won’t.

You preen without meaning to, your eyes blearily finding his while you drool around him, dripping saliva down his balls and onto your bare breasts. It's as if the visual alone has him thrusting into your mouth faster, pushing your limits only as much as he knows you can take. You must look like a wet dream right now, his wet dream, with your watery eyes and swollen, split-slick lips wrapped tightly around him.

Yet, he's remained so, so quiet this entire time, just like you told him to. Joel likes his sex loud, regardless of where you are and who might hear, so if he’s following your rules, that means something.

It means he'll do whatever it takes to have you. The realization crashes over you like a bucket of ice water, and then you're pulling off of him.

“You’ll give me anything, right? Anything I want?” your voice cracks around the question, wrecked from the effort of taking him. His hips chase your hand as you continue to pump him, matching his previous, unforgiving pace.

“That ain’t a question, y’know I will,” he replies breathily and without hesitation.

You gaze up at him, praying your eyes convey all of the need and anguish and hope you've felt since the last time you slept together. Since the last time you were his.

“Fuck me," and you won't accept anything less than his all. Not that half-assed shit he would've given her. "Fuck me."

He understands. His heart rate kicks up, thrumming wildly against the palm of your hand, and you know he does.

The growl that rumbles through his chest is nearly soundless but powerful. An entire night's worth of tension culminating in a single exhaled breath, just before he drags you up and spins you around, bending you over against the wall.

Bracing yourself on the harsh brick, you rush to give him better access, arching your back as he tugs your pants and underwear down to your knees. A callused hand runs upward, following the notches of your spine, while his other spreads across your waist, pulling your hips back onto his so you can feel him, heavy and leaking against your bare ass.

God, he’s so close to where you need him now. His knuckles graze your skin as he grips the base, pumping himself before the blunt head of his cock nudges your entrance.

But then, for some godforsaken reason, you feel a wave of panic. Time suddenly feels like it's running out, worsening with every subtle movement he makes. The ticking clock of your and Joel's relationship, perpetually stuck at two minutes to midnight, has sprung to life and that terrifies you.

You don't want him to stop—fuck, you don't want him to stop, but you know neither of you will last long once he's inside you. The build-up was too intense and this entire night has you both wound up so tight, you could snap at any moment.

You need to savor this. The way you failed to on your couch all those weeks ago, and might not get to ever again.

“Slow,” you tell him over your shoulder, and it's equal parts a command and a plea. If this is the last time, then you want to feel it. Every thick inch of him, while he still belongs to you. “Just…go slow.”

He nods, shifting forward almost imperceptibly so he can watch your lashes flutter as you brace for the stretch.

"Don't need’ta tell me. I know how ya like it," he replies gruffly.

He does. For now, you won’t overthink it or let yourself get lost in the nostalgia of his cock nestled inside you. You’ll just enjoy it. Sex with Joel has always been mind-blowing, and here, in a dirty alleyway, pressed up against the exterior of a bar, you bet it’ll be life-changing.

It stings like it always does when he breaches your entrance, no matter how wet you are for him. Together, you hiss in a sharp breath, mutually adjusting to the overwhelming stretch that quickly ebbs into something addictive.

"Tight as all goddamn hell," he mutters to himself, rocking into you languidly. He takes his time, relishing your walls enveloping him, mesmerized by the way you suck him in until he's buried to the hilt.

"Would'ja look at that," he continues in awe, tracing where his cock is forcing you to yield to him. "Greedy fuckin' pussy, ain't she? M'not goin' anywhere, don't'chu worry. Gonna take care of ya...make ya feel so fuckin' good..."

He's starting to babble. Not good. Not good at all.

Broad hands grip your ass, pulling your cheeks apart so he can see how tightly you’re gripping him, and it's too much. His hips buck, startling a pained whine out of you as he rams into that spot. The one deep inside you he can only reach when he’s fucking you from behind. Your cunt clenches, fighting to keep him there, and he growls low in his throat, hungry and territorial like a wild animal.

"There it is," he nudges it again, purposefully this time. You barely manage to bite back a sob as you gush messily around him. "Christ, honey, y'sure ya still want it slow? 'Cus it sure don't sound like it."

He's patronizing you. He knows exactly what he's doing—that's his spot. He also knows it makes you loud as fuck. But he wouldn’t. There’s no way he’d go back on his word, not after he promised he’d be discreet.

"Joel. Don't," you warn him shakily, but you're already too far gone to be intimidating.

He pulls out until just the tip is still inside you, huffing out a distinctly calculated breath.

"Don't what? Don't make ya cum nice and loud on my cock? 'Fraid I can't do that, darlin'."

That's all the warning you get before he slams in hard. Your jaw drops, and you're positive you couldn't have stopped the wail punched out of your chest even if you'd tried.

Wrong. You’re wrong again, and you should’ve known better. It’s not the first time he’s gone back on his word, remember? Joel’s shitty lack of communication is why you’re here in the first place. Sure, he agreed to be quiet, but he never said anything about you.

He establishes a brutal pace that has you scrabbling against the wall for purchase and slapping a hand over your mouth in a futile attempt to muffle the desperate cries being forced from your body.

Please, don’t be outside. Please, please, Jesse. Don’t still be outside.

But your luck's officially run out.

Heavy mahogany crashes into solid brick, echoing down the alleyway, and a raucous group of people spills out onto the street, barely 30 feet from where your ass and tits are out for anyone to see. Then, the deep baritone of Jesse's voice cuts through the rest, and your blood immediately turns to ice.

You're fucked. You're about to get caught and expose your secret to the entire town, except...Joel isn't stopping. Fuck, he's—

Yanking your entire body up and ripping your hand away from your mouth, rutting into you like he was just waiting for an audience. He snakes a hand up your stomach to palm at your chest, squeezing firmly to anchor himself as he fucks up into you with all the force he can muster.

And it turns you on so much, you finally stop caring. Fuck it. Fuck this town. Fuck everyone in that bar who made you feel like a goddamn pariah for months, crucifying you for the unforgivable sin of getting your heart broken.

You hope his date's standing out there, too, so she can hear everything she'll never get to have. So they can all see that Joel Miller isn't the crushed, cruelly dumped old man they all thought he was.

Your moans ring out, loud and high-pitched, all but drowning out the messy slap of his hips into the drenched curve of your ass.

"That's it, darlin', let it all out," he chuckles darkly against the shell of your ear. Your next moan tapers into a drawn-out keen that he mimics, his thrusts getting shallow and sloppy. "S'for me, right? Let 'em know you're makin' all those pretty noises just for me."

Christ, you're close. And he's as close as you are, you can feel it. You turn your head, nodding jerkily into his shoulder.

"S'for you, Joel—mmph, just for you. Only for you," your words slur as he continues to bounce you on his cock.

"Tell 'em you're mine, darlin’. Not just here," he pants raggedly, desperation coating his words. "Everywhere. You're mine everywhere."

The voices are getting closer, about to pass the mouth of the alley, and the ice in your veins quickly thaws, turning to molten lava. They'll definitely be able to able to hear you, but can they see you? For the umpteenth time tonight, you decide you really don't give a shit. You've got none left. You and Joel, that's all that matters now.

His hand drops between your legs, thick fingers swirling tight, slick circles into your clit while he waits for you to confirm what he already knows. You've said it again and again—weeks ago, wrapped up in his arms, and earlier tonight, after the worst argument you've had since the breakup.

And you’ll tell him again in this alley as you cum blindingly hard around his cock. Third time's the charm.

"Y-yours, Joel. I'm always yours."

His hips completely lose their rhythm, and he barely has time to breathe out his contentment before the violent convulsing of your cunt and contrasting serenity of your words send him hurtling over the edge.

"That's my girl."

He crashes his lips into yours, swallowing every noise you make as the group finally comes into view. Their drunken chattering and roughhousing aren't enough to draw your attention away from each other, but the depraved sounds of Joel continuing to fuck you through your release captures theirs almost immediately.

A few of them stop to squint into the darkness, trying their best to pinpoint what everyone already knows is happening further down the alley. As they inch closer, they can just barely make out two connected figures, and the wind carrying muffled gasps and labored breathing with it into the street all but confirms it.

"Y'all seein' this?" they whisper amongst themselves, but in the inebriated state they're in, they might as well be yelling.

And that's what pulls you and Joel back to reality. Shit. Shit. So, this is it, then. You tense in Joel's arms, waiting to get called out as the slutty girl who seduced her ex away from his date. Hell, they're not even wrong. You can feel his cum dribbling out of you, and can't help but think maybe you'd deserve it.

From where you're standing, you recognize each and every one of their faces under the string lights, and you know damn well that none of them can keep their mouths shut. Except...wait a second. They're still glancing back and forth between you and Joel in the shadows and each other.

Oh. The fucking shadows. None of them can see shit. They have no clue who the hell they're looking at. Joel must've caught on around the same time you did, because now he's backing up, putting more distance between you and the looming crowd. Before they can get any closer, one of the younger guys cuts in front to block their path.

“C’mon, it's probably a couple’a teenagers. Just let ‘em be," he drawls, glancing back at you. Your eyes lock, and you're suddenly so grateful, you could cry. It's Jesse. He shoots you a wink before turning back to the group, shaking his head in mock admonishment. "Don't act like y'all weren't doin' the same damn thing at their age."

By some miracle, it fucking works. They all laugh in agreement, appeased by Jesse's quick thinking. One by one, they follow each other out of the alley and back onto the road to continue their original path home. Jesse lingers.

"Glad y'all figured things out," he calls out over his shoulder, giving you privacy to tug your shirt back up. He clears his throat awkwardly before continuing, "Look, I, uh...distracted as many people as I could from comin' over here, but if y'all were gonna be that loud, maybe you should'a figured things out at home."

Jesse shakes his head again, chuckling to himself as he shoves his hands into his pockets.

"Anyway, y'all have a good night, now. Get home safe."

As he jogs away to catch up with the rest of the group, you start to laugh, too. You can’t help it. It feels cathartic, relieving some of the tension of this overly eventful night.

Joel’s body begins to shake behind you, his chest rumbling with what you realize is deep-bellied laughter. It gradually increases in volume as it melds seamlessly with yours; transitory, white clouds of condensation that intertwine, then dissipate.

You feel him slip out as he starts to soften, and then he turns you to face him, carefully crowding you into the wall. He kisses you again, this time slow and deliberate like you asked him to earlier. His tongue meets yours, gasps exchanged and treasured like you have all the time in the world.

When he parts from you, it feels reluctant, but he stays close, whispering his next words against your lips.

“M’gonna get ya cleaned up, alright?” he mumbles, dropping his arm from around your waist to run his fingers up the cum leaking down your thighs. You shiver as they continue up, slipping his release back inside you. “Don’t…,” he continues, squeezing his eyes shut as his forehead drops to yours, “…just—don’t go anywhere. Please. I’ll be right back.”

Maybe he’s trying to protect himself from the response he anticipates you’ll give him, but that seems silly after everything you’ve been through tonight. You cup his cheek and thumb the coarse, trimmed hairs of his beard, willing him to open his eyes. He does, hesitantly, one then the other, and you offer him a soft smile.

“I’m not going anywhere, Joel.”

An intoxicating breath fans across your face, and the taut muscles in his neck and shoulders loosen. His lips match the soft quirk of your own and, then, brush fleetingly against your cheekbone as he backs away and disappears through a metal side door you didn't notice before. The moment it clicks shut, you slump against the wall.

Christ. Your mind is simultaneously blank and racing a mile a minute. Taking a deep breath, you let your head thunk into solid, grounding brick while you wait for even a single coherent thought to take root. What now? What happens next?

There's no coming back from tonight. You both made choices you'll have to answer for, but, for some reason, that doesn't seem so scary anymore. The clock is ticking, but there's time. Plenty of it.

You're still lost in your reverie when Joel gets back with a thick wad of damp paper towels. You snort at the idea of him suddenly appearing in Seth's kitchen and having to explain himself, but maybe the racket you kicked up right outside his door was explanation enough.

"Seth didn't give you any shit for stealing his stuff?" you ask as Joel drops to his knees and coaxes one of your legs over his shoulder.

The cold air has already started to leach the warmth from the paper towels, and they feel cool as he slides them along your soiled skin. He huffs out a laugh.

"Nah, the kitchen was empty. Think they're startin' to close up for the night."

When he finishes your first thigh, he surprises you by leaning in to press a soft kiss against your freshly cleaned skin. He nips at you teasingly before starting on the next one.

You hum in response, threading your fingers through his hair and watching fondly as he pays careful attention to his task. He continues to wipe away his drying release, trailing his lips down your thigh as he goes, until he finishes at your knee.

He gazes up at you with a charmingly crooked grin, and that’s when it finally slips out. The single coherent thought you’ve been waiting for.

“I love you, Joel,” you murmur, brushing your fingertips across his cheek.

His smile falters. Then, it drops completely and your heart shatters. You don’t understand. But that—no. No, it doesn’t make any fucking sense. After everything that’s happened, how could you have been wrong again?

Joel sighs, grimacing as he slowly gets back up. He braces himself on one knee, clearly aching more than he's letting on, but when you reach down to offer him a hand, he refuses your help.

“S’fine, I got it. Just…,” he gestures to your jeans, still hanging loosely around your knees. You pull them up, fighting not to feel humiliated as he rises to his full height.

You search his eyes for…something. Anything. Any indication of what he’s feeling right now, but they’re blank. Cold and distant, just like they were the night he left you.

No. He doesn’t get to do this to you again. Not after everything you’ve been through. Not without an explanation. Not if he doesn’t want to lose you forever.

“Tell me why you broke up with me."

For a long time, you genuinely believed you could live without knowing the truth, but somewhere along the line, it began to eat away at you. Now, you want the real reason. He owes you that, at the very least.

You wait while he either works himself up to it or tries to figure out what bullshit to tell you this time. Once his hands settle on his hips, you know with absolute certainty it's the latter.

“Darlin’…,” he starts wearily, but you shoot him a look that stops him in his tracks. He doesn't get to call you that right now, and he knows it. Pausing, he nods grimly before beginning again. "We already talked about this. I’m no good for ya. It was only a matter of time before ya woke up one day and realized it for yourself.”

There it is. That same bullshit reason. You scoff bitterly, not surprised in the slightest.

“What the fuck does that even mean, Joel? We were together for years. If that was gonna happen, don’t you think it would’ve already?" you counter angrily.

You're trying not to get emotional. This can't be a repeat of what happened last time, but it's dragging up too many painful memories. It's always the same fight. You can't do this anymore.

"You know what? Fuck you," you seethe as your self-control slips completely. "Fuck you for making that decision for me. You had no right."

At your words, his face crumples and he has the nerve to look ashamed. Maybe even a little hurt. His pained expression makes your heart ache, yet a nastier part of you believes it's only fair that he feels this way, too. He sighs, his eyes dropping wistfully to his feet.

“I did what I thought was best," he mumbles quietly as if he doesn't want to be heard. It's hard for him to say this out loud, and you realize it's because he's finally telling you the truth. "I just…I thought you’d be happier with someone else, someone who could give ya a family. Kids. I gave you up so you could have the life ya always wanted."

You eye him incredulously. The life you always wanted? Sure, you and Joel had toyed with the idea of having a family once upon a time, but that was never a dealbreaker. He should've known that. He should've brought it up before deciding to destroy your life together over an idealized fantasy.

“Oh, here we go. Joel, the fucking savior. Mr. Fix-It, swooping in to save everyone and solve every problem," you hurl back venomously. But it was a cruel thing to say, and you immediately hate yourself for it.

Rationally, you know his intentions were kind. He probably even thought he was being selfless. But he hurt you, and, through your tunnel vision, that's all you can see. You push yourself off the wall, stalking closer to where he stands, still refusing to look at you.

"So what, you thought you’d dump me and I’d immediately shack up with some other asshole? Is that really what you think of me?”

His eyes shoot up to yours and his fingers begin to tap restlessly at his sides. Now, you've pissed him off.

“Don't go puttin’ words in my mouth. That ain’t true and you fuckin’ know it," he all but growls, his body shaking with a turbulent combination of frustration and adrenaline.

You're starting to feel it, too. This conversation is overwhelming both of you, but he still hasn't told you everything. There's a piece missing, keeping all of his disjointed reasonings from adding up. He's holding back and it's time for him to stop.

“Then what is, Joel?" you plead with him to give you a definitive answer. One that finally explains why you had to lose everything. Ellie, your home. The love of your life. "What’s the truth?"

Then, everything he's kept bottled up inside and allowed to poison his happiness claws its way out as a single, unwavering statement.

“I’m too fuckin’ old for you!”

The silence that follows his admission is deafening. You watch in shock as he runs a hand through his hair in frustration. He's never yelled like that before or looked so defeated. By something as innocuous as his age.

It isn't something you'd ever considered, not before your relationship and never once during. But he did. His bottom lip starts to tremble as he turns and takes a few steps away from you.

“Every day, I’d watch ya…offerin’ to take more shifts, spendin’ time at the school with Ellie and the kids," he says softly, shaking his head as he works through his next words. "And every day, I’d feel it. My body givin’ out on me, more and more. My blood pressure’s up, my goddamn knees are creakin’. Couldn’t even fuckin’ stand up on my own just now."

When he turns back to you, his eyes are wet with unshed tears. He feels too far, but you know you can't go to him, yet. He's not finished.

"You can do better than that. You deserve better than that," his voice cracks and your whole world blurs into a wash of colors. “You’re gonna outlive me by a mile. I’m an old man, darlin’. It wasn’t fair for me to keep ya.”

For a while, you just watch each other. Tears overflow and continuously spill down his cheeks and yours, but neither of you moves to wipe them away.

None of this is fair. You're both miserable and heartbroken, perpetually yearning for a love you've told yourselves you can't have. Months ago, Joel made a choice for both of you. You won't make the same mistake he did.

"I didn't want fair, Joel. I wanted you. A life with you...," your face screws up as you fight back a sob, "...the rest of my life with you, however long that is."

Joel takes a tentative step forward, carefully reaching out to touch you, but stops himself before he can get too close. He looks afraid...of you. Scared of the consequences of allowing you back into his heart.

A sob escapes your chest, then, and you wrap your arms around yourself, suddenly bitterly cold and wanting nothing more than for Joel to hold you. To tell you for the first time since the breakup that he loves you and, regardless of time, won't ever stop.

So, you cross the alleyway and cup his wet cheeks in your hands, wiping away his sadness and, hopefully, his fears. He melts into the poignant familiarity of your touch and it makes you brave. This time, you'll be brave enough for both of you.

"Don't I deserve that?" you whisper, close enough to share his next breath. He watches your lips, hanging onto your every word. "Don't you?"

His eyes meet yours, and it finally happens. The moment Joel gives in and decides to let himself be happy. He nods slowly in your grasp, reaching up to cradle your hand on his cheek.

"Dunno what I deserve, darlin'. Not after the things I've done and the hurt I put ya through. But if I'm...if this is really what ya want...," he hesitates, his voice thick with tears and, yet, still that full-bodied, twang that sounds like home. "I'm yours. 'Til my last breath, I'm yours."

He kisses you before either of you can start crying again, and it's all there. The love he kept under lock and key to protect you, released from the prison of his own making.

His kiss feels different again. There's no hunger or rush, and the possessiveness—the need to devour everything you have to give so there's nothing left for anyone else—is gone. He's sure, now, that there's no one else you'd rather give yourself to.

His arms circle your waist and he pulls you closer, crushing you into time-worn chambray and sullied denim as you continue to explore each other like a pair of horny teenagers. Two lovers learning to give and take for the first time. Time passes slowly in this space you've carved out for yourselves, even as the moon continues to rise in the night sky and floods the corridor with light.

Then, noisily and as if right on cue, the last-call crowd stumbles from the bar and immediately catches what the previous group missed. You and Joel separate, dazed but unhurried, to find that it's them.

It has to be fucking kismet that, of everyone in Jackson, the first to witness your reconciliation would be the biggest blabbermouths in the entire town. The same women who talked shit about you every day for months and constantly vied for Joel's attention, standing there with wide eyes and slack jaws.

Their varied expressions almost make you want to laugh, and you can't help but snort unattractively into Joel's shoulder. Half of them are glaring at you, and the rest look either devastated or genuinely surprised. Guess you were better at hiding your arrangement than you thought, not that it matters anymore. It's a relationship again, and everyone's about to know all about it. Joel clears his throat, drawing their attention back to him.

"Evenin', ladies. S'there somethin' we can help ya with?" he drawls, breaking out the Southern charm that endeared every single one of them to him in the first place.

They all shake their heads, looking a little too pleased with themselves once the initial shock wears off and they realize you've just given them the gossip of the century. After a few fake, high-pitched pleasantries, they slink away as quickly as they came, already chatting to themselves about some shit you'll definitely hear tomorrow at breakfast. You watch them go, feeling oddly liberated.

"Guess the cat's outta the bag, huh?" You wrap your arms loosely around his neck, still chuckling softly to yourself. Joel huffs out a laugh, too, bending down to kiss the crown of your head before nodding in agreement.

"'Fraid so," he muses, amusement and a hint of something lighter glinting in his eyes.

You haven't seen him this relaxed in a long time. As he holds you in his arms, he leans a fraction of his weight on you to ease the night's strain on his back and knees, and it makes you feel needed. Relied on. That's new, Joel depending on you like this. Things are going to be different this time around, you can tell. They already are.

You hum, ruminating on what awaits you after your first night back in your own bed, in your own home. What everyone will think and say—to your face and behind your back—when they find out you're back together. Though, the only opinions you give a shit about are Ellie, Tommy, and Maria's, anyway.

So, yeah, you're a lot of things right now: exhausted, yet relieved and so full of hope. But you're not afraid, the cat and the bag be damned.

"I'm not," you tell him honestly as you pull away. You let your hands trail from his shoulders, down his arms, until his hands are in yours.

Tugging gently, you walk him backward out of the alley, away from the bar and plummeting winter chill, and any lingering, prying eyes. Even the moon and stars have no stake in what comes next. This moment, right here and now, belongs to you and Joel, alone.

"Take me home, Joel."

The light in his eyes burns brighter, amusement giving way to adoration and contentment. He's been waiting for this, to be given the privilege of keeping you safe and taking care of you the way he needs to—it's how he shows love.

He slots his fingers between yours and leads you down the empty streets of Jackson.

"Darlin', nothin' would make me happier."

thanks for reading!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

2K notes · View notes

coralinnii · 2 years ago

Text

It’s Him or Grim…and It’s Grim

Ignoring him to take care of Grim feat: Sebek · Azul · Jade · Riddle genre: fluff note: gn!reader, no pronouns are used, relationships up to interpretation, some of the TWST boys basically taking the L or getting catblocked,

piece of advice, never bring someone like me to an animal cafe for a date cuz I will ignore you. Also, don't question why I keep changing the banners. I just love messing with pictures of our handsome TWST boys <3

Sebek didn’t say it out loud but he was excited over you visiting him during his club activities. He’s proud to show off his skills on his steed and present his knightly appearance to you.

Unfortunately, he’s not doing too well when he’s constantly getting into screaming contests with an uninvited guest…Grim

He didn’t know why he was so surprised though. He should have predicted that wherever you intend to go, the cat-shaped menace will surely follow in curiosity and make a ruckus while he’s here.

“Nyah, I can ride these crazy horses no problem!”

“I will not allow it. Beginners need to learn the basics before even attempting to-“

Before Sebek could finish, Grim already went ahead and climbed on top of a nearby horse. But, your feline companion accidentally pressed his claws too deeply into the poor horse’s skin and spooked the large animal.

“Grim!” You screamed when you saw your dormmate being pushed off the horse’s back and landing on his head. You ran to his side while Sebek did his best to calm the horse before it started to run amuck and cause more issues.

Sebek wanted to scold the reckless cat monster for his actions but he bit his tongue and sighed in exasperation instead since it looked like the konk on the head left Grim feeling woozy.

“I should bring Grim to the infirmary” you worriedly look at your companion as you cradle his body in your arms. “I’ll see you another time, Sebek. I’m so sorry for disturbing your club time”

Sebek panicked over your departure, telling you that you could just come back after bringing Grim to the infirmary. He planned so many things today for you, to introduce you to his trusted steed, show off his horse riding skills, and maybe even let you ride with him.

But you had to decline, wanting to stay by Grim’s side until he feels better. You gave an apologetic smile before you took off with Grim in your arms. You missed the look of utter defeat on the lime-haired freshman. You managed to get out of earshot as Sebek started shouting to himself, declaring to learn from his defeat against that cursed cat. His clubmates however did hear him loud and clear, Riddle looking over in confusion and Silver silently rooting for his fellow knight-in-training.

“I admit my loss in this battle but I will prevail in our next encounter, Grim. I swear on my honor!”

Azul plans ahead in everything, be it his next business venture or a deal to be made…and definitely when meeting you. He wanted the most optimal results from this meeting he planned with you. He made sure he reserved the best spot in his restaurant that showcases him in the best lighting, the food is to your taste and the ambience sets the mood to his satisfaction. He took everything into consideration. But of course, things don't always go the way he wanted to.

Like Grim coming along with you to your engagement with him.

“I’m sorry, Azul. Grim was bored in the dorms and Ace and Deuce had make-up classes today” you apologized, Grim in your lap as he gobbled the food Azul had picked out for you. “I hope it doesn’t inconvenience you too much”

“Of course not,” He lied. “I’m more than generous enough to extend hospitality for even surprise visitors”

“I gotta hand it to ya, Octavanilla guy! Your food is super delish!” Grim offers his compliments. “I can’t get enough of it!”

Grim really couldn’t. He ordered seconds and thirds (RIP to your wallet) and didn’t stop himself from practically inhaling the food the moment it reached the table. It was a real mood killer for Azul. The silver-haired entrepreneur couldn’t find his opening and soon he’s left to watch you from the sidelines as your focus was solely on the fattened cat who is grumbling in your lap.

“Nyahhhh…my tummy hurts~” Grim cried as his stomach ached. You let out a sigh as you did your best to soothe the monstrous feline.

“I’m pretty sure it’s because you just ate your weight in food” you quipped which earned a weak whine from Grim.

Azul just couldn’t believe his plan went to ruins by simply adding Grim into the equation. Any attempt for your attention is ripped away by Grim’s loud munching or simply you turning away from his gaze to reprimand the messy feline as you cleaned his dirty face.

He needs a new plan, and a contingency plan should anything like today happen again. He needs back ups to distract him, perhaps Kalim-

“Azul” your voice snapped him out from his thoughts. “I might need some money after how much Grim ate today. Do you think I could pick up some shifts in the lounge?”

Oh, Azul could work with that.

“Oh no, it seems that Grim has left you in quite a predicament. Come, vent your woes to me”

Jade was excited to show his treasured terrarium collection to you. It would be delightful if you were to grow to share his interest caring for these fascinating flora, something only you and he would share in this whole campus. Imagine…Just you and him alone together, standing close to each other as you admire his projects.

Well, that’s what he imagined…but often fantasies do not match reality as he was not alone with you as he had hoped.

“These are some funky lookin’ mushrooms ya got here” Grim narrowed his eyes on one of the colorful mushrooms that seems to have just fully matured. “Henchhuman, you think they’re edible?”

“I personally don’t think so but you should ask Jade” you turned to Jade, the first time in a while he would add if he were the petty type. But of course he wasn’t.

“I believe so but I have yet to test my theory on that” Jade smiled down at the small creature which sent shivers down his back. “Are you volunteering yourself for a taste test?”

“Nyah, as if!” Grim yelled out as he backed away from the menacing aura Jade was exuding. In his panic, the monster student accidentally ran his paw over a pair of scissors which snagged his fur and pulled from his skin painfully. Grim let out a painful yelp which made you rush over to your dormmate’s side, worriedly looking over your friend. “Grim, what happened?”

“My beautiful fur! It got cut!” Grim made an inaccurate assumption but to his defense, it did sting really bad and you could see some of his fur on the pair of scissors. So, you proceeded to check over Grim’s paw for any wounds.

Jade stood in the sidelines as he watched you handle the monster’s paw, gently sweeping the fur to check for any blood, even blowing on it to ease the poor creature’s pain. The eel merman slightly drooped his shoulders, this was his loss.

Walking over, Jade picked up the offending scissors that caused all this fuss. His heterochromatic eyes inspected the tool as he admitted that it was getting dull and he should replace them soon or something like this may occur again… Oh?

You heard something fall behind you which made you turn to know the source. You saw the pair of scissors that Jade picked up back on the floor and your ocean-haired senior was holding one of his hands in the other. “Jade?”

“Oh dear, it seems that I have accidentally nicked myself as well” Jade looked at you with his best pleading eyes, holding his hand towards you. “Could you help me?”

“…can’t you do it yourself?”

“Ah, it hurts quite a bit I don’t think I could focus enough to check my wound” Jade sighed as he clutched his poor hand in his own. He looked to you with pleading eyes and despite your suspicions, you accepted to help your senior and carefully took Jade’s “injured” hand into your own. With your eyes focusing on searching for this supposed wound, Jade smiled as he shared a glance with Grim behind you which scared the poor creature.

“It seems I have quite the challenge on my hands. How interesting”

Riddle worked up the courage to invite you to spend the day with him alone and when you accepted, he made sure that everything was perfect. Only Trey was aware of your intimate outing since he offered to take up any non-urgent Housewarden work during Riddle’s day with you so no one else was aware that you and Heartslabyul's leader were meeting.

Everything was going smoothly, albeit a little stiff in the beginning. Riddle was shocked by how nervous he was. The teacup in his hand was shaking in his grip as he sat just across from you from the small table.

Eventually the atmosphere settled and soon the two of you relaxed and chatted over trivial topics, enjoying each other’s presence over anything. But alas, good things must come to an end, but not in the way Riddle had planned. Instead, your date was interrupted when the two of you heard a loud call of your name from a distance, from a very familiar voice

“Henchhuman, you went ahead and got grub without me?!” Grim accused you, immediately climbing onto your lap without your complaint. This was his natural seat after all. Then, more voices were heard coming close.

“Grim, there you are. Don’t run off like that- Ahh Housewarden!” Like a storm, Ace and Deuce walked into the once private space while running after Grim then froze in place when they noticed their senior, who seemed to be a really bad mood right now. “Sorry, Housewarden. Grim said he smelled something good and went running over”

Apparently, Grim was getting hungry and since Ace and Deuce were short on money, the cat-like monster went on the hunt for any morsel of food and caught a whiff of the tarts Riddle had prepared. However, mere tidbits of sweets were not enough to satiate this monster’s blackhole of an appetite.

“Let’s go to the shop, I want fancy tuna tonight!” Grim whined to you, lightly clawing at your shirt.

Riddle wanted to scold the furry student for being shameless in his demands but you reassured the redheaded senior that this is a common occurrence, considering you were in charge of handling the allowance you receive from Crowley so Grim tends to ask you to buy things for him.

“We can go see if Sam has any in stock” you smiled at your gluttonous dormmate then looking to Riddle “I’m sorry, Riddle. I had fun today but we should get going before Sam’s shop closes”

Riddle, stunned in the sudden shift in his plans, could only offer a nod as you let Grim yank you away to walk faster towards the merchant’s store. He wanted to walk you home and perhaps invite you to another engagement with him. But in the end, he was left in your dust with his other Heartslabyul dormmates and very awkward silence.

Though three students quickly turned to one as Ace and Deuce silently snuck away from the scene. After being in the Queen of Hearts-inspired house for a while, they can when to book it lest they want to be collared by their hot-tempered Housewarden.

“I was caught off-guard by that surprise…I will take this as a learning experience for the future”

2K notes · View notes

veronicaleighauthor · 16 days ago

Text

In Defense of Amy March

A couple weeks ago, I did a re-read of “Little Women.” It had been a couple of years since I picked it up and I was in the mood for some Alcott. Oh, and the March family. I’ve been deeply attached to the story since I was about fourteen. Jo March was the heroine after my own heart. There was one character though, I could never warm to. That was Amy March. I really couldn’t stand her. She burned Jo’s manuscript and got that trip to Europe, and she was just so snobby and selfish. Right? I mean, that’s how she’s portrayed in most adaptations. Jo has to toil and suffer while Amy gets everything handed to her on a silver platter. During this re-read I decided to pay attention to the youngest March sister and see if I was justified in my dislike of her.

“It’s nice to have accomplishments and be elegant, but not to show off or get perked up,” said Amy thoughtfully.

When the story opens, Amy is a kid. She’s twelve and the baby of the family. Mr. March is serving as a chaplain at war and Marmee works outside the home. Older sisters Meg is a governess, Jo is a companion, and Beth is the homemaker. Amy goes to school and deals with much of what most kids deal with. She struggles with her lessons, she is teased for being poor, she tries to sneak pickled limes in to eat them. Amy is on the receiving end of her teacher, Mr. Davis’s brutality when he discovers she has limes and raps her hand. She is self-conscious about her nose. She has to wear everyone’s hand-me-downs. She is determined to be a proper lady, she is artistic, and she tries to improve her vocabulary. Amy takes parts in her sisters’ theatricals, though doesn’t want to go to the extremes that Jo goes to, and avoids bruising herself.

If anybody had asked Amy what the greatest trial of her life was, she would have answered at once, ‘My nose.’

Amy and Jo often disagree with one another. One evening, when Jo and Meg plans to go out to the theater with their new friend Laurie, Amy is determined to join them. She and Jo go round and round, but Amy is bluntly told she isn’t wanted and it would be an intrusion for her to be there (my words, not the actual dialogue). While Jo is away, Amy burns a manuscript her sister has been working on. A fight ensues and though Amy tries to make up for what she did, Jo won’t forgive her. She tries once more to spend time with Jo, when her sister and Laurie are skating at the local pond, and nearly drowns as she crashes through the ice. Her live is saved and she and Jo reconcile. Jo forgives the girl and though Amy knew she was doing wrong when she destroyed the manuscript, maybe it’s time we as readers (myself included) forgive her too.

Amy opened her eyes, and held out her arms, with a smile that went straight to Jo’s heart. Neither said a word, but they hugged one another close, in spite of the blankets, and everything was forgiven and forgotten in one hearty kiss.

When Beth falls ill with scarlet fever, Amy is determined to stay at home with her family, risking her own health and wellbeing. Laurie manages to convince her to go to Aunt March’s, where uncertain of what the future may bring, she makes a will of her own in case she dies. Aunt March takes a liking to Amy and from then on, she is the older woman’s companion. Once Beth is well, Amy is allowed to come home, in time for her father to return home from the war and to see her older sister Meg engaged to John Brooke.

The next time we see Amy, it is three years later and she has grown into the proper young lady she always aspired to be. She dresses well, pays calls, dabbles in various forms of artwork, donates her time and energy to charity booths. Somehow, we as readers belittle this, when this was common way of life for ladies in the 19th century. Consider Marian Brooke, of The Gilded Age TV show, who embraces her own femininity and lives and thrives in New York society. Amy March is doing the same thing – while Jo breaks many of the societal rules, Amy wants to be part of that world. This is best demonstrated in Part Two, when Amy and Jo pay calls at various friends’ and relatives’ homes. Amy does her utmost to help Jo, but Jo (and don’t get me wrong, I love my girl Jo) is downright rude, improper, immature, and sloppy. Amy, on the other hand, is well-mannered, her appearance is neat, she is respectful, and she shows an interest in her hosts. This leaves an impression on Aunt Carol, who is planning a trip to Europe. She originally planned to invite Jo, but the visit shows her Amy would be a better candidate to take to Europe.

“You can go through the world with your elbows out and your nose in the air, and call it independence, if you like. That’s not my way.”

You laugh at me when I say I want to be a lady, but I mean a true gentle-woman in mind and manners, and I try to do it as far as I know how.

So, Amy didn’t steal Jo’s trip to Europe. She was true to herself and a wealthy relative rewarded her for it. She accompanies Aunt Carol and her family on their tour of Europe. This was another common practice in the 19th century. Family or friends would take a young lady along, to see the sights and with any luck, make a match there (think “The Portrait of a Lady,” by Henry James). Amy enjoys herself there, meeting new people, wearing the fashions of the time, learning about art and the countries she visits. The original plan of her life is that she becomes a successful, famous artist. In that way, she’s equally ambitious to Jo. However, while in Europe, she comes to accept her own limitations. Amy understands she has talent, but she doesn’t have genius. At least not compared to the greats or her contemporaries. She comes to terms with this; she will always love art and be artistic, but she must be practical now.

Very few occupations were open to women of that era, especially in the social circles Amy moved in. Teaching or being a governess would have been acceptable – many ladies of genteel and respectable families worked as governesses. Meg worked as a governess. But the pay wasn’t great and it would be a step down for a socially conscious young woman. The only way to secure her future was to marry well. By today’s standards, and many readers of “Little Women” it’s considered mercenary for Amy to think of marrying for money. However, again, think of The Gilded Age show, where some of the characters did or do want to marry for financial security – Agnes van Rhijn and her son Oscar van Rhijn.

Amy herself states: “I may be mercenary, but I hate poverty, and don’t mean to bear it a minute longer than I can help. One of us must marry well. Meg didn’t, Jo won’t, Beth can’t yet, so I shall, and make everything okay all round.”

If Amy marries say Fred Vaugn, one of her suitors, she intends to help her family and those around her. It isn’t a bad plan…but it isn’t the right plan for her. After spending some time with Laurie, who she met up with in Europe, she understands she can’t marry just for money. Marmee and Father didn’t raise her that way and it wouldn’t be enough for her. Love, respect, admiration, and friendship must be part of the equation. The more time she spends with Laurie, she slowly falls in love with him. However, Amy isn’t pleased with Laurie’s behavior as of late. If she had really wanted to marry for money, she could have ignored his vices and set her cap at him. He once loved Jo and after nursing a broken heart, he meanders around Europe spending his grandfather’s money, wasting time, and not living up to his full potential. It is Amy who inspires him to become the best version of himself…and it is Amy he truly falls in love with. According to the book, Amy didn’t steal Laurie from Jo, because he never truly belonged to her.

“I’m not afraid of storms, for I’m learning how to sail my ship.”

Amy and Laurie both find their way, they marry, and after the tragedy of losing Beth, they return home. They find their happy ending together.

So was Amy selfish, shallow, prissy, or evil? Nope. No more than the rest of us. She was a young woman who found her place in the world. Her definition of happiness was different than Jo’s, but it doesn’t make her any less of a heroine.

What do you think? Do you like Amy March?

#amy march #little women #louisa may alcott #character study #classic literature #american literature

38 notes · View notes

strawberryfairi · 11 months ago

Text

Falling Asleep Together | Keisuke Baji

★Black Fem Reader One shot❤️‍🔥 ★ Fluff; Baji being demanding and pouty; you just trying to do your hair for the night; nighttime routine; sleepy Baji; pure cuteness

"What are you doing in there still?" Keisuke groans from the bedroom, dragging himself over to the connected bathroom where you were still doing your nighttime routine.

"I told you hold on; I'll be there in a sec." You chuckle, eyes locked onto your hair through the mirror.

All you were doing was putting up your hair for the night, braiding multiple sections so you could protect your hair while you sleep, and then take them down in the morning back into your fluffy afro braid out.

"It's been like fifteen minutes; you're in here havin' a whole...spa treatment." He scrunches his face up trying to find the right descriptive word, gesturing around the whole bathroom with a hand.

"It ain’t been no fifteen minutes. I got like maybe three pieces left so just hang on; almost done." You assure with a light laugh, getting to work splitting a big section of hair into two in the front.

"You always love my hair but you hate when I gotta actually do it." You murmur, glancing over at his tired, pouty face. He grunts in response, leaning his head against the doorframe while watching you do your thing.

Even though it bothers Kei, you really love moments like this with him, when he's all eager and whiny for you to come to bed. Usually after his rushing he'll go silent just like right now, watching you skillfully braid your hair, mesmerized at how meticulous you are.

He's learned the process by now. First you make the main sections, then part them again for two chunky braids per section. Then you grab your favorite Jamaican black castor oil water, misting your hair lightly in the section before you add that amazing smelling leave-in conditioner that he loves to sniff every time you use it.

Once those two main steps are done, you rub some Argan oil in your hands and run it through your hair before finally making the braid.

He had to admit he could absolutely never spend this much time on his own hair every single day and night. In his eyes, the nighttime routine alone was ridiculously long, and particular, and just..long!

Keisuke's never really been a patient kind of guy, so having someone like you around was honestly good for him. You were patient with everything. Your hair, your nails, cooking, even patient with him! It's one of the main things he loves about you. You level him out, it's perfect.

"Look, see? Boom. That wasn't that long at all; I'm done!" You beam, turning around to look at him face to face instead of through the mirror.

Your hands were covered in product, along with that brush he always seems to forget the name of-dannin? Debberman? Denman! Right the denman brush. Pieces of your little coils wrapped around the brush and your fingers like snakes.

Keisuke grunts tiredly in response, his eyes halfway open at this point. If he could sleep standing up he absolutely would be passed out right in this doorway.

"You're a mess..." You smile softly, shaking your head as you turn the sink faucet on, washing the products off your hands and hairbrush.

About five minutes after you clean up in the bathroom, you're finally in the bed, putting your scarf and cute lime green bonnet on.

"Sheesh, only took forever and a day." Kei grumbles lowly, brows furrowed as he pulls you down onto the pillow next to him, cuddling up close against you with your back resting perfectly on his chest. The two of you sigh in content, little tired smiles on both of your faces as you drift off into a deep sleep.

****************************************************

A/N❤️‍🔥 I felt so warm and fuzzy writing this omg. Poor Kei just trynna go to sleep for real

142 notes · View notes

kahluamystery97 · 7 months ago

Text

Satellite Ch 4 (HS X OC)

CHAPTER FOUR

Grammy Night 2021

"Maggie just walked in." Jeff said, eyeing the door.

Harry turned to see her. She was beautiful. Maggie was always beautiful. She wore her hair back loosely and a simple black dress with some midriff and back baring cutouts. Sparkly heeled sandals. She tightly gripped a clutch. He saw her pull her face into that tight public smile. Dear God she was so painfully thin.

Guests at the party greeted her. The pearly white smile got bigger and tighter. She was so visibly uncomfortable. Maybe not to the world but Harry could see it. He almost regretted inviting her. Was she okay? Was this causing her upset or discomfort?

He crossed the room and everyone around them scattered. He offered her a smile and she relaxed into her genuine Maggie smile. Her hands loosened up around the clutch.

Harry took a chance and leaned in. He kissed her cheek. "Thank you. This means everything to me."

She squeezed his arm. "You deserve it all. Thanks for including me."

He surprised them both when he grabbed her into a hug. He breathed in the clean scent of her hair and kissed her cheek again. He lingered longer than he should but not as long as he wanted. When he pulled back he said the only thing he could think of, "Drink?"

Maggie nodded. She needed a drink. A big vodka to swim in so she wasn't thinking so hard about all of this.

Harry took her hand and led her to the large bar. Just that simple gesture could have melted her. Except now Maggie found it hard to feel much these days. Her work wasn't just acting. Her life felt like an acting job. Just act like everything is ok. For the moment she just tried to be here and to be present.

Harry ordered her vodka with extra lime. Her first sip gave her such a rush that she leaned back into him. Without much thought Harry wrapped an arm around her waist. This is how they used to be. The new normal was they were officially 'just friends'? Maggie was all about control and order. Being with Harry set her on edge. All of that carefully crafted control and order she liked so much was tossed out the window around him. She couldn't trust herself to do what was in her best interest because part of her felt so invested in him. She knew logically she should cut all ties to Harry but there was a piece of her that just couldn't let go. After all that had gone down between them she was still here. What would it take to finally sever things? She was afraid to know the answer. She was afraid of what it might do to her.

"Hello!" An excited British voice called out to Maggie. It was Sarah followed by Mitch.

Maggie's eyes popped open wide seeing Sarah so clearly pregnant. "Oh my God?! What is this baby bump?! How did I miss this while watching you tonight?!" She left Harry's side to hug Sarah.

"Because this guy is out flashing his tits in a leather suit. Who would notice me?" Sarah laughed.

"Hey now." Harry pretended to be offended. Sarah and Maggie hardly gave him a glance once they started talking baby.

Mitch grabbed a drink at the bar next to Harry. "Is she ok?" He whispered and nodded toward Maggie.

Harry could only shrug. He didn't know. He knew in this light she looked gaunt. Not even the makeup could hide that.

"I have to be fed. I'm starving - all the time." Sarah announced.

The words cut through Maggie. Her face flushed. Sarah knew it was a poor choice of words immediately. Maggie clearly had something going on with her.

Mitch saved her from the awkwardness. "C'mon. Let's get that situation handled. Maggie it was really good to see you." He squeezed her arm.

"Congratulations on, on - everything! " Then a giant sip of the cold vodka. She needed a buzz.

When she turned to look at Harry he looked concerned. No. This would not do. This was his night. She tipped her head back and poured the rest of the vodka down her throat. People were dancing. She grabbed his hand.

"Don't be so serious, Styles. Let's have some fun."

They danced. They talked to friends. Maggie went to the ladies room at one point and he lost track of her. It was late and things were quieting down.

Finally he noticed people coming in from the terrace. The door opened and he got a glimpse of her.

Maggie looked out on Downtown Los Angeles. Would she ever stop loving it? Maybe LA was her longest relationship. When she left New York she never looked back. Los Angeles felt like home and a vacation all at once. The sun. The ocean. Her career allowed her to see the world and do amazing things. She was so thankful. Maggie knew she was fucking it all up right now. She knew eventually someone was going to say something. Her body would be addressed. It was always this body. This body was bad at 260 lbs. This body is bad at 101 lbs. What about a boob job? Too muscular. Too skinny. Too tall. Too short. Too young. Too old. Too pretty to take seriously. Too serious for such a pretty girl. She couldn't keep up and she was losing control. All Maggie wanted was some control back in her life.

She dropped her clutch by her feet. She could feel herself leaning a little too far off the terrace rail. It dug uncomfortably into her bony rib cage. You could let it all go, she heard the words in her head. You could tumble head first into Downtown Los Angeles and it would all just be quiet.

She felt strong hands around her waist suddenly.

"What are you doing?" Harry growled, clearly panicked. His face was flushed. She was alarmingly leaning over the rail. So much so that only her tiptoes remained on the ground. He pulled her tight against him and took a few steps back from the edge.

Maggie came back to reality. "I was enjoying the view and I've had a lot to drink. " She brushed it off.

"You have to level with me. You aren't okay. You don't look like you are okay." He searched her eyes for the truth.

"No complicated conversations. You promised me. I'm here because you wanted me to be and you made me a promise." She took a breath and looked away from him.

They were both still and silent for what felt like a long time. Harry picked up her bag and extended his hand to her. Maggie slipped her small, soft hand into his and followed him out.

They said their good nights to the guests remaining. Harry never let go of her. She started walking towards the lobby of the hotel. He gently redirected her to the elevators.

Maggie thought she should protest and insist on leaving. She didn't have the fight in her. Being next to him felt so comfortable. Walking into his room where she could take off her 'Maggie mask' and just be felt so good.

"I'll get drinks and snacks. " He said as he kicked off his shoes and took his jacket off.

Maggie sat back on the large leather sofa. She unbuckled her sandals and pulled her feet under her.

Harry appeared with two vodkas and a cheese plate. Maggie happily took the glass. She was unmoved by the cheese plate. She however grabbed a piece of cheese (swiss - the lowest calorie option) to keep Harry from asking any more questions.

A single cube of cheese. His stomach was in a knot. Didn't her sisters see this? Was anyone helping her? He put his glass down on the coffee table.

Maggie leaned against him. He put his arm around her shoulders. She felt him take a breath as if he was going to speak. She turned quickly and put her finger against his perfectly pink lips.

"Please don't. I don't want to overthink it. There is so much unsaid and nothing is going to change tonight. Let's just have this night. You deserve a good night." Maggie pressed her lips against his. They shared a soft kiss. She settled back in against him.

He knew she was right. He just wanted to savor this time with her. Amelia Mason was waiting for him in London. She was sleeping in his bed this very minute. Instead of trying to focus on whatever that was he was here with Maggie. Maybe they would never work or the time would never be right. He was so drawn to Maggie though. Harry wasn't ready to stop trying. She completed tonight for him. He would go back to hating himself for being a shit to Amelia later.

"Can I take you to bed?"

Maggie nodded her approval. He gently pulled her up off the sofa with him. He planted a kiss on her forehead. Then he turned her around by her waist and steered her into the bedroom.

Once there Maggie made her way out of her dress. Harry discarded his clothes and slipped into the bathroom. When he returned Maggie was in bed. Now dressed in the hotel robe and sleeping soundly. Her hair free from its loose updo sprawled all around her. She was so peaceful. He wanted to be peaceful with her. Harry got under the covers and pulled her in close.

Breathing her in he couldn't help but be sent back into happier times.

2018

"I get it. I'm not a musician but you're wrong." Maggie rolled her eyes as she took a sip of the bitter red wine she was served.

"I am a musician. Musically, American Girl is more substantive. Can I just run around critiquing movies like I'm a filmmaker?" Mitch narrowed his eyes as he took a swig of beer.

"You sure can but I almost dread hearing it if you won't acknowledge that Here Comes My Girl is superior to American Girl."

Harry stifled a chuckle. He and Sarah bowed out of this fight at least ten minutes prior to this exchange. Maggie and Mitch really liked one another but they really liked antagonizing each other most of all.

"C'mon H. School your lady." Mitch pressed.

"Well I hate to tell you that you're both wrong and Tom Petty's best song is Wildflowers."

"Wait, what? That isn't even the best song on that album. Gorgeous song but wrong answer." Maggie was now shaking her head.

"She's not wrong. " Sarah finally interjects sitting back on the floor on a cushion next to Mitch. She passes him the vape.

"Incredible. Maybe we should call Stevie and ask her." He says with a bit of annoyance in his voice.

"Lame. Name dropper." Maggie swatted his knee from her spot on the floor between them.

"It's You Wreck Me." Sarah replies matter of factly.

Mitch releases the smoke he has been holding. At the very same time Mitch and Maggie blurt, "It's Crawling Back to You."

The two high five. Sarah and Harry roll their eyes and snicker at them.

"Fuck. I'm putting that album on. Want more pizza while I'm up?" Mitch asks the three of them.

"Yes. Bring more pizza out. I'm so high. I am going to eat all of the pizza." Sarah moans falling back on the carpet softly with a giggle.

Maggie had stopped by her favorite wood fired pizza place on the way to Sarah and Mitch's house. It sounded like everyone was on the way to drunk or stoned after a long day at the studio. So she ordered a little bit of everything. She was greeted with a hero's welcome when the trio saw the armfuls of food she had.

Harry nudged Maggie with his knee gently. 'You eat? Want something?"

"I had a big dinner. All good." Maggie was a liar. She had a small salad with a little balsamic vinegar that she ate before she decided to run five miles on her treadmill. She later had a Pepcid chewable for dessert because the balsamic gave her acid reflux after her workout. Reminder. Only plain lettuce and veggies before anything strenuous. She had a movie wardrobe to fit into and late night pizza would not help.

He smiled a big dimpled smile at her. "Ok. We have to make sure you are fueling up while working out for this movie." He let his fingertips gently rub her arm a moment until they were startled by Tom Petty's Wildflowers. Mitch came clumsily crashing back into the room and dropped the brown pizza box onto the coffee table.

Maggie had been hanging with Harry and his friends while they made his sophomore album pretty regularly for the last few weeks. Now Harry was calling them a 'we'. Mitch was referring to her as Harry's lady. They never once discussed what they were or weren't after that day in Harry's pool. Maggie assumed this was still friends with benefits but as the days wore on it felt less casual.

"Can you drive or want me to get an Uber?"

"I can drive."

Harry got up off the floor and offered Maggie a hand. "Ok, tomorrow is another studio day. Going to call it a night."

"Are you ok to drive?" Sarah asked.

Maggie nodded. "Yeah, totally fine."

"Then get out and let me enjoy my Petty." Mitch roared in her direction and then winked. Maggie flipped him off with a smile.

"Night guys. See you tomorrow." Harry said. He led Maggie out with a hand on the small of her back. As they approached her convertible he reached up and stretched. A sliver of belly peeking out from his vintage Beastie Boys shirt. Before she could even have a lewd thought about it Harry had her pressed up against the sports car. "I haven't been able to kiss you all night."

"You were very well behaved."

"I think I deserve a reward." He gently kissed her mouth. His lips tugged at her bottom lip. A deep groan escaped him. "Come home with me?"

"Are you drunk Styles? Am I taking advantage of you if I say yes?"

"Mmm, God, I hope so." He let his fingertips wander up and down her hips. Maggie rolled her eyes. "Ugh. Get in the car."

He flashed his dimples at her as he jogged around the car and got in. 'Gonna let me control the music?"

"I guess just this once." Maggie's rules were her car - her music. She did not want to be forced to listen to an entire Wings album as Harry had done to her last weekend.

'Wildflowers' began to play as she pulled out of Mitch and Sarah's place. When Harry began to harmonize along with Tom Petty it was magic. He reached over and put his warm hand on her thigh. They shared a smile.

Easy. Casual. Maggie reminded herself.

A few weeks later ...

Harry yelled out in frustration. "I can't fucking write. I can't write songs anymore. I lost it." He tossed his journal onto the floor.

Mitch put his guitar down. "I mean that seems pretty fucking dramatic. It's only been a few days."

"Right a few days of nothing. I feel so fucking much and I just can't get it out. And what does come out is absolute, fucking rubbish.”

"You're forcing it man. Let it come." Kid sighed. "This song is sad. Maybe you don't want to write a sad song right now."

"I can't write any songs right now. I think we have established that. Nothing."

"Nah. I think you want to stay on theme. The breakup, the wounds but you aren't feeling that right now."

"Huh?" Harry asked, distracted as he checked his phone.

"Seriously?" Tyler rolled his eyes. "I thought we were device free until 3? How many times did you say that to me?"

"We're breaking soon, right?" He smiled as he typed a message.

"We are. You can't wait ten minutes until you see her though? Man do you have it bad." Tyler stretched out.

"She just wanted me to know she was here." Harry shrugged it off. Tyler, Tom, Mitch and Jeff had been giving him a hard time about his 'friends' status with Maggie. They had been hanging out a lot lately but who could blame him when the conversation was just as good if not better than the mind blowing sex they had been having. Harry truly felt like he was having his cake and eating it too. This was the very best friends with benefits set up he had ever had.

"Suuuure." Jeff rolled his eyes. "Harry just wants to text his girlfriend." Harry shot Jeff a glare.

"I think you've got it bad for this girl. I don't blame you. She is gorgeous and she is cool and totally not the type of girl you are going to be able to keep it casual with." Kid said from the board.

"Maggie is awesome. I agree. I'm just not in the right place after Colette to jump right into another relationship and she doesn't seem to be keen on being tied down either."

"Now that's between the two of you." Tyler smirked.

Suddenly the door to the studio opened. "Hey, hi. Hope I'm not interrupting?" Maggie stood in the doorway. She wore a red and yellow knee length circle skirt, white cropped spaghetti strapped tank. Her blonde locks were pulled back loosely in a clip with some tendrils escaping wildly but perfectly. Maggie's face was bare so her freckles popped on her lightly tanned skin. The strawberry lip oil she always wore kept her pouty lips glistening. Harry had to resist the urge to kiss her in front of everyone.

"Not at all. Just wrapping up." Mitch said. "So is there something waiting outside for us?"

At least once a week Maggie had been surprising the gang at Shangri La with fun little gifts. A mobile barista with a little coffee bar truck. Goat yoga. Massages the week before.

"I did. I hope it is very inspiring and comforting because I heard the rock star is having a bit of a day." She smiled, raising an eyebrow at Harry. He crossed his arms over his chest not moving from his spot on the couch. "You guys go ahead. I'll see if I can't cheer up this guy."

The guys all snickered. Kid mumbled, "I bet she can." Jeff wiggled his eyebrows.

Once they were alone Maggie straddled Harry's lap. "Spill it. What's up?"

"I mean nothing besides the fact that I lost the ability to write music." He huffed.

Maggie had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. This was a bit dramatic. "Oh yeah? When did this loss occur? How long are we talking?"

"Few days." He hated to admit it was after the last time he saw her. Maggie had been too busy to make it out to Malibu and he was too busy at the studio to go to her. He missed her and their time together.

"A few days? You big baby."

"Hey don't be mean to me I'm suffering here."

She gave him an exaggerated pouty face of her own. "Ok, ok. How can I help?"

His eyebrows shot up and smiled that wolfish smile he got when was about to be naughty. He puckered his lips and tapped them once with his index finger. Maggie leaned in and placed a soft wet kiss on him.

"Better?" She asked against his mouth.

"Lil mo." Maggie kissed again this time her tongue softly licked into his mouth. Harry's hands traveled down her sides, down the fronts of her thighs and began to creep under the hem of her skirt. Slowly his fingers crept between her thighs into the warm wetness beneath her underwear. She sighed at the first swipe through her folds.

"Here I was going to get on my knees for you. I thought you needed some help getting inspired." She bit into her bottom lip as Harry continued to stroke her.

Harry whispered into the shell of her ear. "Later baby, later. I just need a taste of you."

When Harry and Maggie emerged from the studio thirty minutes later everyone was most definitely talking. For a group of men they certainly acted like a bunch of old women in a small town quilting circle.

"Is this my surprise?" Harry lit up as he saw dogs roaming around the grounds. Each had a handler in a matching shirt with the name of the animal charity Liza and EJ founded.

"Dogs and ice cream." She pointed to the Salt and Straw cart. Harry quickly pinched her bum and gave her a wink. It took all of his self control to not pull her body into his and kiss her strawberry oiled lips.

Casual? Easy? It seemed like it was getting harder every day to keep it that way no matter what either of them said.

A few more weeks later...

"Oh, oh - yes. H, just like that." Maggie cried out in pleasure.

"Like that baby? Right there?" Harry continued to thrust up into her as his fingers worked her swollen bud.

"Ahh - yes, yes, yes." She chanted quietly.

"C'mon love, c'mon." His hips picked up speed. Maggie bounced back harder and faster to meet his movements. A scream ripped from her body as she squeezed and shook around him. Another moment and he toppled over the edge behind her.

Maggie collapsed on top of him. She focused on getting her breathing back to normal. He pushed her hair back off her face as she smiled down at him.

Harry pulled her in for a kiss. She rolled off to his side and threw a leg over him. He stroked her hair.

"Fuck Mags. You're going to put me in traction." He said kissing the top of her head.

"I had to make it good. I'm going to be gone for four days."

Harry and Maggie had been spending even more time together now that she had some down time. He loved having her around the studio and on the fringes of his album recording.

His album started off serious and sad. It was starting to feel lighter, sexier. Maggie was just the muse he needed. While the crew was eating ice cream or playing with puppies or doing goat yoga he was finding a quiet place with Maggie. He couldn't get enough of her.

It wasn't all sex. She was funny and so smart. Just when you thought you knew her she threw a curveball at him. He found himself telling her things he didn't normally talk about. He hated being without her too long.

They weren't even officially dating. Both of them were scared to define it too much. Neither had much luck in relationships and maybe if they kept this casual for a while longer they could work it out.

Now Maggie was leaving for five days. Every year they took their production company staff on a retreat to Palm Springs to thank them but also to work a bit. The trip always sparked creativity. Maggie traditionally loved this trip. She just didn't want to leave Harry to go. It was a strange sensation for her being that she was never really this enamored with a man before. It was probably good for them. They had been hot and heavy for weeks. Plus Harry could probably do a lot more work on the album if they weren't always fucking in a supply closet or bathroom at the studio.

"A week feels too long,"he complained as he kissed her neck.

"Yeah, yeah. First of all it is technically not a full week. Four days. You'll be locked in a studio with all the guys. I'll be back before you notice I'm gone. "

"Only part of that is accurate. I will definitely be locked in a studio. However, I will absolutely notice you are gone."

Maggie caught a glimpse of the bedside clock. Just after 8am. Fuck! "I am going to be late. The girls will be here in like 45 minutes." She jumped out of bed. "I have to get in the shower."

"Do you want company?"

"God help you if you try to get in my shower Harry Styles. My sister will murder us both if I'm late."

"Liza," Harry groaned.

"Yup that one." Maggie disappeared into the bathroom.

Harry got up to make coffee. He knew Liza hated him. Maggie never denied it when he brought it up. She just shrugged it off. Harry could admit it ate at him a bit. He hated being disliked. He had been working with his therapist on that. Thankfully their interactions had been minimal.

Maggie appeared a few minutes later in ripped blue jeans, a cropped white tee and Chanel espadrilles slip ons. Her hair was wavy and held back with an Hermes scarf fashioned as a headband. She rolled her bag behind her.

Harry handed her a travel tumbler. Maggie wrinkled her nose. Her lips curled up into a smile. "You made me coffee?"

"I mean I'm no barista but it was the least I could do."

She took a long sip. Oat milk. No sweetener. She loved that he knew her coffee order. He pulled her in to kiss her. Was it possible he was missing her already?

A car horn blared from down on the street. "Liza?" He asked.

"I mean who else would beep this early?"

"Let me take your bag down for you."

Maggie locked up behind her. Harry rolled her bag. Liza's large SUV was pulled half into the driveway and half into the street. All the windows were rolled down. Liza and Alex up front. Dayna and Jamie in the 3rd row. Hillary in the second row.

"Good morning ladies." Harry smiled and waved. A chorus of "Hello" carried out the windows. All of them except Liza smiling widely and giggling like school girls.

Harry put the bag in the already open trunk and then slammed the hatch. Liza's eyes watching him in the rear view. He turned to Maggie. Suddenly her eyes went big. "Shit, I have to go back in. I can't go to the desert without sunglasses."

She turned to go back in. "Ooh baby no need. Take these." He pulled her in close and pulled the tortoise Ray-Bans from the top of his head and put them on her face. She pulled them up to the top of her head so she could see him unobstructed.

"Styles to the rescue. Thank you." She got up on her toes to kiss him. He leaned down and pulled up by the backs of her thighs to meet him. He gave her a kiss he hoped would last four days.

The horn honked. "The bus is leaving." Liza shouted. Alex put her head in her hands.

Maggie let a laugh escape. Harry smiled at her. " I think she's warming up to me." They walked hand in hand to the back door. "Have a safe trip. Let me know when you get there." Reluctantly he dropped Maggie's hand but not before giving it a quick kiss. He swatted her behind as she got in the SUV. She yelped.

"Goodbye ladies. Have fun!"

A car full of happily married women, swooned in unison. Well except for Liza of course.

Liza pulled away abruptly and hit the button to roll the windows up. Maggie leaned back. Slid Harry's sunglasses on and sipped her coffee.

She counted the seconds before the interrogation would start. Hillary piped up first, "Spill it. All of it. I want all the sexy details."

Liza barked, " I can probably live without that."

"Too bad you're outvoted." Jamie yelled up to her. Liza could be rough on people but her girlfriends didn't let her get away with anything. She wasn't Boss Lady Liza with them. She was Liza, their best friend since Girl Scouts.

"First of all did he literally just lift you off the ground by your ass to kiss you? Fuck that is hot." Dayna sighed while pretending to smoke a cigarette.

She blushed. "Hmm what can I tell you? He is recording an album. He spends all of his time in the studio right now." Maggie shrugged.

"And the rest of his time in you." Alex cracked herself up. Liza shot her a look and moved to turn on the radio. Alex knocked her hand away.

Maggie had nearly spit her coffee out when Alex said that. "You are a bunch of dirty old birds."

"Listen kid, I've been having sex with the same man since George W. was in office. So you are going to have to give me some fun details. I believe I am entitled." Hillary whined.

"We've been together nearly non stop for like the last, I don't know, a few weeks. Since we met at that shitty Martin Graves party. The sex is outrageously good. Like my vagina needs this vacation though."

"I actually didn't see that coming. Good looking guys are traditionally not great lays. When you're pretty you don't even have to try. " Dayna said. "Remember that hot pizza delivery guy in college? Cute but such a dud in the sack."

"No Day he was not hot. That was the guy who looked like the lead singer of Color Me Badd, right?" Liza laughed.

"You dated a guy with a neck tattoo so..." Dayna countered.

"No, I slept with a guy who had a neck tattoo. One time. One time I drank too much Mr. Boston and fucked a guy with a neck tattoo. You bitches are going to put it on my tombstone."

Maggie loved all of these ladies so much. High school was terrible for her but Liza and Alex's friends made Maggie their little sister too. She loved their stories and antics. As the company flourished they came out West to learn the business and take part. It was so nice to have everyone here.

"OK so back to actual hot guys. Harry. Oh Harry." Hillary smiled leaning back. "Are we official? Are we serious? It sounds serious. It looks serious. You admit he has practically broken your vagina."

Maggie leaned back too. She touched the frames on her face. She pressed her lips together remembering the feeling of his goodbye kiss.

"Honestly we haven't talked about it at all. I mean I don't think he's seeing anyone else. Not sure when he would have time. I'm not seeing anyone else. I really like being with him. I'm just not ready to label it. Every time I get too excited about something the universe steps in and crushes me. I'm not ready to be crushed yet."

Alex turned around quickly. "Mags, that's not how this works. You deserve to be happy. You work so hard. Being in limbo isn't always fun or healthy though."

Dayna called from the back, "Have the conversation. Lock that good sex down."

"But if he gets a neck tattoo - he's out." Jamie said as she pulled a hard seltzer from a cooler in back.

"Now that is good advice because these bitches will never let you live it down." Liza sighed. "OK road trip music must commence."

Harry made it to the studio on time. Funny enough, he seemed to only ever be the one to do that. He let himself in and puttered around the immaculate kitchen. He opened a can of nitro cold brew coffee and stretched.

The door opened behind him. When he turned he nearly dropped the can in his hands. It wasn't an engineer or Mitch. It was Colette.

When their eyes met she unleashed a big toothy smile at him. He was stunned. For once he didn't have words.

"Surprise 'arry." She said with her lovely French accent.

"Yes, yes it is. What are you doing here?" Harry put the can down.

"Our mutual friends are having an anniversary party and invited me. I thought I would come and drop in and make sure that was OK. Check in on you. "

The mutual friends were Kid/Tom and Jenny. He totally forgot the party was Saturday night. He was sure someone mentioned the model was invited but he had been so caught up in all things Maggie that not much but her stuck in his head.

"Of course it's OK. It's good to see you." And it was. Colette was the sole focus of his previous year. Their tumultuous relationship had shaped a lot of this album. It shaped a lot of why he was having a hard time wanting to make things more defined with Maggie.

Harry leaned in and hugged her. She hugged him back and kissed his cheek. Her hands lingered on his back a minute. She softly scratched at that spot on low on his spine that made him weak in the knees. Harry allowed himself to breathe her in.

Wasn’t she still dating that trust fund baby? Harry and Colette talked quite frequently via text but he never asked her about him. He never wanted to hear about him. They were 'just friends' because when they broke up he still wanted to keep a piece of her with him. The last few weeks were the first time since they parted he didn't feel compelled to Google her or text first.

"I'm not here to interrupt. I just wanted to see you. Maybe you will be up for dinner later?" She asked.

"That would be nice." Harry heard himself accept before really thinking it over.

Colette leaned in and quickly kissed his mouth. "I'll text you later." Just as quickly as she appeared, she disappeared.

"Was that?" Mitch asked as he entered the kitchen.

"It was."

"And..."

"She wanted to make sure we would be cool at the same party on Saturday night. I

totally forgot she was going."

"Are you bringing Maggie? Is she bringing the dude she is with?"

"Maggie gets home from Palm Springs on Saturday. She wasn't sure she would be up for a party. And I don't speak to Colette about her love life so I have no idea. However she invited me out to dinner tonight so maybe I'll hear more then."

"Dinner? Is that inviting trouble?" Mitch raised an eyebrow.

"Let's hope not."

Maggie got checked into her hotel suite. Everyone was changing into swimwear for a poolside mixer. She was already feeling a little buzz from Jamie's cooler full of fun. She rummaged through her luggage until she found her white string bikini with navy embroidery.

She set her phone up on the wireless charger on the dresser in the bedroom. "Hey siri, FaceTime, H" Maggie pulled her shoes off as she waited to see if he would answer.

"Hello." Harry's beautiful face appeared.

"Hello. I'm here. I'm alive. Charging my phone. Rushing to get changed. How is it going there?" She asked.

"Pretty good. Productive. Finished an entire song. " Harry proudly exclaimed.

"You did? So that makes three in the can, right?"

"It does. So how was the ride out?" He asked.

"Good. Fun. Jamie had a cooler of drinks so if you'll excuse me I'm halfway to white girl wasted." She giggled. "Keep talking to me. I'm gonna step over here and change. I have to get back downstairs."

"You are such a tease." He shouted as he watched her throw her pants in camera view. Harry gave an exaggerated groan. “Ugh you are such a bad girl.”

"You only know half of it." She laughed, and she returned to the camera clad in her bikini.

Harry made a wounded sound at her appearance. "I may not survive four days. You look gorgeous. Come back to LA wearing that immediately. "

"Keep working hard and four days will have come and gone before we know it. Then I'm all yours." She leaned into the camera, blew a kiss and then quickly pulled the triangle of her bikini top over to give Harry a clear view of a nipple.

"Maggie," He growled, "I can be there in two hours."

"Less with the way you drive but don't you dare. Go back to work. I have to finish getting drunk with my friends." She beamed.

"Give me a twirl in that first." He encouraged her. She turned slowly so he could take her in.

"So this meets your approval."

He let out a loud whistle. She blew him another kiss. He blew one back. "Go have fun."

"Go back to work.."

"Miss you." He said seriously.

Maggie was completely taken by surprise. It has been just a few hours but the truth was she missed him too. So yeah maybe these four days apart was a good idea. Maybe they could get some perspective on what they wanted from one another.

“It was such a perfect night ‘arry.” Colette sighed as she looked up into Harry’s face. ‘I have really missed you.”

The whiskey was warm in his belly, the breeze from the ocean settled over him. This moment felt like one of his dreams. Colette was back, she looked beautiful, they weren’t fighting. He reached his hand out to her. She took it.

“It was a really nice night. I’m glad we did this.”

“Do you want to come up to my room for a drink? I have a lovely view on the balcony.” Her eyelashes fluttered and the waves of her hair lightly rustled up in the breeze making her look ethereal.

“I’ve probably had enough to drink but I’ll walk you upstairs.” Harry knew he was playing with fire. He needed to keep his mind clear. No more booze. He wasn’t ready to let go of Colette just yet though. The night had gone too well.

Harry squeezed her hand gently and followed her.

Maggie had sobered up after having some dinner and a strong espresso. She had to do some script reading tonight before more fun tomorrow. After dinner when she returned to her room she realized she had left her phone behind charging. She was a little disappointed when there were no messages from Harry, Sure they had talked already today, a few times so really she should just be happy. Normally he said goodnight to her though.

‘Get a grip. You sound like a very intense girlfriend.’ she told herself. Maggie put the script aside and laid back. She turned off the lights and tried to get comfortable in the unfamiliar bed. She tossed and turned for another forty five minutes.

The phone on the nightstand buzzed to life.

From Harry : I hope you had the very best day. Good night sweet girl.

She typed back, ‘Only three more days to go. Good night.’

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles fluff #satellitefic

25 notes · View notes

v3nusxsky · 1 year ago

Note

Tysm!!

I thought about a slightly AU, modern world but with magic. Domme Lady Lesso bored in a BDSM club (maybe sitting in the bar having a drink) and sub f!reader trying to gain her attention to serve her!

Mistress kink, Sadistic Lady Lesso, humiliation/degradation kink, impact play (maybe caning?), consensual slut shaming, orgasm denial, overstimulation ❤️

Bar Beauty|NSFW

*Authors note~ BDSM is like one of my favourite things to write about I'm ngl so I was super excited for this slightly au*

Trigger warnings~ mistress kink, sadistic lesso sub r humiliation/degradation kink impact play slut shaming orgasm denial overstimulation spit kink, public sex restraints r suspended slight in air toys

Prompt~ see ask^^^^

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

Leonora definitely had a stressful job, that much was evident, it was hard to keep a bunch of unruly boarding students in check and her methods were certainly not favourable but they worked. A lot of the time her job left her pent up and craving a way to relieve some of the frustration. Which is exactly how she found herself stumbling into this bar called Happy Hours -teasing y'all with this- watching someone do their scene and nursing her whiskey. She was purely just watching the scene with a keen eye, the poor submissive wasn't really seeming to enjoy the dominants actions, either to rough or not enough which caused a smirk to settle on the red heads lips as she made mental notes of all the things she could do to make the woman scream.

You however were hoping to find a dominant with the ability to put you in your place, scanning the club you noticed her unruly red hair and the sadistic smirk she wore as she watched the submissive on stage be punished. Everything about her, from the way she held herself to the way she looked you knew you just have to have her, or rather her to have you. It became more of a need than a want as the night trickled on. Desperately hoping she'd notice your attempts at gaining her attention.

Luckily for you, Leonora had caught a glance of you sucking on the lime of your drink. Your eyes glazed over with alcohol buzzing around in your system swirling with a beautiful emerald colour. A clear witch is what you were and that only drew Leonora to you more. So naturally she stalked towards you, purred some seductive words in your ear that had you begging the woman to let you serve here, to take her frustration of her day out on you. Of course Lesso wasn't going to accept that proposal until you god to know one another and limits that you both had. Only then if both of you were agreeable would she take you up on the stage and fuck you like the slut she can tell you are.

After a few drinks and some pleasant conversation between you both you soon found yourself begging again for her to use you. So you found yourself up ok the stage, slipping into your sub headspace, kneeling at her feet. A pleased smirk adorned her lips at the act but she wasn't about to be lenient on you tonight. She stalked around you like you were prey, completely ignoring you and addressing the crowd forming bellow the stage, "this little slut has been desperately trying to get my attention all night. So why don't you watch her get her punishment for being nothing but a desperate whore."

"Strip slut" she demanded not even sparing you a glance as you whimpered a simple, "yes mistress." A pleased hum escaped the red head as she thought of all the things she could do with her precious little slutty toy. With a hand in your hair she tugged you to your feet and shoved you on the fuchsia sofa. "You're gonna lay here and take your punishment, move or stop counting you'll get five more", her eyes raking over your bare back.

When the first wack hit the curve of your ass you let out a strangled cry of shock, "one mistress!" The next came in a quick succession causing you to sob. Her pattern was changing all the time being spurred on by the dominants watching the show. Only when Leonora deemed you had enough hits to constitute for being a slut did she drop the cane and flip you over immediately. She ignored your cry of pain as your ass and back hit the material. You deserved your canning and she knew you knew that your pain was getting her off. A vibe was securely attached to your aching clit, "look at how wet you've gotten by a simple canning you slutty pet."

The vibrator was set to a preset edging pattern before she stripped her bottom half of her clothing to straddle your face. "Put that slutty mouth to some good use darling, spread your legs, let them see how wet you are for your mistress" which you did happily as you liked to be humiliated. You happily began to lick at her sopping cunt causing the woman to moan happily. You flickered between tongue fucking her hole as your nose bumped against her swollen clit and flicking your tongue over her throbbing bud. If didn't take long for you to be reward with a gush of wetness. You had your orgasm ripped away from you four times before she came so to say you weren't bellow begging at this point is an understatement.

You were laid on the sofa as she told you to open your mouth which you did so allowing the red head to spit in your mouth. "Take it and swallow it all pet." While you were busy whimpering in need to notice that she had taken the toy from your clit and managed to secure some restraints to your limbs and suspend you a little from the sofa. "Now anyone who wants to challenge me and think they can come and dumb down my slut is more than welcome to look at her like this, exposed and taken as I fuck her with my fingers" Leonora stated before she shoved three fingers into your fluttering hole. You howled in need begging her for mercy to please let you cum buy of course that feel on deaf ears. You were edged on her finger before Leonora donned her strap on.

"No mistress, no more. To sensitive please" you whined only to be ignored. The slight suspension providing a new angle as she rutted into you with her faux dick. Tears streaming down your face at your ruined orgasms and her brutal pace. There wasn't much you could do but take her like a slut you are. "Please please I'm sorry please Leo mistress please" you babbled as her strong thrust triggered your orgasm to crash into you. The audience got to see her pass out from the strength of pleasure and pain Leonora caused.

You were left to rock slightly until you naturally stopped. Then she lowered you to the sofa before scooping up your body and taking you into a private room. There she cleaned you up and got you food and water before sitting down to give you whatever physical attention you needed. The start of a beautiful relationship, bloomed from that one night at Happy Hours.

Word count~ 1246

#anon answered #v3nusxsky answers #fanfic #anon requested #lady lesso #sfgae #leonora lesso #lady lesso x reader #lesso x reader #lesso x reader smut #lesso smutt #lady leonora lesso #leonora lesso x reader #lady lesso x you #dean of evil x reader #dean of evil

146 notes · View notes

presidentbungus · 2 years ago

Text

Scout rolls over and smacks his alarm clock across the top—the ringing doesn’t stop, so he hits it again, and it tumbles off of his nightstand and in the almost pitch-black of his room he’s barely able to make out the phone almost vibrating off the hook, barely illuminated by the digital clock on its display. It’s still an hour behind—he never figured out how to fix that—but it would be two-something AM. Jeez.

He picks it up, mourning the loss of heat as he sits up out of the covers, yawning into the receiver. A feminine voice says something incomprehensible, so he says: “Huh?”

“Scout, listen,” Pauling curtly replies—something bangs in the background, maybe a gun. Is she still working? “What kind of, um, citrus… helps you dissolve corpses?”

His brain feels like wet goop, pooling out of his ears. He clumsily cradles the phone between his head and shoulder so he can rub the crust out of his eyes. “I don’t… Ms. P, it’s like, two…”

“Quicklime. It’s quicklime. Haha.”

“… Slow down, dude.” He yawns again, makes sure to make this one a little extra obnoxious. “What?”

“It’s a joke. Because it’s like—lime. Like a fruit but, um, also like quicklime. Oh fuck,” and then what Scout imagines to be a little kitten heel driving itself through someone’s eye, as another scream rings out, alongside a sickening squelch. “You know? Heh.”

He slides the rest of the way back under the covers and sighs. “… Oh.”

“Was it funny?”

“I think—“

“Be honest. Constructive criticism, stuff I can really use. Hit me.”

Scout’s sinuses feel like they’re full of cement. “Is this all you called me for?”

“No. Yes. Please just answer the question. And do you think it’d play to an audience?”

Scout thinks about Demo saying something along the lines of ‘if anyone breaks that poor lass’ heart by telling her that none of her jokes make any sense I’m personally gonna destroy everything you hold dear or whatever’. He opts for the reasonable copout: “I liked it.”

“Honestly.”

Shit. “Okay, jeez.“ Scout yawns again, mostly to stall for time. “… You could workshop it a little, kinda. Maybe.”

The line goes dead, immediately. Scout clatters the phone back on the hook and rolls back into the covers, groaning, and then the phone rings again, and he quickly picks it back up and doesn’t bother to open his eyes this time. “Hey, Ms. Pauling.”

“I’m sorry. I got upset.”

“I know.”

"I'll… take it into account."

"Okay." When Pauling doesn't say anything back, he adds: "You're gettin’ there."

"… Thanks, Scout."

He considers saying 'call me at seven next time', like he always considers, but like usual he just feels some part of that would be kind of cruel. “Goodnight, Ms. Pauling.”

"Um, sweet dreams." About half of a shrill shriek somewhere around her gets cut off by her hanging up. Whatever.

He sets the phone back on his nightstand, and then thinks better of it and slots it back into the dock, and then buries his head in his hands and shakes his head until he feels like he's able to sit still enough to go back to bed.

#tf2 scout #tf2 ms pauling #tf2 #bungus snippets #this is my au where literally nothing changes except ms pauling #desperately dreams of being a standup comedian. no she is not good at it

78 notes · View notes

catindabag · 1 year ago

Text

TBOSAS on Crack short take (27)

Prof.Sickle: Mr. Highbottom, we really need to address something important today.

Drunk!Casca: Is it about my unfair way of giving demerits to my idiot students?

Prof.Sickle: No. However-

Drunk!Casca: You know they all deserve each and every one of those demerits, especially that last stunt they did behind my back!

Prof.Sickle: What stunt?

Drunk!Casca: The one where they stole my apple berry pie, broke my morphling bottles, and dyed my poor Bichon puppy’s fur lime green!

Prof.Sickle: You don’t even know who committed those weirdly specific crimes!

Drunk!Casca: I don’t need to! I just know!

Prof.Sickle: Well, maybe Festus Creed and Androcles Anderson deserved their demerits-

Drunk!Casca: Those two should’ve been expelled a long time ago!

Prof.Sickle: True. But their parents are crazy.

Drunk!Casca: Ugh! Panem, help me. That’s not even the real problem.

Prof.Sickle: What do you mean-

Drunk!Casca: That Kleptomaniac (Androcles) and dumpster-diver (Festus) are always dragging their classmates into trouble!

Prof.Sickle: To be fair, everyone’s dragging everyone into trouble these days.😒

Casca: And they still keep coming back to school even after I sent them their suspension letters!

Prof.Sickle: I agree. However, Anderson’s mother is extremely dangerous.

Drunk!Casca: I know!😩

Prof.Sickle: And the Creeds don’t give a sh*t. Festus will just walk into class like nothing happened.

Drunk!Casca: Ugh! Don’t remind me!

Prof.Sickle: Well, life gives you lemons-

Drunk!Casca: I should’ve just married Crassus Xanthos Snow when we were still together!

Prof.Sickle: Oh, here we go again.

Casca: But that stupid rich loser of a businessman from District 2 ruined everything!😭

Prof.Sickle: Please stop with your fantasies.😞

Drunk!Casca: They aren’t fantasies!

Prof.Sickle: Yes, they are! So stop crying and listen to me!

Drunk!Casca: Fine! My darling Crassus and I could talk later. So what’s the real issue?

Prof.Sickle: *sighs* Do you know how many complaint letters I’ve received from our delinquent students’ parents on a daily basis?

Drunk!Casca: So?

Prof.Sickle: They’re all saying that you can’t pronounce their children’s names right!

Drunk!Casca: What?! How dare you accuse me of such thing?! I can pronounce them perfectly!

Prof.Sickle: Ok. Prove it.

Drunk!Casca: Why?! How should I-

Prof.Sickle: Simple. I say a name, you say it back.

Drunk!Casca: Fine! Challenge accepted.

Prof.Sickle: Livia Cardew.

Drunk!Casca: Liver Cardew.

Prof.Sickle: *sighs* Let’s try this one more time. Livia. Cardew.

Drunk!Casca: Libya Adieu.

Prof.Sickle: Palmyra Monty.

Drunk!Casca: Palmolive Monthly.

Prof.Sickle: PAL. MYRA. MON. TY.

Drunk!Casca: Chimaera Moon Tea.

Prof.Sickle: We are not saying the same thing!

Drunk!Casca: They sound the same to me.

Prof.Sickle: Sejanus Plinth.

Drunk!Casca: Syllabus Plinth!

Prof.Sickle: Florus. Friend.

Drunk!Casca: Florist. Friend.

Prof.Sickle: No, no. Try again.

Drunk!Casca: Flower Friend.

Prof.Sickle: WTH, Casca! That one was easy!

Drunk!Casca: Just give me the next one.

Prof.Sickle: Io Jasper.

Drunk!Casca: I Owe Casper.

Prof.Sickle: Urban Canville.

Drunk!Casca: Turban Can Bill.

Prof.Sickle: This is worse than I thought. Persephone Price.

Drunk!Casca: Per Symphony Prize!

Prof.Sickle: Festus Creed!

Drunk!Casca: Fetus Creed!😡

Prof.Sickle: Dennis Fling.

Drunk!Casca: Tennis String.

Prof.Sickle: Iphigenia Moss!

Drunk!Casca: Iffy Genial Most?! You’re just joking, right? That’s not a real name.

Prof.Sickle: WTH, Casca! She has been your student since forever!

Drunk!Casca: Really? Sucks to be her then. Next!

Prof.Sickle: Apollo Ring!

Drunk!Casca: Apple Ring.

Prof.Sickle: Diana Ring.

Drunk!Casca: Dino Ring.

Prof.Sickle: Close enough. Oh, you better know how to pronounce my niece’s name.

Drunk!Casca: Of course, I know. It’s Insomnia Sicko!

Prof.Sickle: It’s clearly Vipsania Sickle!

Drunk!Casca: INSIGNIA SICKO!

Prof.Sickle: I hate you.

Drunk!Casca: To be fair, you started it.

Prof.Sickle: Let’s just get this over with.😞 Pliny Harrington.

Drunk!Casca: Tiny Harry Tone.

Prof.Sickle: Juno Phipps.

Drunk!Casca: You Know Flips.

Prof.Sickle: Hilarius Heavensbee.

Drunk!Casca: Hilarious Evans Bee?! What kind of parent names their kid Hilarious?!

Prof.Sickle: Rich people.

Drunk!Casca: Poor kid’s gonna get bullied forever!😂

Prof.Sickle: Well, you are bullying him now, but I digress. Gaius Breen.

Drunk!Casca: Bias Green!

Prof.Sickle: Androcles Anderson.

Drunk!Casca: Andrew Keys Under Sun! That freaking kleptomaniac!

Prof.Sickle: Domitia Whimsiwick.

Drunk!Casca: Dominate Whimsi- That’s not her real name, is it?

Prof.Sickle: Try again.

Drunk!Casca: Fine. Dominatrix Whim Sicko. Wait a sec- Is she also your niece?!

Prof.Sickle: Say that again and I’ll throw you out of the window.

Drunk!Casca: It’s Domestic Whim Sea Witch, isn’t it?

Prof.Sickle: I hope you break a leg.

Drunk!Casca: You meanie! Just give me another name!

Prof.Sickle: Arachne. Crane.

Drunk!Casca: Acne Crane! Take it or leave it.

Prof.Sickle: *sighs* Clemensia Dovecote.

Drunk!Casca: Clam Asia Dove Goat.

Prof.Sickle: Felix Ravinstill.

Drunk!Casca: Philip Raven’s Bill! He’s also the current President of Panem!

Prof.Sickle: Sure. Whatever you say. Lysistrata Vickers.

Drunk!Casca: Listerina Listerine Vickers.

Prof.Sickle: She doesn’t even have a middle name!

Drunk!Casca: Maybe she does now!

Prof.Sickle: You’re not even trying anymore!

Drunk!Casca: I said their names clearly and perfectly!

Prof.Sickle: Coriolanus Snow!

Drunk!Casca: Crassus Xanthos Snow!

Prof.Sickle: WTH, Casca! That’s the boy’s dead father’s name! Try again!

Drunk!Casca: *in denial* My darling Crassus Xanthos Snow~.😍

Prof.Sickle: CORIO. LANUS. SNOW!

Drunk!Casca: How dare you accuse me of not knowing how to pronounce my own boyfriend’s name!

Prof.Sickle: Are you swimming in denial again?!

Drunk!Casca: No. I swear his name is definitely Crassus Xanthos Snow, and he’s definitely alive.

Prof.Sickle: Get out.

Drunk!Casca: But this is my office-

Prof.Sickle: GET. OUT!

Drunk!Casca: Fine! But I refuse to give you a raise after this, you meanie!

Prof.Sickle: I’m telling Crassus!

Coryo: *enters the scene* Professor, my name’s Coriolanus! I’m Coriolanus Snow!

Sejanus: *also enters the scene* No. You’re Coriolanus Plinth, Babe.

Drunk!Casca: Syllabus Plinth!

Sejanus: It’s Sej-

Drunk!Casca: You wretched little creature! How dare you steal my lover! How dare you stood where I stood!

Sejanus: Your lover?! The audacity! Coryo’s mine!

Drunk!Casca: Crassus was mine first! Always has been, always will be!!

Coryo: *sighs* I’m going home.

41 notes · View notes

imaginationofomi · 2 months ago

Text

Come Together

Three

"Look at you just flourishing. My beautiful babies," Nayeli cooed affectionately at her broccoli, celery and carrot planter boxes, trimming away what needed to be cleaned up and pressing her fingers into the soil as she spoke love and positive affirmations over her vegetables.

The potatoes were next, nearly ready for harvest, and considering it was her first year planting them, she couldn't help but be overly excited to see, feel, and eat what she grew. Her green thumb arrived at a young age thanks to her paternal grandparents.

They owned a nursery, a floral business, and a community garden. Time with them was spent in the dirt, learning which plants liked what, what needed more or less sunlight. She learned enough for her to be able to grow just about anything she touched.

The yard wasn't very big, but she made do with the space she had. Her small concrete patio held a love seat and two matching chairs that surrounded a square, stone fire pit and faced the garden. An avocado tree stood tall in the far left corner, providing shade to a swing. Six rectangular planter boxes were arranged in twos just in front of a blossoming pomegranate tree. The right side of the yard was flanked by orange, lemon, lime and kumquat trees. Her second happy place.

A notification from the Ring app popped up on her phone, and she watched a UPS driver leave a large box on her porch. Not anticipating a delivery, she got up to bring it inside. Jalen's name was on the sticker, so she left it by the front door for him to open when he got home from the sports bar with his friends.

She relished in the time away from him. For the last week, tensions ran high in their home. Nayeli was tired of his piss poor attitude, and he was annoyed because she refused to see things from his point of view. They couldn't be in the same room for more than ten minutes without butting heads about something.

It weighed heavily on her heart. The first three years of their relationship, they never argued. Disagreed, yes. Every couple had disagreements, but they were always gentle with each other, from words to physical contact. Not anymore.

Harsh sentences flew from their lips, and it broke Nayeli's heart that they'd reached that point. It was unlike her, which made her think the relationship was running its course. They were obviously no longer on the same page, and she wanted nothing more than for them to return to normal.

Six years of her life were spent nurturing the bond she once thought would carry her through the end of time. She thought she'd found her person, the other half of her soul. Time was proving her wrong. Or maybe they were just in a rut.

She didn't want to see them end. She never loved anyone as much as she loved Jalen. Her heart tore in her chest at the thought of separating.

"Nye," an unenthused voice spoke from inside the house. She momentarily craned her neck to look through the sliding glass door, her mood dampening further when Jalen stepped out onto the patio frowning.

"Hi," she answered softly and directed her attention back to the garden. Finished watering and weeding, she tugged the gardening gloves off of her hands and took them to the basket that held the rest of her tools, "Did you have a good time?"

"Yeah."

"Good." She tried to walk past him to put more than a few feet of space between them, but he reached for her elbow, halting her steps, "I do not feel like arguing with you right now. Please let me go."

"I think we should talk."

"That hasn't gone well for us, so I'm going to pass for the time being." It was getting them nowhere, and she didn't think they could survive another blowup. She wanted to hold onto the good memories of them for as long as she could. Pulling out of his grip, she continued her walk into the house with him following behind her, "Jalen, I'm serious. I'm not in the right headspace to have a conversation with you."

Tears were filling her eyes fast, and crying in front of him wouldn't garner her any sympathy. She could have snot dripping from her nose. He would remain unmoved. Aside from expressing irritation, excitement, or the occasional shock, he was the least emotional person she knew, the total opposite of her. It was what balanced them out, but the lack of emotional fulfillment was getting to her.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly, reaching for her arm again.

"Why, exactly?" She didn't believe the moment was genuine. She felt that he was apologizing simply to say he was the bigger person in the situation. He owed her an apology for many reasons, but she was losing faith that he cared. That hurt worse than anything else, realizing she wasn't nearly as important to him as he was to her.

"How I've acted the last few days."

"It's been more than a few days."

"I know," he sighed and dropped his head, rubbing his eyebrows before he slipped the fingers of both hands through hers. "I'm stressed, and I've been taking it out on you. It's not fair. I'm sorry."

She waited, hoping that he would say more, praying that he would show even a little bit of sincerity, but his mud brown eyes were hollow and unfeeling. The hot tears that had been building slid down her cheeks the second she blinked, and she inhaled hard, taking her hands out of his to wipe her face.

"Thanks. I'm gonna go for a drive." Snatching her keys from the bowl by the front door, she sprinted to the driveway and jumped into her car. She peeled out so fast she nearly hit the trashcans and recycle bin Jalen set out that morning, tires squeaking as she turned her steering wheel and sped out of her neighborhood.

The further away from him she got, the better she would feel. Or so she thought. She drove to her favorite park and left her car in the lot. It was empty, like most days. The equipment was older, nets hanging from basketball hoops either ripped or gone entirely, sharp rocks and old wrappers littering the sand around the jungle gym and monkey bars. It was all in need of a little TLC, and until that happened, people would opt out of visiting. Nayeli didn't mind.

She headed straight for the swing set she grew up jumping off of. The chains were creaky and rusted, sky blue plastic seat cracked near the metal it was suspended from. Kicking wood chips with the tip of her shoe, she allowed herself to sob as she wondered where she went wrong.

Moving in together without more of a commitment? Allowing Jalen to carry on as if he were her husband without knowing for sure if he wanted to be? He claimed to want marriage during their early days. He said he wanted everything she wanted. They'd picked names, decided what order they wanted to have their four sons and daughters in, where in the city they would move so the kids could go to the best schools.

There were plenty of conversations, and she thought that eventually everything would happen as it should've. It was naïve of her to think that way, naïve of her to wait six years for something that could possibly never happen.

For over an hour, she sat on that swing, kicking wood chips and crying because she wanted to be wrong. She still had hope that one day Jalen would propose, that they would spend the rest of their lives making each other happy. That was all she wanted.

☼☼☼

Time slowed considerably, displeasing Nayeli further along with her current state of affairs. Days were never ending, dragging on until thinking became close to unbearable. Nights were silent and lonely. The space between her and Jalen continued to grow.

No cuddling. No affection. Simple sentences. She had a roommate, not a boyfriend.

Sitting at the table in the back of the bakery, she picked at a turkey and mozzarella panini while attempting to enjoy her lunch break. Most of the tables around her were full, and the door continuously swung open to let the next patron in. People watching became a good distraction until the chair across from her scraped against the floor. Her eyes flickered to the other side of her table, and a genuine smile graced her face.

"Proper etiquette would be to ask before you just invite yourself to someone's table," she teased, sitting up a little straighter and toying with the curl in front of her left ear.

"Forgive my deplorable manners. Is anybody sitting here?" Ezra asked and returned her smile. He'd been hoping to run into her, even dropped by a couple of times, but they always seemed to miss each other. God smiled on him that day.

"You are now. All yours in a minute. It's almost time for me to get back to work. How's the princess?"

"She's good. I have to pick her up from school in a couple of hours. Can the boss extend her break for a while?"

"I can make an exception if I have a good reason," Nayeli said, setting her chin in her palm.

Ezra sat quietly, admiring her face for several long seconds before it registered that she was waiting for a response. A folded piece of paper sat in the pocket of his jacket. He pulled it out and handed it to her, "I have that list you asked for."

"You could've emailed it to me." She took the paper square and opened it into a full sheet, scanning the short list of two people with food allergies and the final dessert choices.

"I thought it would be better to hand deliver it."

"Admit it, you just wanted to see me."

"I did."

Nayeli's eyes widened and watered as saliva slid down the wrong pipe, and she coughed, not expecting his answer.

"What?"

"I wanted to see you," he told her.

"Oh, I was....kidding. And so are you," she replied when she saw him chuckling. He was just yanking her chain.

"I wasn't, actually, but you're cute when you're nervous." His dimples made her comfortable, but the whole moment was slightly unnerving. Out of all the people she met in her lifetime, he was the easiest to talk to. A complete stranger.

"Thank you." She felt a weird bit of excitement in his presence, an itch to know him deeper, "Why did you want to see me?"

"Would you think I was crazy if I said I feel like we've met before?" he asked, eyes turning nervous as they searched hers.

"No. Small world and all that. Maybe we have met before, in this life or a previous one."

"You believe in reincarnation?"

"Strangely, yes."

"Why is it strange?"

"I'm sure you don't meet a lot of Catholics that do."

"I can't say I have. It goes against the religion."

"Yes, but to be honest, I find it all fascinating. Though there are differences throughout, some large, some small, the fundamental teachings are really all the same. Do unto others as you would have them do onto you. Discern right from wrong. Live everyday as your best self and strive to be better. I was raised Catholic and attend church regularly, but I don't view one religion above another. We're all doing what we're taught or what brings us peace," she explained, momentarily biting her tongue when Ezra tilted his head in curiosity. He was listening intently, which made her feel safe enough to continue, "Sorry. I don't mean to ramble. I took a couple of courses in college, read some books, and I think no matter what angle you come at it, there are always going to be things to disagree with, things we don't like or understand. Things we would prefer to believe, but what is the truth? We don't know, and that's okay. We're supposed to question it all. "Faith and doubt go hand in hand. They are complementaries. One who never doubts never truly believes"."

"Hermann Hesse."

She didn't expect him to know who the quote was by. They shared another smile, and she became even more curious about him. The rest of the world knew "EJ". She wanted to know Ezra.

"Exactly. I think we got a little off topic, though. You said you feel like we've met before." Steering the conversation back to its original direction, she began to flip through her memories, hoping to catch something that would provide insight.

"Yes."

"Do you feel like it might've been recent? Within the last five years?"

"I don't know, but when I saw you for the first time, it didn't feel like the first time." He didn't want to tell her that he dreamt about her. He knew for sure that would freak her out, but there was an odd connection between them that he wanted to explore.

It confused him. Why did he dream about her? Were the dreams a message? Why did it feel like they'd been acquainted for years?

"I thought you looked at me like you knew me," Nayeli said, studying his face and trying to trigger a memory. She kept coming up blank.

"Do I seem familiar to you?"

"At certain moments, you do. Maybe we should visit a hypnotist and dig into our pasts." There was success in the process. She knew a few people who swore by hypnotherapy, but she made the suggestion as a joke.

"Hypnosis is a scam," Ezra said firmly causing her to laugh at the stern look on his face.

"I don't know about a scam. You could argue a placebo effect. It works on people that want it to work and believe it will."

"It's a scam."

"Everyone is entitled to an opinion." Her giggling quieted down and she scanned the space periodically to make sure she wasn't needed, "Are you from Briton Beach? It's possible we've seen each other around. I've spent most of my life here."

"No, I'm from Inglewood. I've been here for about a year."

"Hm. Then I can't imagine where we would've met."

"It's a good thing we did." Reaching across the table, he put his hand over hers. His palm was warm and rough, hands she expected from a man that squabbled for a living.

"Hey."

Nayeli and Ezra looked up at the person interrupting their conversation, and she felt her face heat just before she became lightheaded.

"Jalen, hey. What are you doing here?" She blinked a few times and swallowed to help cure the dryness in her mouth.

"I thought I'd surprise you and take you out for lunch, but I see you already ate."

Palpable tension built between the three of them, walls metaphorically closing in and making her feel suffocated. Jalen glanced at her half eaten sandwich and then at Ezra before looking at Nayeli.

"Thank you. That's sweet, but you've never surprised me at work before. You should've called," she said.

"Why? Am I interrupting something?"

#black fiction #black literature #black love #polyamory #romantic fiction #romance #love #love story

2 notes · View notes

motownfiction · 3 months ago

Text

coconut

Emma Jett O’Connor is twenty-six years old, overheating in her childhood bedroom, and trying to update her bio for the Graduate Students page on her department website.

The academic stuff is easy. She knows her research interests like the back of her hand. New Hollywood. Outlaws and gangsters. Obsessed with Easy Rider, even after all this time, which is probably why Daisy is still her best friend. Not a big fan of Midnight Cowboy, but that all goes out the window as soon as Harry Nilsson sings. Everybody’s talkin’ at me. Oh. Too beautiful for a film so upsetting.

But the personal stuff. That’s harder.

Why does she even need to list her personal passions? She doesn’t want to seem approachable. She wants to seem intimidating. That way, when people find out she can be approachable, they’re pleasantly surprised. If she seems too nice right away, people will take advantage of her. Look at Elenore. Sure, she’s a success in the office, but everywhere else … her sister hurts and hurts and hurts. Poor lady.

But the department is making demands, and so, Emma will follow them. If she complies, maybe they’ll let her teach an intermediate Cinema Studies course next year, like they keep promising her they will. Anything to be able to choose her own films.

Personal passions. Personal passions.

Writing, for one. It’s basic enough. Doesn’t tip her hand too much. All academics have to write, but not all academics are passionate about writing. But Emma is. She learned it from her mother, weaver of words and ideas.

Coca-Cola, for another. She got that from her whole family. She remembers going to Michigan to visit her grandparents when she was little and how special she felt when Daddy would let her drink out of the big Coca-Cola glass at his old favorite restaurant. Of course, she won’t say any of that. But she remembers.

Star Wars, for a third. Everyone knows that about her. They’ve known it since the first semester of her master’s program, when she dressed up like Princess Leia for Halloween with no shame. She learned that one from Elenore, who did the same in her first year of law school.

What else should she even list? She opens her phone, thinking maybe one of her silly Pinterest boards will give her an idea. Something interesting but not too personal. But she doesn’t get as far as Pinterest.

She has a text from Paul, and it’s a video.

With her heart thrumming in her ears, she hits the play button. Why is her hand shaking?

Because there’s Paul, at his hotel in Orlando where he’s giving a paper on Batman Forever, wearing a stupid (read: adorable) tropical shirt, a stupid (read: sweet) hat like a dad on vacation, and bobbing his head in time with the radio behind him.

You put the lime in the coconut and drink it all up …

Emma giggles.

More Harry Nilsson.

She reads the little blurb under Paul’s video and giggles even more.

What do you think? the bubble reads. Dorky enough?

She laughs as she types, probably a little too eager, but she doesn’t care.

Definitely, she writes back. Maybe maximum dork.

She sighs. Yes. He could be her fourth passion. Paul Westerberg Donnelly, thirty-three years old, fair reddish hair, named after the frontman of The Replacements, also going into his third year of the Ph.D. program in Emma’s department. They’re office mates. Initially, Emma was worried to share a space with him because he was a little older (and a guy). But the first time she saw him laugh, it was all over. His eyes damn near glittered, and she realized they were blue, a little like hers. He didn’t lean back like most people. He leaned to the side, like he was trying to dodge the joke. From then on, she knew they would get along. From then on, she knew she could love him forever if he would let her.

They’re not dating. They’ve never kissed, held hands, or admitted anything. But Emma knows there’s something. A vibe, as her students might call it. She’s not sure if she should say anything, or if she should wait for him. All she knows is that she doesn’t want to be embarrassed. All she knows is that when she looks at him, it feels like love.

She puts a playlist on shuffle. Really, she shouldn’t even be surprised.

Can’t live … if livin’ is without you …

Yes. Paul Donnelly is Emma O’Connor’s fourth passion. But she writes down music instead.

#drabble #writeblr #ch: emma o'connor #ch: paul donnelly #year: 2021 #if you think this is a very different take on the paul character that's correct!#don't look at me!

4 notes · View notes

multi-fandom-lunatic · 3 months ago

Text

Colours of the Rainbow - Kam kotlc (2/6)

Part 2 of my Wattpad kam story on here!! WP linked below (and my profile for my other stories ;D)

Colours of the Rainbow

My profile, MultiFandomLunatic

---

CHAPTER TWO: Orange, the colour I highlighted my priorities with.

Fourth grade was a good year so absolutely no one. The brightly coloured posters on the crumbling walls stained with who-knows-what hurt Keefe’s eyes almost as much as the multi-coloured shutter shades no one could seem to get enough of popularised at the time.

“You know, I will pay you money, actual money, for you to wear some colours,” Keefe whispered to his best friend jokingly. Tam took pride in turning up every day in a boring black hoodie, which was, well, simply put: booooooooooooooorrrrrrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiiiingggggggggggg. Tam ignored his Keefe, but out of the corner of Keefe’s eye, he caught his emo friend’s eyes twinkling, and his cherry pink lips turn up to a rare and beautiful smile, which he bit down away from Keefe.

“Okay, everyone, I want you to highlight what is most important to you in your life.” Keefe’s substitute teacher droned on. Her eyes were almost as droopy as Keefe’s as she passed his desk, throwing at him a piece of poor quality A4 paper, which fluttered down gently to the desk next over, after doing some cartwheels in the air and tossing him a neon orange highlighter that looked well worn. Keefe got up from his plastic seat, the legs of the chair scraping against the wooden ground making an orchestra of noises you never wanted to hear, and bolted toward Tam, who was sitting at the other side of the room, trying to stay awake, and failing miserably. Hoodies make the best pillows when you’re in a boring class, after all.

Keefe slammed his hands down on Tam’s lime-coloured desk, forcing him to snap awake, and, before Tam could even process that he was awake, Keefe grabbed his hand, gentle sparks electrocuting him, opening his orange highlighter like Percy once did with his pen sword and scribbling a sloppily drawn heart in the calloused palm of his friend’s hand. Keefe beamed, his ice blue eyes shining against the reflection of the flickering classroom light, and held up Tam’s hand by his wrist, his sharp nails digging into his skin. Tam was now fully awake, and too stunned to speak. Keefe wasn’t sure if he saw awe or annoyance in Tam’s eyes. Either way, they both sounded like something your English teacher would say. Keefe smirked, and shoved Tam’s hand in the substitute’s face even more, causing Tam to yelp as he was dragged, and the substitute to gasp indignantly as a response.

“I’m done. Can I go to lunch now?”

The substitute had a less-than-pleased reaction, to put it lightly. Her face turned completely red, like a cherry, her lips and eyes bulging out. She looked so much like an angry cartoon character, Young Keefe was sure she was going spew smoke from her ears.

That would’ve made a cool story.

Instead, Keefe got a screaming match from an inattentive, booorrriinnngg substitute teacher, and detention during lunch.

“Hey, uh, Bangsie, how would you like to stay in this room for an hour and stare at the wall, together.” Keefe tried, attempting to smirk at him.

“Gotta drop the nickname first, Hunkyhair.” Tam smiled back.

“Oh, what a difficult choice you give me! Why must you make me choose the hard choices?” Keefe said dramatically. “Unfortunately, I must bid you adieu here, my comrade. Calling you Bangsie is just so much FUN!” Keefe mimed sobbing, his voice wavering, and wiping tears from his eyes. Tam snickered and nudged his shoulder.

“Tell me how you go with the sub.” Tam scanned his, his silvery eyes piercing through her soul as she devoured here pineapple pizza. “All I can tell right now is that she doesn’t have a good temper or a good taste in food, which is pretty much all I look for in people.”

“Maybe she has some redeeming qualities, like she is super gullible meaning we can play some pranks on her. I just discovered this thing called a gulon, and-” Before Keefe could finish telling his emo friend what the prank of the century could be, Tam burst out laughing.

“You are a menace, Hunkyhair,” Tam said, flipping his bangs away from his face. “Tell me about this gulon this later?”

“They’ll never know it was me.”

Keefe thought spending an hour staring at the sub trying to down a glass of water while crying her eyes out watching a soap opera was bad, but what he got at home was so much worse.

“Why were you sent to detention Keefe?” No longer was Keefe’s mom’s voice as sugar sweet as cheap icing, no, it was dangerously low, dipping in courtesy every time her feigned calmness was close to wearing off. She carried a terrifying amount of authority in her voice, the kind that told you I like pink, but I’ll be willing to stain your shirt red.

I explained what happened, eyes darting from her to my room, too scared to hold eye contact for any longer than a minute. Keefe’s bowing head and meek voice must have been enough to convince her not to kill him without delay. Instead, she gave an order, her voice now lower than it had ever gone, her eyebrows arched villainously, and her eyes full of silent, fiery anger.

“You are to stay away from that Tam boy, understand?”

Fourth graders were never known for their amazing listening skills, were they?

#kotlc #kotlc thoughts #keefe sencen #kotlc fandom #books #gay #shipping #kam kotlc #fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic writing #wattpad #queer #kam kotlc fic #kam fic #tam song #pjo

3 notes · View notes

assjuice4ever · 1 year ago

Text

Part of my rants on the fic I want to write. There is a rape and death scene.

In my mind the reader (my OC in the future) is strong but his power are blocked off and controlled. She is very much like a dog, and for the first time she break free, when her cousin, one of the few people she considered a friend, attacks her. Yet, she doesn't understand that she is still like a dog, just with another owner and another kind of leash.

Gojo is only mentioned but he plays an important role.

I will check for typo in the future.

Maybe you were just a dog.

You bit whenever of lash.

You did what you were trained to do.

You obeyed.

You were okay with food and a good place where to sleep.

Maybe you were just a dog whose leash broke and now you could run.

There was pain. Pain was okay. Pain was something you knew. It was weirdly comforting sometimes to be in pain. If somebody asked you what it felt to be kissed by your mother you would have said that it felt like that. Like your skin was burning, like your heart was jumping out and your head spinning. But you have never been kissed by your mother so you could just guess. Maybe being kissed by your own mother was more like breathing. So normal that you couldn't feel anything when everything was okay.

This time the comfort wasn't there. Pain wasn't an old friend anymore but a horrible foe.

You felt the cold and chilling sensation of a sword on your stomach. And your eyes went up to see your cousin. He didnt look lime you. He didn't look like your brother. He was more dignified than him but more less than you. It was maybe the first time you watched him for real.

His skin was destroyed by acne just under the chin, the little veil of beard made a poor work to cover him. His lips were dry, bit out, with old blood on them. His nose was high, a little big but perfectly fitting for his face. His forehead was little, creased, with a little brown mole on the center. His eyes were of a soft brown, with dark spot on the outside, they were big, similar to the one of a calf, so gentle and happy. You never saw him so happy or maybe you never watched him that closely.

He smiled, his teeth were perfectly clean, his canine a little crooked to the inside.

He moved the sword. You trembled for the cold, yet your blood was so hot while it streamed down your legs.

Your hands went to the sword. It was a sword you never saw before. The metal was a little too soft, you could feel it getting deformed while it touched your bones. Maybe he prepared it only for you. To use it only one time. It was cheering to know that he cared at least enough to use a special sword only for you. That he prepared for it.

You opened your mouth. What you were gonna say? "Why?"? No. It was okay for you to not know why, you would be sad to know it. You liked your cousin, he was one of the few people who you liked, the inly one of your family. But it stung to know that you were the only one to think of his as a friend. Only a gurgling sound left your mouth. You didn't know what you wanted to ask.

He drew the sword out of you and the word became red. It was beautiful. You loved red.

Your legs gave in and you went on the ground. You were loosing to much blood. Maybe this time you were going to die without getting up. There was nobody here to help you, there was nothing other than your cousin and your insides exposed to the air.

There was no fear. Dying was okay. You did a lot of times, only, this time you weren't going to get up.

For some reason you thought of Satoru while watching your cousin's smile. You should have go e with hit to a special restaurant the next day to eat a famous double chocolate cake. He told you that the cream was an explosion of taste and it was a vanilla flavour, like you liked it. Maybe he would go even if you weren't there and order two slice, one for you. You could see his slender hands cutting slowly the slice with the little cake fork, the cream spilling out before he slowly started to ate it, lips black for the chocolate and a little smile of his pink lips because it was that kind of sweet that he liked. The one that made him kick his feet a little.

You watched your cousin. Maybe you could ask him to go on another day. After tomorrow. You wanted to see Satoru kick his feet again. It made you giddy. You were ready to promise to kill yourself too if it meant seeing it again. If it meant to taste that cake, your mouth felt awfully sour. You didn't like the idea of dying with a sour mouth.

Then he unbuckled his belt.

You didn't understand.

Maybe Satoru was right. You were a little stupid. A little retarded. Or maybe you didn't want to think of it. or maybe it was so horrible that you didn't want to believe it, that you refused to understand it.

He was still smiling.

You didn't feel pain. You didn't feel cold on your legs because everything was cold outside of your blood. It was even difficult to see it. You were slowly dying. Too slowly.

But you could still hear. The grunting. It was the kind of pain you couldn't bear. You wanted to scream but you could only gurgle. You wanted to rip your own ear off, but your hands weren't working. You wanted to feel his skin on your hands, you wanted to rip his face off, to destroy him, to burn him, to skin him, to make him eat his own flesh, to tore his limbs apart.

You wanted him to die.

YOU WANTED HIM TO DIE.

TO DIE.

DIE.

DIE. DIE.

DIE. DIE. DIE.

DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE.

DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE.

DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE.

DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE. DIE.

He was dead.

Your whole body was burning.

You were feeling every single part of your body and it felt so strangely liberating.

You watched his body on the ground.

There was no skin of his face. Only blood. Gums exposed to air to keep his smile intact. His face was more memorable than before.

That was the only thing that remained of him.

And yet you weren't angry anymore. You weren't sad anymore.

The only thing you felt was the wind on your hair.

You were free.

For the first time in nine years you were totally free.

You didn't have a owner anymore.

You were able to do whatever you want whenever you want.

You could run until your feet started to bleed, and heal to run again. You could go everywhere you wanted. You could do whatever you wanted. There were so many things you wanted to burn down and destroy that you couldn't count them with your fingers.

You could just be everything, do everything and you were ready to start in that moment. You were going to change your own world.

But your mouth was still a bit sour. The sensation of death was still lingering on your tongue.

Maybe you could change everything after tomorrow.

After having the cake with Satoru.

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x oc #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x oc #jjk men x reader #jjk x oc #jjk x you #jjk x reader

10 notes · View notes

asm5129 · 2 years ago

Text

RWBY V9 E6 thoughts and analysis

Jaune, my poor boy

here he is having had to just kill a friend

Then he has the WORST luck and stumbles onto this weird-ass tree

(Love the clock tree’s design btw)

And then he picks the “time lime” (as a friend called it) and it sends him back decades, we don’t even know how much

And since he fell last, no one knows he fell at all

Meaning he has to wait even longer

In better news, love that Jaune sees Crescent Rose and immediately goes to save it when he’s falling

He knows how important it is to Ruby

(Or was. We’ll get there.)

We now have explicit time shenaniganery in the Ever After, and I doubt it’s our last

Poor Jaune though my god

What must he have gone through

GROUP HUG AWWWW

Weiss “if I knew he’d be this hot I’d have stuck it out” Schnee

“What good is saving anybody if Salem just destroys the world anyway”

I love how RWBY does this. This is a line that, on the surface, makes perfect sense. But it’s not the logic that’s flawed—it’s the mindset behind it.

Every moment of life is valuable. Every single one. (Link at the end to an amazing video essay on this using the lens of Life Is Strange).

Think about it. Otherwise, the fact that we’re not immortal would make our lives instantly meaningless, and that’s just not true.

On top of that, you could save the world, but if everyone (or nearly everyone) in the world is dead, that’s not really rational either

Like Yang says, the idea that saving individual lives doesn’t actually matter in the grand scheme of things is the path that led Ironwood to become a villain.

VILLAGE? Jaune has a village?! Who might we meet there? I’m intrigued

Jaune….why are you giving me Ironwood vibes? 😳

CC genuinely seems to be glad to see Jaune

The tree is what causes ascension!? What a twist

CC, you say that can’t happen to them, but you were also awfully worried that team RWBY wouldn’t be who themselves anymore after visiting Herb

Clearly you thought SOMETHING could happen

But…you were also worried something could happen….and actively tried to prevent it….So what’s going on here?

Ah, so THATS who the boy in the back of Alyx’s photo in the intro is

“You never asked, silly”

Thing is, I think CC is being sincere. I don’t think they were hiding it, they genuinely just don’t answer questions that aren’t asked. It’s just not part of the social contract from their perspective

A Punderstorm?

Also just realized

Jaune must have been actively fighting against the Ever Afters attempts to resolve his issues the entire time

Probably because of his trust issues which have only gotten worse over time it seems

Also first impressions of the Ever After being what they were for him probably didn’t help

But wow yeah

He must have been actively resisting healing from his pain for a ridiculously long time

Poor Jaune

Ah poor Weiss, she and the Ever After do NOT get along

“Something bigger to work out” eh?

“How do we take the next step” BEES

What do the symbols on these signs mean? Boy and paw?

SUMMER IN RUBYS REFLECTION

Oh my, it’s literally visualized in front of them but Ruby does not even notice her own trauma (Summer) yet ruminates on the trauma of others and her inability to fix things for them (Weiss and Atlas)

I do not trust Jaune’s story here, at least not completely. I don’t think he’s lying, but it’s very much filtered through a biased lens of trauma and trust issues

“She wasn’t just a little petulant. She was selfish, and cruel.” She also looks about thirteen

“Like the whole world was make-believe and the rules didn’t apply to her” MAYBE SHE THOUGHT IT WAS MAKE BELIEVE 🤯

We don’t know how she got to the Ever After, but it’s quite possible she genuinely didn’t think of it as “real”, which meant she didn’t have to feel bad about any of her actions

Just like how Alice in Disney’s adaptation (the animated one) didn’t really have to contend with her collateral damage since it was all a dream

What changed at the Herbalist, Alyx? What did Herb say to you?

“The more I tried to get the story back on track the more she distrusted me”

Honestly? That one I think is a little valid. You were trying to force a child’s life to fit a narrative you believed it was supposed to fit. If, say, she found out something along those lines, yeah of course she wouldn’t trust you Jaune.

Honestly, the more interesting thing for me is that she apparently lost all trust in Lewis as well.

“I couldn’t even be the make-believe hero”

Poor Jaune. For all the growth he had, there was still that part of him that saw himself as ultimately just “the lovable idiot stuck in the tree while his friends risk their lives” and he hates himself for that

For not being the hero he thought he should be.

Wait…Holy shit

In the Ever After, he was kinda stuck in a tree

Though not in it’s branches this time, he was stuck in its grasp nonetheless

“The Rusted Knight drank the poison in her stead” this is such a strange line

That’s gotta be intentional. Why does he refer to himself in third person as “the rusted knight”? What does he mean “in her stead”?!

It does obviously seem that the poison wasn’t lethal. So that’s another intriguing thing about Alyx. Jaune states that she said she “wasn’t going to let anyone stop her from leaving. She’d do whatever it takes”

And yet, she seemingly made sure not to kill him

“The cats role in the ever after…I figured it out later, when the cat came back for me once Alyx left” Okay so, I’ll admit there’s at least a chance it was lethal and the Cat saved Jaune somehow

But I think it’s more likely it wasn’t lethal, because the flashback had Jaune basically just falling unconscious to the best of what we can see. Of course, that doesn’t mean the Cat didn’t help him recover a bit….who can say, all I’m saying is it’s interesting the cat came back for Jaune.

Then again, maybe CC just genuinely didn’t understand there might be conflict between them now

Yeah so, lots of people have pointed this out, but this is where it becomes clear how biased Jaune is. The Cat took Alyx and Lewis to the tree, one of them got home—the assumption is it was Alyx since she supposedly wrote the book (many have pointed out it’s quite possible Lewis is the one who made it back, which is why Alyx is presented much more sympathetically in the story) and this is where all of Jaune’s issues finished the story for him.

He began to believe that the Cat was never helping anyone, that they were only ever manipulating them in order to feed the tree and keep the cycle going, and this is a clear indication of how his trust issues are affecting his ability to see things clearly

BZZZZZZZZZZZ ITS BEEEEEEEEES TIIIIIME BABYYYYYY

“I’ll feel a lot better when we’re together on that platform”

Just LOVE that Blake has been taking the lead this whole volume

She is ready to love and be loved

She knows who she is, she knows what she wants

And she’s done letting the memory of Adam or the threat of Salem or anything else stand in her way

“You’ve got a really good brain”

“You have cat ears!”

Yang flirting with Blake in volume 1 when they first met CONFIRMED

Also confirmed is that Yang’s inability to flirt with Blake is tied directly to her struggle with vulnerability

She’s scared to say what she means when it matters

THE MUSIC

YANG’S ADORABLE LITTLE “Shall we dance” ANIMATION

THE TEARS IN HER EYES

“I think you’re an extraordinary person. You’re always the first to lighten a situation. You act bravely when you’re afraid. You do what you say.

Try to keep up!”

“I like that you’ve never been intimidated by me….even when you didn’t like me very much.”

“I was a little weary of people in general…”

“But you never gave up on them, even when they hurt you. You never give up. You know what matters to you.”

This whole exchange is so beautiful

And I love that despite Yang’s comedy often acting as a defense mechanism and Blake’s unwillingness to give up on people causing her to stay with Adam, both are presented as something worth loving because that’s not all they are

Yang makes Blake smile. Sometimes it’s a defense mechanism, sometimes it’s not, but Blake loves that Yang makes her smile

And Blake’s refusal to give up on people was taken advantage of by Adam, but it in and of itself is hardly a bad instinct—and Yang saw that firsthand when Blake dedicated herself to making sure her team (and Yang especially) knew she was never going to run away from them again

And of course, that’s only the tiniest piece of why they love each other.

“You do what you say”

After all Adam’s manipulation, gaslighting and abuse, to have someone who says what she means and actually acts like it must be incredible

“You know what you want”

Yang’s always been a bit adrift, defining herself by her relationship to others. In v1 she mainly saw herself as Ruby’s older sister and parental figure; and she also defined herself by being abandoned by Raven and wanting to find her. It’s not that she never had wants of her own, but she her wants often depended on how she viewed herself in relation to others.

Blake took no shit, she was passionate, she took a stand when it was something she believed in—and maybe even inspired Yang to do the same in volume 8?

“Let’s make this quicker. Any big truths we haven’t dropped on each other yet?”

As soon as Yang says that, she knows the truth she has to say and the storm reacts and

THE COLORS

THE PURPLE AND YELLOW

ITS SO PRETTY

Everything in this scene is SO PRETTY

“It’s like…a cliff. And if I do it I’m just going to….fall.”

“I think we’re already falling…”

RWBY has played around a LOT with the idea of “falling”

Cinder Fall/the fall maiden and falling into the abyss after her fight with Raven

The fall of beacon

The intro to volume 3

Ironwood’s fall into villainy

Falling into the ever after

So much more

Hell, initiation literally launched them into the air and they had to learn how to develop a landing strategy as they fell!!! Fuck this show is so well-written

But here, Blake takes the idea of “falling”—presented as something dangerous by Yang—and reframes it into something explicitly positive for the first time

The big deep breath Yang takes…Blake is literally telling her she already knows, but poor Yang is still afraid she might not be loved back

But Blake doesn’t even let her finish before making sure she knows it’s real

I learned that apparently Lillies are the official lesbian flower so that’s just a wonderful detail

I love that this kiss isn’t rough and passionate like they’ve been waiting to get their hands on each other

It’s gentle and calm

Tender, and compassionate

And while it’s not verbalized, you can actually see them checking for the others consent!!!!

So CC definitely has been explicitly hiding SOME stuff

Like that they didn’t know Alyx wrote a book about her adventure

When CC implies Jaune isn’t particularly stable, his reflection becomes his younger self. Intriguing.

CC wanted to go to remnant? But Alyx didn’t take them. Intriguing. Also “through the door to remnant”?

And yeah, ultimately, team RWBY did not care about CC. They were using them. Despite everything they did for our heroes, they only saw CC as a guide and an annoyance to endure so they could get home

Blake’s leg is doing the thing and it’s adorable

“Feels like I’ve been waiting forever for that” WE ALL HAVE JAUNE THOUGH NOT AS LONG AS YOU BUT SEMANTICS IT WAS SO WORTH IT

Crescent Rose. Jaune found it.

And Ruby is straight-up disassociating poor girl

When she crafted Crescent Rose, she crafted Ruby Rose as well. And she doesn’t want to be Ruby Rose, so she rejects Ruby Rose’s weapon.

And tomorrow, my guess is we’ll get a return to the Blacksmith, and maybe some Summer/Salem info too.

That video essay I mentioned on why every moment of life matters (the thumbnail is a bit clickbaity, promise the video is exceptional)

youtube

And a fantastic breakdown of the Bumbleby Confession scene:

#rwby #rwby analysis #rwby positivity #rwby has great writing #rwby thoughts #rwby spoilers

7 notes · View notes