#sometimes life is messy and it takes you “longer” to get places

[ecosyncrasy]

I've been watching a lot of longer form content today about studying in preparation for my university prep courses. I've attempted going for a degree many times over across a variety of different subjects and always ran out of steam halfway through the first year. I used to laugh off explaining this to people as me simply being a bad fit for academia and that I was content simply 'knowing a little about a lot'.

However, now in my thirties – making the choice to go back there was something in this video I was watching about study habits that made it click why this time is actually different. Why I feel so strongly that this time I have a chance.

I made so many excuses during my twenties about why I was simply okay with how things ended up because I had internalized that I was completely powerless to change things. I was disassociating so hard the fact that I found myself in a long term abusive relationship where I was isolated from all my family and irl friends. (and the ones I had online had NO idea what I was going through offline because subconsciously I was so embarrassed to even talk about it or admit I was struggling with anything). I had nothing but a job that I was killing myself to excel at because “lol gifted kid burnout is just like that”. There wasn't any possibility of me being on the spectrum or having ADHD because my parents said those are simply not real or excuses. After all, I was making honours lists and was getting 90s up until the family unit started to fall apart (Grade 11).

Yet even in the final months of high school – I had no idea what I wanted to do. I only knew that my parents expected me to go to university. In fact my whole life up to that moment the entire family was gearing up to brag about all the degrees I was just BOUND to get – while being entirely divorced from my academic life. (My father and extended family only cared about achievements. My mother was stressed from being in a shitty marriage and assumed I didn't need any help because my younger brother was struggling so much with even the academic basics.) That by the time I needed to apply I just picked my top subject (English Literature), and picked schools based on where my high school friends were going. Especially since my parents officially separated (messily) the summer before (Hi shitty summer of 2009) I was due to go to uni, in retrospect I was already in a tailspin. I was just clinging onto anything remotely familiar.

I wish so badly that I had someone then to shake me and tell me not to rush off into university on whims that were not my own.

Predictably. I spent the most of that year in a depressive state. I barely attended classes. Spent most of my time in bed. I crashed and burned horrifically, and ended up having my final conversation with my father around this time who's only support was calling me an 'idiot' when I told him I was depressed and considering dropping out.

My subsequent attempts at different things in an online university setting from 20-25 ... were not much better. I ran away from my family situation after the loss of my grandmother who had pretty much raised me when my parents were both consumed with work. Into the arms of a much older guy who definitely never deserved my time. Then all my attempts at school were in hindsight more running away but I was flailing. Picking anything that sounded interesting. Trying to discover who I was in an environment that was not suited to discover ANYTHING. Devouring and excelling in the first half of the classes but not having the confidence to even attempt any sort of exams or meaningful evaluation. Because god – having any sort of needs or support isn't how I get people to love me. If I couldn't do it 100000% by myself – it wasn't worth doing.

And in the end I wasn't chasing a passion. I didn't really see myself in any of those positions. I wasn't allowing myself to go after anything I really wanted because – that doesn't pay the bills. How could I let myself go into debt if I didn't stand a chance of making it back right out of school. I was still basing every choice I was making based on what others wanted out of me (prestige, money, etc).

I didn't, as this video so aptly put – I didn't have the end goal in mind. I was only thinking of the next day – maybe the next month.

I'm in a much better place now. A better relationship that has allowed me space and room to grow. To challenge my old ways of thinking. I'm in a place and have a good relationship with my mother that I am starting (still struggling) to work on being myself. Getting in touch with the things I love. I stumbled into a job (working at a commercial pet store of all things) that rekindled a passion from childhood that's given me a drive I haven't had before.

All these things, coupled with the fact that I've been watching my life pass by in the most unfulfilling way has unlocked memories of begging to go on walks down forest trails. Crying over and hugging trees as a kindergartner that were marked to be cut down to make room for parking. Mourning the loss of a property out in the wilderness for one closer to the city. Leading a gaggle of first graders to make pseudo-science observations of local birds during recess. Devouring hours and hours of nature documentaries wanting to be the ones doing that for a job (but thought I wasn't smart enough or that it was somehow beyond my reach). Craving nature based spirituality. A life long passion for animal welfare, rescue and rights that I buried in a professional sense after I found out that veterinary medicine would have killed me.

Something has clicked this time and it has filled me with such a thirst for success that hasn't existed for me before.

For me the answer is now clear. It's always been Biology. Ecology. Conservation. Fighting for the rights of people and the planet. Every career quiz I've ever taken has told me I craved a calling that would serve a higher purpose. That could help people and be a force of change in the world. More and more as I look down the gun of what is going to be a great challenge, more things unlock in my mind telling me that I am suited for this. This is my purpose – and it feels right. It just took me three decades to understand and feel confident about that understanding.

Even now, I can't remember the last time I've sat down and reflected about any of this. It's the first time I've felt compelled to write about my experiences in a raw and unflinching way. I think that says something.

For the first time I crave the struggle to make my life better. And now pathways are opening up as I discover myself and I'm so excited for the future.

[planetsage]

NEW PIN ! ꒰ 🪷 LUST FOR LIFE 𖧧˚⋆ʚɞ ── choso kamo 𝜗𝜚 . . . SAVE ?

“and i was like take off, take off, take off all your clothes”

contains. nsfw so, minors and ageless blogs do not interact. f!reader. dom!choso / bsf!choso, kinda ooc, mentions of sex toys, solo masterbation, getting caught, m rec oral, deepthroat, spit, dirty talk, missionary, some possessiveness, overstimulation, creampie. 2k words.

choso realized early on in your friendship that he finds issues in locating exactly where the metaphorical line lies between you two.

he knows that, yes; he loves you with an unconditional devotion that scribbles color over every inch and corner of his life. if he could, he’d bring the moon down and bottle it up for you. in the shape of his love. he’d steal the stars.

but sometimes his brain cramps up in confusion because he shouldn’t be imagining how soft and clammy his best friend’s pretty little hands would feel wrapped around the girth of his cock, right?

he knows it’s wrong. he knows he’s just being gross; there’s always a subtle pang of guilt that strums and strings at his heart when he’s with you, but every time he stiffens at his very, very lively imagination, he just can’t help the tight grip, his thumbs rubbing little circles on his sensitive tip before moving with the rest of his fingers to jerk off to the pictures you send him throughout your day.

and you don’t make it any easier for him.

the way your touch lingers for too long, your gaze planting camellia seeds over the plot of his cheeks.

and now, he’s staying at your place while his ac gets fixed; he spent a grueling few days in the oppressive summer heat, sticky and sweaty, and couldn’t bear it any longer. naturally, like the great friend you are, you warmly offered up a guest bedroom to him. and he accepted.

he quickly went to pack a few days’ worth of clothes and toiletries. while scrambling around his room one last time to make sure he had everything, he saw the pink lip outline of the fleshlight he stuffs full almost every night; the fleshlight that he bought in your exact skin tone.

he almost brought it. almost. but decided it’d be rude to indulge himself like that in your guest bedroom after you so graciously offered the space to him. so he left it.

god, does he regret it now.

lying in bed after dinner where you must’ve been trying to kill him, wearing nothing but a little crop top and some boy-shorts underwear. the cotton mockingly hugging up on the cuff of your ass. doing nothing to clothe you.

even in the guest room, everything smells like you. the soft of the sheets, the silky pillows, hell, even the air. it’s too much. like your scent took a physical form to torture and encase his entire body.

“haaa … fu— fuck” his hips roll languidly against the plump mattress as he groans out, ravened locks falling all over the bones of his flushed face. he sinks his teeth into one of the pillows, drooling all over it, and screws his eyes shut to imagine how your pussy would feel letting him in, stretching around his cock, “nghh ... yea. just — just like that …”

sitting up, he pushes the heavy covers off of him; he’s hot, sweating under the thick duvet. pulling his shorts down because it’s too much. poor boy is too hard, throbbing and leaking all over your sheets with a pretty pink dusting his body, “shit..” he whispers sweetly, laying his warmed, wet tongue flat against his palms before wrapping around himself, almost whining at the contact.

he flicks his wrists rhythmically, his mouth bowing open at how loudly his messy cock squelches, filling the room, his hips canting up into his fists.

but he wishes it was you.

the pretty wings of his eyes flap and flutter shut, picturing the way the fat of your ass would bounce on him, how you’d cream all over his cock, “so fuckin’ messy for me— oh my god” wondering how you touch yourself. do you use your fingers? toys? he could probably fill you up way better than any plastic ever could .. do you ever think of him when you play with your pussy? “fuck— fuck fuck fuck”

his eyes peel back open to the door he purposefully left cracked. though he knows getting caught now, like this had the potential to ruin the entire friendship, he banks on the chance that you want him too. his head falls back against the wooden headboard like a marionette’s dropping from its strings. so caught up in making himself cum he doesn’t hear your feet shuffling, nearing the room.

the deep groans you heard from your room stirred you awake, urging you to check on him, pulling you closer and closer to the door until you’re right up by it. you can see his dark silhouette through the crack. your eyes growing big at how he’s quickly pumping himself.

you move closer; the door is only slightly ajar and something inside you wants to see more. hear more. your heart thumps rhythmically in the drums of your ears and your shoulder presses against the wood, causing a creek to sound and cut through his moans like velvet.

you freeze.

his eyes lock onto yours, and he freezes too. even though this is what he wished for deep down he didn't actually expect the stars to align, for better or worse.

your breathing picks up, your feet glued to the ground as if gravity hated you, rooting you in place. and choso can’t think of anything to say but a meek, “sorry” waiting and watching how you react:

your teeth clamp down to chew on the fat of your bottom lip. your breaths coming out in quick winds, big eyes falling to where his hand squeezes and coaxes out drops of sticky precum.

“… come here”

your upper body scrambles, almost leaving your legs behind as you pad towards him. crawling over the thrown sheets up onto the bed and it dips. behind your wispy lashes reveals fairytale like eyes because you’ve been wanting to have him like this for as long, if not longer, than he has.

he parts his thighs and you nestle between them without a word, moving your hands to his bare legs as they frame you; digging your nails into the taut muscles. as long as you’ve known him, choso has obsessively gone to the gym. vibrantly showing you basically nudes rebranded as ‘progress pictures.’ you squeeze his legs making him twitch, his hand moving to your chin, making you look up at him, “i want you .. to wrap these preetty lips,” his thumb moves to push and stroke against your bottom lip, “around my dick. been thinkin’ about them for so long. can you do that for me?” he’s groaning with a raw authority you’ve never heard or seen from him.

and it makes you so fucking wet.

you nod and he leans back, scooting his hips lower and spreading himself. “use your words. i don’t want this unless you do, too”

“yes. i want it so bad. want to make you feel good, cho” you grab his cock with both hands, warm and throbbing against your soft palms, before pushing it up against your flushed cheek, rubbing it against your pretty face.

“that’s it. i knew you’d want it, pretty girl. now show me”

you press light kisses to his flushed tip, up and down his length, watching keenly as he hisses at your little touches. whispering out a, “so pretty.”

he’s watched and replayed this scene so many times in his head; you laid out between his legs pressing puffed lips against his cock, but it doesn’t hold a candle to the real thing.

you stretch out your jaw, letting him plug up your warm mouth. his eyes roll so far back with a deep groan, your tongue laying flat on his veiny underside as you bob your head on him, your hand moving to massage and squeeze what doesn’t fit in your wet mouth, the other groping at his heavy balls, “fe— haah, feel so good.”

he’s already so close from earlier, raising his ass to buck into your little mouth even though you’re full of him. his tip knocking against the back of your throat making you whine out muffled, “hmph mhmm” ‘s

“don’t — shit. don’t talk with your mouth full, baby. take me all in, you can do it”

he grabs a fist full of your hair, pushing you all the way down making you gag, spit pooling and spilling out around where he clogs your little mouth up. tears line your eyes, spilling over your cheeks as he fills up your throat, “aht aht baby take it all. you’re almost there. c’mon ….. mhhmmm theeeeere you go”

you pull off of him gagging and coughing out glops of fat, foamy spit.

“oh ‘m sorry, sweet thing” he leans in to lick at the spit and tears dripping down the point of your chin before kissing you. his plump pink lips pressing so harshly against yours, tongue sliding greedily into your mouth licking at every corner. the clumsy wetness of it all has you panting as he pulls back, clear spit trailing from your mouths.

“please .. let me fuck you. been wanting to for so long”

his eyes sort of soften as they bore into yours, begging silently with a puppy like glow.

“ .. me too” you assure and he moves to guide you onto your back, grabbing your legs. he presses a sweet kiss to the base of your ankle, “mm. i’ll take such good care of this pretty pussy. ‘s mine now, right?

“yes .. yes, choso. fuck me. ‘m all yours”

he pushes your little thong to side to smear his swollen fat tip against your messy folds, pushing up against your clit “so wet f’me baby .. i did that? you liked having me down your throat that much?”

“hnngg, cho— stop teasing”

then, he realized that you came into the room with nothing but an oversized tee. and a cute little thong. for him. slapping his cock against your pretty cunt three times before smearing against your folds again.

he sinks into your warmth with a long, drawn out, “fuuuuuucckk” at how your little pussy opens up for him, squeezing him so tight. and he’s so big. stretching you out, dragging his fat length against your pinky walls, pushing his hips into yours until he fully bottoms out.

his hands dig into your skin, so rough he might leave bruises because he’s trying so hard to keep himself grounded and not dump his cum into you right this moment. you feel so good. too good.

he moves slowly at first. letting your pussy adjust to him as his thumb swipes against your clit, easing him in. “‘s almost there, baby, you can do it. let me in, pretty girl”

he continues to pet your clit, then you look up into his eyes. and they stare back into yours. dark purple swirled around pools of black, “harder”

that’s all he needed to hear.

his hips harshly slam into yours, your body arching up to meet his deep strokes. angling to make sure the sweet curve of his cock hits that spot that makes you shake, bolts of pleasure striking through your entire body.

the room fills with your little whines, pretty broken moans of his name. heat emitting from your body and mixing with his as he moves to grab at your boobs. the tips of his fingers tweaking and pulling your nipples, “aahhh, cho—so fuck”

your legs hang over his shoulder, sweat slipping and sliding down his temples, “tell me you’re mine” reaching up you struggle to hold on to the girth of his biceps, “yours! ‘m all yours!”

you’re so close. so sensitive, your pussy clenching and pulsing around him in tune with every heavy snap of his waist. “go ahead, baby. give it to me”

it’s feels like you’re on fire. every inch of your body so overwhelmed it’s almost painful. your skin flushes and a warm sensation washes over your entire body as you squeeze around him, “theeeree you go, baby, mhhm, that’s it” shaking against his strong arms when your orgasm cracks like lightning and rips through you.

his cock throbs inside you, his strokes growing sloppy and heavy as he fucks you through your high. overstimulating your pussy. he pushes to drain his thick cum inside you. paint your warm walls with him, groaning out your name.

“holy— shit..” his breaths come out in heavy gasps, twitching you as he grows soft in the solitude of your silky walls.

he’s so warm. filling you all the way up with fat globs of cum. “mmmm, keep me in, baby” pressing a sweet kiss to the corner of your parted lips. then another to the tip of your nose.

as soon as his ac gets fixed, he’s going to throw away that stupid toy. he’s got the real thing to fill up now.

© planetsage 2024 all rights reserved. no part of this may be reproduced in any form.

[letorip]

can u give us a summary of kiss with a fist 4 without spoiling?

lol... here's a spoiler

kiss with a fist [iv]

"you smashed a plate over my head, then I set fire to our bed"

===+++===

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: just as things begin to complicate even more between you and tara, her life becomes even more complicated

warnings: blood, angst, curse words, kissing, borderline sexual content

word count: 4.2k

A/N: i contemplated doing this in so many ways and i ended up thinking it was just funnier if i answered with the literal story. so... it was at least funny to me. it's shorter than normal, just because i didn't want to split up an action scene that'll take place next time, so expect a much longer part next time.

===+++===

===+++===

You didn’t like police stations very much, and you weren’t exactly doing a good job of keeping it hidden. Your knee bounced against the dusty linoleum in a quiet tapping noise, and although you yourself couldn’t hear it with the endless amount of phones ringing and shouting down the hall, Tara clearly could.

Her head rested on your shoulder, where you had slumped, and she placed a hand right upon your knee, stopping it from bouncing anymore. Her dark eyes looked up at you. “You’re making me even more nervous.”

“Sorry,” you rushed, quick to pull your knee away from her hand.

Tara frowned, looking back down to the tiling. “Of course this had to happen.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “What do you mean?” She shrugged, and you had to nudge her gently. “Tara?”

“Nothing,” she murmured. "Just Sam's license and her getting attacked at the bodega... I wasn't there, (Y/n)."

"You couldn't have known," you said, frowning at her. "Everyone thought all the 'Stab' shit was over."

"Yeah," Tara scoffed. "Mindy always says lightning doesn't strike twice, but I'm starting to wonder if that's really true."

"Or maybe it's just a crazed copycat. There's no way of knowing it's actually after you yet."

"That's not what Sam'll say." She had an uncharacteristic look of defeat in her eyes that you hadn't seen before. Tara was a spitfire, even to Sam. But she looked beside herself, wallowing against the soft fabric of your jumper. "Sam'll say that Ghostface is back. That we need to leave."

"Maybe she's right," you shrug.

"Maybe," Tara said. "But I don't want to go. I don't want to leave. I want to live, but... if it's not him, I can't just keep living my life on the run from whoever's chasing me. That means Amber won."

"Amber?"

"Yeah... Amber. Amber Freeman. She was my, uh, girlfriend."

"Oh," you frown. Tara's dark eyes looked up at you, nervously watching your reaction.

"Yeah... and she was Ghostface."

"Oh," you repeated. Tara never spoke about her much, and neither had the rest of the core four, really. It had never really dawned on you to ask, just because it seemed important to Tara, and for the longest time, what was important to her wasn't important to you. "Are you still nursing that wound?" you asked.

She smiled, but it did not reach the corners of her eyes. "Sometimes. It feels weird since she almost killed me, but there are times I really miss her. Grief demands to be felt, and all."

"Even if it's a murderous psychopath?" you asked with a smile.

"Yeah," she snorted, turning her head on your shoulder. "Even if it's a murderous psychopath." Then, she grew serious. "We should probably talk about last night, right?"

You froze, swallowing what felt like a lump in your throat. "Uh, now?"

"Well, it's just, I kind of felt something... I don't know. I know we said this was fake and all, and I don't know if you have your eye on anyone else right now," Tara began to ramble, "so if you do, don't feel pressured to agree to anything. I know I kind of made a messy situation out of this, and I don't even know where to go--"

But she was interrupted by the door down the hall opening. It was loud enough that your attention was pulled towards it, and through it came a woman with a stack of files in her arm. She smiled warmly at Tara, walking right over, and Tara seemed to recognise her, sitting up in her chair.

The warmth on your chest where her head had been was gone in an instant, and you would have been lying if you said you hadn't selfishly begun to miss it.

"Tara, right?" the woman asked with a smile, and Tara nodded, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and an underlying suspicion. But the woman just gave her a gentle smile.

"Kirby," she said, extending her arm out for a handshake. "Kirby Reed. I used to go to high school with Sam, and now I'm with the FBI."

Your eyes widened. If the FBI were now involved with the case, it was definitely not a good sign. You felt Tara's hand go to yours, squeezing it. If you were to ask her about it, she'd likely say it was to calm the nervousness you hadn't been able to hide on your face, but you knew that it was to steady herself, if anything.

"FBI?" Tara asked. "So it's really him?"

Kirby frowned. "I'm hoping it's some copycat, but from what I've seen so far, I'm not too sure. Is Sam still back there being questioned?"

Tara nodded, grimacing. "Apparently, both of us are people of interest. Our roommate's dad is on the case."

"Well," Kirby said, "I'll see if I can help him." She turned to you. "And who's this?" she asked.

"Uh--" you started, but Tara shook her head, interrupting.

"--(Y/n) isn't involved," she glared, defending you with a ferocity in her voice.

Kirby gave you a look over. "Are you sure? I don't mean to disrespect either of you, but are you sure you can trust them, Tara? It's never who you expect."

Tara nods. "I know they're not Ghostface. (Y/n) wouldn't lie."

(Y/n) wouldn't lie. The sentence made you sick to your stomach. You could see Calvin in your mind, laughing at how you got yourself into this situation. Alisha would've found it funny, too. You swallowed, standing up from the chair. You smiled weakly at Tara. "It's okay, Tar. I'll go home... just let me know if you need to leave... for the... uh, arrangement, or whatever."

She nodded, mouth drawn into a line. "Yeah... see you later... Duck," she said, trying equally as hard to smile. You turned around, walking out.

===+++===

You had pretty much collapsed into bed, the moment you got home. It had been an exhausting few hours, what with finishing your model and then rushing with Tara to the police station. Your final class of the semester was later in the day, so you would take any sort of sleep you could get.

And the sleep you took, waking up a few hours later with mussed-up hair and a final to get over and done with. You grabbed the model and your backpack, heading for the train station, and finally checking your phone for the first time in a little while.

Little Shit (do not pick up): mindy wants everyone at the park later, after your final

Little Shit (do not pick up): good luck with that, btw

Little Shit (do not pick up): also we should still probably talk about last night i didn't get to finish earlier

You gave a thumbs-up to the first message, and quickly typed back a thanks, before tucking it into your pocket. The critique was boring, but you couldn't help but feel yourself swell with pride when your professor complimented the small amount of green space you had put within the actual walls of the building. It had been Tara's idea, and you reminded yourself to thank her later. Now all you had to do was go to Mindy's weird meeting, and you could begin your break.

The group was sitting on a group of benches near the green, with Mindy hovering over them, her arms crossed. When she saw you coming, she raised her eyebrow at you in suspicion. You rolled your eyes, coming to sit down next to where Tara had saved you a seat.

She sent you a small smile when you did, weaving your fingers together. You knew that to the group she was just doing it because you and Tara were allegedly a couple, but just to you it felt like so much more than that.

And it made you feel a little bit sick, again.

"How'd your final go?" she asked, and it made your heart stop for a moment, the way her warm brown eyes looked in the soft sunlight. You shrugged, but could not stop the smile spreading itself on your face.

"The professor liked your idea."

"Really?!" she asked, sounding super excited, and you nodded. "Well now who's silly, for telling me it was a bad idea?"

"Well because it is a silly idea, genuinely who would think of that."

"I would. It isn't silly, it's cool."

"I'm afraid cool doesn't always work, Tara."

"It did this time," she said smugly, sticking her tongue out at you. You rolled your eyes, knowing but not hating that she'd be gloating about it for weeks.

"Lovebirds, cut the chit-chat," Mindy shot, glaring in your direction, and Tara huffed in annoyance but begrudgingly turned towards her. "Now, as terrifying as it all is, I’m actually glad I get a chance to redeem myself for not calling the killers last time."

"Mindy," Sam chided, arms crossed over her chest.

"Right, sorry," she said. "The way I see it, someone’s out to make a sequel to the requel."

"What’s a requel?" Anika asked, leaning forward as if trying to understand her girlfriend's antics. You didn't know either.

"You’re beautiful, sweetie, but let’s hold questions to the end," Mindy teased.

From next to you, Tara looked more worried. "Stab 1 took place in Woodsboro, but Stab 2 took place in college…"

Sam tensed. "So you think the killer’s copying the second movie?"

"Like a homage!" Chad suggested, looking proud of himself. The rest of the group shot him a look. "What? You all I know took French, it should not be a surprise that I know that word."

"Just a little bit," Tara teased. He sent her a small smile, one that you knew came from his massive crush on her. It only made you feel a bit worse about the both of you.

"That’s one possibility," Mindy said, nodding at the suggestion. "Heroes now in college? Check. Suspicious new characters brought in to round out the suspect list and/or body count?" she looked at you, Ethan, Quinn, and Anika. "Check, check, check, and check."

"I really don't like this," Ethan said.

"But it can’t only be about Stab 2," Mindy continued. Tara's eyebrows furrowed.

"Why not?" she asked.

Mindy had a glint in her eye. "It would make sense if this were just a sequel. But we’re not in a sequel, because nobody just makes sequels anymore."

"So what is it?" you asked, deciding to bite on her theory.

"We’re in a franchise. And there are certain rules to a continuing franchise," she replied.

Sam sighed. "I had a feeling."

But Mindy wasn't deterred. "Now, rule one: everything is bigger than last time. Bigger budget, bigger cast, bigger body count; longer chases, shoot-outs, beheadings- you gotta top what came before to keep people coming back."

"Beheadings?" Chad asked, taking notes.

Next to him, Ethan looked rather lost. Quinn and Anika looked just as confused. You were glad you weren't the only one lacking a real understanding of how the core four operated. They had earned a right to be a little nuts after surviving Woodsboro, that you knew. But the whole thing seemed a bit conspiratorial.

"Rule Two, whatever happened before, expect the opposite. Franchises only survive by subverting expectations; if the killers last time were whiny snowflake film nerds with Letterboxd accounts instead of personalities, you can bet the opposite will be true here." It was hard to absorb these things laid out as facts, and you struggled to follow Mindy's train of thought, sending Anika a wary glance. She just shrugged.

Tara noticed your confusion, sending a small squeeze to your hand and mouthing the word 'later.' You nodded, turning your attention back to Mindy, attempting to do your best to listen.

"And Rule Three, no one is safe. Legacy characters are cannon fodder at this point, usually brought back only to be killed off in some cheap bid for nostalgia. Sidney’s smart to sit this one out, but it’s not looking too good for Gale and Kirby. And that’s not even the worst part."

"There's a worst part?" You asked. Mindy nodded, smirking.

"The worst part is franchises are just continuing episodic instalments designed to boost an IP, which means the main characters are completely expendable now too. Laurie Strode, Nancy Thompson, Ellen Ripley, Jigsaw, Tony Stark, James Bond, even Luke Skywalker all died so their franchises could live on. That means it’s not just the friend group, any of us could go at any time, especially Sam and Tara."

You sent Tara a wary look at the suggestion, leaning harder against her. She tried to send you a small smile to comfort you, but it did little to stop the thought coming to your mind. You were cursed, that much was true from the sheer amount of grief that seemed to permeate around your family. It was a bad idea, to get so close to Tara, and that you knew. But it didn't stop the fact that you had a near electric desire to do so whenever she was nearby.

"Wait, any of us? Am I in the friend group?" Ethan asked, beginning to panic. "Am I one of the targets? Am I gonna die a virgin?"

"Um," Mindy started, blinking. "Weird overshare, but at least that brings us to our current suspects." Her gaze steeled over.

"Ethan. The shy dorky guy who no one suspects, because he’s so shy and dorky." Next to him, Chad shot him a more assessing glance.

"Why am I on the list? Because I’m randomly Chad’s roommate?!" Ethan asked, raising his voice.

"Roommate lotteries can be juked, you could have fixed it to get next to us," Mindy shot back, crossing her arms in increased suspicion. She turned to Quinn. "Quinn. The slutty roommate. A horror movie classic."

"Sex positive," Quinn corrected, "but thank you."

"And how did you come to live with Sam and Tara?" Mindy asked, narrowing her eyes.

"I answered their ad online--" Quinn started, and Mindy scoffed, raising her hand up.

"Say no more, you’ve already implicated yourself enough. 'Ad online,' good lord."

"Mindy, it was an anonymous ad, and you know we vetted her, plus her Dad’s a cop," Tara interjected.

"Tara, Tara, Tara," Mindy said, shaking her head. "Cop Dad? That's a great cover. Don't you get that's how these movies would work? Speaking of, while we're on Tara," she continued, turning to you.

"Hi," you said.

"Hi (Y/n)," she replied, smiling. It dropped to a frown. Tara's grip on your hand tightened. "(Y/n). The enemies-to-lovers, quippy 'annoyance' one of our main characters has incredible sexual tension with."

"Ew," Sam shuddered.

"Ew indeed," Mindy agreed. "Never trust the love interest." She looked over to Anika, who was smiling at her girlfriend. "Ever." Anika's face fell.

"Okay. So we’ve got our rules, and we’ve got our suspects," Sam huffed.

"Wait- what about the rest of you?" Ethan interrupted.

"I mean, I think it’s safe to rule out the four of us who went through this last year in Woodsboro," Mindy shrugged.

"Agreed," Chad nods.

"Um, not agreed. Maybe the trauma of what you went through caused one or more of you to snap," Quinn suggested, playing with the nail polish on her fingers.

"Or the fame you got from the killings made you thirsty for more! Ethan jumped in again. "And, let’s be honest, some of those theories online about Sam are--"

Tara sends him a death glare. "Don'y you fucking dare finish that sentence."

"He’s right, though. Face facts. If we’re all suspects? You’re all suspects," Anika shrugs.

You sent a wary look around at everyone and then another look back down to Tara, wondering which one would hurt her, and just how you'd be able to stop it.

===+++===

That night was the first night in a while nothing was expected of you, but you couldn't find it in yourself to actually relax. Mindy's monologue about how royally bloody fucked everything was now that Ghostface was officially back had set you a bit on edge, and part of you couldn't help but blame yourself.

You had thought the curse would get left behind in Nebraska, when you left, but it seemed maybe you had taken it with you, packed with your belongings. Maybe it was now affecting the person you had wished to protect from any harm. It still felt miraculous, just how Tara had wormed her way from your shit list to deep within your heart. Maybe that was the curse. Someone who could make you so annoyed could also make you feel like your heart was skipping beats.

You coped with the extreme worrying through a cooked meal and TV binge, flopping down on the couch and turning your ringer on, in case you were needed. You knew that Sam and Tara were likely preparing for the worst, and you also knew that you had been included on the list of suspects.

Maybe none of them rightfully believed you had it in you, but you also knew that even being a possibility meant that the core four had to keep you at arm's length for a while.

Or, at least, that's what you figured they'd do.

Right as the episode you were watching began to roll credits, you heard a hard knock on the door, freezing. Mindy had said something in a text, telling you to be cautious of opening doors when no one was scheduled to come over. You shot a wary look to your magnetic strip of knives, hanging over the hotplate. If you were just fast enough, maybe you could grab a knife or two, if Ghostface busted the door in. There was usually a phone call, wasn't there? Then why--

"(Y/n)?" Tara called, giving a hard knock. You felt your cheeks flush. Oh. You dashed to the door, not wanting to leave her on the step for too long.

When you opened it, you could see that Tara's own cheeks were flushed, and her chest was rising and falling rapidly.

"Did you run here???" you asked, raising your eyebrows.

"Uh...maybe," Tara said, suddenly finding the hallway outside of your flat much more interesting.

"I thought Sam would have you under lock and key," you teased.

"I snuck out..." Tara said, cheeks flushing again, but this time not from the run.

"Oh, so I'm harbouring a criminal?" you joked. Tara rolled her eyes, groaning.

"Can I just come in?"

"Do you trust me to do that?" you asked, curious. "I understand if you say no, believe me I get it. If I had been attacked or anything, especially by my girlfriend, I wouldn't trust anyone for a long time..."

Tara watched you ramble speak, eyes wide and dark and beautiful in the dim hall light. "I trust you... and I, uh, want some small amount of normalcy, like it was at the lab. Before everything got so weird, you know?"

You nodded, stepping aside for her to enter and then freezing. "Wait, Tara, what happened to your hand?"

You hadn't noticed until now, but her knuckles on the other hand had been bruising a dusty purple colour, still red at the edges. You let the door shut behind you, turning to her hand and holding it up in the lamplight of your hall. "What happened?" you asked, eyebrows furrowing in worry.

Tara's cheeks flushed again. "I punched a bitch," she said flatly. Your eyes widened even more, and Tara was quick to shake her head. "Just Gale Weathers. She wrote, uh, a whole book on Woodsboro. Called Sam a bunch of bad stuff. She actually was outside the station with the news and stuff when Sam was questioned earlier today... so I punched her."

You snorted. "Judging by your hand you definitely got her."

"Oh absolutely," Tara scoffed, as if she was offended by a possibility that she hadn't.

"You should probably ice it," you said with a wince, looking at the bruised skin. She scoffed again.

"What're you, a doctor?"

You shrugged, leading her into your kitchen. "I was going to be."

"Oh," Tara hummed.

"Yeah... took one introductory class and realised I hated it. It sucks too, because I gave my parents this whole speech about how I wanted to be a doctor because of our family, and I dropped the profession about a month or two later afterwards."

"Is that why you and your dad don't talk much?" she asked. "Is he a doctor?"

"No," you said, shaking your head. It was an amusing suggestion. "About as far as you could get from it, actually. But no, it isn't why we don't really talk." You didn't say any more on the subject, even though you could tell that Tara was curious. "We should really get you iced up, your hand is swollen, I can't believe you didn't show me this earlier."

She rolled her eyes. "You're acting like my parent again."

"I'm just worried about you, Tara," you said, shooting her a meaningful look. She was staring up at you with those damn eyes again like you held her heart in your hands. "I mean, come on, let's just put a bag of ice on it or something, or--"

But before you could finish what you were suggesting, Tara interrupted you, throwing her arms around your neck and standing up on her toes. "Is this okay?" she whispered, voice low. It flooded your ears and squeezed the air from your lungs, just how close her lips were from yours.

You can't help the small nod, or the way you're probably dumbly staring at her mouth right now, but her eyes are warm and inviting, and your hands find their way to her waist, palming at the exposed skin of her cropped shirt with your thumbs. "I've, uh, kind of wanted to do this for weeks," Tara admits with a small grin. The words spin around and around in your mind like you're on some carousel of thought.

If you could have formed words, you would have told her the truth: you had wanted to kiss her since she walked in the room and you saw her for the first time. But you can't. So instead, you crash your lips onto hers.

Tara doesn't hesitate even a little bit, wrapping her arms around your neck and falling off her toes as she kisses you back with fervour. You follow her down, working your lips against hers as her hands give up on your neck and instead move to spread themselves out on the warm apples of your cheeks.

You're taken over by some other, hungry entity entirely, and you lift Tara up onto the kitchen counter, into the exact same place she was sitting when she asked you for help with this stupid scheme. It doesn't matter now, you're too lost in her lips. You feel her tongue push past and into your mouth, and her hands travel up your back to spread out against the back of your shirt and pull you against her.

You can't help the groan that escapes your mouth, and you feel Tara's teasing smile against your lips as she breathes in your smell. Your hands are still on her waist, sliding up so that your thumbs gently brush against the bottom of her bra. She shudders at the sensation, opening her mouth wider, and you can taste the lingering cherry of her chapstick on her lips.

Neither of you is especially sure how long you stay there, but when you finally have to pull away, you're scrambling for air. You lazily let your forehead rest against hers, catching your breath and struggling to stay on your feet. Tara lets her hands wander from your back into your hair, exploring the planes of your body for the first time, and you can't stop the small comment that worms its way from your mouth after.

"Exploring the merchandise?" you ask with a teasing, breathless laugh. Tara shakes her head, finally opening her eyes and looking up at you with that same damn beautiful look.

"You should come stay with me and the others. It's safer that way," she says, becoming worried again. Her hands rest on your cheeks and she kisses you again, softer, but just as meaningful.

You painfully have to shake your head. "I can't, you know that."

"I won't be mad if you leave town," she says. "I won't hold it against you."

You smile. "I'm not leaving. I'm not going anywhere, Tara."

She nods, processing it, before crashing her lips back onto yours and tugging at the bottom of your shirt, but you catch her hands before she can tug it over your head. "No, Tara- Tara wait."

"I want you," she says.

"I know, but we should wait," you say, hands on the side of her thighs. "Wait until it's over. Right now, Ghostface is more important."

"He gets everything, (Y/n). I just want this. I want you. I know we did this whole thing about fake dating, and I know it wasn't real, but I realise that I want it to be. I just want you."

There's a burning in your stomach, burning for her, and you pull her in for another kiss. Only to be stopped by the sound of your door creaking open.

You freeze and so does Tara at the noise. "(Y/n)?" she asks, trembling. "Did you lock your front door?"

===+++===

DUN DUN DUNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN catch you all next time for a big ole action sequence and a whole bunch of drama

[satzumosupremacy]

Elite Bodyguard Series: Pt.8

Love you harder

Male reader x Tzuyu

Tags: Fluff, Smut, Some lovely dovely fuck positions, Deflowering

5k Words

A/N: Kinda too wholesome tbh…

As the tension grew intense—although nothing really happened apart from cuddles and kisses—the start of the relationship was pretty healthy. If you’re happy, Tzuyu’s also happy. Your heart flutters every time Tzuyu is around you. As much as you don’t like to admit it, you're head over heels for Tzuyu. But that’s all you knew; while Tzuyu loves you, it was only the tip of the iceberg that she knows.

Your closet was always filled with your clothes until, every time Tzuyu came over, a quarter of your walk-in closet became filled with hers. The bedroom also had some of her presence: a drawer filled with makeup, a small mirror, and a desk light. Every time you slept alone, her presence remained in your thoughts with a bundle of her belongings in your bedroom.

It first went from quick kisses to making out with each other for what felt like hours. You take her on late-night dates, not as much during the day to avoid any suspicion, but as always, you love enjoying everything with Tzuyu. Baking with her is fun; sometimes you mess around, and the kitchen gets messy with flour. The physical affection has even become more intense. The small moments when she looks out the window quietly at a flower shop on the way back make you buy a bouquet for her without Tzuyu even asking.

Even at this moment, as you gaze at her whisking the cupcake batter in your own kitchen, you can't help but feel the desire to kiss her or wrap your arms around Tzuyu from behind as you walk slowly, securing your hands tightly and warmly around her.

“Babe,” Tzuyu said. “Let me finish this batter, and then we can do whatever.”

"You know, each time we bake, it takes longer to prepare and put it in the oven, Tzu," you said, kissing her neck with your hands on her hips.

“That’s because of you. You’re the one distracting me,” she said playfully. And you knew, the longer she held in her urges to fuck, it would all tumble within seconds.

By the way she's dressed today, the white crop top with a pink push-up bra seduced you more. The tight leggings can only make you caress her gently, complementing her curves. Her hair smelled so floral, with a rose and vanilla scent emanating from her body, and you love it when her dimples show from a smile.

“What should we do today, Tzu?” You kiss her again while you’re slowly getting hard right against her ass. The quiet gulp she makes only leads you to assume that Tzuyu can't wait any longer. It's evident from how you consistently seduce her romantically to the thoughts of being wrapped in each other's arms in bed—naked.

It was bound to happen now or never. Only you can wait patiently.

Yet, she’s fighting herself, the only thing Tzuyu wasn’t sure of was your very intentions for her. As you slept with Twice members, seeing this side of you was different. Bottom line is—she's confused but loves you. You knew this, and you're still proving yourself. It would have been the gamble of her life if your intentions weren't so pure.

In your mind, you don’t have any bad intentions, but simply have love for Tzuyu. Even if you assure her, buy her gifts, kiss, hold hands, and even love her small imperfections, it is a relationship you want to commit to.

“Tzu, you know that I love you, right?”

"I love you too, babe. But prove it," Tzuyu said playfully and turned around to face you, only to be right in front of your face, with eyes locking. The kitchen became quiet, quiet enough to only hear the refrigerator motor running, as you didn't take your eyes off her for even a second.

"Don’t look away, Tzu," you said with a smirk, taking the whisk from Tzuyu’s hands and placing it on the countertop—still locking eyes with each other.

Then this is where the countdown begins: from months of a relationship, the kissing becomes far more intimate, passionate, and romantic, to getting a feel of each other’s bodies. And now, Tzuyu is pinned by you on the kitchen counter with nowhere she can go except for accepting your lips, which render her quiet when the kiss initiates.

Tzuyu places her hands on your chest after digging into your shirt, feeling your heart racing. “This is the problem, Tzu. You’re feeling the problem that I always have when I’m with you.”

Your words—the problem that Tzuyu also has from getting seduced, and the rapid heartbeat can only make her realize that your real intention was surely and simply loving her. Even if she felt your heart beating like this all the time whenever she laid on you, genuine feelings couldn’t be hidden from you whenever Tzuyu’s around.

Sure, you slept with her in your bed, but there was no sex or any other naughty things. To which, Tzuyu thinks about how dedicated you are to her, and how much you were willing to wait for anything that she’s not ready for.

A man, well disciplined and resilient one that she loves.

"I love you, babe," Tzuyu said, more in an excited tone, and continued to lock eyes with you.

"I know you do." You kiss her neck, up to her jawline, as she surrenders her body to you. While you both make out in the kitchen, she forgets all about the cupcake batter.

Like always, you were always the distraction.

Her arms wrap around your back, cutely pulling you in, while her head tilts the opposite way. She was never a good kisser from the start, being messy with the romantic feelings she had. With practice, Tzuyu has gotten better the more you kissed her; she learned and adapted from you.

You hold onto her nape with your other arm on her lower back as she arches. The hums she made turned into quiet moans after all the times you made out with Tzuyu. And you couldn’t get enough of it, wanting more—even louder when you get more aggressively romantic, pinning her to the counter. 

After or even during spontaneous kissing, it’s always Tzuyu who runs out of breath first. Just the amount of love you give her is always greater, and how great of a kisser you are.

“Babe, the cupcake batter,” Tzuyu said, gasping for air while you kiss down to her collarbone, dangerously teased her that her tits are just a few inches away.

You break off from kissing her, “mhm, I’ll wait.” She quickly adds the last few ingredients into the batter while you smile at her. “Tzu, I’m going to take over my boss's agency in Gangnam.”

“What?” She said, all surprised by a sudden comment from you, "what happened?”

“He’s getting old and wants to retire.”

“You’re not leaving us, right?” Tzuyu said, looking at you with puppy eyes.

You nodded, “no. Why would I sit at the desk all day and let others do the job for me?”

Tzuyu faintly smiles from a worried expression. "Isn't that too much responsibility?"

“Not if I have you by my side, Tzu.” Seeing her face turn red quickly from a flirtatious comment only made Tzuyu look away and turn on the oven.

“Congratulations,” she said simply and walks towards you with a smile, “let’s go to the couch.”

You chuckled and carry Tzuyu by her legs and back as she can cover her mouth embarrassingly from her face being all red, just staring at you silently. “So adorable, Tzu.”

From the start of the relationship til now, kisses gotten longer, more touchy, and even rarely, your shirt comes off along with hers when the lights are off. Hours upon hours, the days felt quick whenever you’re with her. Tzuyu’s body is hot, her thighs felt so smooth and tone, body shaped like an hourglass, and her eyes that makes you even want her more as she looks at you with love.

As you let her down by the couch, you sit first, then Tzuyu sits on top with a lovely smile. “The sun is setting already, babe.”

“I don’t care, you don’t care. We’re here together with no one bothering us, Tzu.” Then her hands curiously caresses your shoulder and Tzuyu leans in for a kiss, which you pull her closer, faster, like you’ve been looking at Tzuyu’s lips the whole time impatiently, and initiate a kiss.

Tzuyu’s kisses weren’t the best, but for sure, you felt all the love from her, even feeling her back arching as you caress every part of her. The room becomes silent, hands naughtily exploring each other’s body. Her breaths become heavy, breaking off the kiss and gasp for air while you take the initiative to get a taste of her neck. And she hugs you in, harder by your nape. You love the way Tzuyu touches you so curiously and giving herself to you.

To say the least, you’re hard already. And her pussy is right there on you while she’s on top. It only takes both your clothes to come off. Slowly but surely, her urges will tumble down like a ticking time bomb.

And you're waiting. Patiently. Just to see how much she has resisted.

The kisses go on, minute after minute, you could hear her quiet moans as you kiss her—neck to be precise. Tzuyu always gives you the lead; she knows how great you are at kissing, whether it was her or someone else. 

You hold onto her nape, pulling Tzuyu in as she tilts her head forward for another round of lips pressing against each other to take it to a different level and using your tongue. The cute chuckles Tzuyu made can only tell that she’s melting inside like always; her breath becomes heavier, moans become irresistible, and you dig into her tight crop top. 

Smooth skin, pleasant with the warmth of her body as you caress every part of her back down dangerously to her ass for a gentle squeeze. She loves it every time, embarrassed to even admit to the rush of adrenaline—just loving the way you gently touch and love her. 

The clip of her bra is inches away. You would boldly dare to take her top off at this point. Seducing Tzuyu onto the bed even. Feeling how hot her body is becoming, you would even come up with an excuse to cool her off faster with her clothes all off.

Like always after a steamy make-out session and after you’ve caressed her enough, it’s always Tzuyu returning the favor and placing her hands under your shirt to get a feel of your chest. But one thing she loves is your heart beating, and she breaks off the kiss. Again, you kiss her neck to hear what Tzuyu has to say, “I love you, babe.” 

“I love you more, Tzu.”

“No you don’t. I do.” Tzuyu said, teasing you as she giggles, and you tried to keep a straight face the moment you looked at her—which failed miserably as you couldn’t help but smile so brightly at her. “Do I make you this happy?” She said, teasingly. 

And you thought her question was straight nonsense, clearly being a yes. “What’s with you today? Why so cute today? Why are you getting so beautiful every day? Hmm?” You added, trying to avoid her question. Tzuyu finds it cute when you don’t like to admit her ways of teasing.

“Because we're together,” Tzuyu said happily, sucking her lips in after. Clearly seduced, drunk off your kisses, and in your very arms, you find her even more charming. It doesn’t take long for you to get close to her face again as she closes her eyes, kissing once again. 

You decide to lay her down on the couch, where it gets even steamy from her wrist being pinned down to the armrest—all while you maintain a dominant silence while gazing directly at her from above.

The tension was always like this: her legs open, and you’re between them, pinning Tzuyu down, the silence in the room, hearts racing, all while you both lock eyes at each other. The only thing that was missing was clothes all off and bodies phyiscally giving love. 

Then you go in for a kiss; the louder it is, the more fuel you put into a burning desire for love. Her back arches slowly, even her legs wrapped around your hips. Moans from Tzuyu became seductive and angelic at the same time. 

You were drunk, drunk in love with Tzuyu, pouring your heart out to her, and she did the same, all without sex. You could say this is the beauty of love. Although you would want to show her a different sense of love—where bodies burn off calories, intimacy, emotional connection, and the feeling of closure—Tzuyu’s all new to this. 

Neither of you cared to hear the oven alarm after forty minutes of purely kissing. So as the day darkens, Tzuyu holds you in dearly, kissing the day away. 

She did feel your bulge; you felt how warm her crotch was; clothes would have been off at this point. Tzuyu runs out of breath more than you could count, gasping and chest pumping. As if she’s trying to pour out as much love as you did and only tries to match your effort.

“Babe, the cupcakes,” Tzuyu said, tiredly, overdosed on a drug called love.

“Five more minutes, Tzu. Just five more.” You knew she wouldn’t say no, all drunk and wanting more like all the other times.

You dragged it on for more than five minutes—ten, maybe even fifteen. It was likely close to twenty minutes from what you can tell, and you hesitantly break the kiss.

Her hair—all messy, lips coated with saliva, her eyes gleamed with passion, even seeing the love hormones as her pupils enlarged, and her cheeks red like she had too much alcohol was the outcome of a steamy and romantic time together.

“Let’s do a bonfire tonight, Tzu,” you said, brushing her hair as she’s embarrassed by the way her face was glowing all red and hot. She nods, speechless to say anything. You get off her and follow Tzuyu to the kitchen to see her cupcakes in the oven.

“Careful, the pan is still probably hot.” And you give her an oven glove.

“Want a taste?” She said, already blowing on the cupcake for you and slowly leaning closer to give you a taste. Tzuyu looks at you silently waiting for an answer, but you're so starstruck by her beauty.

“It’s good, warm enough for the frosting to not melt. Should we start decorating, Chef Tzu?” You said with a pleasant smile.

“What color do you want, babe?”

“Blue, your favorite.”

You wear the apron that she got out of your cabinet and begin decorating the cupcakes. Tzuyu smiles brightly, knowing she has all the time to be with you.

After finishing the cupcakes and a couple bites that you both fed each other, you intuitively thought of doing a bonfire with Tzuyu. She goes outside and sets up the small chairs, while you grab some firewood and sit right next to her after she got a blanket to cuddle.

There was no need for talking when both of you relaxed with Tzuyu leaning her head on your shoulders—blanket covering you two.

The wood crackles every second, and Tzuyu’s quietly in your arms under the night sky with the stars brightly shining. You cherrish the quiet ways she shows you that spoke a thousand words of her saying, “I love you.”

You kissed her hair, intuitively making her heart flutter. After a long day, she quickly grew tired as you gently patted her shoulders. "Tzu, let’s go wash up and go to sleep; you’re tired."

“Carry me,” she said cutely laughing and you didn’t hesitate to carry her inside while she hid her face on your neck to get a whiff of your scent.

“So adorable. So beautiful.” You complimented her each time, whether it was every hour or minute. “My lady.”

“My man.” Tzuyu added and leans on your shoulder.

You carried her inside into the bedroom but didn’t let Tzuyu down, only kissing her a few more times until it got steamy again, with her hands on your shoulders. The little moans she made were only like a tease of how she would actually sound naked. And clearly, Tzuyu did it purposely.

“Babe, I need to wash-”

“Five more minutes, Tzu.” You said, using the five minute method to your advantage. “Five, baby.”

It’s never five minutes either way.

“Babe,” Tzuyu whined cutely, out of breathe after what it felt like ten minutes, and you decided to let her go wash up.

“I’ll be in the other bathroom, Tzu.” Much as you would love to shower with her, there was a fine line that you didn’t want to cross yet.

“Okay.”

After both of you separately washed up, Tzuyu laid on the bed while using her phone waiting for you. “babe, we’ll all be busy these next few weeks. I hope you’re ready.”

“I know. I adjusted my schedules just to be with you girls after getting my position.”

Tzuyu wasn’t staring at you but your chest. It’s not like she never seen you half naked, more so of Tzuyu being distracted by your physique and blushes everytime. You turn off the light and close the door as the smallest light shines through from the window into the bedroom.

“Hug me to sleep.” Tzuyu said, cutely making you have butterflies in your stomach.

All the times she slept over, you slept quickly, and so did she. Within a few minutes, she lays her cheeks on your bare chest, arms around Tzuyu tightly as you both quickly fell asleep. In the mornings, she always wakes up first and cuddles you quietly until you wake up.

——

The sun glares at you in the morning, with Tzuyu quietly playing with your hair and admiring you with a bright smile. The moment you open your eyes, she's right beside you, smiling, greeted by such a beautiful woman who is your girlfriend.

“Good morning, babe,” Tzuyu said, smiling with a cute laugh.

“Good morning, Tzu. My beautiful Tzu.”

She’s sun-kissed, her face shining brightly in the sun as you silently stare at her. Tilting her head away, then back again, you keep your eyes on Tzuyu as she decides to play around. She starts to get shy, with rosy cheeks that have turned a pink hue from the sun.

"What's with you, babe?" she teased, looking away until you guided her back by her cheeks.

“Stay in bed longer,” you said. “Stay with me for a few more days. We can go get your clothes and other stuff.”

“Say please,” Tzuyu said, laughing, straight up teasing you at this point. You stare at her smile in the morning, dimples being shown.

“Please.” It felt humiliating as you plead her and hated yourself in a way.

She laughs, laughing even more that you’re begging her. Also seeing this small side of you that any other Twice members never seen.

“Stop laughing, Tzu.” And you held her nape, going in for a kiss to shut her up. It always works like a dream until Tzuyu decides to play fight and hide her face on your chest, all covered up by her hands.

After some laughs and squeals from Tzuyu, it got steamy to the point of Tzuyu raising her head again for an intimate morning. Her hands touched you dangerously, from your chest to your crotch, and felt your morning wood. The atmosphere of waking up with the sun shining through made both of you desire something else, more than just making out, more than feeling each other.

“Babe.” Tzuyu said shyly while you kiss all over her neck with the slightest nibbles. She digs under your shorts and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Tzu, I’m not ready for this,” you said, playfully mocking her when she said the same thing months ago.

“You shouldn’t wait any longer, babe.” Tzuyu murmured. “I can’t also.”

You freely caress her, squeezing her ass gently with a slap. “Let’s make love, Tzu.” And you didn’t hesitate to get on top and pin her wrist to the pillow with the eyes you both gave each other. Slowly, you lean in towards her neck, kissing them down to her stomach, and take off her shirt. Her body’s amazing, much as you’ve seen glimpse of it, it’s always what you couldn’t stop looking at, whether if her clothes were on or not. You slowly take off her shorts that she brought over the times Tzuyu slept for the night.

Black bra, black panties, that hourglass body that you couldn’t stop touching, thighs so toned—the beauty she is—she's all yours. Tzuyu did the same in return, taking your clothes off. She looks at your cock, and her hands slowly get a feel for what she always felt during all those steamy kisses. 

“I’m all yours, baby,” Tzuyu said, seducing and making you gulp from just seeing her naked body.

You reach for her hands to hold, and slowly, you kiss every part of Tzuyu’s gorgeous body down to her thighs, and she spreads her legs, inviting you for something to eat. She moaned the moment your tongue got a taste. You slowly eat her out, in the right spots to feel her hands squeeze yours uncontrollably. 

“Taste so good,” you murmured with your lips on her pussy. She couldn’t respond quick enough as you continued to eat her out, slowly quickening up the pace to make her squirm around, moaning even harder and deeper. 

"Babe," Tzuyu moaned longer and deeper. She tilts her face to the side with her teeth clenched.

Her thighs crush you in like there was no escape. You would suffocate between her thighs with no hesitation. And you let go of her hands to wrap your arms around her thighs, just locking her in—enough to make her feel paradise. She ruffles through your hair and makes a mess out of it unintentionally; just being eaten out in the morning felt different, pleased, and loved. 

After getting her wet enough, you kiss your way up to her lips. Your cock is right on her stomach for a tease of what you’re going to do. “I know you’ve been thinking of me being inside, Tzu.” 

Her breath deepens, her chest pumping as she’s nervous. You couldn’t blame her, it’s Tzuyu's first time either way. “Baby,” Tzuyu said, curiously want to feel it inside. "Put it in."

You put your cock in slowly, stretching her pussy and making her feel this sensation. Tzuyu moans seductively more the deeper your cock goes in. She hugs you, head leaning on your shoulders, hands gripping onto your back, and her moans become so angelic while you slowly thrust. Tzuyu’s pussy is tight, to the point your cock throbs with each thrust, and you grunted quietly. 

Her moans sounded hesitant, like you would judge her in any way that you can sharply tell. “Tzu, let me hear how much you love me.”

By your assurance, her walls tumble down, moaning even more louder to feeling such love that you give her. All the breaths became deeper, panting each time your fucking her in the right spots. You take her arms off of you and with a smirk, you pin Tzuyu down to the bed. All she can do is moan with her body tensing up from your cock deep in her. You push against her thighs, wanting it deeper to show how much you love her. Unintentionally, you put her in a mating press, but more romantically as she feels how deep your cock is inside.

“Tzuyu,” you said, moaning her name as it only melted her more.

“Baby, don’t stop.” She said, moaning with her teeth clenching after.

“I’m not gonna stop loving you, baby,” you said. Both of you stare at each other, gasping and panting together as you two share this moment together after breaking the fine line that you didn’t cross until now.

Maybe patience was the beautiful outcome.

And her leg tenses. You lean closer down until your forehead is against hers, moaning and panting along with Tzuyu. Together, both your eyes close. All within a room with you letting go of her arms once again to feel her hands on the side of your face, not wanting you to stop at all.

“I fucking love you, Tzu,” you said.

“I love you, too.” She quickly said within a breath, and your lips press against hers, kissing and thrusting slowly but deeply into her pussy.

After a few minutes of silence with only the moans and body colliding, you break the kiss and guide her to sit up on top while your hand leans on the bedsheet. She sits on your lap and slowly sits on your cock, grinding without you asking her what to do.

“Love me harder, baby,” you said in her ear, hugging Tzuyu in tightly. She did the same, tits squeezing against your chest and rides you slowly. “Just like that,” you groaned.

She grind on you harder, more effort into pleasing you with the love she’s pouring out. “It’s so big inside me, baby,” she murmured, gasping for air like there’s no tomorrow.

“Means that this is how much I love you, baby.” You said and leaned back with all the weight onto your palms sinking down onto the bedsheets while she decides to squat. “Show me how much you love me.”

“Fuck,” she moaned. Your cock is deep in her, disappearing each time she rides and grinds. You continuously kiss her neck, all over her tits, and take in the radiant smell of Tzuyu.

Like everytime she hugged you, this was by far your favorite feeling, bodies burning with loving passion, her moaning right in your ear, and even feeling her ass bounce on your lap. The sounds of making love between two lovers made both of you forget about all the worries and live in the moment.

You couldn’t let her put in more effort, so you gently push Tzuyu down onto the bed along with you. As she moaned even louder, her arms glued to your back. “I’ll love you even harder, Tzu,” you said confidently with a husky tone and wouldn’t expect her to say anything else, but hear her moans.

Pushing deeply into her, and forehead against each other again, both your nose touch each other. The subtle feeling of each other’s sweat becomes appearent. Her hair was all messed up with yours. Lips all coated with each other’s saliva. Tzuyu was at her limit already as you can tell from her moans turn to cute whimpers and trembles.

Until she cums, hard, right where you kept penetrating her g-spot. All while being fucked with her legs tensing up and hugging you in tighter than you ever felt. Neither was both your eyes opened against each other’s forehead. All within a room, a bed, and naked bodies pressed against each other early in the morning due to a spontaneous and sudden intimate desire for each other.

As she’s still cumming, you felt her walls getting tighter, the small pulses inside made your cock throb violently and you cum, letting it all out, letting her have all the love you wanted to give her. You grunt, she moaned, both in the moment, both cumming.

A romantic way to finish. Together.

Breaking the fine line this quickly wasn’t what you imagined this early in the morning within a snap of a finger. Neither would you ever say no to fuck Tzuyu who had such a gorgeous body, beautiful face, and even hearing her sweet angelic voice.

The room becomes silent, both panting, chest pumping at each other. Taking in this moment together, you both kiss each other while your cock was still inside her like you don’t even want to pull out after cumming inside her. Your cock was pulsating, slower by the second to give her every drop.

You love how your cock is snug tight inside her—warm to your liking. “Tzu, baby, stay like this for several more minutes.” You gulped trying to catch your breath. She didn’t respond but kept hugging you tightly and kissing everywhere she could get her lips on. It’s cute; you felt all the love she wanted to give you without saying a word. 

“It’s so warm. Is this how much you love me?” She said, seducing and acting cute at the same time. You didn’t need to see how much cum was inside her, cumming hard already make you assume how much there was inside her pussy.

“If you don’t try to get off, I’ll make us go for round two, Tzu.”

“Let’s….maybe..do it later..again.” She said, embarrassed to ask.

And you wished she wanted another round right after. “Okay,” you said and kiss her tits, “let’s get up and have breakfast.” You pull out, cum oozing out slowly and thick, which didn’t surprise you at all, but it was still surprising how much there was.

Tzuyu’s curiosity takes over and decides to get a taste of your cum leaking out of her pussy. After a gulp, she was hesitant to compliment the taste of something new to her.

You didn’t need an answer by how her lips pressed against each other. Not Tzuyu trying to admit it, she slowly goes in for a second taste. She laughs cutely and embarrassingly covers her face, “okay, babe. Stop looking at me.”

“Maybe your lips can be somewhere else, Tzu. Wouldn’t you like to show me more love?” With a smile and leaning closer, you fix her hair. "Like...suck it all out," you teased her. “I’m lucky to have you, Tzu.”

“I’m lucky that you’re mine.”

[ctrlchar]

Johnnie Guilbert nsfw alphabet

not requested

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

he’s such a sweetheart when it comes to aftercare that sometimes he forgets to take care of himself. firm believer he keeps a bag of baby wipes near his bed which he’ll use to clean you up and he’ll make sure you know he loves and cares about you especially if he was being rough

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

he really likes your tits and thighs,this isn’t anything sexual but he loves how comfortable it is to lay on them when you two are together

he doesn’t have a favorite body part on himself,more so a thing. that thing happens to be his tattoos. he’s very proud of how good they look and how many he has

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

he’s so messy when it comes to cum. he’ll do it in the spot that’s most convenient which if you don’t want him to cum inside you is gonna be your stomach

I also think he cums a lot

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he just wants a woman who can tell him what to do tbh,i don’t think he’s a complete sub but he definitely likes someone who will boss him around due to him being a little more introverted

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

he’s hooked up with girls a few times but has only had sex with a few of those girls I think that he can definitely read you easily and tell what kinks you have within the second or third time you guys fuck

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

very simple when it comes to positions,he likes missionary because of his intimate it can be. he also likes to watch you face contort at each movement his hips make

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

I don’t think so honestly,he usually gets too wrapped up in both you and his pleasure to even think about being funny

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

I feel like he randomly shaves it for no reason but if it’s not completely shaved he won’t care too much

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…) 

he shows his intimacy outside the bedroom rather then in,he prefers to show you how much he loves you (which sometimes will be sex) rather then telling you he loves you in the moment during sex

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

he jerks off about 3-4 times a week because he gets far too embarrassed to initiate any sort of sexual activity but this embarrassment fades the longer you two are together

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

he is a masochist and i am willing to die on this hill

Johnnie had been between your thighs pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you. your hands had been resting on top of his until the overstimulation started to kick in. your hands flew to his hair pulling on it softly as you moaned out his name not even noticing the way he would moan against your cunt with each tug of his hair

praise-he loves praising you as well we being praised. he also likes to apply ownership when he parises you meaning he’ll say “you’re doing so good for me” “you look so pretty on my cock” “don’t you love that i’m the only one who can fuck this pretty little cunt?”

impact play-i’m not sure if this is technically impact play but we’ll say it is. whenever he goes down on you he loves to slap your cunt if you disobey him. that’s honestly as far as he’ll go though,I can’t see him hitting you or anything like that

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

prefers a bed but he does enjoy fucking you in his gaming chair or maybe over his desk. did I mention his gaming chair? he would die if you rode him in his gaming chair

your hips had been grinding against Johnnie’s as he wrapped his arms around your waist while you rode him like your life depended on it. with his confidence growing,Johnnie moves his hands from your waist to your ass as he begins to move you the way he wants you to move on his cock

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

he adores seeing you in makeup,all he thinks about is how your mascara would run down your face as you give him head

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

he wouldn’t do anything like role play,it’s just not something he seems interested in

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

he looses all self respect the second you give him head,he’s more of a begger though and this also applies to giving you head he will beg and beg to eat you out and when he starts it’s almost impossible to get him to stop

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

definitely more slow but if he notices you want him do go faster then he happily will

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

not opposed to one but he’ll never ask you for one because he prefers to take his time with you,he does love how needy you become during quickies though

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

I think he would try anything about once but he makes sure the two of you talked about it before hand

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

maybe two? but he does last a while for the most part

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

he personally doesn’t use them and he wouldn’t mind if you used them but it might make him a little self conscious if you go to a toy rather then him

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

he doesn’t tease you too much other then maybe a crude joke here and there but nothing physical

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

he whimpers when he’s about to cum 100% but other then that he kinda just lets out shakey breaths/ groans or talks to you rather then moan but every now and then he’ll let out a couple moans

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

one time when he was giving you head he subconsciously started grinding into the bed but stopped himself before he came and he could’ve cried from him ruining his own orgasm

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

firm believer he has a skinny cock,not a small one but it’s skinny

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

for actual sex it’s pretty high now that he has a girlfriend,because now it’s just like the two of you can fuck whenever you want

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

I don’t think he falls asleep after,he’ll usually do something on his phone or maybe watch a movie after he’s done taking care of you

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Fortnight✨

Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist Part 2

A/N: This one shot was inspired by Taylor Swift’s song “Fortnight” and is written for @morallyinept Jett’s Flora & Fauna Challenge. I had so much fun with this one and was feeling all the angst! Thank you to @mountainsandmayhem for helping me make the mood board and for beta reading and for letting me talk your ear off about this one 🥰 Joel’s POV actually made me cry writing this 🥹

Summary: Moving on is hard, especially when the man you fell in love with moved in across the street from you with his new lover.

Word Count: 4.6k

Rating: 18+ Only

Tags: Lots of angst, feelings, pining, heartbreak, alcohol use, allusions to smut, tears, pov in both reader and Joel’s view, no use y/n

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The orange and yellow sunrise paints the sky bright colors as you stand in your little kitchen sipping a warm cup of black coffee. The bland taste mixes with your salty mood as your eyes lock on your neighbor across the street, Tess. 

   Every morning she’s out there bright and early, watering her white lilies with a metal watering can as she hums along with the chirping robins that sit along her fence line. It makes your fingers flex into tight fists, makes your brows furrow up, makes your mouth clench into a deep frown as you watch with heartache written all over your pathetic face. Sometimes you wish she was dead, just like your aching heart is. Cold, lost, broken. But you shouldn’t be mad, shouldn’t wish her dead. She’s nice, always smiling, something you wish you would do more often. 

   You don’t hate her, not exactly. You hate that she’s Joel’s. You hate the way he comes up behind her and hugs his broad arms around her waist as he kisses her neck, her cheek, her lips. You hate the way he dances with her in the dimly lit kitchen at night as you watch them through their open window while you stand frozen in place in your own empty kitchen. You hate the way he kisses her every single morning before she drives off to work in her flashy sports car. And you hate the way they’re engaged to be married in the fall, something that should’ve belonged to you. 

   You should be with Joel, you should be dancing in the moonlight of his kitchen, you should be the one watering flowers with him hanging around your waist and littering your skin with kisses, you should be the one walking down that aisle. But you’re not, and you never will. Joel was in the past. An old lover from years ago. You had broken up so long ago, so why did you still love him? You weren’t his anymore. Joel belongs to Tess now. The girl you would never be. 

   One month. It’s been exactly a month since they moved across the street, across from you. You remember it so clearly how it felt seeing him after all those years, like you were trapped in a glass bottle with nowhere to run. He was more built now, his biceps clinging to his flannels as his tan skin glistened in the sunlight. His hair was longer now with grey threading through his curly strands, and his beard was salt-and-pepper filled. He looked so… handsome. But then you saw her slipping out of the moving van as he laughed and helped her pull a large picture frame out of the back. You were frozen in place, the glass of milk spilling out of your hand and shattering on the floor as you stared in horror at your new neighbors. You spent the next few hours soaking in the tub with a glass of whiskey, the same brand that was Joel’s favorite. You love him, you still love him, and it’s ruining your life. 

   Now you just stand in the empty kitchen every morning with glossy eyes and watch them. The way they kiss, talk tenderly, and graze each other’s hands as they say their long goodbyes. It makes you so sick, especially after just finding out your long term boyfriend cheated on you with his secretary. So now you’re going through a messy breakup, one where he keeps showing up at the house randomly trying to get you to take him back. Just another lost love that wasn’t meant to be. Maybe you weren’t meant to be with anyone, destined to be lonely. At least that’s what it feels like while you stare in horror at the happy couple who yearns for one another.

   When you finish your black coffee and rinse out the tinted mug, you watch Joel grab the back of Tess’s head and pull her in for a long, gentle kiss. You watch the way he leans into it, smiling against her lips as she laughs and tells him she’s going to be late to work. He just brushes it off and waves her off, blowing her a kiss as he watches her drive off into the early sunrise. It makes you sick to death. 

   You turn and rush up the stairs, feeling a warm teardrop slip down your cheek as you get ready for the day. You really shouldn’t dwell on their relationship, but you can’t help it, and that makes you want to die.

   Before you head out, you walk down the paved driveway to go grab the mail from your brick mailbox, already dreading the day as rain clouds fill the sticky air. When you go to pull open the mailbox door, it doesn’t budge. You pull and pull, tugging with all your might until the door finally opens. You lose your balance and all your mail goes sprawling across the street as you fall hard on your hands and knees.

   “Shit,” you mutter under your breath as you feel hot tears prick the back of your eyes. Just when you’re  pushing yourself off the ground, you see someone out of the corner of your eye swoop down and pick up the mail that litters the ground. 

   “Oh, no. You don’t have to help me, I’m…” Your breath hitches when you stand up and see Joel holding out your mail to you, his eyes lathered with concern as you see brown doe eyes stare down at you calmly. 

   “You alright?” he asks carefully as his eyebrows knit together in a tight line. 

   “I’m… I’m fine,” you stutter out as you reach to grab the packaged letters. You jump back as his calloused fingers brush against yours, feeling the electricity fire through your veins as you see him react the same way. 

   “You sure?” One thick eyebrow cocks up as he stands tall before you, his body hovering too close as you smell the scent of fresh wood and pine needles. A scent you used to smell every single night while you were in his bed, cuddled up to him in the dead of night. Now, all you smell is regret and sadness mixed together in an empty bed with no one to hold you. 

   You clench your jaw and try to be brave as you feel a wet teardrop escape over your lash line and slide down your face. “Mhm, I’m fine,” you barely get out as you look blankly at the cracked concrete and scuff your heel into the hard ground. 

   “You don’t look fine. Is everythin’… do you wanna talk?” he asks as he slowly reaches a hand out, dropping it before he touches your skin as he realizes he shouldn’t do that. That’s too much, too risky, too sacred. 

   You look up at him behind your thick eyelashes as another shimmery tear rolls down your wide eyes. “Everything is not fine, but no. I don’t want to talk. I shouldn’t even be here. I’m sorry for bothering you, you didn’t need to help me,” you sniffle out. You start to turn away from him, but then you feel a large hand clamp down on your wrist, preventing you from moving away. 

   “Hey, look at me,” he murmurs as you slowly turn and blink up at him, your eyes glazing over as you see the hurt coat his beautiful face. “Why are you cryin’, is it… that guy that keeps droppin’ by your doorstep?” he asks cautiously as you flinch at the topic. You swear you hear a hint of jealousy when he says that guy. 

   You shake your head and pull out of his grip as his fingertips imprint your skin in hot, searing heat. “No, not necessarily…” you mumble as you cross your arms over your chest, trying to get out of this uncomfortable small talk. Why couldn’t he just ask you about the weather like a normal guy would? But Joel Miller was no normal guy. No. He was… special.

   “He hurt you?” His eyes are cold, narrowed like he actually cares what happens to you. You don’t know why. He shouldn’t even pay attention to you. You’re not Tess, you're not his to care about anymore. 

   “He… cheated on me. He won’t stop calling or coming over, even though I tell him to stop. He’s adamant I listen to him. Says it was an accident and that she put the first moves on him, and just a bunch of bullshit answers.”

   He’s quiet for a moment as he assesses you, careful with his words as he starts again. “Have you tried hearin’ him out? Maybe he…”

   “I don’t want HIM!” you scream as you feel your face burn hot as your eyes start to water. Your red stained lips quiver under the grey clouds that weigh you down to the ground, and you feel like you just said something you shouldn’t have to him.

   Joel takes a hesitant step back as his brown eyes grow wide, his fingers flexing against his dark jeans as you see pain reflecting in his eyes, a mere image of yourself that’s broken, bleeding, hollow, lonely. You’re so terribly alone, and you wish he could comfort you. You really do, but he can’t. He’s not yours. Even though you so badly wish he still was. 

   Your wide-eyed gaze threatens to take you under as you feel regret slipping from your tongue. Why did you make such a big commotion? Why did you say you didn’t want him in that way? Fuck. You start to back up and laugh to yourself. “Sorry, I need to go.”

   Just before you can make it your lawn, Joel calls your name quietly. His tone makes you turn on the spot and stare at him with the way his deep bravado voice carries through the nearly spring wind. His eyes are pensive, sad, wrecked. His jaw clenches as he shoves his hands deep in his pockets. He looks like he wants to say something, looks like he wants to spill years of held in thoughts as his jaw ticks back and forth. 

   “Look, I know I never got a chance to apologize about what happened.” He walks toward you, and you take a step back as you shake your head, knowing what he’s about to say. 

   “Joel, no. Stop, you…”

   “Jus’ hear me out a second. Please.” He looks at you with big, begging brown eyes, and he looks like a wounded puppy with the way he’s staring down at you all broken and hurting, mirroring exactly how you feel. You think he might be just as hurt about it as you still are. 

   “Okay,” you mumble out as you stand your ground. 

   “‘M sorry about how everythin’ went down. ‘M sorry for bein’ such an ass to you, about all the stupid fights we had, about everythin’ we ever went through. And I’m so fuckin’ sorry for runnin’ out on you that cold February night. I didn’t… I wasn’t thinkin’ and…”

   You hold out a hand and stop him right there as you shake your head. “Joel, we were young and dumb. I was the one that told you to leave. You didn’t really have to, but I never went after you, and you never came back. I thought it was over, that we were over. And clearly we were because neither of us fought to keep the other…”

   You feel tears lick the backs of your eyes as you bite your bottom lip and wipe your waterline of any tears that might be escaping. 

   “I… I would’ve. Trust me, there’s not a day… there wasn’t a day that I didn’t think about doin’ what I did differently. And maybe… maybe things would’ve been different. Ya know? Maybe we’d still be…” He rakes a hand slowly down his greying scruff and sighs as he shakes his head. “Fuck. This is… harder than I thought it was gonna be…”

   “Joel…” You place a hand slowly over his wrist and watch his brown eyes go from clear to a cloud of haze. “I know you’re marrying Tess. She told me the other day when I saw her watering her lilies. She sounded so excited, so in love,” you cringe as you drop his wrist and take a hesitant step back. 

   “Oh, she told you?” he asks sheepishly, a bit taken back in a sense. 

   “Yeah, she did.”

   “I see.”

   You both stand there staring at one another, eyes alight with sparks of sadness and regret, turmoil that bleeds all over the heated concrete as you face each other. Both standing on a battleground where no one even lifts a finger. It’s just pleading cries and vacant apologies left in the back of the mind. A hollow graveyard that once was a flowering rose garden. 

   You feel like you should go, should get in your little Toyota and drive away, but you’re so lost and you feel like the world has left you behind. There’s just one more thing that needs to be said, one more bottled up sentiment that you need to get off your chest. So you look him straight in the eyes and say it, taking your very last breath as you bleed out all over his front yard. 

   “Look, Joel. I’m so happy you’ve found someone that makes you smile, someone that you’re clearly so in love with. I see the way you look at her. You’re so happy. And I’m so… I’m so…” You choke on your last words as tears fill the brims of your eyes, and you wipe a falling tear away with the sleeve of your shirt.

   “I’m so… happy that you get to marry the love of your life. You deserve it, you deserve all the happiness in the world. And I…” 

   Joel grabs ahold of your forearms and squeezes, looking at you with deep chocolate eyes that swallow you whole as soon as you look up into those brown pits of warmth. You feel it then, the absolute wretched wave that crashes over your body as you feel his warm fingertips tattoo themselves onto your skin. You feel it, the memories washing over you as they swim freely in your head. You remember taking a trip to Florida in his new truck, remember laying in the sand while he grazed his calloused fingers down your sandy skin and told you he loved you for the first time, remember how it felt to be under his body as you writhed and moaned with every touch he stole from you, remember how deeply in love the two of you were, if only for a fortnight. It was the happiest you’ve ever been with someone, the happiest you’ve ever been. Even if it only lasted for a second. He was your favorite season, favorite breath, favorite fortnight. Your forever that you wish would’ve lasted longer. But it was over. This was over. 

   You start to break down then, pulling out of his heated grasp as his fingertips fall from your skin. It’s too much, this is too much. You shouldn’t be here. Not with him, alone. It hurts too much, like a bloody wound that’ll never mend itself back together. The tears start pouring, ruining your mascara as you feel the rain come down slowly over your crimson cheeks. 

   “I… need to go.” When you turn back toward your driveway, Joel calls your name softly, like he’s afraid to speak your name, like he’s being fragile with a dying flower. You stand there a minute before turning back around, your nails embedding marks into your scraped up palms as you clench your jaw and turn, feeling another warm splash drop against your skin. 

   He looks so sad, so conflicted as he stares at you with knit together eyebrows, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his denim jeans as you see him slide his tongue slowly over his bottom teeth. He looks likes he’s struggling as much as you, maybe holding things back just like you are. Like the way you still love him. But it’s too late. You’re too late. 

   “He didn’t deserve you, you know. You deserve someone… someone that’ll make you happy. You deserve the world. And I hope you find it. You’re, well… you’re special. And I hate to see ya cry. ‘M sorry if I was the one who did that to you. And if you ever… if you ever need… ahh fuck. Jus’… take care of yourself, will ya?”

   You watch his fingers flex in his pocket, like he wants to reach out, maybe pull you in his arms, tell you everything will be alright in the end, but it won’t, it never will. He’s getting married to Tess, not you. You need to move on, for your own good. 

   You bite your bottom lip and nod as another sniffle leaves your constricted throat. You feel another warm splash on your arm as you give him a tight smile and turn back to your empty house, a house full of bottled up pain and regret. “Thanks, Joel. B… bye,” you choke out as you walk shamefully back to your front porch, letting the door close with a bang as you slide down the back of the door and end in a muddled ball on the floor. 

   You let the tears flow, let them burn the backs of your eyes as you feel hot air blow through your mouth. You weren’t supposed to talk to him, weren’t even supposed to let him touch your skin, even if it was just your wrist, your arm, your heart. It’s not supposed to hurt this bad, losing him all over again, but here you are. A ruined mess curled up on the wooden floor. He was your fortnight, your favorite part of every day until he was gone. Just like now. A wilted rose petal that died years ago. 

   He watches you turn back toward your half wilted rose covered yard, feeling the sting of tears he holds onto as he clenches his jaw and rakes a hand slowly down his greying scruff. He hates seeing you cry, hates being the reason for it, and hates the way he wants to run across your yard and pull you into his waiting arms. He wants so badly to take away the pain, but he can’t, he shouldn’t. It wouldn’t be right. But nothing is quite right in his mind anymore. No. Not in the slightest.

   He still thinks about you, the way he used to tangle his fingers in your hair as you fell asleep in his lap so many times before. He thinks about the way your soft skin felt every time he grazed his calloused fingers down your arms, your thighs, your dripping center as he’d make endless love to you night after night. He remembers it all, the good and the bad. But mostly he remembers the way he told you how deeply he was in love with you that night in Florida, promising you forever as he pulled you in for a bittersweet kiss that would be the start of the end. 

   He remembers it all. The stupid fights that meant nothing, the way he was so careless with your feelings that night of the fight, the way he walked out in the pouring rain and never looked back, the way he left you brokenhearted, just like you are now as he watches you fade back into the house as you rub your tear soaked eyes. And it kills him, it kills him that a small part of him still loves you. He still loves you…

   How can a person love two people at the same time? He doesn’t know why or how, but he does. He still loves you.. and he hates it, he fucking hates it. 

   He still thinks about you, even when he’s holding Tess against his chest late at night in their bed, even when he brushes his lips against her creased forehead, even when she says quick I love you’s to him every morning before she heads off to work. He wonders what it’d be like to hear it from your lips, on your tongue. He thinks about it so fucking much that he dreams about you, night after night. And if that makes him a bad man then fuck it, he’s already a very bad man.

   He may seem happy on the outside, absolutely head over heels for Tess, which he is. But also, he isn’t because that other half of himself is devoted to you. But he’s marrying Tess, not you. So he drinks, downs the whiskey night after night as he suffers from his own stupid past mistakes. A functioning alcoholic that’s drunk off heartbreak and pining that can never be. He’s royally and thoroughly fucked beyond his wreckless decisions. 

   He watches you every day leaving your house, climbing into your small Toyota, alone, frowning, lonely. He sees how sad you look when you catch his eyes, sees the tears well in your glistening gaze. He knows you probably must be so miserable living across from him, he sees it in the way you carry your shoulders, all hunched and wilting as your beautiful eyes gloss over every single fucking time he looks at you. He knows because that’s how he feels every time he sees you through your kitchen window, staring in a blank daze as he caresses Tess’s cheek and leaves trails of kisses up her soft skin. He knows how you feel. Because believe it or not, he’s just as miserable as you are. 

   When he finally sees you stumble through the front door and shut firmly it behind you, he lets a single tear fall like rain against his cheek, releasing his pent up frustration and held back feelings like the drops of whiskey he suffocates on night after night. And like the slow rush of February, he lets his feelings flow in the wind, dwindling down the quiet street as your silent cries fade into black. You were only a fraction of a moment, a sweet speck of sunshine that lit up his life, and now it was just a memory blown away by the endless February breeze. 

   He tries everything in his power not to run across the dew covered grass and stumble up to your porch, bang his rough knuckles against your glass door till you open up and let him over the threshold. He wants so fucking badly to wrap you in his arms, tell you everything’s going to be okay, scrape his lips across your tear soaked eyes as he kisses away the tears that he caused. But he can’t. He just fucking can’t. 

   He knows you’re on the floor, knows you’re crying your eyes out because of him. He shouldn’t have even helped you with your fallen mail, shouldn’t have placed his calloused and tainted fingers on your delicate and innocent skin, because that just brought back vivid images of you and him together. Imagines that are burned inside his memory as he locks them tightly away. A part of his mind that’s completely blocked off from Tess because she doesn’t know he still loves you. But it’s too late. He can’t have both; he can only have one. 

   So when he walks down that aisle, he’ll fully devote himself to Tess. No more silhouettes of you in his imagination, at least not when she’s in the room. He still imagines the thought of you walking down that aisle, can already see how stunning you’d look in your long satin dress, envisions you throwing your arms around his neck as he says “I do” and kisses you endlessly for the rest of his godforsaken life.

   It was always you he thinks, but time was not on his side, and he couldn’t go back to the past. He’d have to choose between the two of you, and he couldn’t imagine the thought of breaking Tess’s heart. Can’t bear the thought of losing her, but then there’s you. The girl that was once the love of his life, that’s still the love of his life. But he can’t have two loves, that’s not how it works in this life. 

So he drowns in his tears, goes back inside as he pours a half glass of amber whiskey, drinks it down like it’ll be his saving grace. You were only a fortnight in his tragic life, but you were the best one. His favorite fortnight. So he’ll pine, burn through the ashes of all his mistakes. He loves you, and it’ll surely ruin his life in the end.

He chases the whiskey down as he feels it burn like hot lava down his throat, letting the alcohol drive his sins away as he stares at your empty kitchen window. You still haven’t left for the morning, haven’t driven off into the glowing sunrise even though it’s half past 8:00.

He hates that he knows your routine, knows it’s fucked that he watches you every single morning. It’s like clockwork the way he reaches for the whiskey bottle as soon as Tess leaves, while he stands in his empty kitchen watching you. He’s such a bad man, but he’s known this ever since he found out it was you that lived across the street from him. That’s when all the feelings came flooding back like a torrential downpour, and that’s why he picked up his awful drinking habit again. Now he takes a shot every single time he sees you, like that’ll help a damn thing, but it never does, it only makes the feelings worse.

After thirty minutes of silence from your window, he takes one last gulp of the toxic amber drink and slides the bottle away, feeling the taste of regret and remorse on the tip of his tongue. He knows you’re on that floor unable to get up, probably staining the hardwood from your tears. He clenches his jaw, embeds his calloused fingertips into the rustic counter and curses to himself under his breath. He needs to fix what he did, needs to put his racing thoughts to bed, so he moves like lightning towards the front door, dragging his sorrows and regrets with him as his boots scuff against the tiles of the front entryway.

He doesn’t have time to process it, doesn’t have a chance to think it through, he just moves quickly. He sprints across your yard, passing half dead rose bushes that he should’ve kept alive. Now they just look like he feels, dead and wilting, both things willing to crumble under his touch.

Now he’s standing on your front porch, the burn of alcohol edging him on as he raises his balled up fist over the silhouette of your door. He doesn’t have time to think, to act, he just has to do something, anything to get you out of his drowning mind. So he stands there burning in the flames of past mistakes and fortnights.

Before his hand can move an inch, he smells it. The morning breeze carrying a whiff of fragrant, lush lilies across his burning nostrils that cloud his foggy mind. The scent of Tess. But he also smells the fragrance of wilting red roses and dewy, clipped grass. The smell of you. Both scents swirl together as he grits his teeth and lets the pain of mixed scents numb his racing mind. He’s fucked, ruined now, but he can’t have both. He has to make a choice. It's either soft lilies or scented rose petals. And goddamn it, he wants both flowers. But he can’t pick both, he just can’t. He has to make a decision. One that’ll surely be the end of him. He loses either way he chooses.

Tagging some mutuals 🩵 @msjarvis @littlevenicebitch69 @sawymredfox @bbyanarchist @keylimebeag

@casa-boiardi @vivian-pascal @amyispxnk @laurrrra @rav3n-pascal22 @magpiepills

@604to647

[goldsbitch]

Right? p6

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

summary: Y/N is a photographer for McLaren F1 team. Hard working, goal oriented professional who would never put her career in jeopardy for some stupid crush, right?

warning: smut

Life in formula was a fast one. But alas, there was finally a moment where a date had been set for your first official date indoors. Two week break between races provided a nice opportunity.

You were based in the UK, but one little Monaco trip didn't hurt anyone, right? No hotel room. Zero back up plan. It was strange how complicated it was for you two to get a moment for each other. You were not even sure what make of this little crush. Whatever. In the end it was a nice little trip.

So there you were, standing in front of an address he shared with you - casual elegant outfit, newly done hair and just a little bit of more than you got to do during busy work days. It was more for yourself than for Lando really. Everyone likes to feel like the it girl sometimes, right? This whole affair was a nice detour from the goal oriented life you lead every day.

There you were, standing in the open kitchen in Lando Norris's apartment. You could care less where the two of you were - as long as there we no prying eyes and you could look at each other with lust in your eyes without needing to hide anything. Teenage hormones overtaking the adult brains within milliseconds.

The looks. The random touches. The abnormal proximity. Nobody to hide from.

He ordered take out, as cooking was not a thing any one of you found to be interesting. He had obviously made some touch ups to the place, dimmed lights and all cleaned up, he had a nice elegant shirt on and the kind of messy hair that screamed "I actually spent an alarming amount of time on it". Both of you playing a little game, as if fooling each other was even an option at this point. Light innocent conversation felt like a like dance - who is going to break the rules first?

"Mr. Norris, this is all very nice," you pointed out, "but I believe we are here to review some photos."

He took a napkin to clean up his face and played the game along. "Oh, silly old me. Must have forgotten. Of course. To the screening room."

The two of you got up from the table, Lando's hand on your lower back and his cologne hitting you in the face in the best way possible. Oh why, oh why, why were you getting into this mess? You wanted to be taken into his arms like a naughty teenager kissing her classmate for the first time. Letting him guide you into pleasure. You finally explored how his skin covered his perfect face structure, there was nothing hiding his features. And unlike with your pictures, you could actually see how his jaw moved when he spoke, especially with the perfect light hitting him now. He got you. He understood your need to aesthetics. You could take a photo of his right there. Preferably without clothes hiding his body.

He turned his projector on. This was all part of the cat and mouse game.

"I need to see the pictures you have first. You owe it to me at this point."

He closed the distance between the two of you, looked you deep in the eyes, his blueish greenish ones filled with a need and after long minutes spent with a dinner, that none you actually wanted, he kissed you. Differently that ever before. This was tender, not slow, but somehow free. His soft lips caressed yours and you could have melted right then and there. Only then you understood why all the singers praised the first kiss - this felt like one. He was not afraid to explore, to observe your reaction and feel proud for making you feel that way. He was speaking to you in a language only touch could understand and his words were loud and clear - I want you. And there was absolutely no way either one you would wait a minute longer. Not after how he touched you at the gala. Not after all the meeting he had to sit with his dirty thoughts making it impossible for his to concentrate. Not after all the night you wished he was on top of you. Not after how you mesmerised him while taking photos of him. His hands grabbed your waist firmly, wrincling your dress and sending thunders through your body. You grabbed his hair, pushing him even closer, as it that was even possible. If desire was a color, there would be no other color present in the whole city. Your bodies seemed to understand each other, there were zero thoughts going into your movements. You roamed around his shoulders, he wandered off to touch your ass and slowly started to pushing you towards the couch. You never felt anything as comftable as this specific couch - but one would say it was Lando's body pressing on top of your that was the selling point. His chest touching your boobs, his waist pressed on your and you could feel his erect dick begging to be touched too. Hot blood flowing inside both of your bodies. You started working on unbuttoning his shirt and he smiled into your kiss, not having parted your lips since he first locked them with his. You knew he wanted to say something, so you stopped him by biting his lip and sticking your tongue into his mouth. All bets were off tonight, you both knew why you were there. So he helped you with his shirt, the with a swift motion got you out of your dress before you could even notice, and started working on his pants. It was all very quick, passionate and hard. This is not how you're suppose to be acting towards your team driver. You're not suppose to be fucking him. You're not suppose to be stroking his dick. Oh, but how good it felt to hold him in your hand. Finally, right? It will just be this one time, right? But if it was just this one time, you'd make it a good one. You didn't even know when he stuck his fingers into you, because they felt so natural, you might have thought they were always supposed to be there. Oh, but it felt good - so good - too good. You could have gotten of just with his light motion, but that was not in his plan for tonight. He watched you, being totally present in that moment, right there and then, and he got drunk on the way your body reacted to his actions. When he knew you were more than ready, he finally entered you and one could write a single chapter on how exctatic that felt to him. You were quickly put into some sort of trance, cause by his motion. It was like being on a different planet. In that moment the only thought you could gather was why the fuck did you ever had sex before meeting him and if your previous experiences could even count as such. You got locked in the moment, focusing only on his moves, closed eyes and having touch as the only source of your sensory receptors. He on the other hand let your soft moans in to get him going, moans that only seemed to get louder and higher with every minute that he fucked you. He moved faster, than slower, than faster again. He wanted to try different positions with your, but he wanted to take this view of you bounding under him, to his memory so desperately that he did not dare to endanger the moment you two had.

It could have been minutes. It could have been hours. Time stopped being a reliable way to measure this moment. You came twice, he pulled out and came all over your chest. The two of you laid next to each to other, as much as the couch allowed, trying to catch your breath. There was only one thought on your mind. Fuck. How were you suppose to walk past him now?

You both were riding the pleasure high for few moments. Hearts slowing down, taking in what just happened after weeks of built up tension.

You stayed naked in each others embrace. You traced Lando's freckles, creating shapes and constellations. He was way less subtle and focused on light touches of your nipples. It felt fragile, tender and intimate. Pure contrast to the vibe you had just minutes prior.

"I know it's not ideal," he spoke softly. You froze, not knowing where he was heading with this. He noticed and continued immediately. "Not ideal because of McLaren and stuff." You nodded, not wanting to continue this conversation. But he did. "However...I am having a nice time. And I hope you're too," he waited for your answer, which only came in a nod. He gave you a weak smile. You just didn't feel safe yet and he understood. He leaned in to kiss you - at least that what you were expecting. Instead he stopped right before your lips and whispered. "I was promised some super secret photos, wasn't I?" You smiled, happy that the tension got broken again. Flirty was something you knew how to do with him. "Only if you show me yours too, sweetie." "Oh, I am so ready to dwell into the beauty the two of us are," he sighed and finally kissed you.

part 7

_______________________

@i-wish-this-was-me @lqvesoph @ophcelia @noneofyourfbusinessworld

[atleastpleasetelephone]

Little Darling

Chapter 7 - I wanna be in love

It's 1997, and Elvis is still alive and well. He quit music in 1972 after a successful world tour, and now he runs Presley Studios - teaching people karate across America. His daughter and grandchildren are regular visitors at Graceland, and when he’s in Memphis he likes to do a little teaching. His life is quieter now, though. Most of the Mafia have gone - going to live their own lives - and after his divorce from his second wife, Elvis is sworn off women for good. Will a Welsh girl with a wicked sense of humour be the one to make him break his promise to himself not to fall in love again?

Need to catch up? Go here.

Pairing: Old Man!Elvis x OC - Tegan, a Welsh girl he meets at karate class.

Word Count: 3.9K ish

TWs: Possessive kink, dollification if you squint, Elvis is a little dominant, praise kink, use of Daddy in a sexual context, fingering, p in v sex, erectile dysfunction, crying, self-esteem issues.

Elvis spends the rest of the week living in Tegan’s apartment, trying to do something to keep it tidy and also trying to cook them both dinner. He burns a lot of things and ends up ordering a lot of deliveries, but she finds the fact that he keeps trying to do things for her that he’s never had to do for himself incredibly endearing. Elvis likes being in the apartment. It’s harder to feel lonely in a place so much smaller than Graceland, and he looks forward to Tegan coming home from work every day. He buys her little gifts to make up for the terrible food and also for the time when he did a load of washing and somehow managed to dye all of her white clothes pale pink. He reads and sometimes he calls Jerry, who he’s been missing lately and who he wants to update on his relationship more than anyone, for some reason. Maybe he’s trying to give the other man hope for the future, as he goes through what sounds like a messy divorce. Elvis empathises, more than he thinks his friend really realises. 

It’s Friday, and Elvis hears the clunk of the door and rushes to greet Tegan.

“Hey baby. Good day at work?” 

He already has his arms around her and is kissing her neck before she’s even got her shoes off. 

She giggles. “Yes, thanks. Tiring, but good.”

“Thought ya were never comin’ home.”

“Sorry, the session dragged on longer than expected.” She looks around the apartment. “What have you been up to?”

“Cleaning,” he replies, proudly. “Cleaned the kitchen. Mopped the floor.”

She turns her head and puts a hand up to stroke his cheek. “You’re getting to be such a good little house husband, ‘raur,” she teases. 

He growls in her ear, squeezing her and tickling her and making her squeal and laugh at the same time. “Don’tcha go tellin’ anyone about this. I’ve gotta reputation to live up ta.”

“I promise. I’ll tell them you just laze around all day, when you’re not having sex with supermodels.”

He sniggers. “It’s not lazin’, it’s post-coital recovery time.”

“Exactly.”

They look at one another for a moment and then he leans down and kisses her thoroughly.

“Gotcha a gift, baby.” 

Letting her go, he walks over to the kitchen counter, picking up the fancy bag there and handing it to her. 

“Of course you did, it’s a day with a y in it,” she replies. He pouts and plays at looking dejected, and she kisses him again. “I’m teasing. You know I love presents.”

“Presents,” he repeats, mimicking her accent. “Presents for Queenie.”

She puts the bag down and launches herself at him, telling him off for making fun of her whilst poking and tickling him. He laughs, easily fending her off for a while, but the more she tells him to stop taking the piss out of her accent the funnier he finds it, and he ends up giggling helplessly on the sofa, with her on top of him tickling him and making it worse. 

“Please… please… ahhh... I surrender!” 

She laughs and flops down onto his chest, both of them exhausted and breathing heavily. 

“Ya gonna open them?” He asks, when he’s got his breath back.

She sits up, half on his lap and half on the sofa. “Depends. Are you going to keep taking the piss out of me?”

Elvis bites his lip, sniggering and trying really hard not to make a comment about what she’d just said. “N-no, honey. I uh… I’ll keep quiet.”

“You better.”

He grins as he watches her get up and walk over to the bag. She’s wearing one of her work outfits, a brightly patterned blouse and a form-fitting pencil skirt, and he can’t help wishing that the apartment was wider so that he could watch her walking away from him for a little longer. 

“You looking at my arse, Mr. Presley?” She asks, walking back with the bag now. 

“Guilty as charged, ma’am.”

She snorts, sitting back down next to him and pulling two large boxes out of the bag. They’re both from a fancy clothes boutique, and she opens the first one to a sea of gold material. Finding spaghetti straps she decides it’s probably a dress, and lifts it up by them to get a better look at it. 

“For ya to wear tomorrow,” he says as she stares at it. 

“I thought it was just a casual barbeque?” 

The dress looks like something a disney princess would wear, with an asymmetrical skirt made of layers of gauzy golden material. 

“Yer my Queenie, so ya have to dress like one.” He smiles and kisses her. “Ya want a crown too? I bet I could get Lowell to make ya one.”

She giggles. “I don’t need a crown. Elvis, this is too much. This is something to wear to a fancy dinner, not a barbeque with Lisa and Maria and Sonny.”

He shakes his head. “I said yer wearin’ it, so yer wearin’ it.”

“You’re not the boss of me,” she replies, a teasing smile on her lips. 

His hand reaches for the necklace she’s wearing, holding the diamond-encrusted initials between his fingers. “Think ya know I am.”

She blushes, looking down at his fingers around the letters and squeezing her thighs together. He notices immediately and smirks, letting the necklace go and lightly slapping the side of her thigh. 

“C’mon. Open the other one.”

Putting the first box to the side, she pulls the lid off the second one. A gold bikini. She should’ve known. 

“Elvis it’s gorgeous, but…”

His hand, which had been resting on the outside of her thigh, shifts a little and gives her leg another firm slap. 

“Uh-uh. No. Yer wearin’ it under that dress. No arguments.”

She looks up into his bright blue eyes as they stare back at her. He looks deadly serious, but she can’t help pushing him a little. 

“I hope you’re going to be wearing something a bit nicer than this then.” She tugs at the sleeve of his tracksuit top. 

“Oooh woman! Do not test me!” He’s laughing a little at first, as he grabs her and pushes her onto the sofa cushions, rolling himself on top and pinning her beneath him. But then his face changes to complete seriousness. “I will wear whatever I goddamn please, and you will wear whatever I tell ya.” Her heart thumps in her chest and blood rushes in her ears as she stares back at him. 

The seriousness lasts for all of five seconds and then his mouth falls into that cute lopsided grin and his eyes shine with amusement. “I’m kiddin’, darlin’. But I think you’ll look damn good in that bikini and that dress. And I’ll wear somethin’ decent. Got my whole closet at home to choose from.”

She nods, her heart racing.

“You okay, baby?”

She blushes a deeper red and puts a hand over her eyes. “I kind of enjoyed that.”

“Oh really?”

“Mmmm.”

“So you’d like it if I told ya that ya had to wear those clothes? And I want yer nails painted to match?”

She nods, hand still over her eyes. “I kind of enjoyed the way you said it, too.” She bites her lip and cringes a little at her own words. He quite often played with being possessive in bed, telling her that her pussy belonged to him and he could have it whenever he wanted, but this was a bit different. This was something she didn’t know she liked.

Elvis smirks a little at how coy she’s being. He gently takes her hand off her face and gives her a reassuring kiss. Then he shifts so he can push her skirt up, briefly noticing her panties as he pushes them to the side and slides his fingers against her. She definitely had been enjoying it.

“You’re gonna wear what I tell you to,” he hisses, voice low and menacing in her ear. “No more arguments.”

His middle finger slides inside her, curling around and making her cry out. “Oh!”

“You’re gonna wear that goddamn dress tomorrow to the barbeque. I want you ta look good for me.”

His finger pumps in and out of her steadily. She whimpers.

“What’s ��at?”

“Mmm. Yes. Yes I’m going to wear it.”

“Good girl.”

Tegan can hear her own breath coming out in little pants as she closes her eyes, feeling another finger pushing inside her alongside the first. 

“I don’t like these panties.”

Her eyes spring open again and she looks at him, nervously. “S-sorry,” she mumbles, her head spinning, trying to remember which ones she put on this morning. 

“Get rid of ‘em. I only want ya in matching sets.” His voice is low and even and his face is deadly serious, none of his usual smirking and joking and teasing. He’s enjoying himself though, watching the look on her face and feeling the way her body is reacting to him, her hips bucking into his hand. 

She closes her eyes, half-afraid of his serious expression, half turned on by it. She feels his fingers gripping her cheeks and opens them again. 

“You listenin’ ta me?” His tone is harsh and she nods quickly. 

“Y-yes. I won’t wear them again, I’ll throw them away.”

“Yes, what?” He asks, then presses his lips to her ear. “I know ya wanna call me somethin’, baby,” he murmurs, in an entirely softer tone. 

She’d nearly slipped up a couple of times when they were in bed together, responding “yes, d…Elvis…” and even murmuring “daddy” once, so quietly that he’d almost missed it. Her husband had been a little older, and she’d liked to call him that in bed sometimes. But she wasn’t sure how Elvis would feel about it, especially not after all of the stuff that had been written in the paper about their respective ages. So she’d tried to hold back, sticking to her Welsh pet names for him. But he’d obviously figured it out and now it seems like he wants her to say it. 

“Yes, Daddy,” she whispers. 

He growls, pushing her legs back and thrusting his fingers in and out of her harder and faster. She throws her head back and moans. He feels his dick hard in his pants at the same time as she is soaking wet and ready for him, and he doesn’t want to miss his opportunity. They’d fooled around a few more times since the disastrous attempt at Graceland, but she was never quite relaxed or turned on enough and he usually ended up losing his erection mid-way through. 

He hurriedly pulls his sweatpants down along with his boxer shorts, sliding his fingers back out of her as he pumps himself a few times with one hand. Her senses are still reeling, and so she doesn’t realise what’s happening until he starts to push inside her, stretching her so much it hurts a little. 

“Ow. Elvis!”

He looks up quickly, just about managing to pause what he’s doing and praying it doesn’t mean he’s about to lose his erection again. 

“Rub your dick on me, get it wetter.” Tegan knows she’s not really supposed to be telling him what to do right now, but that feels closer to penetration than anything that they’d done before, and she knows he just needs a little more lube. 

He grunts, pulling the tip back out of her and continuing his silent prayers about staying hard. Pulling her panties off and throwing them across the room, he pushes her legs back again and exposes her pussy, groaning at the way it’s glistening with her wetness. They both moan at the sensation of him rubbing himself against her, his foreskin moving back and forth on her puffy clit, desperate for stimulation. 

He huffs out a loud breath. 

“That’s enough,” he says, half to himself but also in an attempt to regain control of the situation. “Yer mine and I wanna fuck you.”

She whines at his words and then at his dick pushing inside her, this time making it past the head, the whole shaft sliding inside until his balls rest against her skin. She’s whimpering at how full she feels, and he just stays there for a moment, as the two of them stare at one another in something like disbelief. 

She props herself up on her elbows so she can look him right in the eye. 

“Please fuck me, Daddy.” 

The sofa is not the easiest place to have sex, and his knees slip every so often as he starts to thrust in and out of her. He grabs hold of the back of it for balance and although it’s deep he starts to worry a bit about falling off. Eventually she flops onto her back and holds her arms out for him, so he lays on top of her, kissing her needily as his hips jut into hers and her legs wrap around his waist. 

“Does it feel good?” He asks, between kisses. 

“Mmm. Yes. Really good. You?”

He nods, breathlessly. “Damn good.” His eyes close in pleasure and he buries his face in her neck. 

He starts to try and speed up his thrusts but the sofa cushions start sliding out, unbalancing both of them. 

“Ah, fuck.”

He pauses and they look at one another, both a little sweaty, their foreheads pressed together. 

“You think we can move to the bedroom?” She asks. 

“Think we’ll have ta try.”

They kiss a little more and then Elvis gets up, slowly pulling out, going back to his silent prayers. They shed their clothes as quickly as they can on their way to the bedroom, until they’re both naked in the bed. Elvis looks down and sighs. 

“Think that was one step too far fer the little guy.”

Tegan bursts out laughing. She finds Elvis’ tendency to talk about his dick like it’s its own person absolutely hilarious. 

“Well you laughin’ at him won’t help any, honey.” He frowns. 

“I’m laughing at you, not your dick.”

“Hmmm.” He tries to look annoyed but he can barely hold in his own amusement. 

“Let’s see if we can, er, perk him up a bit,” she says, wrapping her hand around Little Elvis and starting to work him up and down. “Think he liked it when you were kinda bossy to me, earlier.”

“Mmm.” Elvis’ hand strokes her side. “I think he did too.” He thinks for a moment. She’s naked now, so he can’t really say things about her clothes anymore, and he’s done her outfit for tomorrow. He always liked his girls to have nice hair and nails in the past though, and keep them done for him. Maybe that would work. 

“Don’t think yer keepin’ yerself lookin’ good enough fer me, are ya?” He begins.

Her eyes go wide, wondering what he means. “I-I don’t know. I try to look nice…” she trails off, a little unsure. 

He puts his hand in her hair and pulls it a little. “I want you in the salon every week so yer hair’s lookin’ real pretty for me at the weekend.”

She nods, rushing out a quick, “yes, Daddy,” when he looks stern. She feels him start to get harder in her hand again and pumps a little faster. 

“An’ no chips in yer nails,” he continues. “Can’t have ya goin’ round, lookin’ a mess.”

She can hear herself whimpering again, knowing his words are making her wet even as she worries a little that he does think she’s a mess and she’s not really pretty enough to be on his arm. 

His erection is back so he pulls her hand off his dick, knocking her onto her back and pushing her legs up. Continuing to grip her hand in his, he holds it up so he can examine her fingernails. He shakes his head, giving a low whistle and letting her hand drop back down onto the bed. 

“Ya better get those fixed fer tomorrow.”

He lines himself up and pushes inside her again, this time in one movement, making her groan and her eyes roll back in her head. 

“Ya hear me, little girl?”

She nods quickly. “Yes, Daddy. I’ll get them fixed. Ohhhh.”

He starts to move and now he’s on a mattress and not a sofa he goes hard and fast straight away. Holding onto her thigh with one hand and rubbing her clit with the other he pounds into her. Watching as her breasts bounce with every thrust and loving the feeling of her pussy hugging him tightly, he tries to pay attention to her movements, her breathing, her little tells. Wanting to know when she’s close. 

“Whose pussy is this, baby?” He asks, panting, feeling his own release starting to build as he sees her hands grasping at the bedding and balling into fists. 

“Yours, Daddy,” she moans back. 

“Good girl. Cum for Daddy.”

His thumb rubs her clit more firmly as he carries on his assault on her pussy, his orgasm right at the base of his dick now. As she arches her back she feels him hit somewhere inside her that makes her want to scream, and the combination of that and the way he’s touching her with his thumb is finally enough to trigger waves of pleasure washing over her as she cums. Feeling herself let go completely, the noises that fall from her mouth may as well be screams as her walls squeeze and squeeze and tip Elvis over the edge too, making him cum hard and deep inside her. He cries out in ecstasy, falling on top of her, and the two of them lie there together, dizzy with pleasure.

When he finally feels like he can move again, he rolls off her and pulls her into his arms. She puts an arm and a leg around him too, cuddling up close. 

“That was incredible. Baby, we did it!”

She buries her face in his chest. “I can’t believe it,” she mumbles into his skin. 

“Ya had a good time?” He asks, suddenly worried that her response isn’t quite as enthusiastic as he was expecting. 

“Mmm. Yeah, it was amazing.”

He strokes her back. “But?”

There’s a long pause, where she tries to work out what to say, how to phrase it so she doesn’t sound silly. Eventually she just looks up, shyly, and says, “do you think I look a mess?”

Elvis blinks, wondering why she’s asking, and then realises what he’d said to her earlier.

“Oh, no, honey. I think ya look beautiful, all the time,” he tells her, his hand on her face. “But I do kinda wanna show ya off…” he pauses, looking for her reaction. “I mean, I want people ta be blown away by ya.”

“Hmmmm.” She nibbles on her lower lip and digs her fingers into his chest hair. “So you meant what you said?”

He frowns. She’d definitely said she wanted him to talk like that to her, and now she seemed to be going back on it. “I’d never force ya ta do anythin’ ya didn’t want, honey. You don’t wanna wear that dress tomorrow, that’s up ta you. I was only playin’ coz ya said ya liked it. I don’t wanna upset ya.”

Tegan leans her head back down on his chest and sighs. She doesn’t know what she wants. She definitely enjoyed herself in the heat of the moment but now she’s scared again that he’s pretending she’s pretty. 

“What’s a matter, honey?” Elvis’ voice is low and gentle, and he accompanies the question with patterns traced on her back by his fingertips.

She lets out a long breath that she didn’t realise she’d been holding in. 

“You could be with someone much prettier than me. And… and now especially after…” she swallows and tries to collect herself and not cry. “...you… you’re going to find someone else.” Her shoulders shake and she finds herself crying anyway, the intensity of her orgasm and the feeling of closeness she’d shared with Elvis making her suddenly feel vulnerable and afraid. 

Elvis’ eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Hang on a minute…” he tips her face back up towards him and sees it streaked with tears. “What makes ya think I want anyone else? Ya think I’m gonna do yer laundry, cook yer dinners and mop yer kitchen floor and then go find someone else? Why would I do that?”

Tegan wipes her face a little. “Well let’s be honest now, you didn’t really successfully make much dinner.”

He pulls her up his body so that their foreheads are pressed together again. “I’ve never even tried ta make a woman dinner before you.”

She looks at him for a moment and then starts to cry again. 

“Oh baby,” he wraps both arms around her, holding her close. “What’s wrong?”

“Think you only wanted me because I didn’t care about your dick. And now we’ve had sex you’re just going to leave.”

She tries to roll off him again in embarrassment, but he holds onto her tightly, one hand on the back of her head and the other splayed across her back. 

“Tegan bach,” he begins, firmly. “I wanted you before I knew ya didn’t care about it, and after I knew, and I still want ya now, more than ever. It’s not like ya magically fixed me and now I’m on my way to fuck a bunch of supermodels. We’ve got somethin’ special here. Don’tcha think?”

“Y-yes. That’s why I’m a-afraid to l-lose it,” she sniffs. 

He kisses her gently on the mouth. “I’m sorry I ran away from ya so many times before, an’ fucked this up so many times, an’ ya had to wait fer me ta grow up and realise what I’ve got here. But I’m not goin’ anywhere now. I promise.”

She sniffs again and nods, although she’s still afraid. 

“Let’s dry these tears on this pretty little face, hm? See if ya can gimme a smile.” She moves so he can wipe the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. He kisses the end of her nose, making her smile slightly. 

“I went ta the store earlier,” he pauses for a minute to reflect and then changes his sentence. “Well, that’s not exactly true. Mary went ta the store fer me, an’ I asked her ta get ingredients for cottage pie.”

“Oh did you?” Tegan is smiling a little more now. “And what are you planning on doing with those then?”

“I was plannin’ on makin’ my Queenie dinner.”

“Well that sounds nice.”

She can almost see him thinking, like he desperately wants to ask her to help him, so it doesn’t end up burnt with lumpy mash, but he also really wants to save face. She decides to put him out of his misery.

“Do you want a glamorous assistant?”

He breathes a sigh of relief at her suggestion. “Fuck yes.”

They both giggle together again and Elvis looks at her lovingly. How she could think he’d want anyone else is beyond him, but he thinks he’ll have to keep showing her how much she means to him. He sits up and looks around for his clothes. The first step of that is making her an edible dinner. 

***

Part 8

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[familyvideostevie]

a kind of hunger | chapter 1

joel miller x fem!reader

series masterlist

joel miller walks into your life just as it starts to fall apart. surely some hot nights with the bar's newest regular can't hurt, right?

length: 9.2k

warnings: 18+, mdni, smut, fem!reader, unspecified age gap, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), doggy style, missionary, slightly painful sex, dirty talk, size kink if you squint, joel is a liiiiiiiitle mean if you squint, general feelings of loneliness and angst from r in her free time

a/n: huge thank you to @strangerfreaks without whom this would never have gotten off the ground. also to all the joel writers on this site, i love you, i am in awe of you. please allow me to give it a go myself <3

navigation | 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 | 𝗴𝘂𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀

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The first time you sleep with Joel Miller you know it won't be the last. 

But that's not where this story starts. 

It starts in a bar. Nothing special about it, really. Staffed half by college kids who come and go, half by drifters who, for some reason, stopped drifting once they found this dimly lit, sticky-floored hole in the wall. Not quite a local institution but not forgettable, never totally empty. It's got pool tables and a jukebox but also clean bathrooms aside from the graffiti and two new-ish TVs showing whatever the first guy who gets there wants to watch.

Point is, you work there. One of those drifters who stopped drifting. The guy who owns it, some crotchety old fuck called Bill, rents you the apartment above the bar for a decent price considering it's loud until 2am on the weekends and midnight all the other days. Loud enough that even on nights you don't work it feels like you're there anyway. But you get used to it. It's called Frank's, which you don't totally understand, but you're not about to ask questions of the guy who has finally allowed you to slow down and take a breath who is also your boss and landlord.

You've worked there long enough to have learned the names and orders of all the regulars who've been coming in since long before you walked through the door and to have seen some new regulars enter the rotation. In truth, you've worked there long enough to basically be running the place. It's still the bar in your head, not your bar because getting attached will do you no good. This is how it always goes: you care too much but it never seems like anyone cares back. You cut and run before you can be disappointed and you’ve already been here longer than you’d expected to be because it’s something close to comfortable. 

Almost no one messes with you despite being younger than most of the clientele and on the off chance some frat boy from the city decides to take a cheap shot you've got a small army of imposing customers on your side. Between them and your coworkers, it's almost like you're not alone. 

Almost.

The hours you spend away from the bar are spent alone. You don't have many numbers in your phone and the ones you do you don't call. You go on drives in the shitty truck you bought off some guy when you moved here. You browse used bookstores and suffer the heat of the day on long walks and wonder if this is all there is. You think of what it might be like to feel something other than rootless.

One thing that helps is…sex. Being close to someone for even a little while, letting yourself be seen in a way that doesn’t require you to totally show your hand. You try not to make a habit of actually fucking your clientele. It can get messy quickly, guys coming in and expecting more than a good pour. Being offended when you don't give them a free round, don't make eyes at them over the oiled wood. It's easier to be alone, that much you've learned. It's easier and it's simpler and it means you've only got yourself to blame for the hurt you sometimes feel laying in bed, staring at the ceiling as some rock song thrums up through the floor. 

And if you do fuck someone from the bar, you keep it simple. You do, however, try really hard not to sleep with regulars. And no staying over. A classic, unspoken rule of sleeping with strangers that you rarely verbalize but make sure to enforce every time. It keeps things neat. The last thing you need is mess. Who knows how long you'll stay in this town, in this little apartment and this shitty bar. You've got a lot of years left, a lot of years you should probably spend in classrooms or an office or falling in love with some nice guy with a nice family who can give you a nice life. 

But you're here. 

And then, one day, so is Joel.

Being a good bartender is memorization, paying attention, and keeping a level head. You know how to make pretty much any drink even though your regulars are mostly the simple beer or Jack and Coke kind of people. You swear you can tell when a glass is going to fall a second before it shatters, spot a punch before it can be thrown. So you notice when a man you've never seen before walks through the door.

You notice how the energy of the room changes, how multiple pairs of eyes follow him as he settles at the end of the half-full bar. Dark hair shot through with grey, green shirt rolled up over chorded forearms that he rests on the wood. It feels like you should know him but you don't. You've never seen him before.

You finish pouring beers for some giggly girls before making your way over to him. His eyes track you.

You wonder what he'll order. A shot, maybe, based on the tense line of his shoulders. Or a dark beer. Maybe something strong. You hope he won't be one of those guys you have to peel off the bar in a few hours. "Can I get you something?"

"Whiskey, rocks," he says. You can hear the Texas drawl even from so few words. Deep, low, measured. "Cheapest you got."

For some reason, it feels like he's returning and you're the new one. "Wanna start a tab?"

"I'll do cash at the end," he says. Ah, one of those. Guy getting away from his wife, maybe. Tough day at work. Doesn't want to leave tracks. You can relate to that.

"Joel fuckin’ Miller," one of your regulars says as you turn to grab a glass. He claps the man -- Joel -- on the shoulder. "Heard you were back up this way," he says. "Good to see you, man."

Joel simply inclines his head once like he's not thrilled to be recognized. The dismissal is clear. And, weirdest of all, it works. You've seen insults hurled between friends for less.

You set his drink down, the amber liquid sloshing around the ice. 

"Thanks," he mutters. The dismissal is...less clear, but you've got other customers to tend to. And Joel doesn't seem particularly chatty.

Your eyes return to him for the next hour or so but he never waves you over for another round. Heat trails up and down your spine and you have to tell yourself that he's not watching you. That would be too optimistic, right? At one point you take a bathroom break and when you're back he's gone, wrinkled bills stacked under the glass. Enough for his drink and a decent tip. 

Joel comes in three more times over the next month before you sleep with him. Each time he orders the same drink, leaves the same tip. He sits alone at the bar, occasionally saying hello when someone approaches but no one ever sits next to him. He's gruff but only ever polite to you, doesn't get impatient when it takes you a minute to get to him. 

And he's really something to look at. The tick in his jaw, the veins in his neck. His skin is tanned, dotted with small scars that must come from a lifetime of hard work. He wears a watch and jeans that hug his ass in an almost indecent way, a way that has you watching him when he's not on a stool. Sometimes you catch him smirking to himself when there's some shit going on at the bar, gossip or people being loud for no reason. You wonder what his laugh sounds like and scold yourself for it. No harm in looking but there's the possibility of harm in thinking too much. You know better.

The third time he comes in is a bad night. It's busy for some reason and everyone is a fucking asshole. You weren't even supposed to work tonight but one of the seasonal kids had banged on your door begging you to come help, promising you all the tips for tonight if you did. You knew it would make you look good to Bill and despite yourself, you didn’t want to leave them hanging, so here you are, sweaty and pissed and smelling like beer, doing your best to empty the dishwasher in between drink orders and praying the keg doesn't need changing. 

You don't even notice when Joel comes in, only spotting him once he's managed to scare some college kid from a seat at the bar. For some reason, his presence makes you a little calmer in the chaos. 

"Be with you in a sec, Joel," you say to him when you're near. You don't call him by his name since he never actually introduced himself to you but it slips out in the rush. His nostrils flare but you don't have time to linger on it even as you feel the hot weight of his gaze. 

"No rush."

You manage to get him what you know by now to be his usual only to be called over by your least favorite customer of the night as soon as he's thanked you. 

"Honey," the asshole says. This fucker's name is Seth and he's a pain in your ass. "Gimme another, will you? Make it a heavy pour." This would be his fifth and he's already slurring his words. 

"Don't think so," you tell him firmly. "I'm cutting you off for tonight, Seth." He's liable to start some shit or at the very least throw up on the floor and you don't want to deal with either. You don't have time to deal with either. 

His bloodshot eyes narrow and he slams a fist on the bar. You manage not to flinch, though pretty much everyone else does. "That's not good fucking service, sweetcheeks," he leers. 

"Good thing I don't give a fuck," you snap. "Get the fuck out of here before you do something you regret, sweetcheeks.” The venom in your tone seems to surprise him before sheer rage takes over. You've thrown out plenty of assholes in your time here but it's not always a smooth experience.

Seth leans forward over the bar, reaches for you -- to do what, you have no idea -- and you prepare yourself to yell for backup and then kick him out for good and maybe get a punch in as he goes. His fingers manage to hook in your shirtsleeve before a hand closes around his wrist.

Before Seth can scream he's got his outstretched arm behind his back, face twisted in pain. Behind him is --

Joel?

The bar is almost silent. You can hear a few whispers over the blood pumping in your ears. 

"I'd get out of here if I were you," Joel hisses. He glances at you, jaw tight and eyes narrowed. Are you okay? he seems to be asking. You nod. 

Seth whimpers. "Let me go," he says weakly. 

"Just gonna show you the door." Joel all but drags him through the parting crowd. 

"Jesus," someone says behind you. One of the seasonal kids. "You okay?"

"I'm taking my break." You leave the kid behind the bar to fend for himself and barrel into the back and through the side door into the alley where you always take your 15. It's one of those weird cold fall nights, just the wrong side of chilly to be here without a jacket but you left it in the bar office.

The milk carton you sit on has been turned over so you kick it back with a thud and slump down onto it. The light above the door flickers. "This shit is getting old," you say to no one. You kick aside cigarette butts that aren't yours and wonder how long you can do this. What would be next, anyway? You've got a laundry list of failed dreams and no one wondering if you're going to make something of yourself. Long nights at a bar you care about more than you should and rowdy customers and handsome men who barely say a word to you can't last forever, can it? Would anyone here even notice if you left?

The door flies open, startling you out of your thoughts. 

Joel steps into the alley. Somehow he manages to yet again look like he was meant to be here and you're the one who is out of place. You blink at him and he stares back like he wasn't sure he'd find you here.

"Got lost?" you ask. "Pretty sure you know where the front door is."

He lets the metal door swing shut and crosses his arms. "Was lookin' for you."

That catches you by surprise. "Why?"

Joel shrugs, a small lift of his shoulders. His expression doesn't budge. "Sorry for makin' trouble."

Oh, right. Seth. You wave him off. "Just another night," you say. "I'd have handled it." You stand from the crate and lean against the brick wall. It's true. Seth isn't the first asshole you've handled.

"I bet you would've," Joel mutters. He takes one step closer. You're reminded all at once how good-looking he is, how you've wondered what his hands would feel like on your skin. There's no way he's ever thought of you, right? You're just some girl who pours him drinks, too young and too forgettable. He was just having a man moment, wanting to save the day or some shit like that. 

"I don't have a cigarette or anything if you want to smoke," you say. This close he doesn't smell like tobacco but you don't know what else to say. "Sorry."

"So you just sit in alleys on your break for fun?"

"I like this alley," you say, suddenly a bit defensive. "It's a nice alley." You take a step towards him. He uncrosses his arms and his hands flex at his sides. You shiver. "No one bothers me out here."

Joel tilts his head to the side. "That so?" His eyes are dark under the dim light. When did he get so close? When did your face get so hot?

"Except guys who drink whiskey on the rocks, I guess," you say. It comes out much softer than you'd like, your voice cracking. The air doesn't have the same bite as it did seconds ago. Joel's expression hovers between something you recognize and something you don't, something you desperately want to figure out. "Good thing I don't mind." The adrenaline from the small altercation hasn't left and the swirl of emotions about your whole shitty life has you on edge, has you wanting to play with fire.

You're so close now that you can feel his breath on your face, feel the heat of him in the still night. Joel's eyes rake over your face, looking for something, something you try very hard to show him so that he might fucking do it, meet the want that is suddenly uncontrollable halfway, or at least tell you if he's not interested so you can --

Your name is a groan in his throat and then he's kissing you. His palm cups the back of your head as he presses you into the wall, his other hand firm on your hip, fingertips pressing into your skin through your shirt hard enough to bruise. He tastes like the whiskey you served him. You fist one hand in his collar and wind the other into his hair.

Joel controls the kiss but you give as good as you get. He licks into your mouth and you suck on his lower lip. His beard rubs against your face in a delicious burn and when you tug on his hair he makes a noise you must hear again. The brick behind you scrapes a bit but you hardly notice when he presses against you, slides a thigh between your legs and you feel him hard through his jeans. 

"S'not right, you lookin' so good yellin' at that asshole," he grumbles into your neck, teeth nipping at your pulse. You cant your hips and he hisses.

"Speak for yourself," you manage. "Always got your eyes on me, don't you?" It feels like a risk to call him on it. Control of the situation is slipping from your grasp, this man who you never thought would actually touch you now holding you in his arms, his lips on your skin. He pulls back from your neck and smirks, eyes dark. 

"'Spose I do." 

You can work with that. You surge forward to kiss him again and this time he lets you call the shots while still meeting your bruising caresses with his own.

"Joel." You tug on his hair.

He makes that noise again.

It might be five minutes, it might be an hour. You have no idea. All you know is you can still feel his cock through the denim and you're so turned on you might combust in this alley. Or at the very least let him fuck you in it.

"I don't close tonight," you pant. One of Joel's hands has worked its way into your back pocket and the other has rucked up your shirt to rest on your bare back. 

"What?" he growls.

"My shift. I'm off at 11." You tap his watch. He glances at it and sees it read 10:30. "Half hour. I live upstairs."

For a second you think he'll say no. Walk away with a nod of his head and out of your life forever. Wouldn't be the first, wouldn't be the last. You're already breaking one of your rules by even considering sleeping with him but there's just something about him. The way he looks at you, the way his hands feel on your skin. You want to know what he'll feel like inside you. Maybe you’re still in this town because you were waiting for him to walk through the door.

"Alright," he says. He clears his throat and releases you. You fuss with your hair and straighten your shirt and he adjusts himself in his jeans. "Half hour." His dark eyes narrow as he glances down the alley back towards the street. 

"Take a walk around the block or something," you tell him, swallowing the urge to laugh at him so handsome and disheveled from your hands. Never in a million years would you have predicted that tonight would go this way. "My door is on the other side of the building. I'll let you up."

The urge to flatten the damage your hands did to his hair is so overwhelming for a second that you step away from him towards the door. His eyes follow you, expression unreadable. How many nights would it take for you to know what he's thinking? Careful, you think, or you'll be tempted to find out. 

Joel watches you until you give him a little wave and slip back into the bar. The metal door clangs shut behind you and you lean against it, knees still wobbly. Is this actually happening? Are you really this overwhelmed by making out with some guy in an alley? You check the clock on the wall and curse. Your break ended ten minutes ago though since no one came looking for you it's probably no big deal. Being mostly in charge has its perks.

The bar is a little less crowded than when you left so you grab a rag and start wiping down the bar. Joel's seat is empty, his glass gone. 

"Oh, hey," the seasonal kid says. "That guy, uh, Joel? He said to make sure you get this." He pulls out Joel's usual tip from his apron and holds it out to you.

Considering you're planning to go upstairs and fuck him until you can't walk, you don't feel like taking his tip tonight. "It's yours," you say. "Thanks for handling everything while I was out back." The kid blinks at you but knows better than to refuse, pocketing the cash and going back to loading the dishwasher. 

You finish your shift. Your blood feels electric, your skin hot. Can anyone in this bar tell what happened in the alley? You haven't felt this way about a hookup in ages. Like you were wanted, not just convenient. It's just one night, right? Maybe he'll never come to the bar again, which makes your chest tighten for a second. Maybe you're about to ruin something you don't totally understand. But you haven't gotten this far in life by worrying about shit like that, so you clock out and wave goodbye and make your way to the other side of the building. 

Joel isn't there. You unlock the door to the stairwell so you can at least wait for him inside when you hear footsteps, the crunch of gravel under boots. You fist your key between your knuckles just in case but before you can turn around you hear your name in that Texas drawl. 

"Just me," he says. You don't know if Joel Miller is capable of looking nervous but this is probably close. He shifts from one foot to the other, hands in his pockets. A thrill runs up your spine. Are you really doing this? Are you really about to bring this man up to your apartment and hope to god he does whatever you want to you? 

"Come on up." Yes. Yes, you are. You give him a smile and he follows you up to the landing. 

"S'loud," he mutters once you shut the door. The bar's music wasn't that loud when you were in it and up here it's a dull hum, people's voices and laughter slipping through the cracks like a TV left on a little too high in the other room. These days it's background noise to you but you figure Joel lives in a house somewhere with lots of land and open windows and silence. He seems like the type to like silence. 

Jacket on the hook, shoes clumsily thrown on the mat, keys in the dish. Your normal routine except there’s a man in your living room, too. He looks around the space, hands still in his pockets. You try not to be self-conscious about your place. It's small, sure, the bedroom visible through the currently open French doors in the small living room. Your kitchen is tiny, bathroom tinier, but it's all yours. "You get used to it," you say. "I hardly mind it anymore."

"Didn't say I did," he says. You both stand there for a few moments before Joel takes two big steps and crowds you against the door, one hand on your hip and the other next to your head. "Means they won't hear us." You swallow a gasp as he drags his nose along the curve of your jaw, breath hot on your skin. You were going to ask him if you could shower first since you undoubtedly smell like sweat and beer but clearly, he doesn't mind. His tongue darts out and he sucks on your pulse point, your own hands clutching desperately at his shirt. If he moves you're sure you'll melt into a puddle on the floor. "Means you can be as loud as you want," he growls. "That sound good?"

Any breath remaining in your body rushes out and you jerk your hips to make contact with the hardness in his jeans. "Yeah," you gasp. You can feel something like a smile against your neck. "That sounds good."

It's a dynamic you don't mind stepping into -- whatever this is. Every second of your life you feel like you're waiting for the other shoe to drop, for everyone around you to get tired. Your eyes are always on the exit, always wondering where you'll go next, what you'll leave behind this time. Even when you're fucking strangers you're always wondering how you'll get them to leave. You’re better off alone. But right here, right now, with Joel's heavy scent of sawdust and whiskey and something earthy, something grounding, in your nostrils, his hands and his mouth on you, nothing else matters. Your brain shuts off and you're just here.

You grab Joel's jaw and guide his lips back to yours. He allows it and you moan deep in your throat as he tongues back into your mouth, your own trying to give as good as you're getting. He pops the button on your jeans and you help him with frantic hands, shoving them down your hips along with your underwear so he can ghost his fingers through your coarse curls. He pulls back from the kiss to watch as he drags two fingers through your folds. Your eyes lock and he smirks as your lids flutter.

"Soaked," is all he says. You tip your head forward and rest your forehead on his shoulder.

"Don't be smug."

He huffs. "I ain't trying to sound like an asshole, but --"

"Already failed." He nips at your earlobe.

"Gotta work you open a bit, sweetheart," he says. His fingers circle your clit once, ever so slowly. Your grip on his bicep tightens and you wonder if you'll leave bruises. You hope so. "Gonna be a tight fit."

"Heard -- fuck -- that before," you gasp. Joel really fucking knows what he's doing. "I -- bed?"

"Smart girl," he says. You're pretty sure you get wetter. He pulls his fingers free but keeps a hold on your hip like he knows your knees are jelly. "Sit on the edge." 

You leave your jeans and underwear behind and make your way to the bed through the French doors, sitting heavily on the quilt, knees bent and leaning on your hands behind you. Before you can say another word, Joel lowers to his knees between yours. He pries them apart even further and runs his hands up and down your thighs. 

For a few seconds, you can't find the words. This man, older than you and impossibly handsome, face lined with years he's lived and hands callused with work he's done, this man that you hardly know anything about but can't get out of your mind, is on his knees before you.

"You gonna be okay down there?" is what you come up with.

"You always talk this much?" he mutters, though his mouth tugs up at the corner. Joel's forearms wrap around your legs and he tugs. You fall flat on your back in surprise and your ass almost hangs off the bed. He draws one of your legs over his shoulder and kneads the flesh of your thigh, eyes dark and jaw twitching as he spreads you open and just looks. "Might have to help me up but I think I'll be just fine."

"Joel --" 

The end of his name becomes a high-pitched moan when he leans in and buries his face in your cunt. He drags his tongue up and down through your folds, nose catching your clit in a way that makes you squirm. His beard scrapes against your skin deliciously, leaving a sting that you know you'll be able to see evidence of when he's done. He laps at you before finally taking your clit in his mouth and sucking like his life depends on it. It's only his hand on your outstretched thigh keeping you from suffocating him between your legs, though you're not sure he'd mind.

"Should be a crime," he says. You look down the length of your body at him. His chin is wet with you, eyes meeting yours when he feels your stare. "Cunt this pretty tastin' so good."

How do you reply to that?

He's back at it before you can even try. Joel gets messy with it, the sounds of his attention loud and filthy. He tells you how wet you are, how good you taste, and your eyes flutter shut again.

"How're we doing?" 

"Don't stop," you manage. "Just, don't stop--"

He prods your entrance with one finger. "Reckon you can take it, hmm? You're so wet it'll be easy." There's a bite to his tone, a sense of amusement mixed with awe like he can hardly believe it either. 

"Two," you gasp. "I can take two." You need two, in fact. His hands are one of the few parts of him you've been able to study and you know his fingers are long, much thicker than yours and you need them to fill you up, need them to stretch you out. You need something to clench around because right now you feel like you're on the edge of the pleasure building in your core and if you don't get a release soon you'll just…just…combust. 

Joel hums but you feel a second finger nudge into you. He slides them in and curls them as he goes. Your back arches off the bed.

"Dunno," he coos. "Pretty tight, sweetheart." The slight meanness to his words is in complete contrast with the gentle, attentive way he handles you. Who knew he'd be such a fucking tease.

"Well get to work, then." He scissors the digits inside of you in reply and returns to sucking on your clit. You reach down and bury your hand in his silver-streaked hair, tugging a bit harder than you intend to. Joel just moans into your cunt, the vibration making it feel like your very pelvis is rattling as he continues to fuck you with his fingers. 

Sweat beads on your brow as you try to hold on. He picks up the pace and presses into your walls with his fingertips like he's looking for something. His tongue wreaks havoc on the rest of you, sucking bruises into your inner thighs when he's not abusing your clit. If this is just the foreplay you don't know how you'll survive actually fucking him. And he hasn't even asked you to touch him, hasn't shown even a hint of expectation. He's doing this to get you ready but based on the blown state of his pupils he's enjoying it almost as much as you are. 

"Getting close?" he asks, breath ragged. Your skin is starting to feel deliciously raw from his beard and the hook in your belly is pulling tighter and tighter. 

"Yes -- fuck -- I'm close, Joel, keep --"

His hand moves faster than before and he latches back onto your clit. Your legs start to shake and you feel your orgasm coming, it's just right there, you just need him to --

His fingers find the spot he must have been looking for and your only warning is a sharp tug on his hair and then your back arches and you come all over his face. He fingers fucks you through it and you feel it as your walls clench around him, your mouth open in a high whine as your muscles finally relax and you flop back onto the bed. Joel keeps his face in your cunt, gently lapping at your release while avoiding your sensitive clit. You push his hair back from his face and try to get your breathing under control.

He manages to get up on his own with a grunt as you pant on the bed. "Okay?" he asks. "Lookin' a little tired." You show him your middle finger and he...laughs, lips shiny with your slick. So he can laugh. 

"Are you going to keep your clothes on?" you ask him. His eyes travel slowly over your bare bottom half, the redness of your thighs from his beard and the way your shirt has rucked up to the wire of your bra. 

"Nah." He sits heavily on the edge of the bed to take off his boots and socks. You want to ask him if you can undress him, slowly peel off his layers button by button and explore every inch of him but you won't be able to take it if he says no so you just watch. Already you know you'll be thinking about this night for a long fucking time. The way it seems like he cares about how you're feeling, how he wants to take his time with you, how he enjoys your pleasure. It's nice. It's...making you feel wanted.

His denim button-up is tossed on the floor and he stands, shirtless, to undo his belt. The forearms and small triangle at his throat that you've been treated with thus far when he sits at the bar in no way prepared you for the rest of him. Broad shoulders, thick, muscled arms from years of hard work. Graying chest hair that travels all the way down the slight softness of his belly and in a darker trail his jeans. Your mouth waters. 

"You're starin'," he says softly before unzipping his fly and pushing his jeans and boxers down in one motion. 

"Taste of your own medicine." The words come out with much less bite than you intended as his cock springs free. 

Well, he wasn't lying. He is big. You knew he would be based on what you felt through his pants, but seeing it is something else. 

You sit up and scoot to the end of the bed to be closer. Is he really going to fit? He's bigger than anyone you've fucked before, that's for sure. A ruddy color, a little darker than his tanned chest, the tip a little lighter and already leaking. A few veins run the length of him and the hair at the base of his shaft is clearly taken care of though a little wild and a shade of deep brown that hasn't grayed much yet. His balls hang heavy, one slightly bigger than the other. He twitches under your gaze. You look up at him and wait for him to call out your staring again but instead, he's just watching you, pupils blown. 

"You are...so beautiful," you breathe. He makes a dismissive noise but a flush travels up his chest and to his face. It's true. There's something about him that makes you think you could look every second for the rest of your life and not get enough.

"Should be sayin' that to you." He strokes himself once and you lick your lips. "You got a condom? Should be one in my pocket if you don't." Does he always carry one? Or did he hope to get lucky with you, just like you've been thinking about him?

"Bedside table drawer." He goes for it and you remember too late that the drawer has...other things in it, too. His eyebrows raise and he eyes your small collection of toys but says nothing, though his cock twitches again. If you asked, would he use them on you? He seems like the type to be into that. But right now you need him inside you so badly you might combust.

"Can I?" He pauses before handing the foil square to you. You take him in hand and stroke him from root to tip. He makes a noise low in his throat and you lean in to trace the vein along the bottom of his shaft with your tongue. His hips twitch forward just a bit like he's trying to keep control and failing. You know the feeling. He's warm and heavy on your tongue and the slightest bit salty. You kind of lose the plot for a second, thoughts of him fucking you fading with the desire to make him feel good like this, to blow him until he's moaning your name like you were moaning his.

Joel slides his fingers into your hair and you manage to take him about halfway before he tugs gently. "I'm not complainin'," he says, voice tight. "'Specially when you look so damn pretty like this. But I've been hard as a fuckin' rock for an hour and I ain't as young as I used to be, so..." He trails off.

You place a dainty kiss on his tip and pat his hip. "Another time," you say, realizing too late what you've implied, but Joel just smirks. You tear open the foil and slide the condom on as gingerly as you can but he still hisses your name like he's scolding you, that hand in your hair pulling once again just a little. You feel the arousal pooling in your gut, sticky between your thighs. 

He tugs on the collar of your shirt. "Off," he says. You're quick to obey, whipping it to a corner of your apartment along with your bra. Joel just looks for a second before reaching a calloused hand to palm one breast, thumb sliding over your nipple. "Look at you," he says, breathy, with a squeeze. "Christ."

"You gonna fuck me, Joel Miller?" You blink up at him. He swallows visibly, throat bobbing before that smirk is back. 

"Only ‘cause you asked so nicely." 

You scramble back up the bed on your hands and knees, leaning down on your elbows and presenting him with your bare cunt. "Cause I'm such a lady."

"That so?" he murmurs. He drags his fingers through your folds slowly, brows furrowed. You fist your hands in the sheets. "You want it like this?" he asks. He palms your hip, traces the curve of your ass and presses his fingertips into your skin. You wiggle at him a little. Most guys you hook up with want it like this. You don't mind being fucked from behind, don't mind being able to close your eyes with your face shoved in the sheets and just feel. God knows with a dick his size you'll be feeling it regardless of the position you're in. But part of you does want to look at Joel, to watch him, his expression, his handsome, rugged face. Feel his arms around you, feel the warmth of his breath on your lips as he fucks you. See what his eyes look like when he comes. But this is enough.

"Do I need to say please?"

The head of his cock presses against your entrance in reply. You crane your neck to see as much of him as you can. He's focused on your ass with a light frown, hands resting on your hips.

"Gonna go slow," he grumbles. His gaze meets yours. "For my benefit as much as yours."

Words don't come. You're breathless and dripping, desperate for him to just get on with it. 

"Joel, are you gonna just stand there --"

He slowly, torturously slowly, starts to slide into you. The stretch is immediate, has you face down in the sheets, eyes fluttering. Each inch of painful stretch fades quickly to throbbing pleasure, a fullness that has you keening. 

You press your hips back into him but his fingers grip tighter, holding you in place. "What did I say?" he grits out. 

"Feels so good, so big," you babble. There's nothing left in your brain, your body, but this. But Joel. You have to have all of him. "I can take it, I can take your cock, I --"

"Got quite the mouth on you, huh?" he says. He keeps pressing into you, filling you up inch by inch. "Okay?" he pants. "Look at me, tell me it feels good --"

You crane your neck again, tears gathering at the corner of your eyes and look at him. His own are lidded, mouth open in an "o" like he can hardly believe it himself. A flush runs down his chest and if you didn't know better you'd say he's trembling.

"Yes, I -- god, Joel, keep going, please --"

"Doin' good, sweetheart," he coos. His hand strokes up and down your spine. "Almost there. Almost takin' all of me."

He bottoms out and you see stars. You feel lips on your back, the warm puffs of his breath on your skin as he waits for you. It's a fine line between pain and pleasure and you're walking the tightrope but the stretch is delicious. You can feel every inch of him. Your heartbeat is loud in your ears and you shift your hips a little, loving it when Joel moans.

"Alright," you manage. "Move, please." His fingertips are back on your hips and give you a squeeze before he starts to drag his cock out of you. The tip of him catches the spot inside of you that makes your back arch as he pulls out and then again when he thrusts in. 

"All that work, my fingers and my tongue and you're still so fuckin' tight. Christ."

The only thing you manage to say is a litany of his name.

"Lemme hear it, baby," he grinds out. Baby. "Be so loud those fuckers downstairs hear you--"

You meet his thrusts as best you can and even though it feels so good, even though you're so full, it's not bringing you to the edge like you need. Your neck is starting to hurt from the way you're twisting to see him, your fingers gripping the sheets as hard as you can because you want to be touching him instead. But this is good, this works, maybe if you touch your clit, you'll --

You reach between your legs and Joel pulls out. You get off your elbows and turn around, almost gasping at the loss of him. "Is something wrong?"

He's frowning at you. "Should be askin' you that."

You don't know what to say. Your cunt throbs a little from being empty, the ache settling in now that he's not there to literally fuck it away. "What?"

"You stopped makin' those noises," he says softly. “The ones you were makin’ before.” You turn around and sit facing him, suddenly a little self-conscious. "Ain't gonna fuck you in a position you don't like."

"I --" You try to fight through the haze of your brain for words. "I liked it fine."

Joel waits. He just stands there at the edge of the bed and waits. 

"Maybe..." you try again. "Would on my back be okay for you?"

His eyebrows raise like he can't believe you'd think otherwise. "That'll work for me," he says slowly. "Grab a pillow." You shift back on the bed as he kneels on it, positioning himself between your legs. You hand him one of your pillows and he taps your hip. "Up." You obey and he slides it under you so your lower half is lifted a bit before he presses one leg to the side, spreading you open. He slowly bends the other so that your thigh is pressed against your torso in a deep stretch without being painful. You feel bare, exposed in a way he somehow hasn't yet achieved. 

Joel fixes his gaze on your face. "Let's try that." He strokes himself once and then leans over you, bracing himself on one hand near your head. He lines up to press his cock into you again. Faster than last time, you wince a little but you dig your fingertips into his back to tell him to keep going. He bottoms out and you immediately feel the difference, eyes fluttering shut. Before it was like he was plowing into you, like you were so full you could hardly handle it. But like this it's like he's melting into you, like there is no space between you anymore. You're full but it's not so harsh. You don’t know where you end and he begins.

"That better?" he croaks. You force yourself to look at him and find his face closer, closer than you thought he'd get, breath warm on your face. His forehead is beaded with sweat and his eyes search your face. This close you can see they’re grey, the lines at the corners deep with strain. Even like this, stuffed full of his cock, you could look at him all day.

"Move, Joel," you tell him. He takes that for a yes and starts at a punishing pace. You have no idea how he's kept it together this long, considering you've felt on the edge of another orgasm this entire time. You anchor your arms on his shoulders as his thrusts make you see stars. 

"Ask for what you want, you hear me?" His balls smack loudly against you and he presses his lips to your ear. "You ask and I'll do my damn best."

You don't know what it is -- the overwhelming sensation of his cock dragging in and out at this angle, how close he is, his words -- but you feel tears at the corners of your eyes again. You nod frantically, hands grasping for purchase on his back. 

"C'mon," Joel says. "Gotta use that mouth, sweetheart."

"Yes," you pant. "Yes, yes, Joel, yes --"

"Fuckin' perfect for me," he moans. His lips trail up your cheek, tongue catching your tears before he presses them to yours in a messy kiss that's more teeth and breath than anything else. 

"Joel, Joel, Joel --"

"Gonna come for me? Gonna soak my cock like you did my face?"

Your orgasm comes like the snap of a rubber band. You hold him as tight as you can as it washes through you, the waves almost painful as he keeps fucking you fast and hard, your name a series of broken sounds from his mouth until his hips stutter and he groans deep in his chest. You try to keep your eyes on him as you come down from your high and are rewarded with the scrunch of his brow and the slight part of his lips as he comes. Beautiful, you think. 

The room is all of sudden much quieter without the sounds of your fucking. It's just the dull sounds of Frank's through the floor and your combined panting as he pulls out of you and flops on the bed beside you. You wince this time, the soreness really settling in. Joel finds your hand and kisses the back of it in a move so unexpectedly tender you can't look at him, raw as you are already. The bed shifts and you figure he's throwing out the condom. 

"You okay?" he says. You open your eyes and find him standing at the edge, looking at you. He's holding your robe from the bathroom. You stretch and let him look. 

"Yeah," you reply. You give him a smile as you scoot to the edge and wrap yourself in it when he holds it out. "Thank you." Joel grunts. 

You go to the bathroom yourself to pee and see the damage. Hair a mess, your mascara gathered around your eyes like you've been working hard. You've got hickies forming on your neck and chest, the skin rubbed a bit raw from his beard around your mouth. You love how you look right now. 

You look like you got fucked well. And you did. 

But now you want a shower and a snack and to go to bed. 

You half expect Joel to be gone when you go back into the bedroom. You remember belatedly that you don't let hookups stay the night. Will he leave if you ask him to? If he's already left then you don't need to worry about it. A small part of you worries you won’t ask him to go.

Instead, he's sitting on the edge of your bed putting his boots on. His shirt is unbuttoned but other than that he's dressed. He looks up briefly. His own hair is going in a thousand different directions and if this wasn't a one-night stand you'd fix it for him, a hand pushing it back like you did when he was between your thighs. But things are different outside the heat of the moment. 

"You want some water or anything?" you ask instead.

He shakes his head and finishes his boot, stands and buttons his shirt. "Nah," he says. "Should just head out."

You wonder belatedly if there's anyone at home missing him. Maybe he's got a wife. Maybe he's got a life that he's running away from and into your arms. 

"Bar'll be closed by now, or as good as," you say. You spy his jacket by the door and bend to pick it up. "No one'll see you."

Joel's face does something funny that you don't quite know how to read. He takes his jacket from you and shrugs it on. "Alright," he says. 

He looks awkward in a way you didn't know he could so you throw him a line. "Thanks," you say. For fucking me. For listening to me. For making me feel good. "It was fun. See you around?"

His expression softens. He steps close and gently holds your chin with his thumb and forefinger before kissing you once, firmly but chastely compared to what you were doing before. 

"See you around," he says. And then he opens the door and disappears down the stairs. 

You hear the outer door close and only then do you let out a breath. Your entire body feels like you just spent hours at the gym. But your mind? It's going a thousand miles an hour. You don't know what to think about first -- how Joel looked, how he spoke to you, how his hands felt. How he implored you to ask for what you wanted, how he made you feel good because it made him feel good. How you desperately, desperately want to see him again, to know him in every possible way. How you want him to walk back up the stairs and hold you until you fall asleep.

And that's not how you expected to feel. It's not how you should feel after a one-night stand with a guy you serve a few times a week at your place of employment. Like he saw right to the core of you, like he gave you something you didn't know you needed. 

You need to get a hold of yourself. This is how it starts -- this is how you get hurt. You care. Well, you always care, but no one has to know that. You let someone care about you. Not that Joel does, but he could. 

But isn't that the one thing you want most of all? 

You sleep in the next day. There's not much that needs to be done at Frank's besides bookkeeping and inventory which doesn't take you long. When you finally make it downstairs, three Advil popped to ease the soreness of your entire body, you're surprised to find Bill himself sitting at the bar. 

He looks just as you remember, hair a little longer and a little grayer. Shit kickers and jeans, a hunting jacket and trucker hat. You'll bet his actual truck is parked around back where no one from the road can see it. 

"Uh, hi?" Bill hasn't come around for at least a year, which is making your stomach sink a little. The last time was when there was a fire because some dumbass tried to smoke inside and he wanted to make sure you weren't going to quit on him for having to throw water on the nasty curtains. 

"Heard about Seth," he says. Always right to the point, this guy. He's drinking what looks to be Coke with a lemon. "Sit." You do as he says. So much for bookkeeping.

"Yep," you say. You have no idea where he heard it and know better than to ask. "No big deal."

"I want to retire."

What? "Do you...work here?" Bill appreciates honesty and he's the kind of asshole that respects you if you're an asshole back. 

"No," he says. "But I own the fuckin' dump. And me and Frank want to retire."

"There's a Frank?"

"My partner, dumbass. Keep up."

You were already groggy and still muddled from last night but this is forcing you to bring everything into sharp focus. Bill wants to retire. Which means he wants to...

"So my options are to sell this dump or find someone to take it."

If he sells the bar you're shit out of luck. No way another owner would let you live upstairs the way you do for next to nothing and let you work here and run the show. This is...a lot to take in.

"Are you listening to me?" Bill says. You blink a few times. 

"No," you admit. "Can you say that again?"

He sighs. "Do you want it?"

"The bar?" you ask incredulously. 

"No, idiot, the dumpster out back. Yes, the bar." He raps his knuckles on the bar top. "You could keep everything the same. It's just paperwork, really. I'll just give it to you. God knows a young person like you could make it nicer, turn a better profit." He says it like it's an insult. 

"Are you fucking serious?" This goes against most every rule you've had for yourself for the last who knows how long. Don't get attached, keep moving. No one really needs you so you can disappear whenever. You haven't gotten bored yet, haven't gotten restless, but you know it'll happen. There's no way you can do this forever. But owning a bar? That would make you stay. You'd have no out. You’d have to let yourself be seen, let yourself be needed. You’d have to commit. You’d have to not fuck it up.

"Why not?" he shrugs. "I know you said it was temporary back when you moved in, but you practically run it."

He's right. Everything is temporary for you. But would sticking around be so bad? Would trying to actually make a life for yourself, have a home base, a thing you care about be the end of the world? And then there's Joel...No. Not going there. 

"I..."

"Either you take it or I shut it down." Bill gets off his stool and looks around. "No one cares enough about it to try to sell it."

"Then why me?"

"Do you care about it?" he asks. His piercing stare pins you to your stool, compels you to be honest with him where you're rarely honest with yourself. 

"Yeah," you say. "I do."

"Then there's you're fuckin' answer. I know you do. You clean the shit out of this place and train the seasonal dipshits and learn the names of the fuckin’ drunks and live upstairs and make this a good place for good people to come. You think no one notices, but I notice. We all notice." It's possibly the most words Bill has ever said to you in a row. 

"Can I...think about it?"

He shrugs. "Sure," he says. "Not too long, though. Gotta decide by the end of the year. Maybe earlier."

That gives you three months, give or take. To figure out what the fuck you're going to do.

With one conversation Bill has shattered your entire life here. Now there’s actually a timer on it, this little piece you’ve carved out and started to enjoy. Could you make it a real thing? Could you finally admit to yourself that this is what you want – to be wanted? To be needed? To have something that’s yours?

The bar door shuts and you realize Bill has left you alone with your thoughts. You shift in your stool and a wave of soreness rolls through you from your core. 

You thunk your forehead on the bar. “Fuck me,” you say to the empty room. 

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback!

[solargeist]

i keep mistaking some of ur kidxelqua art for ur grian art so i have to stop and read the captions/tags every time 😭😭 is there a fundamental difference im missing that would make it any easier

hi !!!!!!! no i understand it can be pretty confusing !! its pretty messy on my blog ahahah i'll try to explain them and their place in the AU

All the kid drawings are Xelqua ! Originally it was Grian, but as the character Xelqua developed, I changed it to him. When people send requests for kid Grian, i'm drawing Xelqua, as that is the AU.

This isn't 100% accurate as I forget to do it, but Grian and Xelqua part their hair differently, kid Xelqua does too. Xelqua's hair is always a bit longer. (Grian got a haircut when he joined the Watchers, thats why his hair parts different now in evoAU and HC, he just kept it shorter ! Xelqua used to wear his hair in a ponytail during his time with the Watchers.)

The reason why i say they're "technically the same" is bc Xelqua is just another Grian from a different timeline, he just has a different name. Xelqua only exists because this one Grian joined the Watchers, new possibilités opened new timelines, ones where he died, ones where he's a Listener instead, or ran away to different servers, or stayed. Xelqua is the only one to have reached Sainthood.

Because of this, Xelqua can hop around timelines, he usually just bugs other versions of himself, helping them, giving them tnt. He finds This Grian during s8 of HC, bugging him through the boatem void, briefly possessing him later, but hey ! water under the bridge !

Xelqua's timeline doesn't exist anymore after becoming That, but by becoming That he has essentially rewritten history in other timelines, solidifying himself as a saint of destruction, a destroyer, this is what the Watchers know him as, this is what evo Grian knew him as, even if Grian caused it--It already happened--Xelqua has always been here. (It makes Grian's head hurts when Xelqua explains this to him.)

Basically: Grian set off a chain reaction when he joined the Watchers, and that opened new universes, and in doing that, Xelqua is made.

Xelqua is powerful, but also very lonely and has a lot wrong with him, which is expected he spent many years with the Watchers. Xelqua can mimic any version of Grian he wants, but if he stays in that form for too long, he'll start to forget himself and instead think "Xelqua" is a patron, rather than himself. This is why kid Xelqua will usually praise the Saint Xelqua and be proud of his own name, he just doesn't know ! It takes a little while to remember himself and change back. This also happens in high stress, (bc of course it does, i love when a character loses control of their powers hahaha,) the memory is much worse if it happens from stress. You can't talk kid Xelqua out of this, it'll stress him out further and you'll just have a little god child throwing a temper tantrum then, never a good idea.

After s8 in HC EvoAU, Xelqua hangs around, popping up sometimes in s9, mostly in his adult watcher self. They don't get along too well at first, Xelqua has a little bit of bitterness over Grian having such a fun life, all these friends, needed, wanted..... But whatever ! Xisuma doesn't know how he keeps getting in, but Xelqua has been on good behaviour, so...... Shrug... Just let him visit sometimes....

Xelqua's version of the Watchers are gone, the unfortunate conséquences of becoming a destroyer, you kinda rip your own timeline apart. This, added with the fact that he is a cautionary tale in every other reality to Watchers, means if he tries to visit other versions of his Watcher family, they won't really know who he is, and just see something destructive and chaotic. If he wants to see Aether, he'll just... hop in a timeline and change himself into a kid and quickly forget what he's done. He's lonely, ok !!

Xelqua starts doing this kid bit on HC (late s9/early s10) too, he doesn't exactly mean to, but he does feel safe there. He eats Grian's food and takes over his couch and no one can get mad at him bc he is just a little kid--grian puts him in the corner. timeout. a few dead birds hit the roof as a result.

[binniebakery]

how to say I love you

Non Idol AU Taehyun x Fem!Reader Fluff! Established relationship ♡ Summary: sometimes you dont have to say the words "i love you" to get the point across ♡ Warnings: reader gets called a pretty girl/beautiful, taehyun being a cutie patootie, tooth rotting fluff! ♡ A/N: this is short!!! was originally gonna post kai next but since it was taehyun's bday (happy late birthday terrance) i had to cook something special up! i was worried about not being able to portray his personally correctly so im sorry if its a little ooc, please feel free to give me feedback on that <3 enjoy! ;w;

You were awoken by a pair of soft lips. "It's almost time for me to go, y/n" Taehyun mumbled against your forehead as the two of you lay in your bed on a lazy Monday evening. A shame really, you were taking the best nap of your life nestled into his chest as he watched a live soccer match on his phone. "Hey you, did you hear me pretty girl?" he nudged you at the lack of your response."Mmyeah.. I heard you. Just let me have this for a few seconds longer." You mumbled as you held your boyfriend tighter. Ignoring the soft sigh he let out, you focused on the soft fabric of his sweater. It was heaven with the combination of his scent and the warmth of his skin. Who needed a blanket when you had this all to yourself?

After about a minute of preparing for your favorite person's departure, you looked up to find that said person was dozing off himself.

"Sleepy baby.." you smiled admiring how someone who presented himself so seriously could look so endearing in a moment like this. This side of Taehyun was all yours. "Not a baby, but whatever you say." You caught the slightest smile appearing before his features became stern. "You know if I don't get home soon my parents won't like me coming over anymore" Taehyun scolded. "Yeah yeah, I know.." you responded reluctantly as you slowly arose from the comfort of your boyfriend's arms. You huffed as you fixed your now messy hair. Suddenly feeling how silent the room got, you realized Taehyun was still. Looking over to him you noticed he had an unreadable look on his face. "Tae?" you tilted your head at him. He was staring at you, and although you could barely see it, his dark eyes were sparkling. Eyes that were filled with so much love and endearment that they highly contrasted the seriousness of the rest of his features. Now self-conscious of how you looked, you rapidly began to brush down the rest of your hair with your fingers. "Hey, I know I look crazy but I just took a nap.. have mercy" you smiled nervously, not knowing what to do with the sudden attention. Taehyun grabbed your fingers softly and pulled them away towards his chest. "No, it's not that" he began. You could feel his heartbeat increasing the longer you stared at each other. "You just look so beautiful, it amazes me you manage to look so lovely no matter what you do" You felt warmth creep across your face. How was he able to say that with such a serious face? He said it like it was such a common fact that you were always aware of. "You- I- what?" you stuttered. Taehyun shook his head and let go of your hands to place his own on both sides of your face. "You're beautiful" he stared, right thumb softly caressing your cheek. "I appreciate you spending time with me like this, even if we aren't doing anything specifically together." In that moment it felt as if time had stopped as you and Taehyun softly breathed with with foreheads pressed. It was always your way of proclaiming your love for each other. No words needed to be said, all you had to do was look into those glimmering eyes and you could see things that words themselves couldn't express. You couldn't help the flustered smile that grew on your face. Nodding your head you leaned in to kiss his cheek. Taehyun stood from the bed and offered his hand for you to take as he helped you stand. Taehyun began softly tugging and fixing your his shirt, treating you with such care as if you were his own personal doll. "You should eat too, next time let's eat together okay?" "Mhm, I'll make us something next time you come over" You grinned. "Though for now I'm really gonna miss you.." "I know, I'll make it up to you, next time I'll see if I can spend the night" he smiled. "Hobak misses you, I'll be sure to send you lots of pictures when I get home, promise." your boyfriend said as he slipped his shoes on and you began unlocking the door for him.

"Sounds good thanks" you chuckled as you hugged him goodbye. "Text me as soon as you get home please" you mumbled as you inhaled his scent one final time. "You know I always will pretty girl." he patted your head and turned to his car. You waved as he drove off, smiling like an idiot leaning against the doorframe. Taehyun wasn't the type to say I love you too often. That never gave you any doubts at all though. After all, with the way he looks at you, the way he treats you, he's saying much more than that. He always managed to know how to get those words across without even saying them, even in saying "I love you".

[yurmomsawh0r]

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 ❣︎ If could be fluff or a smut just like you usually write. Toji gets into his first serious relationship in years with yn cause he's wrapped around her finger, he's very expressive about the love and desire he feel for her but doesn't feel reciprocated, and that makes him frustated. Yn realizes that and assures him she's going to take care of him more.

𝐀𝐰𝐰𝐰 𝐌𝐫. 𝐆𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐩 𝐰𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

❥ Toji was the type of person that a lot of people couldn’t stand to be around. His rough exterior making it hard for people to want to even try to push past that and get to know him.

He always came off standoffish, mean, and sometimes rude. He never really cared for much more than outside of secretly watching over his son in ways that nobody even knew. He kept to himself and focused on his missions.

And then like the spring sneaking up on winter, you came into his life with unexpected ease. It was like his whole brain rewired to suit you and your needs.

At first Toji scared you. Made you nervous even. The big brooding figure just always around the corner asking you if you needed him. Stepping in to help you without even asking.

You warmed up to him quickly. Taking immediate notice that he seemed to only be like this with you.

Others warned you of him, but Toji warmed your heart and won it over.

8 months into dating had flew by quickly. You could even say you loved him. How attentive he was with you. He was always eager to make you feel good in any way he could.

Toji though, couldn’t help but feel a little inferior. Maybe even a little insecure.

You weren’t a very expressive character. Sometimes he would even wonder if you even loved him at all.

You’ll admit that you hadn’t been as focused on him as you should have and it was nothing to do with him but he didn’t see it that way.

It started off with him becoming less talkative and then not being around as much. You started to worry as the days went by and when calls started to go ignored, you took it upon yourself to confront him.

“Ji Ji?” You called through his door. Pushing it open and pulling out the spare key from its place in the door. He had given it to you after you both made it to the 6th month of dating.

It had been a while since you’ve been here and already you could see the stuff mess forming.

Your brows cinched together in confusion. Toji was never this messy and it was a little concerning, especially since his recent behaviors have changed.

“Toji!?” You tried again but still didn’t get an answer. You assumed he wasn’t here and made yourself at home.

2 hours later, his apartment was no longer smelly and crowded with clothes and garbage. You washed and organized his clothes, cleaned his kitchen and living room and took out all his trash.

By the time you were done, you were cooking a meal for him for when he returned.

Honestly, if felt great to do all of this for him. It filled you with a womanly purpose. As if you were his stay at home wife who had been domesticated.

It warmed your heart thinking about how all this would make him feel.

Would he like it? Would it turn him on? Would he smile?

You got lost in your thoughts so much you didn’t take notice that Toji was standing behind the kitchen counter.

“Whattaya doin’?” He voice so deep it stuck a cord in you. You jumped and faced him and all his bloody mess. He must have just returned from a mission.

You smiled at him, but dropped it when his face turned into a scowl.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Never better — I asked you a question.”

To say you were shocked by his behavior was an understatement.

It hurt your heart a little to be treated like everyone else who got his cold shoulder.

“I don’t understand. I can’t be here now?”

With this he only stared at you before sighing and walking off.

You heard the shower turn on and then nothing after.

Maybe he had a bad mission.

You asked yourself but then remembered that he had been distant for some time now.

Making your way into his room, you take notice that he was just standing there and looking around the room in the distance the shower was still going.

“You cleaned up?”

“Yes. .. . ?”

“Why?”

This made you scoff. “Shouldn’t he be obvious? It’s because I love you.”

“Yea right y/n.”

Huh?

“What the hell does that mean Toji?”

Toji finally faces you. You could see bruises starting to form where he had been hit. You wanted to touch them. To kiss them and ease his pain, but his demeanor has you thinking no otherwise.

He’s never been like this before. Not with you.

He saunters over to you so that you are face to face. “You haven’t acted like this in a month. You act as if you don’t even give a fuck.”

“That’s not true!” You instantly try to argue but he counters.

“Baby girl you’ve been somewhere else and not here with me. I notice. I take pride in noticing everything about you, but you don’t seem to do the same.”

It broke your heart to hear him talk like this.

And maybe he was right. You have been a little in the clouds. Not sure why, just been thinking about the future.

You hadn’t realized that it was affecting him to the point he wanted to be away from you.

Tears sprung into your tear duct before falling one by one.

“I I’m so sorry Ji Ji. I guess I really didn’t notice.”

Toji stood there listening. It was hard not to comfort you while you were crying, but he just wasn’t sure of this was what you wanted any more so he waited.

“I never meant to make you feel alone, and I’ll start fixing it now. I promise.” You meant it. Every word.

You loved Toji. He always took great care of you and you would start doing the same.

“I’ll be better I promise.” You gripped his hand and pulled him behind you into the shower.

“What are you doing y/n.”

You looked back at him while wiping your tears away. Giving him a big and bright smile.

“I’m taking care of you.” ❣︎

𝐈𝐦 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲! 𝐈 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐭! @zvhiux34 𝐌𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐤𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 𝐬𝐨 𝐈 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭!

[silly-l1ttle-guy]

How the bucci gang sleep hcs

This has been in my drafts since January wtf

BRUNO BUCCIARATI + LEONE ABBACCHIO

all over the place

there is not a single time where these two have woken up in the same position they fell asleep in

like they'll fall asleep spooning, then they'll wake up with half of Bruno's limbs zipped off and Abbacchio sprawled across the bed in a position that looks uncomfortable with her foot in Bruno's face

one of Bruno's legs is probably on the floor and Abbacchio is most likely cuddling one of his arms

they're just used to it at this point

"Leone can you pass me my leg?" "m'kay"

Narancia came in to wake them up one time and screamed because Bruno zipped his head off in his sleep

Mista and Trish teased him about it for weeks

anyway i bet on my life that Bruno and Abba bring out their stands in their sleep

just randomly while they're sleeping Sticky Fingers and Moody Blues pop out

they just look at each other, then down at their users, then back to each other

they end up cuddling too (SENTIENT STANDS SUPREMACY)

it's so cute when Bruno and Abba wake up and see that their stand are cuddling

also Bruno's hair may look perfect 24/7 but in the morning it's SO. FUCKING. MESSY.

he has to immediately brush his hair so no one sees it like that

except Abbacchio

SPEAKING OF ABBACCHIO

when she wakes up her hair is also a mess

just slightly less messy

she has breakfast before she does anything else, then she immediately does her make-up

also don't be surprised if Bruno has Abbacchio's lipstick stains all over his body in the morning

it just means he sucked some girl dick last night

usually on those days Abbacchio wakes up with smudged make-up that she forgot to take off

also Abbacchio has frequent nightmares and often times wakes up in the middle of the night

she doesn't like telling anyone and calms herself down before going back to sleep

Bruno knows about it though

GIORNO GIOVANNA + PANNACOTTA FUGO

these guys are like the opposite of Bruno and Abba

they'll fall asleep cuddling and wake up in the exact same position

usually Fugo's the big spoon because he doesn't like being the little spoon

brings back bad memories y'know?

but anyway they sometimes also bring out their stands in their sleep

GER most of the time

it just likes to pop out to see what's happening

sometimes in the morning when Fugo wakes up, he'll roll over and see GER staring him dead in the eyes

he screams loud enough to wake everyone up

nara, mista and trish all tease him about it

"Did someone get scared~?" "SHUT UP NARANCIA! IT WAS JUST STARING ME DEAD IN THE EYES!" "Pussy lmao" "MISTA" "Nah the boys are right, you are kind of a pussy" "TRISH!"

sometimes purple haze comes out while Fugo's asleep

GER just pops out and hangs out with ph for a bit

anyway Fugo's hair is always a pain in the ass when he wakes up

as for Giorno... uh...

picture Dio's hair but longer

he looks like a younger version of shadow Dio too in the morning lmao

also Giorno bites shit in his sleep

and he's got some sharp canine teeth

the pros of being half-vampire

don't be surprised if when they wake up there's bite marks on Fugo's arms

or if Giorno's biting a pillow

if Giorno's had a stressful day he might move around in his sleep too

not much usually, but one time he ended up sleepwalking

Fugo woke up in the middle of the night and noticed that Giorno wasn't there

panic

he eventually found Giorno wandering around the garden and muttering to himself

it was really funny when Fugo snapped him out of it

then they went back to bed and Giorno bit Fugo's hand so hard it drew blood

true love at it's finest

sometimes Fugo has nightmares and Giorno has to wake him up

on more rare occasions Giorno has a nightmare and wakes up Fugo because he's trembling and shaking so much

GUIDO MISTA

snores

that's about it

he'll sleep in any position there is possible and he'll be comfy in all of them

he's also the deepest sleeper in the team

this guy moves around a lot too

he'll fall asleep in fetal position against the wall, then he'll wake up halfway across the room with his blanket tangled in his legs

sleepovers with him are a nightmare because not only does he snore, but this man also sleeptalks

one time Narancia and Trish were sleeping in his room and they woke up to him mumbling about how far his ass is

they recorded it in case they ever needed to blackmail him

but yeah this guy is a mess

He sleeps naked too

Balls out and everything

Unless Trish and Narancia are sleeping over

In thy case he leaves his pants on

Also on hot nights he SWEATS

This guy naturally runs warm, he gets hot during the night

NARANCIA GHIRGA

Eeperton

Bro sleeps like a baby

Nara just kinda sleeps wherever

He hardly even uses his own room unless someone carries him there

Honk mmimimimi honk mimimimimi

Also they sleep with their blanket wrapped around them like a cocoon

My guy is snug as a bug in a rug fr

This mf does not make ANY noise in their sleep

Completely silent

The amount of times people have thought they were dead because of this is quite a hefty amount

Sleeby

The missile is very sleepy

If they sleep next to someone they cling on for dear life

Also they're a blanket hog

They do not move at all either

TRISH UNA

She sleeps in a princess bed

Also a quiet sleeper

But she does move, unlike Narancia

Goes to sleep like she's in a casket at her funeral and wakes up face down on the opposite side of the bed

If she forgets to take her makeup off before bed she screams and tells Giorno to buy her self-care products

Live laugh love Trish

Sometimes she sleeps with Sheila E (I wish lesbians were real💔💔)

[hier--soir]

feb + mar + apr reads

norma jean baker of troy by anne carson [★★★★★]

"Sometimes I think language should cover its own eyes when it speaks."

"Is she human? Are you? Is she a beast out of control? There's so much danger. No human can become just a beast, you plunge beyond - beyond what? Remember Jack the Ripper? 'I'm down on whores and I shan't quit ripping them till I get buckled,' Jack wrote in a letter to the newspaper, September 18, 1888. He never did get buckled. Of course insane, his mind blooming with it, who could go down that rabbit-hole or unlock such a puzzle as Jack? - but still, the woman! the thing is! the woman has everything and you smile and you take some."

: ̗̀➛ an exploration of the lives and myths of marilyn monroe and helen of troy.

: ̗̀➛ anne carson is there anything you can't do? please email me back. please.

piglet by lottie hazell [★★★★]

"'I want to make some food,' she said. 'For both of us?' he asked. 'No, just for me.'"

: ̗̀➛ one woman, piglet, and the lead up to her wedding in the face of a big confession from her fiancé.

: ̗̀➛ this one slipped beneath my skin and writhed around the spot inside me where i've tucked away all of my food issues.

merciless gods by christos tsiolkas [★★]

"I'm scared that if I let go, not only the room, not only this city, but the whole world will go cold forever."

"Your false gods cannot save you. There is only one God, my God."

: ̗̀➛ short stories that bash you over the head with how awful things and people and places can be. i did not live for this one... particularly wasn't into the one where a guy jerked his dad who has alzheimers off.

foe by iain reid [★★]

"All day. Time keeps moving. I've always thought that was a good thing. Until recently. I'm not so sure now. Is it good? For time to go by fast?"

: ̗̀➛ they want to send junior to space and replace him with a robot that looks and acts and talks exactly like him so his wife has company in his absence.

: ̗̀➛ marriage and trust and complacency, and a guy called terrence who we get reminded over and over has long gorgeous hair.

: ̗̀➛ a little boring for my taste. i had an idea of where it was going pretty early on, and it took a while for me to be proven right. pretty disconcerting!

acts of desperation by megan nolan [★★★★]

"The need was a true and human part of me, but I could feel nothing else of myself to be true or human, and so the need seemed ungodly, an aberration."

: ̗̀➛ a book full of confession, desire, jealousy, violence, and power. messy messy messy!!!! readers procceed with caution.

: ̗̀➛ shout out to everyone who said i should read this - you were right, it is up my alley.

gone girl by gillian flynn [★★★★]

"My wife was no longer my wife but a razor-wire knot daring me to unloop her, and I was not up to the job with my thick, numb, nervous fingers. Country fingers. Flyover fingers untrained in the intricate, dangerous work of solving Amy. When I'd hold up the bloody stumps, she'd sigh and turn to her secret mental notebook on which she tallied all my deficiencies, forever noting disappointments, frailties, shortcomings."

: ̗̀➛ i have become a gillian flynn STAN this year, it's true. despite having seen the movie multiple times, i enjoyed reading this, and was delighted to find some differences in the texts [for better and for worse].

: ̗̀➛ nick dunne, big fan of the lie of omission, mama's boy whose mama is dead, i'd like to introduce you to couples therapy.

dead beautiful and life eternal by yvonne woon [reread] [★★★]

: ̗̀➛ the first two books in a paranormal romance trilogy. these kinda bang guys, i can't lie. 15-year-old me was onto something when she decided to keep these instead of donating them. however, they DO have some of the worst book covers i've ever seen, sorry yvonne.

fourth wing by rebecca yarros [★★★]

: ̗̀➛ a romantasy book that has dragons, smut, and twists that you'll see coming from a mile away. pretty fun. recced to me by one man in person and a thousand women on tik tok.

: ̗̀➛ no one who has the thought 'double standards for the win' is using 'whomever' in a casual sentence with the guy she's having sex with.

: ̗̀➛ good enemies to lovers should have actual murder attempts. but maybe that's jusT MY OPINION.

my book rating system is as follows:

★ = i felt pure contempt the entire time

★★ = yeah it's a book

★★★ = i liked it!

★★★★ = good fucking book, damn

★★★★★ = blew my dick clean off and i'll throw a tantrum if everyone i know doesn't also read it and love it

[nonranghaes]

heads up! not very inclusive because (fem!)reader is written to have slightly wavy/veryyyy loosely curly hair in this fic :( sorry!! also vague references to sex but 0 depictions of any sort, joshy is just touchy lol

"joshua, oh my god."

ever since you came home from your hair appointment, joshua hasn't stopped touching you. it isn't in any sort of teasing way, trying to goad you into something you definitely do not have time for (you have places to go! things to do! maybe later), but this cute fascination with seeing you with short hair in-person for the first time. you've always been terrible at keeping up with haircuts and whatnot, plus you learned how to take care of the ends a little. for the past almost-year, joshua has seen you with your hair in a ponytail once it grew out enough. and now...

now he won't leave you alone, fingers running through your hair as he giggles to himself. you found a new hairdresser after the miserable last appointment you had (truly, you hate people who are gross about not giving women the short haircut they ask for), and you've finally restored yourself back to the shorter cut you had during undergrad. thank you, people who listen. you owe them your life.

"i can't help it! i've only seen this in pictures," he giggles again, eyes twinkling. "i always wanted to see how it felt. it's cute. you look happier, too."

because you are happier. some people would cry if forced to cut their hair short, and they're fair for that--but you? you've never liked having your hair too long. anytime it started getting past your shoulders was a sign that you were long overdue for a haircut. the ponytail you'd been sporting was just the result of you putting off finding someone new after the last shitty haircut.

"you remind me of jeonghan," he hums. "remember the time he decided to cut his hair?"

you did. joshua went with him because jeonghan wanted someone to record the process, and you saw how giddy jeonghan looked when he was allowed to chop off some of the longer locks. he looked ethereal with longer hair, but you understood that endless glee: sometimes a haircut could be so freeing in a way you couldn't describe. that's what it was like today for you: the moment the lady had started cutting, you felt healed in this way you couldn't fully put into words. like you were yourself again. goodbye, ponytails.

"why don't you go play with his hair, then?"

"maybe i will," joshua chuckles, planting a kiss against your lips. he leans back for a moment, only to reach into his pocket and snap a picture of you, messy-haired due to his endless fiddling. "alright... now i'll fix it for you."

"oh, thank you," you roll your eyes, "i'm so grateful, my handsome hero--"

and so he dives forward instead, pulling you in to kiss you quick.

[dragons-and-ages]

I am well aware that I’m delusional, but here’s how Varric-mancers can still win in 2024

But he’s not a companion.

Yeah, so? While he may not be an active companion, he appears to be taking an advisory role. Perhaps he’s a liaison between the Veilguard and the Inquisition remnants. If he is an advisor, that wouldn’t preclude him from being a romance option. See: Josie and Cullen.

But BioWare is going to kill him off.

ngl this prospect scares me.

I’ll admit that he is giving one-week-to-retirement vibes. But maybe he’s just tired of being in the field after so many years. He’s getting older; He doesn’t need to be slogging through the muck with us when his most formidable weapons are pen and paper.

But if he was going to be romanceable, he’d have been an option in an earlier game.

Not necessarily. Again, see: Cullen. It took three games for Cullen to be romanceable, which made sense! Cullen, as a character, was very much NOT mentally in a place that he would be open to romance in DAO and DA2. I’d argue the same for Varric, which I’ll get into below.

But it makes more sense for Varric to romance Hawke.

It’s true that Hawke and Varric are besties. Varric is clearly ride-or-die for Hawkes of all flavors. Varric has also known Hawke longer than any of the other protagonists. However, during those formative years in Kirkwall, Varric was very much still stuck on Bianca. (And let’s not deny that Hawkes of all flavors are also messy). Varric built an intentional wall between himself and Hawke or, you could argue, between himself and the character, the Champion of Kirkwall. See, Varric is a writer and he has a way of idealizing and romanticizing life and the people around him.

Being the teller of the story allows him to be in some kind of control.

Ok, but Varric couldn’t romance the Inquisitor.

That was even more implausible than Hawke. Again, Varric seems to see the people around him like story characters. The Inquisitor, the Herald of Andraste, is this big, potentially tragic, hero figure. DAI takes place over a shorter period of time than DA2, and while you may be able to build a friendly relationship with him, there is still clearly a wall there. Not to mention, he’s still comfortably pining for Bianca until the ‘Well, shit’ quest.

But Varric is in love with Bianca.

Bianca Davri. Gorgeous and brilliant dwarven woman voiced by Laura Bailey. It’s hard for my bi ass not to love her on those points alone. She has an amazing mind and is the only surface dwarf ever to be nominated for paragon status because of her inventions. She and Varric had a romance and were forced apart by the Merchant’s Guild before she was betrothed to a guy in the smith caste. And in the years since, the two of them have kept up a secret correspondence. Tell me all of that doesn’t smack of tragic storybook doomed romance. Of course Varric was stuck on her. Not to mention, he has carried around one of her inventions ever since; one that he named after her.

I think that, in the years since they were forcibly separated, Varric built up an idealized version of Bianca in his mind. You can see he does that to a certain extent with everyone. He separates himself, the writer, from the characters. Sometimes an old hurt is safer than opening up again and Varric has been safe and comfortable with not entering into a new romance. And there’s always that sliver of hope, fed by secret letters, that he and Bianca could be together in the end.

But then ‘Well, shit’ happens in DAI and Varric walks away angry with Bianca after it is revealed that SHE is responsible for leaking the location of the red lyrium. I think (I hope) that this event has shattered the idealized version of Bianca that lives in Varric’s mind. I don’t know how much time has passed since DAI, but I hope that that revelation has started a chain reaction where Varric has reevaluated his relationship with Bianca and is finally ready to put that chapter behind him.

And here’s where my batshit delulu theory starts:

I propose that Bianca the crossbow breaks early on in the game. This would be symbolic of Varric moving from active companion to an advisor status. It’s a sign to Varric that it’s time for a change. On the romance front, it’s the final nail in the coffin of his pining after Bianca.

Rook and The Veilguard are a smaller group than the Inquisition. Stakes are still high, but there’s not this strange reverence for Rook like there was for the Inquisitor. And the group is small and intimate, not a massive, world changing machine like the Inquisition was. I can see Varric being surprised, but cautiously open to flirting overtures from Rook.

It has been so many years since Varric has really allowed himself to love and be loved. It’s been too long since he allowed himself to be a part of the story rather than telling it. He’s getting older now, maybe it’s time to let that chapter close and really try to live and love again.

It has the potential to be a very mature, slow burn, beautiful romance and I know I’m deluding myself but I want it so bad.