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macfrog · 2 years ago

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lend me some sugar cowboy like me chapter eight

look. i had an idea, i couldn't rest until i wrote it. enJOY part 8 of cowboy like me - check out my masterlist here!!! ALSO the lovely @wildcat116 created a playlist w some of my fave dbf-inspired songs which you can give a listen right heeerreee love u all sm hope u like this gargantuan chapter

pairing: dbf!joel x fem!reader

summary: joel throws a homecoming garden party for sarah – and decides to make it one to remember

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) i honestly don't even know where to start with this one UHH age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), cursing, slightly jealous! slightly possessive!joel n also jealous!reader, sexting, mutual masturbation, phone sex, teasing, very semi-public ✨ activities ✨ involving a beer bottle

word count: 10.1k (lmfao)

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

“Well…” he takes a drink from his bottle, and then studies it in his hand. “I thought you could sweeten my beer for me.” Your eyebrows raise on their own, your body on autopilot. “S-sweeten…your…b…” Joel nods. His eyes track over to the rest of the party, and then back to you. “Nobody’s watchin’, darlin’. It’s just you ‘n me. Go on. Do it for me.”

“No, no, no, hey, baby – don’t change the subject. You didn’t answer my question,” Joel says, one hand on the steering wheel, the other waving around like a maniac’s in midair. “What – is – a garden party?”

Your dad is chortling in the passenger seat.

“If you’d stop interruptin’ me!” you yell from the back. You’re leant forward, head and shoulders between the two of them. “It’s, like, well…drinks, and food, sat out on the patio in the nice weather–”

“Sounds like a barbecue to me!” Joel roars, much to your dad’s delight.

He claps his hands together once and snorts with laughter until he’s out of breath. “That Sarah of yours has you wrapped around her little finger, Joel.”

“She says, ‘I’m too old for a barbecue’. I said, ‘Too old for meat on a grill?’ How do you get to be too old to eat steak cooked on a grill?”

You roll your eyes with a sigh, slumping back in your seat and looking out the window at the buildings sailing by. You’re on your way to Costco to pick up supplies for this barb– garden party Sarah’s requested from Joel. He’s not too impressed by the thought of it.

Your dad’s talking about some client of his who threw his daughter a quinceañera on a yacht off the coast of Florida, for some reason you don’t care to listen to. Joel doesn’t, either. You see his eyes watching you from the rear-view mirror, clocking your expression.

When you turn to fully look back, his eyebrows raise, a question: You okay?

You raise yours back. Whatever.

He breathes a laugh, then plays it off to look like he’s laughing at your dad’s story. The truck pulls in to the parking lot.

By all accounts, your dad shouldn’t trust you and Joel alone together half as much as he does. But when the three of you get out of the car – Joel opens your door for you – he takes off to grab a shopping cart.

You and Joel take the opportunity to meander slowly toward the store. You haven’t had much time as of late to hang out, get some much-needed attention from him, jump each other’s bones. Sarah’s return means one more person to run lies around, one more obstacle stopping you from having precious free time with each other.

More than all of that, you just miss him. Miss the way he talks to you when no one else can hear, the way he reads your mind and gets it right – annoyingly – every damn time.

He loosens his elbow, offering you it, and you snake your arm through it.

“Garden party,” he scoffs. “I sure am glad I have you to keep me right.”

“We’ll make it nice for her,” you reply. “She liked the banner and balloons, right?”

He laughs. “She sure did. Facetimed her roommates to show ‘em off.”

You take a few more paces in silence, the gentle breeze sifting through your hair. It’s nice, just wandering with Joel. His warm arm hooked around yours, safe, steady. You feel you could lean into him and let him guide you along like the wind, all trust in his capable hands.

Then your dad rattles over toward you guys with a squeaky-wheeled cart and fucks it all up.

Joel, ever the casual one, slowly unlinks your arms. He ain’t got nothing to hide. Just being chivalrous to his buddy’s daughter.

“Where to first?” your dad asks.

“Wish I knew.” Joel strolls inside, and you follow, heading into the chilly store.

Joel decides the easiest – and quickest – way to get this shopping trip over with is to split up. He takes decorations, your dad offers to grab some of the food, and you’re left with drinks.

You mosey down the aisles with your janky cart squealing every time you turn. Under fluorescent lights, you spot shelves of soda and make for them, dodging a half-empty cage of stock someone’s emptying.

There are so many brands and flavors it’s actually kinda intimidating, and you wish you had Joel here to tell you which ones he wants. That, and also to reach them for you. The Dr Pepper is on the top shelf, and even though he’d probably tease you for not being able to reach first, his tall form would pull down a crate in one swoop without you even having to ask.

“Oh, let me get those for you!” a voice calls from behind, and you swivel around to see a kid– sorry, a guy in a Costco uniform rushing over from the other side of the aisle. The sides of his strawberry blonde hair are shaven, longer on top, gelled back. Round cheeks, flushed bright pink.

His equally pink arms reach up and grip a crate, pulling it from the shelf.

“Could you please…grab me one of the lemonade, too?”

“Sure thing,” he says.

“Thanks.” You smile as he lays the second carefully in your cart.

“No problem. You new around here? I recognize a lot of folks, never seen you before.”

His name badge reads Zack. It suits him, you think.

Your hands are locked tight around the cart handle. He’s not doing anything wrong, but you still feel awkward. You rock softly from side to side, answering, “Nope, lived here my whole life. Well, that’s not entirely true. I lived in New York City for a few years for college.”

“New York, huh? What’s that like?”

“It’s…good. Kinda place you gotta experience to really…experience, I guess.” You nervously scratch your arm.

“I’ve love to hear more about it. I went to college for, I think, two semesters? And dropped right back out. Wasn’t for me. Are you…Sorry, I’m not tryna be forward. Are you…with anybody?”

“Oh, I, uh…”

Right then you feel the air stop short at your side and notice Joel out of your peripheral vision.

“Hey, you found ‘em,” you say, barely above a whisper, looking at the packs of paper plates locked inside his tight knuckles.

He tosses them into the cart on top of your soda, looking down at you over your shoulder.

“You found drinks.”

“Yep.” If the ground could swallow me up right about now, that’d be great.

Zack shuffles on his feet, looking from you to Joel. He looks panicked. You bite back a laugh.

“Thanks, son.” Joel’s voice is muted, toneless, and he takes the cart straight out of your grasp in one sweep, a quick nod in Zack’s direction.

You don’t move, instead hang back to give the assistant a grateful smile and tell him, “We’re in a bit of a rush. Party’s tomorrow.”

“Wow, well, have fun!” he replies. As you swing off to follow Joel, Zack hops along after you, tapping your shoulder.

“I didn’t catch your name?”

“Naw, but she caught yours, Zack!” Joel yells. Emphasis on the K.

“See ya,” you whisper.

“Makin’ friends, are we?” Joel mutters as you catch up to him.

You lightly hit his bicep. “I couldn’t reach the soda.”

“Poor baby.” He pets his lip. You smack him again, but your stomach floods with heat. Joel doesn’t make note of it. “Need your help pickin’ out a tablecloth,” he says.

“A tablecloth? What’s so hard about a tablecl–”

You round the corner and Joel nods ahead, to where an entire wall of party supplies sits. On the shelves, piles of paper plates, cups, and napkins, and on the pegs above, bags, tablecloths, confetti, cutlery, banners, and bunting.

“Oh…”

“I was thinkin’ that pink one with the stars on it.” Joel nods to the left, finger scratching his nose, where a baby pink sheet lies, white stars all over. You try to mask your frown.

“No?” he asks, looking over at you tensely.

You tilt your head back in his direction. “It’s just…she made such a big deal about bein’ too old for a barbecue. If she’s too old for a barbecue, ain’t she too old for…”

“Pink?”

You flash him a gentle smile. “I reckon she’d like that one.”

You point to a white tablecloth, decorated with metallic gold dots.

“So, no pink, no stars. Gold polka dots are fine?”

“Sure,” you reply.

“Keep me right,” Joel whispers, leaning over to take the packet from its hook.

“Got some nibbles,” your dad’s voice yaps as he joins you two, dumping a dozen bags of candy, chips, and what looks like half the snack section into the cart. He sighs, placing his hands on his hips. “We all done?”

“Just gotta get some platters,” Joel replies, pulling a handwritten list and pen from his back pocket and glancing down it.

You lean over to check it out, smiling at his haphazard handwriting.

Cups

Soda

Plates

Tablecloth?

Balloons

Food

Cake

He draws a line through soda, plates, and the tablecloth.

“You gettin’ a cake?” you ask him.

He replies without lifting his eyes from the list. “Next door neighbor’s doin’ it. She has a bakery in town.”

Your dad’s over by the bunting, studying it all with his hands clasped behind his back.

You lower your tone, leaning in closer. “Neighbor, huh? She cute? She single?”

Joel tuts and gives you a dead-eyed stare. “Might be. Not sure.” He tilts his head. “Why don’t we give her Zack’s number?”

You raise an eyebrow and take the cart from his hands.

“We’re done, Dad. Deli’s on the way out,” you tell Joel, and he follows at your heels.

You didn’t take Joel for a man who spends ten minutes deciding which food platters to buy, but when it hits two-thirty and he’s still standing with his chin between his fingers, you sigh.

“Is it this big a deal?”

“I imagine it is; it’s Sarah we’re talkin’ about here.”

You can’t help the smile that grows on your lips, seeing how determined he is to make it perfect for her. It’s cute, alright? Who would’ve thought Joel Miller would concern himself so much with deli platters?

“Quit that,” he tells you, not even looking in your direction.

“Quit what?”

“Your starin’. Give us away.”

Your hand comes up to shove him and he grabs it, looking over your shoulder to check your dad’s not looking when he pulls you close to him.

“Don’t make me tell you twice, baby.”

You raise your eyebrows, smug grin on your lips, and his eyes dance down your body.

He suddenly lets go of you and you realize why seconds later when your dad’s heavy arm smacks down over your shoulders.

“We done, Joel? There’s this show on National Geographic about sharks I’m tryna catch.”

You roll your eyes at Joel who hands you an amused grin, then places a couple of platters into the cart and leads y’all to the checkouts.

“I’ll take the cart back, get you both at the truck.” Your dad makes off, janky wheel squeaking off to the front doors.

Joel shakes his head in his wake, as bemused by him as you are. You smile Hello to the cashier.

“How are y’all today?” he asks.

“Good, thanks,” you reply, watching Joel’s thick arms hold the crates of soda up to be scanned. He’s tensing, veins lining his tan skin. You could bite into him, you’re so needy. It’s only been a fucking week.

The red light flashes across the barcode with a beep and he settles the drinks down to grab his wallet.

You glance around as he pays. From over Joel’s right shoulder, a familiar set of buck teeth approaches. You avert your gaze, swerving to hide between Joel and the counter.

“I’m goin’ on my break, Tom!” Zack’s voice rings out, and you feel Joel’s chest shift around your shoulder.

“You got the bags?” he asks, casually. Unbothered.

“Mhm,” you reply, not achieving the same level of coolness as he did. Your voice quivers as your eyes scan for Zack, hoping he won’t catch you.

Poor guy. He was friendly enough. Just, you happen to think Joel’s friendlier.

Even if he notices you, you’re already being swept out of the store by Joel, both crates of soda and the platters on top in his arms; a feat that might’ve killed Zack in the soft drinks section. You wander off together back out into the burning heat, eyes squinting in the sun.

Your dad is stood in deep conversation with someone by the cart return, a man with a balding head and blue jeans that you don’t recognize. “I’ll be over in a minute,” he tells you both as you pass, “work stuff.”

Joel loads the truck and you jump in the back.

“You not gonna sit up front with me?” he asks, turning back to you.

“And make my dad sit in the back?”

“Punishment for holdin’ us up.”

You raise your eyebrows and climb over the front seat, sitting in place next to Joel. His hand reaches over and cups your thigh. You like it, feeling like this is your spot. Right next to him. Co-pilot. Captain of the radio.

You probably don’t like the same music Joel does, though.

You bring a hand down to lace through his, fingers intertwining between your legs.

“So, Zack?”

You lean your skull against the headrest and glare up at the roof of the car. “I have no idea. He was just talkin’ to me.”

“He seemed to like you.”

“I’m very likeable.”

“Did you like him?”

“Have you looked in a mirror lately? He look my type?”

Joel gives half a shrug.

“Don’t get all jealous,” you mutter, turning to check on your dad.

“Jealous,” Joel repeats, with a scoff.

“Uh, ‘She caught your name, Zack!’” You echo Joel’s rough inflection, emphasizing his Texas twang, stressing the K the way he did.

“That wasn’t jealousy, baby,” he says softly.

You huff, looking away and crossing your arms.

“You want me to be jealous?”

“No.”

Yeah, you do. It was kinda hot.

Joel’s smirking, you can see it from the corner of your eye.

“I…want you to be…It was hot when you…Well, I…It’s more that…In a word, I’d say–”

Joel’s hand squeezes yours, letting go and sliding slowly up your thigh. Your ears are throbbing with blood rushing when he finally stops just shy of your underwear.

“Got it,” he whispers.

Your eyes drift from his hand up to his expression. If it weren’t for the sweet smile he was giving you, you’d call him arrogant. But his warm expression, the way his head is tilted against his seat to look at you, really take you in, the upturned corners of his mouth…

It’s just as well your dad hauls the truck door open when he does, before you can throw yourself at his best friend.

“I’m in the damn back then, am I? Assholes,” he murmurs as he – struggles to – climb up into his seat.

“Blame your daughter,” Joel chuckles, hand reaching around the back of your headrest to reverse, “huh, Trouble?”

You open your mouth to clap a reply back, but your dad interrupts.

“Trouble?” he asks, brow cocked.

You spin around to watch his face contort in confusion.

“Who the heck is Trouble?”

“Your kid. Always causin’ it,” Joel says.

“Is she, now?”

You cast a look at Joel, out of sight of your dad. Are you fuckin’ serious?

He grins in return, driving off out of the parking lot.

----------

Joel had dropped you guys off on the way home from Costco. You’d wanted to stick around for a few minutes after your dad had hopped out of the truck, but he was relentless.

“Let Joel head off, he’s got a busy evenin’ ahead,” he’d insisted.

Joel had given you an apologetic glance as you unbuckled your seatbelt and followed suit.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He’d quickly kissed the back of your hand as you bid him farewell.

When Sunday rolls around, you spend the morning checking in with him, asking how the party’s looking and receiving photos to judge his decorating skills.

You: Not quite as good without my input, but it’ll do

Joel: Nothing’s quite as good without your input.

When it’s almost time to go, you’re still in the mirror making sure your outfit is perfect for Joel.

Perfect for the party, you mean.

You adjust the strap of your green dress, pulling the floral fabric over your bra. Totally innocent. Just a nice summer dress.

With slutty lingerie hidden underneath.

You’re only wearing it to fuck with him. You know that. Nothing is gonna happen at a fucking garden party. But your eyes flit across your body, trying to get into the mind of a forty-eight-year-old, watching the tops of your thighs as the wind lifts your skirt…

You unlock your phone and your thumb dances over the text thread with Joel. You’d taken some pictures before you’d slipped the dress over yourself, honestly just ‘cause you thought you looked hot, but now that the idea’s in your head…you might as well.

You: Does this lingerie say ‘garden party’?

You hit send and shut your eyes tight until you see stars, blindly throwing your phone to the floor and pacing back and forth. What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck was that that was so stupid he’s totally gonna laugh at you you loser he’s–

It doesn’t take long for your phone to vibrate with Joel’s reply. You dive for it, grabbing it with a swoop of your arm.

Joel: Slutty garden party, sure.

You snort. Dick.

You: Like it?

The typing indicator pops up, then disappears, then returns. Three dots blinking at the speed your pulse is racing. Type quicker, old man.

Joel: I prefer what’s underneath it.

Your chest shudders with a sudden inhale. Your face begins to heat. A terrible idea has crossed your mind.

You’ve never been one for sexting. Not much, anyway. Certainly not on an actual message thread. Snapchat, sure, where the messages disappear from both your screen and your mind as soon as you’re done. But never somewhere there’s recorded proof.

It’s kinda hot. Having evidence of you and Joel. Pictures and messages to look back on.

So, you lay back on your bed and spread your legs. Hook a finger around the elastic of your panties, pulling them to the side to expose your – already glistening wet – folds.

You lower your phone, snap a couple pics. Play around, spread your lips, take more.

Then you send one.

Fuck it, right?

You: Sounded like you were missing it…

Your phone’s ringing within ten seconds of hitting send. You pick up and Joel’s calling out to someone.

“–right back, ‘m just goin’ to change.”

Sarah replies something you can’t make out, and Joel sighs.

“Naw, it’s just not very…I wanna look right for it. You look great. Just– I’ll be right back.”

You giggle quietly into the phone. “Excuses, excuses, Miller…”

“The hell are you doin’,” he hisses, bedroom door closing in the background, “sendin’ me that without a warnin’?”

“I did send warnin’,” you protest. “You must’a guessed when I sent the first one what the second was gonna be?”

Joel sighs and you giggle, laying back on your bed. Your hand returns between your legs and you whisper a moan, fingers sifting through soaking folds.

He goes quiet for a second.

“You playin’ with yourself, baby?”

“Mhm.”

“Feel good?”

“Yup,” you reply.

“You want me to make you cum over the phone?”

Your breath shudders and your chest heaves. Every damn time, he blows your cool every damn time.

“Uhuh,” you whimper. “’m so fucking wet.”

“Yeah? So needy, baby. Got yourself all riled up, haven’t you? Need me to fix it for you, take it away.”

You moan.

“You still wearin’ those little panties?”

You hum in response. He knows it’s a yes.

“Take ‘em off.”

“Joel, I’m leavin’ in–”

“Off.”

You obey him, dropping the phone onto your bed beside your ear and raising your hips, elastic of your underwear sliding over your pelvis and down your legs. You drop them to the floor and your hands resume position.

“Good girl,” he says, hearing you moan when your fingertips meet your clit again. “That better?”

“Mhm,” you croon.

He hisses, says, “Yeah. Gonna fuck yourself for me, pretty girl?”

You whine a Yes, and hear the clink of his belt buckle, the zip of his jeans. His voice echoes, bouncing off what you assume are his bathroom walls, when he tells you to slide a finger inside yourself. He lets a breathy sigh pass his lips, and you know he has a fist around his cock.

Your fingers dip inside your opening, collecting your slick and rubbing it up and down, soaking your clit before they return to your cunt and slip inside. You gasp, the stretch too good to keep quiet.

Joel murmurs another Good fuckin’ girl, and you can hear his soft panting. It drives you insane.

“Joel,” you whisper, “want you here.”

“I know, darlin’, I know.”

“Want you to f-fuck me.” Your swollen clit ruts against the base of your palm, the bone rubbing it so fucking good, and you squeeze your eyes tight shut.

“Soon, baby, promise,” he tells you, his hand pumping his cock, the sound of his precum coating his shaft floating through your cell into your ear. “Keep goin’, pretty girl. Bein’ so dirty for me, so fuckin’ good.”

Your back begins to arch, his praises and the sound of him jacking himself off pushing you closer and closer, warmth and pleasure flooding through your body from your core.

Joel speaks again through a strained voice.

“Wanted to fuck you yesterday,” he says, “so fuckin’ bad, baby.”

Your breath halts, cutting short in your throat.

“Wanted to,” groan, “sh-show that fuckin’ kid who you belonged to.”

You breathe a laugh laced thick with arousal. “Who I b…belonged to?”

You’re enjoying the thought as much as he is. Joel fucking you senseless in front of anyone who looks twice at you. Showing them that only he can make you feel good, only he can make you cum the way you do. The thought causes a whimper to escape your throat.

“That’s it, baby. You like that?”

“Yeah,” you whine.

“Tell me, pretty girl. Tell me.”

“’m yours, Joel. Fuck. Fuckin’ – yours.”

You’re whispering his name over and over, adding a third finger, imagining it’s his cock fucking in and out of you.

“So – close – baby,” he’s grunting, and you sigh in agreement. You’re writhing around on your mattress, legs wide open, hands pumping in and out and rubbing circles all over your sensitive cunt, wishing it was Joel all over you.

He’s moaning now, quietly humming down the phone to you, and it starts to undo the knot in your stomach. Your walls clamp around your fingers, hand begins to slow on your clit, and you utter his name before you fall silent, throat closing up as you climax.

The sound of your orgasm sends him over the edge right behind you. He groans, your name on his lips as he climaxes, repeating it over and over. You’re still coming to when he quietens, moans staggered, breathing heavy.

“Good?” you ask, fingers massaging yourself after your high.

“So good, darlin’,” he whispers, “did so good for me.”

You smile at his praise. Did so good for him, like you always do. It sends your head spiraling.

You dip your soaked fingers in and out of your soft cunt, lying in the bliss a little while longer, listening to Joel do his jeans back up and fix his belt.

He must figure what you’re up to, because he lifts the phone back to his mouth and says, “Tell me how you taste, baby.”

You don’t even think twice. You slip your fingers from your dripping cunt and suckle on them, moaning into the phone for Joel’s benefit. He lets out a low growl.

“Sweet as sugar,” you tell him, and he hums.

“Hey, hon?” your dad’s voice snaps you back to reality.

You’re not on some different plain with Joel’s voice purring in your ear. You’re not in private. You’re laying on your bed with your legs spread, Joel on speakerphone.

Your legs slam closed and you sit up straight, shushing Joel, who’s chuckling quietly into your phone.

“Yep?” you reply, voice shaky. “Shut the fuck up,” you hiss down the line.

Your dad pushes your door open as you stand, straightening your dress.

“Ready to go? I don’t wanna be late for Joel.”

“I don’t think he’ll mind.”

“He will. C’mon.”

He closes the door over when he leaves. You tug your panties back on and bring the phone up to your ear, speakerphone now safely off.

“Do you? Mind?”

“’s long as I get to see your pretty little face, I don’t care, baby.”

You smile. Then you think it over.

“…but you’d prefer I was there on time, right? Y’know, so you can spend more time with me?”

“Uhuh. Sure. More time with your ass, too.”

“Alright. That’s nice. See, you just ruined what could’ve been a really sweet moment. How romantic, Miller. Once again, your dick gets the better of you.”

Joel laughs. “Ain’t that what this whole thing is? My dick getting the better of me?”

You gasp, offended. “And here I was thinking you liked me for my personality.”

He scoffs. “Will you just get in the damn car and get your ass over here?”

You’re fixing yourself once more in the mirror; there can be no signs of what just happened.

“I’m cominggg…” you drawl.

“Good girl. Bring that personality of yours, too.”

You snort and hang up without saying goodbye.

Your dad is stood at the bottom of the stairs as you march down them, legs still a little weak.

“Sorry, kiddo, I just don’t wanna be late. Joel’s wantin’ us there first, and Rita will be waitin’.”

Your brows furrow in response. He elaborates.

“She’s comin’, too, I’ve to give her a ride.”

“Sooo…we’ll arrive at Joel’s around midnight? Just checkin’, so I can let him know. Y’know, she likes to take it slow in the car.”

“Ha-ha. Funny. Get your things.”

“Can I take my own car? We can race, see who gets there first.”

Your dad sighs. “How am I s’posed to explain that to her?”

“Just say Sarah wanted me over early.” You cock your head like a begging puppy. “Please?”

He nods, exasperated, and waves a hand toward you. “Go on, get. Take that salad, will you?”

You sit the ceramic bowl on your hip and skip to the front door, belting it into the passenger seat before heading for Joel’s.

He’s out back when you arrive, platter of food in his hand. He looks casual, like he wasn’t cooing you through an orgasm, like, twenty minutes ago.

“Hey, cowboy,” you call from the patio door.

He sets the platter down on the tablecloth you picked out and strolls back toward the house, hands taking your waist as soon as he’s close enough.

“Your dad here?”

“Nope,” you whisper, “he’s bringing Rita.”

Joel dips his head and presses his lips to yours, rocking you back and forth. You giggle against his mouth.

“Dress is nice,” he murmurs when he pulls away, your foreheads together.

“Oh, you should see what I have on under it.”

“Already did,” he whispers in a cocky song, and you laugh again into his kiss.

His tongue sneaks past yours, and you squeal when his hand drops to squeeze your ass under your short skirt.

“You’re gonna make me drop this salad!” You bat his smirking ass off of you to set your dad’s handiwork safely on the table.

The moment is broken by the sound of Sarah’s voice from the hallway. You both split apart, Joel heads back outside while you walk over to the fridge to grab a soda.

“Welcome home banner’s slipped, Dad,” she yells out the window, and Joel gives her a thumbs up. Sarah rolls her eyes and turns to you. “Hi, you!”

“Hey,” you reply, giving her a toothy grin. “Soda?”

She reaches a hand out and you pass her a Coke.

“I have never seen my dad so stressed,” she snickers, can to her lips.

“Me either. You don’t wanna know how long he took to decide what to get from the deli.”

Sarah silently wanders through to the living room, beckoning you to follow. You glance up at the streamers still hanging from the ceiling, the slanted banner above the TV.

You throw yourselves down on the couch and she rounds on you.

“So…?”

“So?” you say, taking a sip of your soda.

“What’s been goin’ on? We haven’t properly caught up yet.”

You shrug. “Not much. Workin’ at Sal’s, loving life. What’s been going on with you?”

“Oh, come on. You really got no news for me?”

“What news do you want?” You snort, lifting the can to cover your flushed cheeks.

Sarah shrugs. “I dunno, boys? Gossip? Drama?”

“What are you, thirteen? Thought you were a big Cali girl now.”

She tuts.

You sigh, conceding. “No boys, no drama happenin’, and the most gossip I know is Anna called in sick last week and then Sal’s niece saw a picture of her on Instagram at some house party. ‘s all I got.”

Sarah looks unconvinced. She smirks. Her eyes thin, only for a second, but you catch it.

“How’s your dad?” she asks after a tense stare-off.

“Fine,” you reply. “He’s bringing Rita.”

“Aw. I’ll miss ‘im, then. Won’t be here ‘til sundown.”

You giggle into your can, “That’s what I said, dude.”

Joel shuffles into the room then, making for the banner. Your eyes track him as he leans over the TV, strong arms reaching up to fix it into place. He grunts as he pushes the pin back in.

“Need a hand, Dad?”

“Nope,” he replies, “’m good.”

Your chest tightens as the memory of the last time that banner was pinned into place floods your memory. Sat atop Joel’s shoulders, pulling him into you when he set you back down. Then, him fucking you on the couch, right where your legs currently lie, Sarah’s draped over them.

And here he is, able to reach it all by himself all along.

You clear your throat, suddenly feeling flushed.

“You good?” Sarah asks when you sit up straight, fanning yourself with your hand.

“Is it hot in here?”

Joel turns, eyebrows raising.

“Crack a window, Dad.” Sarah’s fanning you now, too, wafting a magazine in your face.

He moves for the window and slides it open, pulling the shades back in attempt to get some airflow.

“I’m fine,” you whisper, hand on Sarah’s wrist. “I’m fine.”

She lowers the magazine and stares you down. “Are you pregnant, or something?”

Joel chokes, clearing his throat over by the window, and you bat Sarah’s leg.

“No, idiot! It’s just hot. You’re not hot?”

Sarah flicks her hair over her shoulder, chin lifting. “I’m very hot, actually.” She stifles a laugh at your expression. When she leans over to set her soda on the table, you shoot Joel a look.

He raises his hands in surrender silently and heads out of the room, reminding you guys that the party starts in twenty minutes.

“You like your decorations?” you ask once Joel’s gone.

Sarah’s eyes widen and she nods. “I heard you had a thing or two to do with ‘em.”

“I was creative director.”

“He’s so cheesy, ain’t he?”

“He just loves you. I think it’s cute.”

“I’ll bet you two got into, like, six arguments while you were puttin’ them all up. Right?”

You blink rapidly, trying to clear the memory from your eyes in case she reads it. “Nope. None. No arguments.”

You’re thankful when Joel’s front door pushes open and you hear Rita calling down the hall for Sarah, who jumps up and skips to meet her. When you follow, Joel’s in the kitchen doorway, watching you carefully. You know he heard every damn word, from no arguments to you thinking he was being cute.

You ignore him as you brush past, smug smirk on his face.

The backyard slowly starts to fill with more and more people as the afternoon goes on, sun rising higher and higher into the sky. Sarah is swept off by a small wave of school friends, all nineteen, none of whom you really know. One of them asked if you were her sister, and you choked on your drink before Sarah snorted and said, “No, dumbass, she’s my dad’s best friend’s daughter.”

They’re standing like a flock of seagulls over by the pool, shrill giggles piercing the air every ten seconds. Taking selfies, updating Instagram stories. Oh, to be nineteen again.

Being a senior citizen of twenty-three means, unfortunately for you, that you spend most of the afternoon tailing your dad and his buddies. At the food table, slowly depleting of the snacks your dad had practically raided from Costco, you’re witness to a conversation between him and Bill about the housing market.

“…I mean, if she wanted to get a place of her own,” your dad waves a hand in your direction, “how’s she meant to do it? What are they doin’ to help the younger generations get their foot in the door, hm?”

Bill’s shaking his head. Looks like vexation, like he’s agreeing with your dad, but you’ve a sneaking suspicion he’s just pacifying him.

“Maybe you’re better headin’ back to New York, after all, hon,” your dad says, and you raise your eyebrows, biting down on your bottom lip.

“Missin’ it yet?” Bill asks.

You shrug. “Sometimes. Was nice being around people who were into the same stuff as me. But I like being home.”

He nods, looking back down at the pool, sunlight gleaming off the water in ripples.

“She’s got plenty to keep her occupied,” your dad snorts. “Me ‘n Joel keep her right.”

You bite back a laugh. If you only fucking knew.

Bill chortles. “Joel Miller, keepin’ someone right? Now that’s a sight I’d like to see.”

You look over to him, pretending to laugh along, but your brows drop in confusion.

“Ah, they’re close, y’know?” your dad says. “He looks out for her. Think he keeps her on the straight and narrow better ‘n I do, these days, doesn’t he?”

“He, uh…Yeah, sure.” You can barely look him in the eye.

“Tell you what,” Bill twists around to grab another fistful of nuts from the table, “there ain’t nothin’ the good Southern air won’t fix. I notice a difference in you, this time around, kid.”

“Yeah?”

He nods enthusiastically, cheeks full. Still chewing, he says, “Oh, yeah. Hell, you used to come home for Christmas or whatever, ‘n it was like you were bored. Miserable. No offense, don’t take that the wrong way.”

You scoff. “Which way should I take it?”

“Now that you’re back here for good,” he continues, not hearing you, “‘s like someone switched a light on. Doesn’t she seem brighter?”

Your dad turns to survey you and eventually nods. “You happier here, kiddo?”

You shrug, mumble an, “I dunno.”

The men laugh. Bill gives you a clap to the back and strolls off back inside, leaving you and your dad alone.

“Why didn’t you ask that– that boy along?”

“Who? Sam?”

He nods. “Remember you had that date scheduled– I mean, not-date?”

You narrow your eyes. “I don’t think this is his scene.”

“Garden party not macho enough?”

You shake your head in bewilderment. “Macho?”

“Who’s macho?” Joel’s gruff voice sounds from behind.

You swing around to tell him, “Nobody,” and he shrugs, cheeks full with the sandwich he’s just thrown in his mouth.

“Nice,” you muse. “Very garden party of you.”

“Right?”

You smirk, peeling back the wrapper of the cupcake on your plate.

“Those,” Joel leans in, smirk on his lips, voice low, “were made by Nat.” He nods over toward the patio doors, where a blonde woman in a long purple dress stands, chatting to another of Joel’s neighbors. “Remember I told you she was makin’ a cake?”

You turn back to face him, narrow eyes set on his. He smiles innocently, and you can’t help but return it, butterflies tickling your stomach.

“Damn good cake it is, too,” your dad mumbles from your side. “Try some, hon.”

You lift the cupcake to your mouth, never letting go of Joel’s gaze, and run your tongue along the pink icing, collecting it all on the tip. Joel doesn’t move. He’s watching your lips.

Your teeth sink into the soft cake – it is fucking good, though you’d never admit it to Joel. He’s having far too much fun watching you; any more inflation to his ego and he might explode.

“Hm,” you run your tongue over your top lip, “tastes alright. But it’s pink. Sarah’s too old for pink.”

You throw the cupcake back onto your plate and roll your eyes.

Joel scoffs. Entertained. Nice job, kid. “Here,” he says, “you got some icin’ on your–”

He doesn’t finish his sentence, instead, licks his thumb and wipes it along the edge of your lip, collects the icing, then slots it back between his own, and sucks it clean.

Right in front of your fucking dad.

You’re honestly about to mutter a sincere thanks when you remember he’s standing right at your elbow, watching the whole thing. Watching his best friend run his wet thumb across his daughter’s mouth and then taste her on his tongue. Like it’s nothing.

Joel realizes halfway through what he’s doing and yanks his thumb out of his mouth a little too abruptly, nodding at you as if he’s just been courteous. He clears his throat when his arms are back by his side. “Uh…”

Your feet are heavy against the patio. You feel like your limbs are stuck in place, save for your hands, which cause the paper plate locked between your fingers to tremble.

“Th…Thanks.”

It’s all you can muster up the courage to say. You can feel your dad’s eyes on your shoulder like the sun burning your skin.

“Yeah. No problem.”

You stare between the two of them, unsure who’ll break first. Unsure if either of them will, or if you’ll have to cave and say something.

A swish of fabric against the back of your calves jolts life back into you and you hear a soft voice in your left ear.

“See you’re enjoyin’ the cupcakes, then?” she hums to Joel. Your stomach tightens.

“Uh, yeah, they’re, uh…real good, Nat. Thanks again. We were just sayin’ how good they are, weren’t we?” He holds a hand out, past you, to your dad, who nods along. You start to back away.

Joel can tease you all he wants about his next-door neighbor and her pink cupcakes, but you’ve truly never felt more grateful to have another woman approach him and take some of the heat off of you. In a blur of embarrassment and the tiniest sliver of thrill, you take off into the house.

Bill’s in the living room with a couple other men, watching something on TV. You flash by the door and straight upstairs, where it’s quiet, empty. You lock yourself in the bathroom, head immediately falling into your hands.

“Fuck,” you whisper into your palms.

Your pulse is racing, face flushed with color and heat, embarrassment seeping all over you. What the fuck was he thinking? Was he even thinking?

It’s not unlike Joel to do stupid stuff like this just to mess with you when you’re alone. But you know, from the look on his face, from how speechless he suddenly got, you know he didn’t mean it. You know that, right now, he’s probably outside, still being pestered by that lady Nat, feeling the exact same as you are on the inside.

You steady your breathing and crack the window, peering through the sliver of light. Your dad’s still by the snacks. You can hear Nat resuming conversation just below you, out of sight by the patio doors. Where is Joel?

You pull the window open a little more, and crane your neck to scope the entire yard. There, by the pool, Sarah’s friend is stuffing as many marshmallows into his mouth as he can, while the rest video him, hysterically laughing.

You notice a flash of flannel by the work shed and spot him; making his way down a stone path between some bushes. Rita’s on his arm. Good. Means he escaped your dad without much damage done.

You rinse your face over with splashes of cold water, check yourself in the mirror, and head back out. A roar sounds from the living room as you round the bottom of the stairs.

“I didn’t know bowling was so fuckin’ excitin’!” Bill yells.

You slip through the kitchen, drowned in golden sunlight, and back outside. Nat shifts to let you by her and you smile gratefully, her purple dress sweeping across your legs again.

You follow the path behind Joel’s shed, up some steps and dip your head beneath the greenery. It’s obvious what he’s been up to since you and Sarah left; he’s good with his hands. He’s landscaped most of his yard; starting behind the work shed is a small, private pathway which leads to a secluded patio, decorated with potted plants, shrubs, and two wooden chairs. It’s out of view from where the rest of the party are, but you can look down on pretty much everyone from here.

Rita and Joel are in conversation when you round the corner and his eyes lock onto yours.

“Hey, darlin’,” he greets you, so casual you almost forget what just happened. The man is so fucking cool, it almost riles you.

“Thought I saw you guys wander off.”

“Oh, honey, here, take my seat.”

“No, Rita, really. I’ll sit on the arm of Joel’s.”

You lean back onto the wooden arm, thighs dangerously close to Joel’s hands. He flinches as you settle, like he wanted to put a protective hand over your leg, and then remembered your company.

“Nice garden party, huh, Rita?” you chirp, eyes flashing across Joel’s face.

He shakes his head, knocking your leg with the back of his hand to tell you off.

“Oh, it’s gorgeous. Fine day for it, too.” Rita looks up to the clear sky. “Only the best for our Sarah. I’m just keepin’ Mr. Grump company over here.”

“Mr. Grump?” you snort, looking from her to Joel.

He sighs. “I am not bein’ a grump.”

“Are too,” she replies flatly, and Joel turns to stare at her.

“It’s hard work hostin’ so many people, alright?”

Rita chuckles, giving his arm a light slap. “He’s all the way over here to escape the party,” she tells you, sweet smile on her face.

You return it, saying, “That doesn’t sound like Joel at all. He loves people, don’t you?”

Joel grumbles, taking a sip of his beer.

The three of you sit quietly for a few minutes, Rita relaxing in the warm summer air, shade from the trees keeping her cool. You, too close for comfort to Joel, breaking out in a sweat with the need to talk to him about the cupcake incident. And Joel, almost looking bored, right arm on his armrest drawing shapes at the small of your back.

You could fucking scream.

“Well, honey,” Rita eventually says, “since you’re here, I’m going to run to the ladies’ room. You help me up?”

You carefully pull Rita to her feet, and she shakily wanders off back toward the rest of the party, waving a hand and telling you not to let Joel out of your sight. You take her seat in her absence.

“Arm not comfortable?” Joel asks, eyes on the party.

“Huh?”

“I said, arm not comfortable?”

“Not as comfortable as a whole chair.”

“Hm.”

You mock hum in response. “You want me back on the arm? You that needy, baby?”

He looks at you. His tongue in his cheek. “Nah, want you on my lap. But arm is less obvious.”

His words knock the wind out of you, but only for a few seconds. You’re getting good at not swooning at every sexual reference this man makes. You’re also getting shamelessly good at responding to him, matching his energy.

So, you stand, and, while checking nobody’s watching, shuffle over. Back to Joel, you lower yourself down onto his thigh. Swing your head around to look him in the eye.

“Better?”

In reply, he takes your waist in one hand and shifts you so you’re at a ninety-degree angle to him. His knees facing north, yours west.

“Better,” he confirms.

Your brows furrow. “What are you–”

“I thought it over. You ‘n that Zack boy.”

“Wouldn’t say he was a boy, was probably my age–”

“That Zack boy,” Joel repeats. “Him chattin’ to you, asking you about New York. Wantin’ to know if you’re single.”

How much of that conversation did Joel hear?

“He was just–”

“Makin’ conversation? Nah. He was into ya.”

“Well, if you say so. So, you thought it over?”

“Uhuh. I don’t know how I feel about it.”

“About what?”

“About walkin’ up to find you bein’ chatted up by some loser.”

“Oh, ouch, Joel. Zack’s feelings are hurt.”

The corner of his mouth trembles, holding back a laugh. Then he leans in.

“I don’t like to see anyone with their eyes on my girl.”

His girl.

Something inside you stirs. Something between your legs…tenses.

“Your…”

“You think that was nice? The way he was lookin’ at you? You think he wanted to be your friend?”

You stare at him, mouth agape. No words bubble to the surface.

“Nah, baby. He wanted you the way I want you. The way I have you.”

“You…have…And how is it you have me?”

“Sat on my lap, pretty little mouth wide open, wet enough that I can feel you through my jeans.”

He leans back in his chair, and you watch him wordlessly.

Your breath stammering, brain struggling to compute, you mumble, “What are you gonna do with me, then?”

“Hm?” he tilts his head.

“I said, what are you gonna do? With me?”

“Well…” he takes a drink from his bottle, and then studies it in his hand. “I thought you could sweeten my beer for me.”

Your eyebrows raise on their own, your body on autopilot.

“S-sweeten…your…b…”

Joel nods. His eyes track over to the rest of the party, and then back to you.

“Nobody’s watchin’, darlin’. It’s just you ‘n me. Go on. Do it for me.”

He takes the bottle and uses it to part your legs, before sliding it under your dress. You watch like you’re not even inside your body, just a passenger to Joel and his movements. All you know is you want him to do whatever the fuck he’s about to do.

The lip of the bottle pushes your panties aside, and you feel it line up at your lips. Joel looks up at you then with a question in his gaze.

You stare at him a few moments longer, and he lets you. He knows you’re taking this all in, even if it feels like it’s all in slow motion. He lets you take your time with your answer.

You nod, breathless. Do it. And he pushes up.

Your fingers immediately lock around his wrist, the beginnings of a moan escaping your lips. Joel tuts softly, wrist never stopping, just slowly inserting the bottle, neck gliding through your wet folds to your center.

You’re gasping, still holding onto him to steady yourself, coming back to earth only momentarily to check nobody’s nearby.

“Ain’t no one comin’, sweetheart,” Joel coos in your ear, “I’m watchin’. Just you enjoy.”

When the bottleneck fills you up, he pulls it back again. Your eyes begin to roll at the feeling of it dragging out of you. Your head cocks, body going limp. Lips seal shut, trapping a whine.

You rationalize it with three things. First off: nobody can see you here, not from down on the patio. Second: even if they could, Joel’s watching. And thirdly: you don’t give the slightest of fucks.

Joel and his ideas, Joel and his fucking ideas, forever pushing any other thought out of your head and replacing it with a want to please him, a need to do the things he asks of you. Forever washing away all your good instinct, leaving behind only the ache between your legs and the lust behind your eyes.

Joel starts fucking you – really fucking you – pumping the neck of his bottle in and out of your cunt. You’re doing everything not to scream out. Your hand grips tighter on his wrist and he smiles, looking down to the sight of the pair of you working together, fucking you together, chasing your high together.

“Liked it when I touched you, didn’t you,” he breathes, wrist jacking, “liked when I put my hand on you in front of everyone.”

“Did you like it?” you ask, head lulling, eyes folding shut. Legs opening wider just a fraction. Back beginning to arch.

He laughs. “Yeah, I liked it, baby.”

“Then I liked it, too.”

You like it when he talks to you. Like picturing the things he’s saying. The shock of Joel’s thumb on your lips. The desire you felt to part them and suck on it, right there and then.

Then, a twisted thought crosses your mind.

“Did you…did you like…oh…did you like N-Nat comin’ up…to you?” you whisper as Joel pushes the bottle deeper.

He growls, teeth locking together in some weird grimace of a smile. “Who’s jealous now, baby?”

You smile, head falling back. The sky is bright and blue and it burns your eyes to look, but then, your whole body is aflame.

You know he doesn’t care about anyone else. Know you’re the only one he wants to be doing this stuff with. But you’re there now, so might as well follow it through.

“You don’t– Fuck, Joel, fuck…You don’t think she’s…h-hot?”

He hums. Considers it. “Who’s sitting on my lap gettin’ fucked right now, pretty girl?”

“M-me,” you wobble, grinning.

“You,” he agrees, and pushes the bottle further.

You start to feel dizzy, the blood pumping through your ears deafening you. You place your hand on Joel’s knee to steady yourself as your legs give, cunt dripping everywhere. You can hear it, can feel it.

“Joel,” you pine, “’m close.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Joel’s purring, lips pressed against your ear. “You can cum, baby, I got you.”

Your hand comes up to grip the collar of his shirt – you’d worry about it looking suspicious, but your mind is somewhere else entirely as the pressure between your legs starts to unravel at rapid pace. It all becomes too much too quickly, and you can’t stifle the sounds from your lips any longer.

Your legs clamp shut, knuckles whiten, pussy throbs around the neck of Joel’s beer bottle. You cum for him for the second time today, quietly whimpering as his free hand rubs your hip, coaxing you back to earth.

“That’s my girl,” he breathes, “good girl. All over it, darlin’, that’s it.”

“Joel…” you’re panting, orgasm bearing down on your body.

He’s still lulling you through it, whispering words you can’t make out into your ear, lips pressed against your hair. He slowly slips the bottle from between your legs and sets it on the armrest, replacing his hand on your bare thigh.

It’s fucking covered in you. Your wet runs down into the beer, slick coating the outside of the neck. You can’t take your eyes off it, can’t fucking believe what’s just happened.

You take a deep breath of the sweet breeze, Joel’s arms around your waist, rubbing you gently. You lean down and nuzzle your head into the crook of his neck.

A few minutes pass, couple songs on the stereo go by. Your hands toying with one of his, your breathing steadying against his chest. Joel mumbles into your hair.

“Your dad’s lookin’ for us.”

“How d’you know?” you mutter into his shirt, eyes closing over.

“That’s the third time he’s gone in ‘n out of the kitchen.”

“Maybe he’s just hungry.”

His chest jumps once with a laugh and he sits you both up. You stand wearily and Joel holds onto your hand as you slink back into the chair by his side. As you heave one leg over the other, core still throbbing, your dad emerges from around the shed. Joel lets your hand drop.

“Rita’s wantin’ home,” your dad murmurs, rolling his eyes.

“She ain’t much of a partier,” Joel says, lifting the beer to his lips. You stare at the lip of the bottle as his mouth kisses it, drink mixed with…well, you, spilling out onto his tongue. The neck is pearlescent with your cum. You feel lightheaded.

“You alright, honey?” your dad asks, and his hand comes down on your shoulder. Gently, but it still makes you jump.

“Y-yeah,” you reply, dragging your gaze from Joel’s lips. “Just…the sun, I think.”

Your dad looks worried, rubs the top of your back. “You need to go home?”

You shake your head, panting a little. “No, I’m good.”

“I’ll keep an eye on her,” Joel says. The bottle’s between his thighs now, he’s twirling it. It’s like it’s a trophy to him. He props his elbow on his armrest and gives your shoulder a squeeze.

Your dad gives Joel an appreciative nod, then glares back at you. “You call me if you need me, alright? I’ll be ten minutes, tops.”

You muster up the energy to make some joke about going too fast in the car with Rita. Your dad chuckles, then nods again to Joel, and disappears around the corner.

“You okay?” Joel asks when he’s gone.

You return his glance, energy coming back. “Sweeten your beer? Where the fuck did you come up with that one?”

He’s grinning. Do you want to slap him, or mount him?

“Can’t let you in on all my secrets, can I, darlin’?”

You roll your head back, resting softly against the wooden chair.

“Alright. Just keep doin’ that.”

“Doin’ what?”

“Surprising me. See where it gets you.”

Joel laughs through his nose; you hear the quiet rumble of his chest.

“We better get,” he says, tapping your knee as he stands. “Before everyone goes home.”

“Thought that’s what you wanted?” you reply, taking his outstretched hand and pulling yourself up.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Joel mutters as you walk off in front of him, “did I say before everyone goes home? I meant to make everyone go home.”

Joel gets his wish soon enough. It’s almost four o’clock when you return to the party; Sarah and her friends are up in her room, Bill’s roped about three others in to join his new bowling watch party, and most of the guests are either gone, or getting ready to head. The garden is empty when you throw yourself back on a lounge chair, enjoying the quiet.

You feel yourself dipping in and out of sleep, sun keeping you warm, breeze lightly kissing your cheek. The music from the stereo has been turned down, so you listen contently to the quiet hum of country, making a mental note to tease Joel about it later.

You’re filled with a peaceful content, a little tired from your ridiculous antics, but happy. You’re starting to understand what Bill was talking about; that bright cheeriness always makes an appearance when you’ve been around one person in particular, doesn’t it?

“Dad?” Sarah’s voice sings through the open door from the kitchen. She peers through the shades, spotting you by the pool. “You seen my dad?”

You shake your head. “Not a clue.” Lifting the bottom of your bottle to drain the last of your beer on your tongue, you haul yourself up – with a huge effort – to sit up straight.

“Will you tell him I’m goin’ out? We’re gonna catch a movie.”

“I’m not invited?”

She snorts. “You can come if you want. Thought you might still be feelin’ funny, is all.”

“I’m good. Enjoy. I’ll tell ‘im when he makes a reappearance.”

“Bye, babe!” she disappears back into the house.

You give her a wave as her silhouette heads down the hall. Joel’s back gate squeals open and your dad’s voice calls in from your left.

“That Rita can chat, huh?”

He latches the gate closed, then drags a deckchair over beside you.

“You were quicker than I thought you’d be.”

“She wanted to show me some cross-stitch thing she’s been workin’ on. Told her you weren’t feelin’ great ‘n I should probably head back.”

You furrow your brows. “Poor Rita, she means well.”

“I know, I know. Just, next time you see her, keep the story up.”

You scoff. “You seen Joel?”

Your question is answered by the grumble which sounds from the kitchen. He appears seconds later, stretches his arms high above his head, then stalks over.

You did try to avert your gaze from the trail of hair under his belly button. You swear. But it was right fucking there.

He hoists a second chair over to your right. “Too much effort,” he mutters, throwing himself into it. “I’m glad they’re all gone.”

You laugh lazily and rest back. “Sarah’s gone to the movies.”

Joel nods in response, the sun hitting off of him and lighting him like some kind of Adonis. You struggle to pull your eyes away from him, mesmerized by the way the light hits his worn skin, reflects out of his deep-set brown eyes, ignites strands of his graying hair.

You fucking hate what he does to you, the aftermath of him making you cum. As if there’s some drug running through your veins, making you want him, need him. Need his arms around you, his skin on yours. Need more of his attention, as if phone sex and whatever the fuck that was with the bottle weren’t enough for the day.

Your eyes travel down his strong, thick arms, hair covering them just the perfect amount, down to his hands; rough, worked, but gentle, kind. They grip the armrests of his chair, and you imagine the same grip around your neck as he…

“Y’know, actually, this was a lot less stress than I thought it’d be,” your dad yaps, bursting your bubble. “Why so last minute, Joel?”

“Sarah only decided she wanted somethin’ a few days ago, and she’s out of town next weekend, so had to be this week.”

“Oh? Me ‘n her both. Where’s she off to?”

Your head darts around to look at your dad. Then, when he speaks, back to Joel.

“Nashville. Just for a few days. Goin’ with some friends from school, I think. They’re flyin’ out on Friday, be back Monday night. Girls’ trip, I guess.”

You shoot back to your dad, like you’re watching a damn tennis match.

“Funny that. Don’t you have a girls’ night on Saturday, hon?”

Staring at him dumbfounded for a few seconds, you nod slowly. “Mhm.”

“I’m headin’ up to Fort Worth for work,” he tells Joel.

Joel looks at you from the corner of his eyes. You slowly draw your gaze to meet his, mouth falling open a little.

“Yeah? This that big fancy client of yours?” he asks your dad, shifting in his seat.

“Sure is. He’s askin’ too much of me, these days. All these late nights, now workin’ the weekends?” He lets out a little chuckle, shaking his head.

You tear your glance from your Adonis to the pool ahead of you. You finally find your voice, knowing that, with this final piece of information, the fate of your weekend is sealed.

“You there long?”

“Just Saturday through Sunday.”

Well, fuck.

You and Joel exchange a knowing glance, his eyes darkening already.

“I’m sure you’ll be alright without me for one night, hon,” the voice from your left chuckles, but you’re both already elsewhere.

You will be fine without him, of course you will. You’re twenty-three. You’re a grown-up.

And you’ve got Joel to keep you company.

----------

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#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #tlou fic #dbf!joel #dbf!joel miller #joel miller smut #joel tlou #joel the last of us #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfiction #fic: cowboy like me

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sepdet · 20 days ago

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Save me from the White American Man Who Knows Everything. I know it is an unfair stereotype, and there are a great many who have NOT been indoctrinated with this attitude

but I just got home from dealing with insane family, stepped out for takeout, identified the planet Venus for someone admiring her hanging out with the Moon tonight, only to be corrected by a man insisting, "That's a drone."

"No, look, it's Venus," I say, holding up the SkySafari app I use for comet hunting.

"That wasn't there until 5 years ago," he insists, when it wasn't there five days ago because that is fucking Venus, the brightest object in the sky besides the Moon. "It's a drone."

"Sir, I have two telescopes," I say. "My grandmother was a planetarium director and my father is a rocket scientist. [As a matter of fact, one of his last projects was the delayed ignition system for the braking rocket to put the Venus Express probe in orbit ] "That is a planet. It's Venus."

"I don't care," he says. "You're wrong. That's a drone."

What could I say?

I just... despair, you know? I go out to the desert to take photos of planets and moons. This is my lockscreen, my own photo.

We've sent balloons sailing in Venus' clouds, maybe even detecting rain. Japan's Akatsuki spacecraft spent 9 years studying the planet and making new discoveries, even after multiple Soviet and NASA missions.

We have all this information at our fingertips. A simple planetarium app does more than the wonderful state-of-the-art Zeiss projector my grandmother operated, which cost about $245K in the 1960s.

And yet.

So many people have lost the ability to see stars, or even the planets which children would have recognized when my grandparents were kids. (They still do in other countries, I remind myself. The appalling state of the U.S. education system is not universal.)

Do yourself a favor tomorrow. Go outside after sunset, say 6-6:30pm, and look southwest.

From the northern hemisphere, the crescent Moon should be just above and to the left of Venus. (Use this free website and enter date and time to forecast the sky at your location.)

Celebrate their beauty and the human knowhow that lets us see these things, know what they are, and where they'll be.

Share that knowledge, that joy with somebody.

Let there be light.

#astronomy

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bwat5-blog · 1 month ago

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Jinx: The Best Version

**Spoilers For Arcane**

In the vein of my earlier post about Caitlyn and Violet's reunion, I wanted to take a moment to celebrate this moment for Jinx. Because at the end of the day, my belief that this character deserved for us to see more of how this went down, doesn't take away from the absolutely epic impact of what we were given.

Jinx is a complex character to say the least, and while all of the main characters are fighting their own inner battles throughout this story, her pain is uniquely hard to watch. We meet this kind and curious little girl, and watch as her mind is torn apart by the world around her as Powder sinks below the waves, and only Jinx is left.

But it's her journey to find out who Jinx truly is, that makes her such a special character. We see her torn between being the shattered ghost of Powder and Silco's terrorist daughter, until she has been stretched so thin she pleads with her own sister to take her life. She is only able to begin her path toward healing, when a certain slightly feral street urchin enters her life.

Her time with Isha starts her down the road to finding who she really is. As Vi comes to see the good in her, and she is able to separate herself from the monster Silco turned her into, although it is through unimaginable loss and pain, that darkness is finally scoured from her. So in the 11th hour, when someone she believed had given up her comes to save her life, she is ready to listen.

**It had to be Ekko. I love Vi, she is my favorite character, but Jinx had to be saved by someone who wouldn't put their love for her before the truth. She knew Vi was going to be in her corner, no matter what. So in a moment where she sees nothing left in her worth loving, someone like Vi who she knows won't give up on her regardless wasn't the person to get through to her**

Vi and her forces are being overrun by the shimmer hulks (no idea what they are called just my best guess), Caitlyn is stabbed, standing alongside Mel against Ambessa herself, and "chaotic humming in distance" as the show so expertly subtitles it draws their attention.

The Queen of Zaun leads her people to war:

Arriving on her base WHICH WAS APPARENTLY AN AIR BALLOON Jinx arrives in a blast of music and colorful explosions, leading the firelights and her people to war. We see her bright colors, hear her loud music, she even treats us to one of her signature smirks while a glitchy grin ghosts over the screen, but this feels entire different. This is not the keening tension of an unstable mind. For perhaps the first time, it feels like the trappings of "Jinx" are hers to command, not ropes around her neck. Bearing the symbols of those she loves and has lost, she opens fire saving the topsiders who have hated her, and saving her beloved sister. All while Ekko and his warriors descend from on high, and the people of the undercity who refused to fight for Jayce, have rallied behind one of their own.

Finally, we see her not only reunited with VI, but at peace with one another as they are now, even in the midst of this terrible battle. And in what could be her last moment among the living she stands for her beloved sister who had always stood for her, making sure the last person close to her lives.

"There's no good version of me"...

"Everyone who gets close to me dies"...

At the end of her story for this show, the young girl who tortured herself for the deaths of her family carried them with her into battle, leading her people wo once feared her, and saved the life the person who would never give up on her. And it is this version of her, the best version, that I believe sails off into blue, ready to write her new story.

#arcane season 2 spoilers #arcane season 1 #jinx arcane #vi and jinx #powder #arcane

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one-idea · 11 months ago

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I love the ASL brothers and really want them to be raised by Shanks.

I have an idea but I have to put a few events out of order.

So let’s get into it

We start fairly close to cannon with Shanks’ time on Foosha. He meets Luffy and he loves this kid. It’s the reason they keep coming back to the island in the first place.

Now this is where we are going to start rearranging somethings. Because Shanks and Higuma confrontation happens before Shanks has found the Gomu Gomu no Mi. Mean Luffy doesn’t eat the devil fruit (yet) Luffy gets mad at Shanks for not defending himself against the mountain bandit and runs off. Shanks follows him wanting to explain to the boy why. (Some fights you win by not fighting at all)

It’s here that he learns a hard truth about Luffy. Because Luffy runs home. Where he lives alone in a little shack. At first Shanks in confused, he thought Luffy lived with Makino. But Luffy can’t stay with her full time. She’s not his guardian and doesn’t have the money to care for him. She help him and cares for him when she can but most of the time Luffy is alone. The exception is when his grandfather is in town and is training him by: throwing him down ravines, dropping him in the middle of the jungle, tying him to balloons.

Shanks is horrified. Growing up on the Oro Jackson wasn’t easy. He saw a lot of horrible things when he was too young to process them. But he never doubted he was loved. And here Luffy is, a boy he’s come to love as his own sobbing because “nothing is worse than being alone.”

But Luffy looks at him with determination and says “that why I’m going to be king of the pirates one day because my Namaka will never leave me.” And Shanks knows two things. One Luffy is going to be the king of the pirates. There is not a doubt in his mind that Luffy is the person his captain was waiting for. Luffy is going to change the world when the boy sets out on his own. The second thing is that he won’t leave this little boy, who is walking sunshine, feel unloved or unwanted ever again.

Shanks hugs Luffy close and tells him he knows that Luffy is going to become the king of the pirates but before he can do that he needs so experience on the seas. How does the little anchor feel about join his crew? Luffy is ecstatic! He’s wanted this for so long and now Shanks is letting him on his crew.

But Shanks knows there is still one thing he needs to get before he can take Luffy with him. After all he came to the East Blue in search for one thing, the Gomu Gomu no Mi. He has to find that first. Once he has it he can head back to the New World. If he takes Luffy with him now then they could easily be track down in the East Blue by Luffy’s grandfather.

So he takes his hat off and places it on Luffy’s head telling him, “this hat is my treasure. There is one thing I need to find here in the East Blue before we can set sail for the Grandline. Can you watch over my hat while I find it? It shouldn’t take me more than five months. Then I’ll come back for you and we will set sail to the grandline together.”

Luffy looks up at him with such hopeful eyes “you promise?”

“Of course! I can’t go back to the Grandline without my hat. I’ll just have to bring along the little anchor wearing it.” Shanks tries for joking but ends up sounding way more fond and sentimental.

He cares Luffy back to Makino’s bar, watching as his boy falls asleep in his arms. Once there he explains their new situation to the crew. He then turns to Makino and as he closes the tab for the crew he also gives her more then enough money to take care of her AND Luffy for the next five months. Asking her to watch over his boy for him until he returns. Makino is torn because on one hand should she really be letting Luffy travel with these pirates? But at the same time she’s never seen the little boy be as happy as he is when he’s with Shanks and the crew. So she agrees.

In the morning Shanks leaves after explaining to Luffy he will be staying with Makino until his return.

Well not all plans go according to plan. Especially when Garp returns to see his grandson wearing Roger/Shanks hat and talking about sailing with Shanks’ crew.

That’s a big no for Garp. So he takes Luffy away from Makino and delivers him to Dadan. Strapping a sea stone cuff to his wrist (trying to dampen the boys haki signature so Shanks can’t find him) (yes I know cannon doesn’t full support this but it also doesn’t full disprove it so we’re playing fast and lose today)

This is where he meets Ace and Sabo.

It goes much like it does in cannon. With the two older boys not liking Luffy very much until after Porchemy kidnappes Luffy and beats him. The beating is far more brutal this time around as Luffy has not consumed his devil fruit yet.

The three boys become sworn brothers over shake. And start to bond. Until a few months later when Shanks returns to the island.

He is worried when he can’t feel Luffy while approaching the island. His panic growing as they get closer and closer and there is no sight of their anchor on the dock there to greet them. Shanks hurries to Makino’s bar only to be met by her sad eyes and tearful explanations. She hasn’t seen Luffy for months since Garp took him from her. She’s not even sure if he’s on the island or not at this point.

Shanks and the crew spread out. They’re going to search the whole island. If Luffy is here then they will find him. Shanks heads up the mountain, looking for his boy, he’s stretched out his observation Haki as far as it can go. He notices something strange. The signatures of two young boys but it seems as though they are making room for a third. A third that Shanks can’t sense.

Shanks is heading that way, hoping it’s Luffy. Hoping he’s not crazy. As he’s getting closer he can sense more signatures surrounding the young boys. And whether or not Luffy is with them it would seems these boys are in over their heads. He arrives right as the bluejam pirates are beating Luffy and Ace, while Sabo is dangling in Bluejam’s grasp. To say he is not a happy camper is an understatement.

Shanks moves fast get in between Luffy and Ace and their attackers. The three of them are surrounded but it doesn’t matter much to Shanks, everyone here is far weaker than he is.

The pirates are confused and Outlook III is telling this obviously homeless man to move along as he has no business here. Shanks ignores them and turns to Luffy. “Anchor what’s happening.” “They’re trying to take Sabo from us.”

Shanks doesn’t know who Sabo is or why these full grown adults are beating up his kid and his friends but frankly he doesn’t care. They were dead the moment he saw them hit Luffy. But to hear his son, who has extreme separation problems, crying because adults were taking away his friend. He’s going to drag this out a bit.

A quick blast of conquers haki has all the pirates and the sniveling noble down for the count. He’ll send some crew members out here to have some fun with them later, when three small children aren’t watching the pain he’s willing to put them through for touching his boy.

Sabo’s been dropped to the ground and Ace and Luffy have run to greet him. Luffy’s about squeezing the life out of the poor boy, but Ace stops and puts himself between the stranger and his brothers. Nothing is hurting his brothers, not even this weirdly powerful man.

But Shanks just smiles at him as Ace starts to grandstand. Asking the stranger who he was? What he was doing here? Questions and accusations flying from the angry boy’s mouth. But Shanks just laughs and looks over Ace’s shoulder and asked. “Come on Anchor don’t I get a hug?”

Ace is confused until Luffy rushes past him and throws himself at the stranger. Shanks just laughs as he catches the little boy and holds him tight before pulling back to look him over. He quickly spots the sea stone cuff and asks Luffy about it. Only to learn that his grandfather was behind the gift. A gift Shanks will be removing as quickly and safely as possible. Setting the boy down and drawling his sword.

The whole time Ace and Sabo are trying to figure out who this strange adult is. At least they were until he put Luffy down and drew his sword telling Luffy to hold his arm out and keep it still. The little dumby even does as he asks. The two brothers scream and rush forward to stop this stranger from cutting off their idiot little brothers arm, but they don’t make it in time.

Meanwhile Shanks, unaware or uncaring of the panic he is causing in the other boys, taps his blade against Luffy’s cuff cutting the thing off his wrist. Luffy giggles and thanks him just in time for Ace and Sabo to make it to him and inspect his wrist for damages, there are none. But Ace and Sabo are not impressed with this stranger.

Shanks just laughs and starts leading the boys back to the Red force. They’re hurt and he wants Hango to look after them as soon as possible. Ace doesn’t want to go. But there’s a promise of a doctor for his brothers. And Luffy is going whether Ace’s wants him to or not. So they head down.

This is the start of my idea. The next part is Ace and his extreme dislike of Shanks

He’s going to take Luffy way. (He learns about their promise and is furious that this man is going to take one of his brothers)

Luffy eats the Gomu Gomu no Mi and loses his ability to swim and Ace blames Shanks

That mountain bandit that shanks made mad the last time he was here is back and wants revenge. Mainly Luffy shaped revenge.

#one piece #monkey d. luffy #fire fist ace #one piece ace #portagas d. ace #gol d. ace #revolutionary sabo #one piece sabo #sabo #asl brothers #asl trio #shanks #red hair shanks #shanks is Luffy’s dad okay.#I just want to see him raise ASL #this idea has been bopping around for three weeks now.

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shotmrmiller · 11 months ago

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I GASPED

Need the reader to just have a change of heart and keep it for no good reason- stops coming home and instead makes Simon swear not to tell a soul. SHe’s such a good dad- helping her with any and everything. Vows to kill the bastard who did that to his little girl but promises to give his grandSON everything like he did with his daughter.

I can imagine him cracking jokes (that you can’t find funny at all in the state you’re in) about how you made him a DILF and now he’s gonna be a GILF.

Price doesn’t care at first, just shrugs it off. Idk how he’d redeem himself but at the same time you can’t keep his kid a secret forever

no no! i need my happy ending i on god just ruined my own day.

price cares, he's been itching for a baby.

but he can't expose himself as the dad! he's too old, simon will actually slit his throat, it's simply not possible.

so when he hears the news, he sticks his hands in his pockets to hide the way the tremble.

lowers his head, his bucket hat covering the way his eyes glisten with tears of joy.

from his loins, a life shall spring forth.

simon is furious and snarls at you in front of the guys.

"how could you be so stupid?" i'm on birth control, it's not like i got pregnant on purpose. that seems to melt away some of his anger.

"who's the father?" it doesn't matter, he is unavailable. simon grinds his molars so hard you can hear it.

"are you keeping it?" yes. my actions, my consequence— not what is to be my baby.

john's heart soars in his chest. what a blessing you've come to be, and he swears upon himself that he will take care of anything and everything if it's within his capabilities.

when you go back to college, john brings you whatever you want. lozenges for the morning sickness, peptobismol, apple juice, saltines— you name it, it's yours.

you record your checkups and when he hears the fetus' heartbeat for the first time, he goes home and calls a divorce lawyer.

he's officially a single man within a month.

whatever chance he gets, he takes you slow, savoring every moment, caressing the new curves, kissing the swell of your growing belly.

he offers to drive you places instead of letting you use uber or the bus.

"it's not safe for a vulnerable woman such as yourself."

simon questions him once about his unnatural attachment to his daughter, but what john says is nothing but the truth.

"she's your daughter, of course. i'd do anything to keep her safe and sound, especially now that she's growing a baby. i love her as if she was mine."

simon doesn't doubt him again.

it's all smooth sailing, and the baby finally arrives.

the boys visit, bringing teddy bears, balloons and the like. when kyle and johnny coo over the baby, simon bumps shoulders with john.

"now's your chance to come clean, Price."

guess the cat's out the bag, now.

unbeknownst to john, simon had seen how john's arm twitched that one time you said, "pass the salt, daddy," during dinner.

#dbf!price

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meowmeowmeowmeow4x · 9 months ago

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Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Chapter 16

MASTAPOST

tell me what u like about the chapter :D guess where the story's going, anything! gimme fuel qwq

Damian lay on his belly on Phantom’s chest as the boy floated just underneath the surface. It was night time, and the Atlantean town they’d sacked was far behind them now. Here they only had the stars to accompany them, wobbling and swaying over the distortion of the water.

They were so close… Damian pushed himself up with his arms. His head breached the surface, water washing over his face like a veil. His eyes widened as he took in the beauty of the night sky, much more comfortable without the blinding sunlight when he’d first tried this.

There was something comforting about the stars, something beautiful outside this world that would be there no matter what, even in his most miserable nights with the League. It was something he missed when he moved the Manor underneath Gotham’s smog-filled skies.

Damian pushed himself further, balancing himself on his tail and hip fins instead of his arms. The gentle sea breeze prickled at his wet scales, causing him to shiver. It brushed against his ear fins and gave a sense of immeasurable calm. Just him, Danny, the stars and the whistle in the wind.

And a feeling of suffocation.

Damian’s lungs demanded air. Or was it water? He inhaled deeply, taking in the smell of the sea from above it rather than underneath, but it didn’t help. He inhaled again, but the pressure remained.

What- What was this madness?! Sirens could breathe over water. This was indisputable. Danny had been able to breathe and talk over water the night Damian was transformed. Damian was able to breathe air and talk then. Damian sucked in more and more air, desperately trying to sate the need for oxygen. Why couldn’t he breathe?!

Damian’s vision twisted. His head spun. His chest felt like knives being stabbed into it.

Hands grabbed him. Danny pulled him back under, where the water provided sweet relief. Damian clutched his chest, as if any moment now he would drown again.

“Are you ok Damian?” Danny’s hands hovered over him, like he was fragile china. Damian scowled.

“Why couldn’t I breathe? What has happened to me?” Damian asked, demanded, heavy with accusation.

“Dude, your lungs are water balloons right now. You gotta empty ‘em out before you can breathe air.” Danny said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Damian’s cheeks burned. He turned his back on Danny and crossed his arms.

“I was aware. I was merely testing you.”

Danny poked him in the sail, the sensitive touch causing Damian to hiss instinctively. “I mean if you’re the siren expert, then by all means!”

Damian did not dignify him with a response. Instead, he surfaced again, determined. Instead of inhaling in panic, trying to pump air into lungs at full capacity, Damian focused on exhaling, on pushing the water out.

His throat cramped with pain. The young siren gargled and gasped. His throat clamped and throbbed, like he was pushing a jagged boulder up. He barely managed to spit out a meagre drop of water before Danny dragged him under again.

The older boy pulled him to his chest, stroking his back as Damian coughed and hacked.

“Ok that was my bad, are you ok?” Danny said, ear fins drooping. Damian wheezed, his eyes closing as the pain abated.

“Do you go through this every time you surface?” Damian shuddered. What would happen to him once he got home? He wouldn’t be able to walk, and now couldn’t even breathe without immense pain.

“Hehe, no.” Danny deadpanned. “You’re supposed to use your gills.”

Danny tapped on his own gills. Instinctively, Damian moved his elbows to cover his. Lately he had been keeping sane by not thinking too much about the creepy feeling of having water flow through the slits in his chest, how exposed and vulnerable it made him feel. How it gave him a glaring weakness that could be easily exploited.

“Just open up your gills, and let the water drain out. It’s that simple.”

Damian sputtered. “What did you say?”

Danny shrugged, like he was explaining grade school mathematics to a two-year-old. “Like this.”

Danny’s gills flapped open. It was only from years of stoic training that Damian did not gag at the sight of Danny’s pale flesh revealed underneath his aquatic breathing apparatus. His eyes trailed to his own set of gills.

“Is there another way?” Damian was not avoiding this issue, nor was he ‘procrastinating’ as Richard would insipidly suggest. He was merely searching for a more optimal alternative.

“We’re sea creatures, Damian. I consider myself lucky for being able to not drown in air at all.”

Damian swallowed the lump in his throat. He was the son of Batman and Talia Al Ghul. He could face this. Being unable to breathe above water would make him a liability on this journey. He had to push through.

Damian prepared to resurface, gathering his nerves.

“Just relax. You can do it, Damian. It’ll be as easy as breathing.”

Encouraged by the prospect of not hearing any more puns, Damian pushed his upper half over the surface. Accordingly, Danny also pushed closer. This high over the water, Damian wobbled as his body adjusted to his weight in the air.

The pressure started to mount on his chest. Damian focused on the slits between his ribs, on the alien feeling of wind blowing into them and hitting exposed flesh. He squinted his eyes and tried to push the water out through his gills. He flexed and contracted his arms and stomach, searching for the unconscious switch in his brain that could activate the write muscles.

It was too much. He went under again.

“This is proving more difficult than I had anticipated.” Damian huffed, chest heaving from strain.

“I can tell.” At Damian’s glare, the older boy raised his hands in defense. “Hey, you looked legit constipated up there. I was starting to worry you’d actually make a mess of yourself. Now, like I said, all you need to do is-”

Damian hissed at the older boy’s mockery. “I can take care of myself. I need no advice to do something as simple as breathing. Thank you.”

Damian glared at the surface, the invisible barrier between this world and the old one, and redoubled his efforts. The pressure came back. Damian twisted his body and nerves, but he couldn’t get a single gasp of air in. He sank. He re-emerged, he suffocated again. Each time Damian pushed himself further, only to be met with the same difficulty. Each time left him sorer, more cramped.

Until after many an attempt, Damian slumped against Danny’s chest, scaled skin warm despite the cold, deep-sea looking appearance. His muscles turned to jelly, even as he feebly pushed against the older boy’s scales for another attempt.

The young siren felt soft hands wrap around his waist. Damian tried to push away, to wiggle out. Danny’s chest vibrated with a low him, and it was like his strings were cut, and Damian’s resistance ceased. All he could do was mutter weakly.

“What are you doing?”

Danny surfaced, arms keeping Damian under, until they began to pull him up too. Damian’s heart accelerated. He could not stop the frightened chitters forcing their way out. His fins went rigid. Was this it? Did Phantom finally lose his patience, and decide Damian was no longer worth the effort? This was bad. He needed to escape and he needed to escape yesterday.

But as Damian began to struggle, the rumbling vibrations from the elder’s chest intensified, and the small boy went limp again. His muscles, sore from exertion and rendered even weaker by the strange biological signal, refused to move. All he could do was tilt his head away, trying to delay the inevitable. Helplessly, he watched the surface creep closer and closer, until he went over.

Damian waited for his death. In his prayers, he apologised to Father, to Richard, even to Drake, for everything. In this moment, as tears pricked his eyes as he was helpless but to drown in fresh, oxygen-rich air, Damian resigned himself.

The pressure did not come.

His chest tingled. Pinpricks poked the skin and outer scales, and along the lining of his gills. Water ran down his chest and over his abdomen. Damian blinked, and looked down.

His gills were open, fully open, gaping wide and exposing his insides for the world to see, but they were open. And water flowed out of them, emptying his lungs. Damian gasped, and felt sweet relief as cold, burning, fresh air finally filtered into his body. His body wracked from the sweet release, chest struggling to accommodate the big greedy gulps he took.

“And now you shut them, keep the air going out the other way.”

Damian nodded glumly. That he could manage. A swift motion, and the flaps of scales and skin shut tightly, leaving only thin lines on his body to suggest that he ever had gills in the first place.

For a moment, he felt human. Even as he actively commanded his breaths, he felt more like a normal human again than he had in the last 48 hours.

“T-thank you.” Damian said, cursing the weakness in his voice. Not to mention how it sounded completely different now, travelling through water instead of air. It was unnerving, but he couldn’t place why. He felt too tired for more riddles about his body. “You have saved me a great inconvenience.”

Danny quietly chuckled. “It was literally what I told you. You need to loosen your muscles to get the water out. This whole time you’ve been all tight and wound up like a spring lock. Dude I think you even sleep all locked up too. That can’t be healthy.”

Sleep was when you were at your most vulnerable. Any threat could walk by and do with you whatever they pleased. In his life, there would be danger at every turn. It was a sentiment he’d expressed to the others in his family when they too voiced the same concerns.

He would never be safe in this life.

A finger poked his cheek. Damian snapped his teeth at the infantilizing gesture, only for it to retreat back just as quickly. He turned around and looked up, muscles no longer rendered limp by the subjugating vibrations.

Danny pointed to the sky, a soft smile on his face.

“It’s a good night to stargaze, isn’t it?” A comet whizzed by in the night, a streak of white trailing behind it, like an artist’s brush across a canvas. Now that he could breathe again, Damian felt an overwhelming sense of calm again, treading water and watching the stars shine.

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sungbeam · 1 year ago

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𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞

demon!ji changmin x reader

birthdays have never mattered to him—until it was yours.

1.7k words, fluff, supernatural/demon au, minimal swearing, est. relationship au, a night terrors hc

read night terrors / peruse the collection post

a/n: continuing to expand their story for my own sanity :') istg i will go back to writing their snarky banter at some point (i just like soft romance 🤕)

JI CHANGMIN HAD ALWAYS THOUGHT OF BIRTHDAYS as insignificant, trivial matters. Perhaps that was because that was how he was raised to think of them as; hardly anyone in Hell cared for such a frankly human celebration of life. Even when he ended up on the mortal plane, he never seemed to fully grasp the concept.

There were always, within the couple years he knew your sister, days she would refuse to take on a client or work if it was your birthday. It could be the end of the world, and she would turn an adventure down to be at your side to celebrate your birthday. Despite being gone from home so often, she never failed to remember.

Maybe that was part of the reason he was freaking out now.

“What's all this?” He asked to the room as he munched on a blueberry pancake from the kitchen. When he walked into the pack house for breakfast this morning, he'd been greeted by the sight of Kevin and Jacob working together to string a Happy Birthday banner in the foyer. Balloons and streamers dangled and dazzled about the stair banister and around the walls. Lily had even recruited the little ones to help make about a thousand and one cupcakes.

Kevin and Jacob's heads both snapped over to him. “You're shitting me, right?” Kevin asked. Atop the ladder he stood on, he placed a hand on his hip.

Changmin blinked. “I know it's someone's birthday; I can see it on the banner.” He threw his free hand in the direction of said item.

Kevin and Jacob exchanged looks with each other. Jacob was next to speak: “Changmin, do you seriously not know who's birthday it is?”

“No, am I supposed to?”

“Did you guys say Yn likes the firefly lanterns or the sparklers?” Juyeon waltzed in through the front door with his arms piled full of a smorgasbord of lighting arrangements. He nearly dropped one of the glass firefly lanterns (currently devoid of fireflies, luckily), and he just managed to fumble it between his fingers before it hit the ground and shattered.

Why would he ask what you…

The dots snapped together.

“Shit.”

The night had swelled into a symphony of merriment and mirth. The party everyone had thrown for you had sailed smoothly, with Eric and Haknyeon having dragged you back from your hike through the forest only to return to everyone's welcome and well wishes. Along with lovely songs, so much good company and food, and a massive cupcake with a candle staked in its frosting, the night simmered out with music and games in the town center as always.

But by the end, your energy was fizzled out, and you found yourself shoving your face into the mass of a familiar body.

His chuckle was warm as he cupped the back of your head, cradling you and pressing something sweet to the side of your head with his lips. “Tired, sweetheart?”

“Mmh,” you hummed, eyes fluttering closed. After a long day full of activity and energy, it was time to recharge. The two of you stood upon the inn's front porch where you usually shacked up when you weren't on the road for Changmin's job. At some point, you figured you would settle down somewhere more permanent, but there was a part of you that figured your counterpart's skin crawled at the idea of putting roots down somewhere.

Forever was permanent and long, but you were patient.

You heard him—felt him—clear his throat above you. “You—you’re not super tired, are you?” But as soon as he said that, he seemed to backpedal. “If you are, then it's okay. You need the rest.”

“What is it, Changmin?”

“It's nothing, I—”

You pulled back from him and arched a brow high. “Tell me.”

He winced to himself, cupping the back of his neck. You hadn't seen him so nervous before. “I—” he huffed as if he was working up the courage to say something, “Can I show you something?”

“Yeah, sure,” you said with a nod. You offered out your hand to him with a cheeky smile on your face. “Where to?”

Changmin's eyes darted from your face to your extended hand, then back up to your face. He slipped his hand into yours, fingers interlocking until your entwined hands hung between your bodies. “Upstairs,” he said, inclining his chin in toward the inn.

So upstairs, you ventured.

Instead of splitting yourselves up into two separate rooms like the very first time, you both shared a bedroom at the end of the second floor corridor. It wasn't like Changmin slept much anyway, so most nights you got free reign with bed space.

You didn't know why your heart began kicking up in speed as you approached the door. There wasn't anything out of the ordinary—no cliché rose petals strewn over the path, no candle light coming from beneath the door. You didn't expect anything of that sort from him, and frankly, you would have been suspicious if you ever witnessed something of that sort from him.

Changmin still hadn't said anything when you opened the door and let yourselves in. The bedroom was dark with only the light from the courtyard outside streaming through the slitted shutters on the window. There didn't seem to be anything new for him to show you here…

You sighed, letting go of his hand so you could massage your temples with the tips of your fingers. “I'm glad I didn't drink a lot tonight,” you mused, “I think I'm gonna need to train my tolerance back up again or something.”

“Yn,” he finally said, voice low.

You turned to face him, eyes wide as they adjusted to the darkness better. “Yeah?”

“It's on the nightstand.” Changmin shoved his hands into his pants pockets and if you weren't mistaken, there was a jittery energy about him.

“Right, okay.” A part of you became giddy at the thought that he got you something for your birthday—because that was what this was, right? Of course, you neither expected nor required something from him; you weren't even aware demons knew what a birthday celebration was.

Yet, you moved toward your side of the bed, leaning over to twist the lantern on to give the room a bit of warm light. Just as he said, there was something sitting on the nightstand beside your phone and the lamp.

Your heart stopped clean in your chest for a long second.

It was a ring.

There was no studded jewel at its apex; it was a band made of a dark material that gleamed like the color of mercury in the light. There seemed to be some kind of engraving on the side, but from where it sat, you couldn't make out exactly what it read.

You suddenly didn't know how to use your hands. Your fingers froze midair, unable to decide what to do with what sat there, waiting for you, calling out to you, for you.

“Changmin—” Your fingers miraculously managed to thaw and carefully pluck the ring into your grasp. You swiveled on your foot to face him, holding it up. He still stood where he'd been before like his feet were glued to the floor. “What… what is this?”

The organ in your chest hammered so hard against your chest that your ears were filled with the sound of rushing blood.

He swallowed. His dark irises flashed in the dim lantern light and you crossed the room to stand in front of him again. “It's—it’s a birthday present.” Changmin unconsciously scratched his bicep then gripped his arm. “I don't really know how birthday presents work, but you know, it seemed like an important thing, so it must call for something important in return,” he murmured, now cupping the back of his neck and trying to avoid your eyes.

It was interesting seeing him so flustered and grasping for an explanation.

“And I remembered that I—” When he raised his eyes to meet yours again, they searched your face. He lost his voice for a moment, all sense of thought. You still didn't know what he saw there to make him pause. A sigh fell from his lips. “When demons are born, they're given a naming ring,” he said quietly. “The stone used adjusts to the wearer's finger, so it can be worn all throughout their life. I guess it's kind of like a birthday celebration, just at the beginning of our lives.”

He motioned to the ring in your possession. “That's… that's mine. My name's in Latin on the side.”

Your thumb ran along the grooves carved into the stone, and though you didn't know Latin, you would commit the feel of his name to memory.

“Why are you giving this to me if it's so important to you, hm?” You asked softly.

“You're important to me.”

And if only every question between two people could be solved with so simple, yet so powerful an answer. You were positively devastated. “Oh, Changmin—”

He was quick to add, “If you don't want it and it's weird, then that's fine. I—”

“Changmin.”

“Yeah.”

“I love it. Thank you.”

“Oh.”

A smile curled itself onto your face and you saw it slowly reciprocate on his. You held up your hand, inspecting your fingers and wondering which you should wear it on. “Y'know,” you murmured, “Sena told me that the jewelry on each finger represents something.” You couldn't remember every one specifically, but you didn't have to doubt either of the ring fingers. Though this was no wedding ring, your right ring finger would do nicely.

“What does that one mean?” He asked quietly as you slid the band over your chosen digit. The stone was cool and smooth to the touch, and it seemed to fit exactly right, just as he said it would.

“Not really sure,” you confessed as he took your newly adorned hand into his. His thumb immediately went to feel his name curled around your finger. “Something that describes what you mean to me though.”

The light in Changmin's eyes was tender, warm, happy. He cupped the side of your face with his hand and brought his lips to your head, mouth lingering there for a second longer. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

a/n: it's not an engagement ring, so don't look at me like that. i'm Not Delusional, YOU ARE— (for those who need to know, the right ring finger is love and trust :'))

night terrors fic / collection

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @tinkerbell460 @kaaimins @hyunjaespresent-deobi @otterly-fey @zzoguri @floatingpluto @winterchimez @ethereal-engene @gyulfriend @polarisjisung @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @loveliestfelix @bless-311 @zhaixiaowen @leaz-kpop-life @amourdsr @pxppxrminty @kqyutie @sseastar-main @kxthleen14 @fluorescentloves @mosviqu @justalildumpling @jaerisdiction @super-btstrash-posts @jundundun @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @outrologist @vernonburger @maessseongs @ericlvr @mars101

#deoboyznet #the boyz x reader #ji changmin x reader #the boyz fanfic #the boyz fluff #the boyz imagines #the boyz oneshot #the boyz drabbles #the boyz scenarios #ji changmin imagines #ji changmin scenarios #ji changmin drabbles #ji changmin oneshot #changmin x reader #q x reader #changmin imagines #changmin oneshot #changmin drabble #changmin scenarios

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enquire · 5 months ago

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Gizmo Stardust!

Okay... it's Yamato's time to shine. I'm pretty happy with him! He was fun to draw and pretty easy to pick colors for... I do think maybe he could use a gear bag, or a vest, or something of that nature. I've been trying to only add accessories or clothing when it serves a purpose, so waffling a bit on that here... oh well. Maybe later.

Gizmo Stardust is a prolific inventor who lives in Canterlot with his father and sister. He's also heir to his dad's company, Stardust Industries, which recently became a lot more successful thanks to his inventions. Gizmo's hoofwork is present in many of the technological advancements in Canterlot and beyond.

One example (that brought Stardust Industries to where it is now) was Gizmo's most well-known creation; the airship. The introduction of a new form of flight to Equestria revolutionized the transportation and shipping industries. The airships Gizmo designed elegantly mesh together the mechanisms behind Equestria's balloons and trains, but require very little fuel thanks to sails which function in much the same way as pegasi wings.

Gizmo's also has a family friend, Thrift Twinkle, who he and his sister have known since they were little, thanks to their fathers being friends as well as business partners. Thrift and Gizmo are still pretty close, thanks to being friends when they were foals, and the fact that they got their cutie marks practically together.

This happened while Gizmo and Thrift were working together to save their respective family businesses. It was Thrift's business savvy and creativity which kept them from going under, and Gizmo's invention of the airship which brought both of their companies flying back into success again. Thrift helped Gizmo's inventions get off the ground, and worked to keep him funded until he finally completed his work.

Naturally then, the rebranded 'Phoenix Goods' was the first company to support and benefit from Stardust Industries' latest and greatest invention. And so, they managed not only to save their parents' crumbling businesses, but rocket them into unprecedented new highs.

It was during this process, through creating and helping each other, that both Gizmo and Thrift got their cutie marks. And more than proved their mettle to their parents at the same time. Both of them were overjoyed (and a little relieved, because they were blank flanks a little longer than most, and far longer than Gizmo's sister was)

When the two of them were younger, Gizmo had cheered on his sister when she got her cutie mark. When he got his, she responded in kind, throwing him a huge party and inviting practically everypony she knew to celebrate. It was during this bombastic party that Gizmo met Saber Frost.

He stumbled across him while taking a break from the chaos out on the balcony, where Saber had spent most of the night away from the light and revelry inside. Surprised to find somepony he didn't know awkwardly standing on the outskirts of the gathering with nothing but a glass of punch and a stony look on his face, he struck up a conversation. They hit it off, and Gizmo convinced the other not to leave the party, instead inviting him to join the two siblings for a quiet walk after the celebration concluded.

They may live far apart, but that doesn't stop them from seeing each other pretty often. For one thing, Thrift has reason to visit Canterlot on company business fairly frequently. And whenever he does, he makes sure to set aside time for the trio to hang out.

It was on one such visit that Gizmo introduced Thrift to Saber. They didn't click at first, but Gizmo and his sister, as usual, brought their friends together without too much trouble. Since then, three became four whenever Thrift was in Canterlot.

And when Saber was reassigned, Gizmo helped encourage him to request the region of Equestria where Thrift lived. Knowing his friend would be there to look out for Saber made him a lot less worried. Even though Gizmo knew it was for the best that Saber left Canterlot (and in fact had been trying to encourage and persuade Saber to accept the reassignment for a long time) he still misses their weekly chats over coffee and tea.

I love that I have enough ponies done to start weaving their stories together now. Also here's what he looks like without the hat or goggles:

#enquire's dra ponies #enquire art #danganronpa another #dra1 fanart #mlp art #dra1 #mlp fim #mlp crossover #my little pony #yamato kisaragi #mlp fanart #mlp g4 #mlp #danganronpa another despair academy #danganronpa fangan #crossover au #fangan character #fanganronpa #wow I didn't realize how much I actually had for his character blurb nice #the temptation to make everyone a unicorn is real but this one loses his horn privileges too #being a pegasi suits him more #i can't give all the creative or smarty pants horns or like half of them would be unicorns ok #note: airships are in MLP yes they're real #i think they debuted in the film iirc #this AU is tied to MLP G4 lore btw #that might be a bit dubious at times though to be fair #shout out to whenever I figure out how hard to go on Saber's backstory and whether or not I will go beyond the tone/rules of the show....#I think he carries a saddle bag things like wrenches and sketchpads and random parts at times #bonus thrift twinkle lore and tiny smidge for Saber Frost

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rising-volteccers · 5 months ago

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I've been working on this piece slowly over a few months and finally had the motivation to complete it. This is just a self indulgent piece on the aftermath of HZ044-HZ045. Obvious spoilers for those episodes of course. I'm a bit rusty but hopefully it's still an enjoyable read!

Series: Pokemon Horizons

Characters: Friede, Orla (Major) | Mollie, Murdock, Cap (Minor)

Warnings: Description of a character experiencing a panic attack

---

It's only after the kids have retired for the night that Friede calls for a private meeting. He doesn't have to elaborate on its reason, a quiet sort of understanding prevalent as they all made their way to the meeting room.

Friede doesn't immediately enter once everyone else does. He stands outside, forehead pressed against the cool wall as he breathes deeply. Once, twice, three times. When he feels a little more centered, that's when Friede slips into the room.

Four sets of eyes turn to him. Graciously, no one comments on the tightness around his own eyes, the way his assuring smile is simply a knee jerk reaction in the face of trouble. It takes a moment for Friede to remember that he doesn't have to, and the smile drops.

Friede gracelessly drops onto his chair. Cap joins him moments later. Usually he perches on Friede's shoulder but his partner, likely sensing the heavy atmosphere, opts to stand on the table instead so he can get a proper view of everyone.

Heavy frowns marred all of their features. No one speaks for a good while, as if fearful of what'll spill out the moment this tentative silence is shattered. The Copperajah in the room is something that needed to be discussed but…

“... I'm glad that you're all alright,” Friede finally whispers. He can't easily shake off the pure dread upon seeing Rayquaza crash into the ship, to see the Brave Olivine fall out of the sky and towards the ocean. If not for Murdock's skill in making an emergency landing and his assuring call afterwards, he wouldn't have been able to focus on the immediate danger in front of him.

“Yeah, us too,” Orla responds steadily. Friede doesn't realize that his fists are clenched until Murdock's warm hand settles atop of them. Friede breathes out, recalls the exercise Mollie taught him.

In for four, hold for seven, release for eight. Repeat until his head clears up.

Friede is grateful that they give him the time to ease himself back into someone that's not crumbling around the edges. That's better left in private, after he can have a moment to really let the severity of what happened sink in.

Right now, Friede has to pull himself into the leader of the Rising Volt Tacklers. They're turning to him for support and he'll do his best to become their pillar.

“Okay, so. How badly damaged is the ship?” Friede asks, turning his attention to Orla.

“I'll need time to properly assess it but it's bad enough that we won't be able to fly any time soon,” she replies, lips set into a thin frown. “This isn't like patching up holes. We just about fixed the damage done by that Orthworm last time but the damage here is to the balloon itself, not the ship.”

“Alright, so we're grounded until the balloon can be fixed. At least the ship can sail, so I'll see about getting permission to dock the ship at one of Levincia’s ports.” Friede supposed if there's one thing to be grateful for, is that they’re already close to a major city so that repairs can go underway as soon as Orla gets a full assessment.

“How are the Pokemon? No one sustained any injuries?” Friede turns his attention to Mollie next.

“All of them are understandably shaken. It's different from turbulence,” Mollie responds, leaning back against her chair. “Some stuff fell off the shelves but none of it hit the Pokemon. Chansey made sure to keep everyone calm while we made multiple trips towards land.”

“Good, good,” he mutters. It guts him inside to put the Pokemon through such a harrowing experience but at the very least, they’re in good hands with Mollie. Friede will bring Charizard to her later for a check-up.

Friede asks a few more questions about affected areas within the Brave Olivine before they tackle the next course of action: the repairs needed to be done.

“Orla, is the damage something you’re able to fix by yourself?” Friede questions.

She hums, arms crossed as her brows furrow in deep thought. “It’s definitely the most damage the ship’s experienced so far, and while I’ll need to get a good, proper look, I think I can fix it.”

That is gladdening news, even if it’s hard for Friede to feel properly happy about it. “Right. You’ll be having your hands full with it. As for the rest of us, we’re going to have to find ways in drumming up funds for the repair.” It’s not going to be cheap, that’s for certain.

“I know I saw an ad before in the city,” Murdock pipes up, having stayed silent for most of the conversation earlier. “About part-time work at Patisserie Soapberry in Cortondo. The bakery owned by Katy, the Gym Leader there.”

“I can do private consultations,” Mollie adds. “If we’re going to be grounded for a while, I can set something up on the ship. That, or I’ll do online consultations if safety’s a concern.”

“And I can offer online classes or take up researching gigs,” Friede says. “Or take on whatever jobs we get.”

“That sounds good. Though, now the question is what are the kids going to do?” Murdock’s sporting a deep frown now. “I don’t want them to get bored staying here when we’re doing work.”

“Don’t worry about that.” For the first time since this meeting started, Friede’s lips from a small smile. “They’ve expressed interest in learning about Terastallization. I know someone that I can contact with so they can learn just that.”

He’s going to be pretty busy in the coming days. People to contact, plans to hash out, things to do. Nothing left to do but go at it full steam ahead if he wants the Brave Olivine to be airborne again.

Seeing that it’s been a long, stressful day for everyone, Friede won’t hold them up any longer. He hangs back long enough to pass Charizard’s Pokeball to Mollie before returning back to his room with Cap trailing behind him.

Inside, he finds the aftermath of such a violent collision. Anything that’s not taped down is strewn all over the floor. Fallen over books and research papers that are going to be a pain to rearrange greets him.

Friede sighs deeply. He wants nothing more than to fall onto his bed and sleep but his head is still buzzing with all sorts of thoughts, wanting nothing more than to scratch the itch to be productive. He knows that he’ll feel much better later if he begins the task of cleaning his room up now.

After he hangs up his jacket and rolls up the sleeves of his shirt, Friede gets to work.

------

It hits Friede thirty minutes later.

The mildly buzzing thoughts rush to the front of his mind all at once. A heavy weight drops in his stomach like an anvil. While he knows what’s happening logically, he's still powerless to stop his own spiraling.

“Pika?”

Friede has experienced freefall before. Reckless flights on Charizard in his younger years meant instances where he flew too close to the sun. His body is like that right now, floaty in a way that gives him little control. Tremors ripple down his arms, causing his hands to start shaking.

“Pikapi? Pika!”

Things could have gone terribly wrong. Every time he blinks, the scene plays out behind closed eyelids. The Brave Olivine with a gaping wound to its side falling into the ocean, most of the occupants inside powerless to do anything.

He was powerless to do anything.

Friede thinks Cap's trying to catch his attention. It's hard to tell over his increasingly labored breaths. He wants to carefully place the book down in a last ditch effort to exert control but he knows it's not working.

Sadly, this isn't an unfamiliar sensation. Friede remembers the long and terrible nights where he questions his purpose in life, his brilliant mind viciously turning in on itself. All the times where he shook beneath the covers, grounded only by Charizard's head resting atop his legs. His partner is being checked up at the moment by Mollie after–everything.

Friede hates the cold but the trembles wracking his frame isn't caused by it. Muscle spasms perhaps from the sheer effort, futile as it is, to fight off his own thoughts and feelings. He sucks in air through the tiniest straw in the world and wheezes out a pathetic breath.

I should probably sit down, Friede thinks distantly, eyes flickering down towards his trembling hands. He quietly pleads for his emotions to give him more time to–not think about the memories that are coming out of their hiding place. Shoved to the darkest corners in the heat of the moment, prioritizing what’s in front of him (of Roy and Liko and Dot’s safety) instead of–

The Brave Olivine is fallingfallingfalling he’s not able to do ANYTHING but watch as his friendsfamilyhome falls out of the sky and they’re going to sink in the ocean they’re going to die–

Friede bites his lips, nails biting into the palm of his hands as he hunches over. His vision darkens, white sparks flashing behind closed eyelids from how tightly he squeezes them shut. His shaky legs stumble back, and he trips over nothing before he falls heavily onto his bed. A soft cry slips out when pain erupts from the back of his head as it smacks against the wall but he barely registers it. He’s too busy fighting back the stupid panic clawing at his chest, knowing that he’s being an idiot cause he’s fine, they’re all fine and well and present and they discussed on what to do so there’s no reason to dwell on it anymore.

Yet his ever traitorous mind keeps spinning what-ifs, of scenarios gone horribly, tragically wrong. People he’d have to contact, to comfort, to accept all the vitriol and hate from because he’s the leader so all of their safety should have been his top priority. Friede trusts his friends explicitly but he imagines they’d have regretted placing their trust on him. Can visually see their fear and terror and despair over having followed him in the first place cause now it’ll result in their untimely end.

Friede’s eyes burn. Amidst the sharp panic, he distantly feels a bitter anger growing in himself, at himself, and it’s not helping any. His chest hurt, his head ached, his everything is one giant mass of agony. He hates it. Hates it so so much cause now he’s being reminded just how much it hurts to be afraid.

Above all else, Friede is afraid. Terrified. He’s faced the world with reckless abandon that seeing how his world can easily crumble is a harsh smack to the face.

He whines softly. Unsure whether the chill he feels now is real, Friede still tries to pull his blanket up to cover himself, hoping that the soft fabric is able to secure him in a way that he’s incapable of. His shaky hands struggle to get a solid grip, and for some reason, this small inconvenience is what finally made the tears bubble over.

Arceus, this is such a stupid thing to cry over. (In between choked sobs, he fights for air). Friede’s just making a mountain out of an Excadrill hill. (He’s convinced he’s drowning). Everyone’s fine. (He feels lightheaded). The ship is grounded and in need of repairs but with Orla’s handiwork, it’ll be fit to sail in no time. (Black spots dances around his vision). He’s fine so why is he–?

“Friede!”

Warm hands gently enveloped his tight fists. A soft voice gently shushes into his ears.

“It’s going to be alright.” One of his hands is maneuvered into pressing against a soft surface. Vaguely, he feels the gentle rise and fall beneath his palm.

“Try and follow my breathing, okay?”

As he blinks waterlogged eyes, the orange blob slowly sharpens into a familiar face. It’s Orla, sweet, kind Orla who’s looking at him with such soft concern in her eyes.

Friede doesn’t deserve it. She would have been in the engine room, the first place that would’ve exploded had the ship crashed. The thought causes his breath to hitch, triggering a fit of watery coughs that renewed his tears.

“O-Orla,” he gasps. “I’m–I’m so s-sorry–”

“Shh, none of that now,” Orla gently shushes him. “Just focus on my breathing, okay? I know you can do it. In… Out… In… Out…”

He still desperately wants to apologize but the want to appease her is stronger. So Friede tries his best to follow along. He feels her drawing in a long, deep breath, holding it for a few seconds before slowly exhaling. Orla repeats this for the next couple of minutes, purposefully exaggerating the sound of each inhale and exhale so Friede can more easily follow along.

Friede focuses everything into following along, and soon enough he’s doing it more of his own volition than simply copying Orla’s motions. Slowly but surely, his mind winds down from the nigh high panic it was in before. At some point, one of Orla’s hands gently settles on the nape of his sweaty neck, easing his head down into resting atop her chest.

Orla’s steady heartbeat further grounds him. It enables him to focus on the fact that she’s alive, unlike what his mind tries to claim earlier. Friede sighs quietly, frozen in this position for what feels like hours until Orla speaks up.

“Hey, are you back with me now?”

“Yeah,” he mouths, then clears his throat to say in a steadier voice. “Yeah, ‘m good now.”

Orla hums in response, and while she seems content to leave him like this for as long as he wants, Friede now feels the deep pangs of shame hitting him. Biting his inner cheek, he slowly pushes himself off of Orla, quickly turning his head to swipe at his eyes. It’s a feeble attempt of regaining back his tattered pride, not when a brief glance at her showcases the evidence of his breakdown on her shirt.

“So… I’d ask if you’re alright but–” Orla gestures lightly between the two of them. “–I’m guessing that’s not the case.”

“I’m sorry,” Friede coughs, feelings his cheeks burn in embarrassment. “I–I didn’t expect you to…”

“Oh, Cap came to get me,” Orla says, sporting a faint smile. “He seems–insistent that I follow him, so I did. And I’m glad.”

Right, Cap would do that. His partner always looked out for him, and in a situation where he’s unable to Volt Tackle his way through, it’s reasonable to assume that he’ll seek out someone who can deal with the issue.

Friede’s grateful, even if it’s something that he’ll realize much later. Right now, he’s battling both shame and exhaustion. His brows furrow from the stress of it all, but they smoothed out when Orla pressed her finger against his forehead.

“I can practically hear the gears turning in that big noggin’ of yours,” she states. “Whatever it is, stop it. I know you’re going to just work yourself up again.”

Her light tone manages to make the corners of his lip quirk up. Friede’s eyes shift downwards and to the right, unable to properly meet her gaze.

“Heh, you know me well.” The faint smile drops moments later. He’s quiet for awhile, and Orla seems to understand that he needs time to regroup his thoughts. Once again, Friede’s grateful, even if there’s a part of him that thinks it’s undeserved.

“Look, with what happened today…” Friede swallows through the heavy lump in his throat. “It… it could’ve ended up a lot worse than it did. I’m sorry, it’s all my fau–hey!”

The sudden flick to his forehead cuts off his apology. Friede instinctively covers the sting with his hand, looking confused at Orla.

Orla gazes back, nods once before lowering her hand. She crosses her arms. “Sorry but it sounded to me that you were trying to apologize for something that was completely out of your power.”

“But–”

“Nu-uh. All of us agreed to go. We all understood the risks of going up against the Explorers and Rayquaza.”

“Yes, but–”

“What happened was something no one could’ve expected. The ship suffered damage but everyone got out of it safely, did we not?”

“Yeah but it–”

“Should be all that matters, yes? Then I don’t see why–”

“Because you all trusted me, okay!?” Friede doesn’t mean to raise his voice but it does surprise Orla into silence. He covers half of his face with his hand, heaving out a deep sigh. “I’m the captain of the Rising Volt Tacklers. All of you trusted me and that trust nearly got you all killed.”

Friede closes his eyes, unwilling to see what kind of expression Orla makes. That only serves to make him vulnerable to the next flick on his forehead, this one seemingly harder than the last.

“Ow! Why do you keep doing that!?” Friede’s a bit annoyed now, gaze narrowing at Orla.

“It’s because someone’s being an idiot right now,” Orla replies, meeting his eyes with an unimpressed look of her own. “Look, do you trust me to make sure the ship’s engine runs smoothly?”

“Yeah?” Despite the confused note to it, he responds without any hesitation.

“Do you trust Mollie to look after the Pokemon in the event of an emergency?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, then do you trust Murdock to steer the ship in the event that you’re unable to?”

“Of course.”

“So we trusted you to look after the kids and deal with whatever trouble that came their way, simple as that,” Orla concluded. “I can confidently say that as infuriating as you can get, no one here regrets trusting you Friede.”

Stunned into silence, he remains still when Orla reaches out to bump her fist against his chest. “So put you trust in that at least.”

Friede stares down at the fist. Abruptly, he exhales deeply, shoulders dropping. “Alright, you made your point Orla.”

When she puts it like that, Friede can’t help but think his previous thoughts were silly. It deepens the embarrassment he feels earlier, though he also feels like a weight has been lifted off of his shoulders. At the same time, the physical and emotional exhaustion of today hits him like a full bodied Volt Tackle.

“I think it’s better for you to get some rest,” Orla gently suggests. Friede thinks he nodded at her suggestion, though it’s hard to tell when it feels like his head is stuffed with cotton. There seems to be hands helping him lay down, and when his head hits the pillow, his blanket is covering him.

“Mmm… but I still gotta…”

“Shh… don’t worry about everything.” A gentle hand settles over his forehead, slowly sliding down till it covers his eyes. “Just rest. Trust us to keep everything safe, okay?”

Trust. That’s something he can do.

#Pokemon #Pokemon Horizons #Professor Friede #Orla (Pokemon)#Mollie (Pokemon)#Murdock (Pokemon)#Hana writes stuff #I miss writing some good old h/c stuff featuring my fav guy

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sangoqueenkoko · 10 months ago

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ARATAKI ITTO

"not our brightest idea"

fluff

GEO MASTERLIST | DRABBLE MASTERLIST

Drabble prompt: page 1: #70 = “not our brightest idea.”

Warnings? Beans. Not really! Unless you’re an Oni. But seriously, there are no warnings.

Contains a mention of Kuki Shinobu, Chiori, The Arataki Gang, and Itto, of course!

825 words.

"Thank you, and have a great day!" you smiled, kindly waving as a customer walked away with their newly bought products from Sailing Breeze, a Mondstadt store. Being from Mondstadt, you were well versed with the local specialities and eager to share them with others. You came to Inazuma to trade your home nation's local specialities with the people of a different nation so they can broaden their horizons.

New and returning customers came every day.

Even if the products did contain beans, you made your own version that doesn't, after witnessing what happened at the Iridori Festival. When I say 'returning customers,' I mean Arataki Itto, the rest of the Arataki Gang, and Kuki Shinobu.

But today, Kuki and the rest of the Gang couldn't make it because the Gang got into trouble, and Kuki had to bail them out. So, instead of being with his friends and suffering her wrath, Itto came to Ritou alone to pick up some orders that Kuki had made in the prior week. With you being friends of the Arataki Gang and the leader himself, they managed to bag some discounts.

"Hey, hey, my compadre!" A familiar voice called out; before you knew it, it was Itto, sauntering over as he casually combed his hair like it was his pride and joy. "Boss says that our order is ready to go! And it was made by the amazing (Y/N) themselves!" he grinned, "So I know that it will be the best ever made!"

"Well, thank you, Itto," you smiled sweetly. "Luckily for you, I had just finished packing it up, and it was ready for pickup just before you came! However, I underestimated the size of this delivery, considering how much was ordered. And it will be too much work to make more than one trip to deliver it to its destination. So I'd say that we need to use a cargo balloon for its safe transportation. That is if you're Okay with returning it to the others yourself?"

He stood silently for a moment as he thought. Looking between you and the distance of Inazuma, pondering how long it would take.

"Alright! It should be no problem!" he said with a laugh, "but you could always come along with me to make sure that the precious cargo doesn't get damaged while I go on ahead and take care of potential threats. That sounds like a deal to me. Deal?"

"Deal."

Soon enough, you met Itto at the edge of Ritou with the Cargo 'slime' Balloon that you hired for the day. Itto, being as strong as he is and insisting he helped you pack the cargo onto the balloon before you double-checked it and set off for the Gang's camp.

The start of the journey went as smoothly as ever. Some playful things even happen because it is better to make them bearable than unbearable. When crossing over a sandy section that leads to Narukami Island, Itto found it funny to splash some seawater on you, but you didn't find it funny much, mainly because your outfit was made by the one and only Chiori, so in return, you splashed water back at him. Just some light-hearted fun.

Later on in your journey, on the same path but in the incoming direction, you both noticed some Nobushi coming your way. Itto was raring to go, as he wanted to fight them. He didn't want the cargo, or more importantly, you, to get damaged. But you insisted he not provoke them, as they could be passive and mean no harm.

But neither of you could take any chances, so you pulled him towards the cargo on the side of the path, behind some bushes, to hide. Because of its purpose, it could withstand such weight, so you pulled Itto into it. Despite his loud protests, shoving a hand over his mouth, you two stayed put and quiet to ensure you weren't found.

It felt like an eternity, but the Nobushi would come over to the stationary cargo, take a look at it, move it around, inspect it and even open the boxes to take a closer look. It took Itto everything not to burst out from inside it and defend you and the cargo, but you didn't let that happen. They were merely curious.

But they soon realised it wasn't very valuable to them, so they left it alone and carried on with their journey, their heavy footsteps eventually fading away.

Taking deep breaths with relief, and also realising how physically close you two were, you quickly jumped out and looked over the cargo. It was fine.

Looking at each other with red cheeks and a light layer of sweat on their faces from the long wait in close proximity. And your feelings for each other would slowly creep up to the surface.

He coughed and scratched the back of his head nervously.

"not our brightest idea."

But thank you to the irl bestie for helping with this idea! This one is for you, girlie, you simp!

#gender neutral reader #genshin drabbles #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #genshin impact arataki itto #genshin impact itto #arataki itto x reader #itto x reader #arataki itto fluff #itto fluff

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brightdrawings · 2 months ago

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Chapter 3 - Stolen Treasure

The third chapter of my fic based off of @reaganwarren's red hood better world au. Mabel is brought to the ship at Dipper's insistence, but random crashed ships are often what police are called for. Perhaps this was just a short chapter in their lives. Or did someone sneak something home? (also on ao3!)

“This sure is a shipwreck,” Mabel said. Dipper had dragged her down the beach, she hardly had time to explain to their parents where they were going. She looked around the mouldy wood and held her nose. “Did it always smell like this or was it only after you got in here?”

‘Honestly Dipper could be so silly sometimes.’ She thought, shaking her head.

There wasn’t much to the ship, no matter how haunted Dipper made it sound. Old furniture, broken glass and a mess of ropes and papers decorated what was once a proud sailing vessel. Mabel was sure that she wanted nothing to do with the ship, it felt like anything she touched would have crumbled to dust in her hands. And not in a fun way like those balloons that were filled with glitter.

Unforutanly, the pair of almost teens exploration was cut short when their parents pulled them out of the beached shipwreck. Saying something about ‘dangerous spaces’ and how ‘they were being reckless.’ The twins couldn’t get a word in when all four Pines heard the sound of something rattle. The sound was unsettling, as it echoed through the cabin. Turning their heads, the four caught sight of bones, next to a picked clean human skull.

The twins didn’t get home until really late that night.

“Who knew police questioning could take so long?” Mabel’s voice was muffled by her pillow. She rolled over onto her back. “But hey, now that all that hooey is over, you ready to be king and queen of middle school?”

“More like jester and scholar.” Dipper rolled his eyes.

“C’mon Dip, this is going to be our last year of middle school. We gotta take any advantage we can get!” Mabel jumped up and pulled her brother into a side hug. “Just imagine it. Cutting in line at the cafeteria, borrowing unlimited books from the library, we’ll even get that private senior lawn!”

“Okay okay, maybe there will be some good things to look forward to.” Dipper pushed his sister away with a chuckle. “But that doesn’t stop Carl Spencerson from being a jerk.”

“Think of it like this: Just one more year and then you’re free of him.” Mabel clapped her hands together before slowly spreading them apart. “Like a nerdy butterfly, you just need to stay in your cocoon for a little while longer.”

Dipper sighed and pulled himself into bed. He retrieved the leatherbound book he had found on the shipwreck from under his pillow.

“Isn’t that the creepy book you found in that creepier ship?” Mabel asked. She had hoped back into her bed. “I thought the police took everything.”

“I - uh, you gotta promise not to tell mum or dad alright?” Dipper looked at the door to their room nervously.

“I mean,” Mabel looked at her brother’s nervous expression before offering him a beaming grin. “Sure! How did you hide it?”

“I uh, slid it under the party table when mum and dad took us back before calling the police.” Dipper said. “I also hid this there as well.” he lifted up the old red hoodie.

“Ew! Dipper that thing stinks.” Mabel held her nose. “Why did you even hide a jacket? I get the book but what’s the deal there?”

“I don’t know. That’s the thing. When mum and dad said they were calling the police I felt this chill down my back. I knew they wouldn’t let me keep the book. I wanted to find out what it was doing in that ship wreck but if the police took the journal, there’d be no way to figure it out. So I kicked these under the snack table until we packed everything up after the police questioning.” Dipper said.

“Huh.” Mabel tapped her chin.

“You’re not going to tell them right?” Dipper asked nervously.

“Why are you worried about that?” Mabel asked. “You told them about your conspiracies before. What’s different about this?”

“I-,” Dipper scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t really know. Something came over me I can’t explain it.”

“You don’t think that book is haunted do you?” Mabel asked.

“No? Maybe.” Dipper looked at the cover. His face reflected in the six-fingered hand.

“Do you feel haunted?” Mabel asked.

“I don’t think so?” Dipper shrugged. “How would that even feel?”

“Maybe a really bad headache.” Mabel suggested. “Because that’s where the ghosts have to be to control you.”

“That doesn’t sound right.” Dipper scratched his temple.

“Well anyway, your secret is safe with me bro-bro.” Mabel gave a cheerful smile and placed her hand on her hips.

“Thanks Mabel-”

“But on one condition.” She leaned her forehead against her twin’s. Her cheerful tone dropped as before she continued. “You’re washing that jacket first thing tomorrow morning.”

“What? Oh come on, it doesn’t smell that bad!” Dipper insisted. “Look!”

He held the red jacket against his nose and took a deep sniff. He tried to hold his face, but didn’t last more than a second. The smell of sea salt, mixed with rotten wood and decay filled his nostrils. The intense odour overpowered his mind forcing the now 12 year-old to cough repeatedly.

“Point proven.” Mabel teased. She danced to her side of the room. With a smug grin she picked up a scented marker from her night stand and took a small whiff. “Ahh, the smell of being right.”

“This proves nothing.” Dipper coughed.

“I think it proves you’re a sweaty nerd.” Mabel rolled her eyes.

“C’mon kids, Lights out!” Their father, Ali, called from down the hall.

“Aw, but it’s our birthday! Don’t we get to stay up late?” Mabel called back.

“You did stay up late! You’ve been up for two hours past your bedtime.” Ali leaned into their room. Dipper quickly hid the journal under his bed sheets.

“Aww,” Mabel whined.

“If you don’t sleep soon you’ll be too tired tomorrow.” He gently stroked her hair.

“Not if I get enough sugar to keep me going.” Mabel grinned.

“We’d go bankrupt if we fed you the sugar you’d need. And then how would we be able to afford your art supplies.” Ali smirked.

“Not my yarn!” Mabel clapped her hands on her adorable cheeks.

“C’mon, to bed.” He smiled, picking her up. “That goes for you Junior, and now after dark reading. Don’t think I can’t tell when you stay up to read.” He nodded to Dipper.

“But-”

“No butts except for yours fast asleep.” His father wagged his finger. Mabel giggled as she dangled over Ali’s shoulder. “Got it?”

“Yes pops.” Dipper sighed.

“Pops? That’s a new one.” His dad chuckled.

The twins settled into bed, their long day finally catching up with them. Their eyes felt heavy with their heads against their pillows. In his last moments of being awake, Dipper felt someone running their fingers through his hair, before he shut his eyes.

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just as a heads up the chapters are one ahead on ao3, but we'll catch to there soon enough.

#gravity falls #Dipper Pines #Mabel pines #Gravity falls au #book of bill #fanfiction #writers of tumblr

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justadeadreaper · 1 year ago

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CW: Gore, Death, Puke, Decaying flesh, Buboes, Blood, Description of the symptoms of the different plagues in The Black Death, Gruesome description of how the representation would look like, Please tell me if anything that should be put as a warning was not, thanks.

The most feared plague in history, The Black Death.

Mainly the bubonic plague mixed with its two more deadly brothers the pneumonic plague and septicemic plague. It was the deadliest plague of the time as it ran through Europe, Africa, and Asia and conquered any village, town, and city it found itself in, flooding the streets with blood, mucus, and rotted flesh as once healthy humans dropped dead from the plague that seemed to come from nowhere before it dragged everyone to the Hell it had seemed to have spawned from. It did not care who you were, it did not discriminate, rich or poor, loved or hated, known or not, it would blow out the little life that you had. It thrived off the fear and only seemed to grow stronger as another soul joined the long chain of victims that had already succumbed to the disease. Anywhere from twenty to sixty percent of the population of the time was taken by it.

The perpetrator? Yersinia pestis. The carriers? Fleas. The spreader? Rats but some say it could have actually been hamsters that were stowaways. But how were the rats able to spread? Trading ships that jumped from town to town leaving a deadly gift as it sailed away that would lead to the death of all that were unfortunate enough to live there.

Now you may ask what would happen if you were to catch it and let me tell you it was living torture. It would start with a simple flea bite but that flea was infected with Yersinia pestis causing it to build a barrier in its stomach so no blood could be digested or go into its stomach causing it to build up and be infected by the bacteria, and this blood would be thrown back up by the flea onto the wound infecting it as it would be absorbed into the bloodstream. From entering the bloodstream it could take one of three routes: the lymphatic system, continuing through the bloodstream, or directly to the lungs. If you were lucky enough for it to infect your lymphatic system then you had a sixty percent chance of dying meaning you had a forty percent chance of surviving. Even though you had more chances of surviving it did not mean that you were saved from not suffering, from one to seven, or if you were lucky eight, days of contracting the disease was when it would show symptoms. At first it would trick you into the false belief that you only had the flu. You would have a general feeling of being ill, lethargic and weak which only grew into worse fatigue as the days went on, followed by chills and a high fever which anyone would know just seems to be like a normal cold but then that soon developed into muscle cramps in your aching limbs as seizures overtook the body. Then it would present the symptom that gave it the name the bubonic plague, buboes. These were when the lymph nodes would balloon to become large, painful, smoothe swellings which would occur near the original area of infection alongside the groin, neck, and armpits which would continue to grow until they burst. You also had the issue of your skin slowly beginning to necrotise as it died alongside the lenticulae which were small black dots that would be scattered across your body and gangrene took over your lips, nose, toes, and fingers which all caused severe pain to the point you would rather die there and then instead of waiting it out to see if you had the lucky chance of surviving. Of course there were other symptoms like heavy breathing as your lungs felt like they were being held down by rocks, your own body becoming like the flea as it would start to vomit gallons of infected blood, coughing, gastrointestinal problems, and spleen inflammation, but in some cases even the sleep would be disturbed to the point of insomnia where sleep would be impossible to get as your were forced to stay awake to feel all the pain that riddled your body. But then the worst of the systems came at the final stage as delirium came and took over any rational thought as all organs began to fail from the disease overcoming them and causing them to shut down which only led to a coma, but it all ended the same way, death.

If you were unlucky enough for it to infect your lungs first or just infect your lungs before the other systems became worse then you had a ninety-five percent chance of dying meaning you had a five percent chance of surviving. To make the pneumonic plague even worse you could develop it even after being infected by either the bubonic plague or the septicemic plague; it could also be caught from not just it infecting your lungs after a bite which infected the bloodstream but by also breathing in air borne droplets of the bacteria from another thing that was riddled with the plague. As it would normally be caught after having bubonic or septicemic plague it meant that at first you would present all the symptoms from the other plagues before experiencing the specifics of the pneumonic plague. At first you would think you have a fever but a severe one as headaches, nausea, and weakness run rampant as if it was trying to warn you that this would be no normal bubonic or septicemic plague. Luckily compared to the bubonic plague the time you would suffer with this plague was a great short, even though it would take around three to seven days before the symptoms showed as soon as the symptoms worsened or even showed you could guarantee that you would be dead within thirty-six hours, most likely less. You would be constantly vomiting for three days straight as your lungs slowly began to feel as if they were being sewn shut at each bronchus, only leading to each breath becoming shorter and shorter as you seemed to constantly be coughing and rasping for the tiniest bit of unrestrained air. Then soon enough your lungs would spew out a bloody and watery mess that would stain your tongue with its mercury taste which you would continue to cough out in between the vomiting until you went into shock as your full respiratory tract went into failure and just stopped, finally leading to death.

But if you were the most unfortunate person alive on Earth at the time that every God seemed to hate since it stayed in your bloodstream and completely infected your blood it meant you had no chance of surviving as you had a hundred percent chance of dying. It made the other two diseases seem like child’s play as it normally only took around fourteen hours before it shut down the body, worse of all it could even kill you without showing any of the symptoms. Like the others you would think it was a common cold due to the fever, chills, and low blood pressure but soon enough severe abdominal pain would set in as it felt like you were dying due to the extreme amount of diarrhea which would be accompanied by nausea that only led to severe vomiting. But soon enough the vomit and diarrhea would be filled with blood until it was fully red as the body lost most of its clotting resources from the tiny blood clots that had formed throughout the body so it could no longer control the blood which started to bleed into the skin and organs creating red or black patches of rashes or bumps which could be seen on the skin. The blood clotting also caused necrosis as tissue and organs would die from the lack of blood flow as it all leaked into where it should not, the most obvious spots of the decay were the gangrene in the fingers, nose, and toes. Then the bleeding would extend from not just bleeding in the body but blood coming out from the rectum but most noticeably the mouth and nose where it would come out like a waterfall. Obviously due to the blood leaking into everything it would cause difficulty breathing as it would fill the lungs and deprive it of the blood outside the lungs that was needed to exchange the carbon dioxide for oxygen. And with no blood to deliver the oxygen needed for the organs to live they all would go into organ failure causing the body to go into shock before the final moments where everything went back as it was taken over by death.

As it can be seen all of them had the same outcome, death.

Luckily nowadays the plagues are a simple pest if the person has access to treatment to stop it from progressing further but at the time that The Black Death ran rampant no one had the luxury of those treatments leading most to die who caught it. Masses upon masses of bodies continued to build up only attracting more of the rats then the ones that had already been attracted to the large towns by the excrement and rotting butcher’s meat that made a river through the streets. With more rats that withered away from the disease it just meant more fleas would jump to more human hosts to use which only led to more living corpses to roam the streets as the disease turned people into skeletons while still living before turning them into an actual corpse.

It was understandable as to why humans of the time would be so scared of such a thing as to them it just seemed like their fellow mortals were dropping like lowly flies that would eat away at the flyblown flesh that continued to pile away in mass graves to create more nests for their larvae and eggs to incubate inside. Imagine the terror and fear that must have filled their minds as they did not understand pathogens at the time, to them it would have seemed like divine wrath but no one could think of a reason as to why their Almighty would betray them like this as everyone appeared to be on their best behaviour. They needed something to blame. They found something to blame.

Simple rumours turned into truths.

Somewhere in England there was said to be a village. Small, nothing of concern as it was like every other village of the time. Like every other village it had a butcher, a silent man who was rumoured to once be a knight but no one knew why he was not anymore. He tended to be quiet, avoiding others who were not his friends and family. It was said that he loved his nephew and that if he had enough swigs of barley that you could get him singing and dancing on the roof or you could convince him to give you his primest cuts of meat. He was deemed as normal, he was like everyone else, until one day.

No one knew what happened. It was supposed to be a joyous day to celebrate the coming of winter but it was far from that. Nearly the whole family was found butchered with a precision only expected to be known by a trained killer. The lower left leg and most of the fingers of the right hand of the older brother laid in a puddle of blood but they could not find the rest of his body; the mutilated body of the brother’s wife was spread around slightly from each different part as if when she was being attacked the culprit had went after another member while still holding onto the part it was hacking off; the body of their son was curled into the corner clutching onto the leg of his mother while out of the stab holes that covered his body in ten folds nearly making him unidentifiable oozed out blood into a bloody puddle that collected around his body; and finally the grandmother of the family who was found decapitated in her rocking chair with her head being found outside within the well. The only one not found dead was the butcher and when he returned, covered in blood, everyone turned their suspicions to him. When he tried to explain that he had been out hunting but had been attacked by a large grey man no one believed him, especially when they saw the crazed look within his eyes that could only be produced by when they had let Beelzebub into their soul. Everyone agreed to grab their pitchforks and chase him out so no more could be hurt.

It was only a few months before the figure started to appear across the world. People from the village murmured to other villages and beyond when they heard what the figure looked like in its earlier stage that they believed it to be the same butcher infected with the plague of Beelzebub to infect the world with their sin to bring more to Hell. Everyone believed him to be the reason for the spread of the plague. It was said that if you were to see him within the fields outside of any town, village, or city that all the inside were destined to die.

The Ghost of The Black Death.

A figure that would strike the fear into the hearts of all.

A horde of rats followed behind him in trails as flies buzzed around his head, if he was near you would always see a Black Shuck which commanded a storm alongside it as if they were his hounds of doom brought along to give the townsfolk warning of their dire fates and to pray to the Almighty while they were still apart.

A black coat hid the majority of his body as bloodied rags of old hunting gear of a peasant hung off of skeletal remains with a jaw hanging off his neck as if it was a necklace as it was tied there with rope. Messy blonde hair spread out in all directions as blood leaked out from the tear ducts in a false mockery of the tears that millions had split in their last moments. No nose or bottom jaw could be found, decayed off long ago. The face looked skeletal as teeth, gums, and a tongue were exposed to the bitter air that reeked of death and loss as the cheeks were tattered in form as more skin continued to flake off as it continued to decays; once blue eyes so full of life were left sunken, dead as if they were another victim that had succumb to the plague that the Ghost was said to bring alongside him. A trail of buboes surrounded his neck as if it was a noose to which he could hang himself with as the tail was marked by a diversion of buboes that wrapped around and under his arms to around his groyne. His spine and ribs jutted out for all to see underneath the greyed skin which was littered with blackened patches of decay as branches of red veins leaked and bleed out to leave a path of blood in his wake for all to track him by. Still, as he rotted away, vague faints of the muscular body that had been far gone from its prime lingered where it once remained. The bottom of his calves with his feet and the bottom of his forearms with his hands had turned black and mummified from the decay and gangrene that had taken them over, leaving no remaining sensations within the hands to feel the warmth of a human ever again for the rest of eternity.

If you were to see him late at night, staring into your soul you better pray that The Ghost does not turn you into another soul like him.

#plague!cod au #plague simon #plague ghost #cod #call of duty #simon ghost riley #ghost #ghost cod #simon riley #ghost call of duty #ghost simon riley #cw: gore #cw: death #cw: sickness #cw: puke #cw: decay #bubonic plague #the black death

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