#this is from my old liked song playlist that's like 6 years old oh my god

[kaisollisto]

tagged by @thistleation first 5 songs on shuffle

tagging @desognthinking @aromarianne @1-catori-2 @goldrushgold

[gutsby]

Father Figure

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: Parents’ Weekend looks a little different this year with Joel showing up in the place of your father.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected piv. Dad[dy] kink. Age gap. Oral (m!receiving). Premature ejaculation (Joel cums in his pants while he’s kissing you AS REAL LOVERS DO). Drinking and drug use. Gratuitous dad rock references.

Note: We all saw that video. This was begging to be written.

Another note: For a more immersive read of the pregame, listen to my freshman year Kegs & Eggs playlist (yes, it sucks).

Word count: 19.0k

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Freud would’ve had a field day with this shit.

Really, there was no sane explanation for the obsession that seized you and your friends come Parents’ Weekend every year. But there it went. Again. Like clockwork, all the forty- to fifty-something fathers arrived for their first meal on campus. Like the cock-starved coed she was, your roommate bumped your shoulder as you walked and nodded to the first set of families approaching the dining hall. Out of the pack, you spotted four grey heads.

“Would, would, would, and would,” Aly observed, almost clinically. Her strides were long and resolved in their path

“That one could get it.” Her brother shrugged on your other side. He tipped his chin up, then added: “Look.”

And look you did. The batch of men, women, and all their college-aged children struck you as little more fun to ogle than your average wall of paint waiting to dry. Though the moms and dads were, admittedly, the kind of attractive you rarely saw outside an L.L. Bean magazine—as were all the rest of the kempt and polished crowd that populated your school—you were hungry as fuck. You’d agreed to join your roommate’s family for the kickoff banquet of the weekend, and you needed food. On top of that, you’d sworn off middle-aged men forever.

Aly and her brother didn’t know that, though, so you played the game and trudged ahead. When a handsome blue-eyed man born in 1970-something stood back and held the door open for your trio going in, you had to fight back a smirk at the look Aly gave him after thanking him.

“Oh, he wanted me bad,” she hissed once safely inside.

“Looks a bit like Rob Lowe,” you offered noncommittally.

“What about your dad? Is he gonna be here tonight?”

That last fragment of conversation had come from Aly’s brother, and the curiosity in it was sincere. Then he’d wiggled two dark brows your way and said he bet your dad was a silver fox like no other, and you’d had to roll your eyes before strolling into the wide open dining area. You were late; the food, evidently, was all already served.

“My dad’s at home with a broken femur, so…no,” you answered slowly. Starting to weave your way through a sea of round tables and following Aly’s lead as you did, “Probably not your type. Just old. Very embarrassing.”

You stuck your index in your mouth and pantomimed gagging, and the sophomore beside you just laughed.

“Yeah? Desperate, too?” he challenged.

“Pathetic, really,” you replied.

For a second, you felt a pang of guilt at the way you were describing your father. Surely he couldn’t deserve being characterized like that. Then you recalled how he’d boned your mom’s best friend while he was married, had never really made amends after the fact, and was still fucking said mistress’s brains out on the reg to this day.

You’d done plenty of wrong behind his back, to be sure, but that kind of took the cake for fucked up betrayals. He could stand for a little bit of ribbing every now and then.

Presently, Aly was paving the way straight toward a pair of bright and beaming faces at a table near the back.

“Our parents named us after a goddamn Grateful Dead song and the city they first saw the band in concert. Nobody does pathetic better than Scott and Michelle.” She waved her arm in a wide arc and grinned over there.

And you would’ve gladly countered that no, that actually makes them very fucking funny and cool, but the chance to do that was gone in a moment—the next had you approaching their table and meeting with big hugs.

Even for you, who had never seen these people before in your life, there was a warm welcome. You got long, suffocating embraces and cheery greetings of, ‘Oh, you must be Aly’s roommate!’ and ‘We’re sorry you got stuck with our shithead kid’ before you had a grin plastered on again and were being ushered to sit down.

You took note of the little placards opposite each chair, counted four, five, six of them altogether, with an empty spot beside your own, per usual, and you took your seat.

“Dallas, honey, I love you,” the woman across the table, Michelle, said with all the restraint she could conjure up, “I love you to pieces, but what the hell are you wearing?”

That steered the conversation in a decidedly light, playful direction from the start, with Aly’s brother defending his decision to be decked out in full school-sponsored athleisure tooth and nail. He’d been recruited to play lacrosse, so naturally, wearing the far-too-tight crimson lycra was all part of the deal. Aly insisted that he just wanted to show off the biceps he didn’t have, Scott hypothesized it was the crisp, wintry Boston air that had made his son dress like a total douche, and Dallas tried bringing the inquisition to a speedy end by lifting one middle finger up and flipping his napkin into his lap.

“Fuck you guys, I’m hungry,” he declared, emphatic. Fighting the urge to laugh along then grabbing a fork.

Just as fast as he’d picked it up to dig in, though, his mom was slapping the silver utensil out of his hand.

“Not yet,” she chided.

“Why? We’re all here,” Dallas groaned.

“Because,” his father returned, scrubbing at the stubble on his chin before casting a quick look around him, “We’re still waiting on one more to join us. See?”

With that, Scott nodded toward the card next to you, and immediately, your cheeks warmed. You shook your head, mouth working a little less fluidly than you would’ve liked as you piped up and told them—assured them all, rather:

“My dad’s not coming. He got a little, uh…hurt at work.”

And you were certain that would be the end of it. You’d just moved to grab a fork yourself, eyeing the plate full of food in front of you then, when another hand stopped you on the spot. It was Aly beside you, grip insistent as she gave your wrist a little shake, and in your periphery, you could see her tilt her head the opposite direction.

She was staring, silent—totally unlike herself.

Normally when something crossed her path nearby to make her twist her whole fucking neck to get a glimpse, it was followed by a dry remark. A comment, a compliment, or a lewd invitation to fuck me, please.

While the last of the three clearly wasn’t an option to use around her parents, you at least would’ve expected to hear something. When nothing came, you turned your head too, having just snagged a bite of roast beef on your fork and shoveled it in before looking that way.

You followed her gaze and nearly inhaled the food.

With a startled gasp and a ‘Christ!’, your eyes widened to find a man who wasn’t your father at all—just his best friend and your ex-fuckbuddy, Joel Miller, walking over.

It was a sight you weren’t prepared to see in a million years. What the everliving fuck this man was doing two thousand miles from Austin, Texas, on your college campus, striding into the very first meal of Parents’ Weekend, looking like that, was so far beyond your comprehension you couldn’t speak. You just stared and sucked in the sharpest, strangled breath, fought back a cough, and tried not to die swallowing a cube of meat.

From the way that man was approaching you now, asphyxiation might not be the worst, you thought idly.

Joel’s here.

Joel’s here, and he’s wearing slacks and a button-up.

Joel’s wearing business casual, and he’s walking over.

Who the fuck does this man even think he’s trying to—

“Sorry I’m late,” Joel cut in, smile bright and easy on his face. Then, stepping behind your chair, leaning down:

“Hey, sweetie. How are ya?”

He kissed the top of your head.

The tone sealed his fate completely.

Joel was pretending to be your father.

This wasn’t his brightest idea.

Call him sick, insane, selfish, besotted, or rotten straight down to his core, Joel Miller was no longer one to care. He had a goal in his head. Less than a week ago, you’d left him high and dry in Austin after having told him you loved him—in the middle of climax, but aloud, no less—and the month before that, you’d left him again. Back to college, where you could happily pretend he didn’t exist.

Tonight, he wasn’t letting that happen. This weekend, Parents’ Weekend, was of course reserved for families, but Joel knew your father wasn’t coming. He knew you wouldn’t be expecting your dad or anyone else to be there, and since you’d taken to the usual course of ignoring all his calls and texts, he felt he’d had no choice.

You couldn’t stay closed off like this forever.

Eventually, you’d both have to reckon with what this was and how to move forward, or the mess of the last month would never change. You would never believe he saw you any differently from a one-off hookup or a taboo outlet of pleasure. And if that was all you saw him as, so be it. But he had to get the truth of it out now, one way or another.

Even if he had to roleplay the father figure and play the most fucked up game of paternal charades known to man, he’d get the answers he needed this weekend.

You were good at games. Unfortunately, Joel was better.

He’d take this fake-out to the max and be the best faux father you’d never asked for. Maybe you’d hate him for it.

As he’d squeezed your shoulder and sat down beside you at the table, felt your gaze heavy and stunned on his, he also couldn’t help but hope you might still love him after.

“Scott Ingram. Pleasure to meet you.” The broad hand had been extended his way before he was even fully seated. The face across from him was kind. Intrigued. Tinged with a faint trace of curiosity, “So you’re dad?”

“Stepdad, yeah.” Joel had had to leave a bit more room for plausibility before he’d made his formal introduction.

Then he’d met Michelle. Aly. Dallas. The latter two more piqued with interest than the first, as though unsure of what they’d just been told, but willing to go on anyway.

“Old and pathetic my ass,” Dallas had murmured your way, low enough for Joel to know those words were meant for only you to hear. You stiffened in response.

“So glad you could make it up! Is your leg doing better?”

Aly had smiled warmly over at him, and Joel had only hesitated a second. Then he remembered his friend.

“Oh, my— yeah. Just…peachy. Yeah. All healed up.”

He didn’t flit a look to you; he could feel the searing imprint of your gaze and the way you hadn’t bothered to hide your frown when he’d referenced the leg he’d never broken. The way you could’ve pulverized the napkin in your lap to dust from how hard you were squeezing it in your fist—you didn’t like to admit it, but that was your nervous tic, and Joel knew it well. He propped his elbows on the table and didn’t miss the way a head turned his way from a neighboring group. Then another. He hated every starch white button-up he owned with a burning passion, but he couldn’t deny this one was eye-catching.

Not that it mattered, really, because the only glossy gaze he cared to snag was presently nailing him with daggers in its path. Still, it was a comfort to know he’d make a good-looking corpse if that look of yours ever did kill him

“Oh, my, my, oh hell YES—”

The sing-song trill of a baritone beside him roused him from his trance. He looked over and saw Scott grinning.

“—honey put on that pa-a-a-a-a-arty dress!”

It was Michelle that finished the line for him, while they both bobbed their heads along to the Tom Petty song blasting overhead. Evidently, dad rock would be alive and well all weekend. Joel wasn’t mad to see that happen.

“You a Tom Petty fan?” Scott jerked his chin up to him.

Before he could answer, though, Michelle interjected:

“I’d say he’s more of a Simon & Garfunkel guy.”

Whatever the hell that meant. Joel smiled.

“Mom, Dad. Please stop,” Aly moaned.

“Seriously.” Dallas’s mouth was full.

And, just as he fought to swallow the heaping glob of food he’d just crammed in, his dad snapped his fingers.

“No, I know it! You’re a Billy Joel man, Joel. No doubt.”

Joel blanched as white as the shirt on his back. You coughed. He hadn’t even noticed you’d chanced a bite of food beside him, but now you were sputtering—choking on a morsel of beef or mashed potatoes or something—and he didn’t think twice. He pivoted right to you and dropped a hand on your back in the space between your shoulder blades. He patted you twice, eyes a little wider.

“Hey, you OK?”

Fleeting memories of a night not too long ago flashed through his mind: driving town by town, state after state, blaring Billy Joel extra loud in his Bronco with you riding shotgun. It had been something special between you then. Now, your gaze was on him like you despised him.

“I’m fine,” you answered, tone clipped.

You shrugged his touch away. Joel blinked back to Scott.

He wasn’t entirely sure what he said, thoughts occupied by you all the while, but he reckoned it was something his neighbor had wanted to hear, because he saw a satisfied little smile cross his lips, ‘I told you, Michelle.’

“Everybody likes Billy Joel, dad.” Aly rolled her eyes.

And Joel would’ve liked to look your way again. Maybe dropped the fatherly moue for half a second and flashed an apologetic look shared just between you and him. But then the conversation shifted; the whole table began to eat, more pleasantries and questions about home life and backgrounds followed, and all the talk from there converged on where they were planning to go out after dinner—how they’d make the very most of Parents’ Weekend. You sat back and ate in silence, mostly. You wouldn’t meet his gaze for even a moment, and when you rose from your seat to get another drink, Joel felt himself stand too, as if out of habit. He hadn’t meant to.

It hadn’t been his intention to follow you out of the dining area, strides swift to try and keep up, but he did.

It hadn’t been his goal to corner you by the soda dispenser, either. Away from the eyes of everyone else, or at least in a private enough space not to be seen by too many people, Joel felt a little more at liberty to talk. He lowered his voice and drew even closer then to speak.

“Sweetheart—”

You’d filled a cup halfway with water. As soon as he’d said that word, ‘sweetheart,’ you turned and chucked its contents directly in his face. Liquid splashed up at him, and for a second, Joel had only to stand there with his eyes closed and his body completely frozen in place.

Water dripped in silence before he wiped at his chin.

At the same time, you were tossing your cup aside.

“Don’t you dare fuckin’ call me that,” you growled.

Then, shortly: “What the fuck is your problem?!”

Honestly, he didn’t know. He opened his eyes.

And, just as he raised both hands in a semi-conciliatory kind of gesture, you scowled and backed away from him.

“You’re sick, Joel. Pretending to be my goddamn da—”

“I know. I know,” Joel winced as he spoke, wrinkles no doubt creasing even deeper along his face as he saw yours fall. You weren’t happy to see him in the slightest. “I know it’s fucked up. I just…needed to talk to you, hon.”

“About what?!”

He could feel the heat rising to your cheeks. He wanted to cup them in his hands, or else kiss the frown off your lips in a way that would be totally inappropriate for a stepdad to do, but already, he sensed his resolve was eroding. It didn’t matter, anyway, because you weren’t letting him get within an inch of you, based off your look.

“Darlin’,” Joel sighed, “There’s just so much—”

Of course, the next moment was punctured by a voice. His words were cut short; you were both forced to turn.

“It’s all settled now,” Aly declared with cheery conviction. She snagged a cup and started filling it up with Sprite, “Pregame at Dallas’. Seven Oaks after. Lucky’s after that. Maybe a brief intermission at The Alley, if you’re up for it. Afters at A.J.’s, probably. Depends what the vibe is like.”

Joel had barely processed half of what was said, and it still sounded like a lot from where he stood. He blinked.

Then Aly’s eyes fell to his collar, and she lifted a brow.

“You got a little…drinking problem there, Joel?”

He glanced down at the mess on his shirt and tried to smile with her. It was hard to fight the color jumping to his cheeks simultaneously. He scrambled for the words.

“Oh, uh—”

“Dad’s real smooth with it,” you cut in, suddenly, like the paternal moniker was nothing at all. You didn’t look back, “I’m fine drinking wherever. Your parents coming, too?”

Aly’s grin stretched even wider. It looked devious.

“They wouldn’t miss this bingefest for the world.”

At just the intonation of those words, Joel’s pulse sped up. He saw a knowing look pass between you and your roommate, and in a second, he sensed he was fucked.

He really shouldn’t be drinking tonight.

A hundred shots probably wouldn’t have been enough to kill it—this ringing in your head hurt like a motherfucker.

Joel wanted to talk.

Of course he wanted to talk.

Just on his terms, on his time, with your closest friends and their family members all assuming he was your dad.

Because that made a lot of fucking sense.

You’d meant to split from Joel the second you showed up. Dallas’ off-campus house was many things, but small and quiet were not among those descriptors, and you planned to use all of its space to your advantage tonight.

Simply put, the place was a glorified playground for college degenerates. Afforded the distinct honor of housing eight members of the Pi Kappa Alpha fraternity in 2,700 square feet for over fifty years, the Craftsman home was no small wonder to anyone who saw it standing today: the house was shit. Dallas loved it.

You’d enjoyed it, too, for at least the first year or two of college. Then you’d wisened up to the antics of a few too many numb-skulled Pikes, got tired of listening to the same ten tracks being blasted in your ears every other weekend, and decided you’d just stick to the bar scene, where at least patrons were prohibited from standing on elevated surfaces and breaking bottles over their heads.

When Dallas rushed, and eventually joined the fold last year, you’d been hesitant to go back. Then, when he’d promptly decked the first guy who tried dragging you up onto a table with him, you figured you could safely visit again and not have to worry while your friend was there. The kid did a pretty good job of weeding out assholes.

“My lady.” He stood and bowed before presenting you with a fifth of Pink Whitney like it was the finest wine.

The bottle was half empty. You’d been passing it back and forth for the last hour in between rounds of pong.

“Been sayin’ shit like that ever since he saw Gladiator II.” His housemate Cory called from closeby. He flicked his wrist once and sank his shot in the second to last cup.

“You are not General Acacius, brother,” Cory’s teammate Pete chimed in. With a lucky throw of his own, he hit the final Red Solo cup and shook his head like it was nothing.

You were all on the third floor, away from the noise downstairs. While the so-called ‘pregame’ surged ahead on first, in the basement, and outdoors, you’d managed to find relative quiet among eight or nine friends and acquaintances, plus a guy railing lines off a frisbee in the corner. Nobody knew where the fuck he’d gotten it from.

“I like to pretend,” Dallas said with a shrug. Then, once you’d taken a swig of the pink drink and handed it back: “My parents play next. Gavin, put the coke away, please.”

Gavin sniffed the air at least four times like he had a cold. Then he tucked his credit card back in his wallet, put the wallet in his pocket, and knocked the frisbee on the floor.

‘Yessir’ was all you heard before he was leaning back contentedly. The girls Cory and Pete had just played seemed equally indifferent as they sauntered off—likely looking to get their hands on whatever the hell else the redhead had in his jeans and quick to forget about the game. Blow was way too easy to spread at these parties, and clearly, no one gave a shit about redemption round.

“Gavin.” Dallas’ tone was a warning.

At the same time, his housemate had just snagged an ID where it was left on the table and held it up to the light.

“Hang on, it looks like this guy, uh…” Cory squinted to read the text on an apparently too-old driver’s license. “Looks like he called dibs on next round…Joel Miller.”

Your grip tightened on the spot. You said nothing. Cory was just then starting to remark that this dude’s the spittin’ fuckin’ image of that one guy from Game of Thrones, Dallas, come look, when the door to the room swung open, and in walked the man of the hour himself.

Joel was joined by Scott, Michelle, and a horde of others.

Well, maybe five in total. They were all freshmen girls.

Giggling, grinning freshmen girls who were quite literally hanging off his body on either side, or else trailing behind him, admiring him like he was the single greatest thing.

Where were all their fathers? That was your fake dad.

Christ, that sounded bad, and you hadn’t even said it.

When Dallas offered you the bottle again, you declined. You were more than just buzzed. And Joel was drunk.

Apparently.

And was he—well shit, were they trying to strip him?

One of the bubbliest girls from the group was tugging on Joel’s shirt. Three buttons were already undone, and a smooth, tanned patch of flesh glistened through the ‘V’ in the fabric. He’d been working up a sweat downstairs.

A sea of black-and-grey hairs peeking out through the trough of cotton was the last thing you saw before you had to look away. It was too familiar. And there you saw some girl fresh out of high school, feeling him, teasing at the material while she bounced on the balls of her feet.

“You are so lying!” she slurred, voice pitchy and shrill.

What was worse, you couldn’t even fault the girl for it. That had been you just a few short years ago, hadn’t it?

Beside her, her friend snagged his sleeve: “Show ussss!”

Scott and Michelle had approached the table where Dallas was setting up the cups for the next round and you were trying not to stare. You reckoned you were failing pretty miserably at the task when the next thing Mrs. Ingram did was lean in closer to you and whisper.

“Real hot commodity with the girls, isn’t he?” It was soft.

She was right.

You forced your gaze to your feet, pretending to assess the wet and sticky mess underneath them. You hummed.

“Yup. Real ladies’ man,” you answered quietly. Strained.

“They’re convinced he’s got some ink hidden under his shirt. That’s a creative way to get a man topless if I’ve ever seen one.” Scott chuckled next to you, tone teasing.

Something twisted in your chest, though you couldn’t quite place what it was. It hardly felt like jealousy at all—but that was worse, somehow. Joel was your stepfather in every other mind but yours and his, and here he was, soaking in all this attention that you couldn’t give to him.

Maybe that was for the best.

Joel deserved a woman he didn’t have to love in secret.

“OK, who’s up—Joel or mom and dad?” Dallas asked.

“I’m out. Joel can take my place. And don’t we—”

Pete snapped his fingers, then pointed at Cory.

“We forgot to grab the other keg, didn’t we?”

“Fuck me.”

“Let’s go.”

They were gone in a second. That left Joel, Scott, Michelle, plus one open spot. Dallas set the last cup.

“Who’s gonna be Joel’s partn—”

“ME!”

That had to have come from three girls, at least. One on the couch and two more on either side of Joel, along with a slew of hopeful looks from others in his orbit.

They’d dispersed some, thankfully. Though not physically clinging to your pseudo-stepfather and begging him to peel off his shirt, they stayed close.

One of them giggled and nudged her friend: “Maya can!”

The girl who’d just been playing tug-of-war with the front of Joel’s button up waved her hand in mock indignation.

“I suck at pong. You go, Claire,” she crooned.

It was clear from the sideways glance the first girl had flashed that she wanted Joel to protest. Maybe insist that she play anyway, if you had to guess. It was all so confusing—what with how this group was flirting, and fighting, and insisting simultaneously that they couldn’t possibly play, even though they’d like to, but maybe…

Your skull started ringing again.

You were just about to turn to leave, when Dallas cut in:

“Sorry, ladies. Gonna be a Daddy-Daughter duo tonight.”

Then he gestured to you, beckoned to Joel, and grinned. Your stomach could’ve plunged to that floor you’d just been pretending to study. You quickly jerked your head.

Even Joel, for all his calm and unaffected dealings, the pretty damp mop of hair hanging in ringlets against the sides of his face, and the way he kept pretending not to be concerned by the flock of girls, had to pause a beat. You saw his throat work. Before you could try and decipher the look that was crawling up his face, you made the split-second decision to interject yourself.

“No, Dallas. I’m not playing again.”

You tried to avoid grinding your molars.

This time, the tone he heard wasn’t one of a thinly veiled acceptance—something begging to be disputed when it tried to decline the offer—but instead an emphatic ‘no.’

No way were you playing another game with this man.

Joel already had your head fucked ten ways to Sunday by being here at all, and now you had to pretend to be platonic, his goddamn beer pong partner, while a gaggle of freshmen girls sat frothing at the mouth for his dick?

Yeah, but no.

Hard fucking pass.

You didn’t care what it looked like. You shot Dallas a look, grabbed a stray Solo off the table, and made your way to the door, calling something over your shoulder about being too tired to play, and offering your spot to Maya.

That should make your old man happy enough.

It wasn’t like he could do anything here with you.

And then you left. Before you did, though, you passed Gavin and the mysterious white bag he was starting to fish out of his pants, and without thinking, you grabbed his hand. You didn’t like doing coke, had never seen the point in taking your level of intoxication that far out on an ordinary night, but, all things considered, this evening was anything but normal. You deserved some relief. If that couldn’t come in the form of Joel packing all his shit and leaving, then so be it. But you weren’t about to hang around and play the nice and polite stepdaughter when all you wanted to do was scratch your fucking eyes out.

A few lines wouldn’t be the worst way to start the night.

Joel wasn’t drunk.

He wasn’t tipsy, either.

And even if he had been, he wouldn’t have appreciated the way this hazel-eyed firecracker had nearly crushed his toes from how hard she’d jumped up and down at hearing you abdicate your position. Maya had shrieked, and Scott and Michelle hadn’t been able to fight back smiles, and trying not to wince too hard, Joel had politely excused himself. He’d claimed that he needed some air.

The oxygen he found down the hallway a few minutes later was stale as shit, but he couldn’t exactly complain.

He’d asked for this, after all: the thumping bass, shaking floors, passageways that reeked of weed and cheap perfume, and girls that refused to let go of his neck.

Well. He hadn’t asked for that last thing.

Thirty years ago, he might’ve found it cute—what Maya and Claire and every other glossy-gazed Phi Mu seemed to be offering with every bat of their lashes. Now, if the arms latched around his throat weren’t yours, the idea just made him sick. He cleared his throat and walked.

And before long, his feet had carried him to the end of the hallway. Where in the hell had you gotten off to?

Would you be back soon?

And why had you taken that kid with you?

Joel’s palms were sweaty by his sides. He didn’t like being kept in the dark—didn’t think traveling some 2,000 miles to be closer to you would still leave him wondering like a fucking idiot if he would see you again.

Then he reached for the nearest door. A bathroom.

The door was just cracked, allowing a sliver of light to shine through and a peek at a sea of tile flooring to greet him. Joel pushed on the knob without thinking to knock.

When he stepped inside, he had to stop.

It was too much to process and walk at once.

For the first time in his life, he felt shell-shocked.

You were on your knees in front of that red-haired fucker. Stabilizing one hand on a denim-clad leg in front of you, patting his thigh, having him murmur something back—probably words of encouragement for how nice your mouth felt around him—and then tilting your head up.

Joel could only see you from behind. His vision was red.

“What the fuck are you DOING?!” he bellowed out.

The two of you leapt apart, your head jerking back.

He wasn’t thinking. Joel blew straight past you and went for him, the little pencil-dicked Pike who’d just had his dick down his stepdaughter’s throat, presumably, and he grabbed him by the shirt. He shoved him hard against the bathtub on the wall, watched him flail a few steps, and then, before the kid could recover his balance, Joel shoved him again. He might’ve tripped further back and fallen into the tub, had the older man not reached for him again—and reared back to punch him square in the face.

That blow never landed.

In the next instant, a smaller body was forcing itself in between him and the kid, and the only other thing Joel could see through his own blinding rage were your two eyes—wide and panicked and horror-stricken, clearly.

“JOEL.”

Still not prepared to retreat, Joel reached out again.

Your hand knocked his down in a blink. Hard.

“J— Dad. Dad. Stop. Please don’t hit him.”

Suddenly, that tone was approaching a plea. You must’ve caught a glimpse of the rage pulsing through his veins and sensed it might’ve been too much for him to control—but of course, Joel knew better. He could always stop.

He stepped off and turned to you at once, teeth bared.

“How the fuck could you even—” he started again.

“I’m sorry, dad,” you broke in, words sounding like a sob, “It’s not his fault. Really. I— I didn’t mean for you to see.”

Sucking some other guy’s cock. Yeah, of course not.

Joel’s face flared with an anger unlike anything he’d felt in years, and if it weren’t for the skittish sack of shit stumbling away, and the warning that was starting to radiate off your skin, he would’ve liked to knock him out.

He might’ve, if the kid hadn’t run out of the room.

If you hadn’t turned slightly, he might’ve yelled again.

And then he saw it, from where you’d pivoted—the toilet.

Sitting on the smooth white porcelain lid in three thick stripes, the sight greeted him like a punch in the gut.

He wasn’t sure what it meant for an excruciating second. He stared. Then he processed what that substance was.

You’d been crouched over the toilet doing a line of coke.

He wanted to feel relief. For a moment, maybe, he did.

When your eyes narrowed on his and you shook your head in a scowl, it didn’t feel like he should be happy. Or ready to celebrate this latest discovery. Instead, realizing that you hadn’t been blowing a guy in this bathroom but were simply doing drugs in front of him, Joel felt bile jump up his throat. It was like a knot the size of his fist, and he wasn’t sure how to react, but he couldn’t stand that look on your face. You were just as angry as him.

“What the hell was that all about, Joel?!” you snapped.

He opened his mouth to speak, but you cut back in:

“Sorry, sorry—I mean ‘dad.’ You fucking asshole.”

“And this is why you up and left?” Joel hissed.

“I just—”

“Do you realize how dangerous that is?”

“I didn’t—”

“What that could’ve been laced with?”

He pointed to the cocaine on the lid of the toilet—apparently there hadn’t been enough space on the skinny porcelain sink to set up your lines—and at the same time, to Joel’s amazement, you sank to your knees.

“Well, I don’t know, dad, why don’t we test some out?”

And then you swiped a casual touch through a line and lifted your index to your mouth. With your other hand, you pulled at your bottom lip a little, and were evidently about to test your drugs the old fashioned way: by rubbing the powder against your gums to see if it made them numb. Joel swatted at your wrist before you did.

“Don’t,” he growled. Without even realizing it, he reached and grabbed your chin. His fingers engulfed half your face in an authoritative, upward-tilting grip. “Put that stuff anywhere near your mouth, and you will regret it.”

That didn’t seem to stir you, but your hand stayed put.

Joel stepped away just as quickly. He went to the door.

He shut it.

And when he returned, you hadn’t moved from where you’d been knelt. He was glad. Something quiet and dull throbbed between his ears, though he wasn’t recovered enough from the shock of the last few minutes to really investigate that. He just stood back over you, frowning.

His voice was lower when he spoke again:

“What am I gonna do with you, honey?”

It was a question as much for himself as it was for you, and your lips twitched at the end of it. You shrugged, and you sank back onto your heels, peering up as you did.

“You thought—” you started, soft.

“I thought you were in here blowin’ that little shit.”

Your smile split into a grin. Your eyes glistened.

“Is that so?”

Joel didn’t have the strength or the presence of mind to answer, so instead, he just nodded. His scowl deepened.

“You and me,” he resumed, having just exhaled a breath, “We’re gonna have ourselves a little chat later. Got that?”

And he meant it. Not just about drugs and other men and the dangers of accepting cocaine from strangers. He had more to tell you tonight than his overwrought mind was likely capable of sharing right now, but he’d say it.

Soon.

Eventually.

Once he got this bulge in his slacks sorted out.

With you, it was never a conscious decision, and it rarely ever occurred at times it was appropriate to happen. Like when your friends and their family and half of the Pike fraternity weren’t all milling about around this house. When he hadn’t almost decked a kid for giving you coke.

When you weren’t shuffling on your knees to greet the growing erection in his pants with a grin on your face.

“Will this ‘chat’ come before or after you fuck Maya?”

That was it.

Joel seized hold of your head again—this time, from the back. One palm rounded the base of your skull and yanked your face forward, mushing your nose and your lips against the fabric of his pants in an obscene sort of kiss. He made you rub your face against the hardened tent there, and he groaned when you whimpered. The reverberations of it traveled from his groin to his brain in two milliseconds flat and made him think insane things.

Like having your mouth right now.

Taking from you here what he thought he’d almost lost.

The sight of your head hovering anywhere near another man’s crotch made it crystal-clear to him, though he’d known it well before: he wanted you. He needed to have you. How you could even crack the joke about a shred of his attention being elsewhere had him tightening his hand in a fist in your hair. He didn’t care if it felt wrong.

“You know what girls like Maya can do for me?” he said.

He tilted your head back so your gaze could find his. He didn’t let you answer, but he let you stare for a second, and then he worked your pretty parted lips over the front of his slacks again. He let the taut grey fabric tease the cusp of that opening, tasting a bit, before drawing back.

“That’s right,” Joel went on as if you’d just responded, “Nothing. Absolutely fuckin’ nothing. Open your mouth.”

And you did. Wider. From the look of it, there was spit pooling inside, and your tongue hovered just within it when your lips met the front of his pants. You cupped your mouth around his clothed erection and kissed it.

Your eyes were locked on his as you did. The sight felt extra obscene—Joel couldn’t ignore the fact that he was dressed in near-formal attire, and you had on jeans and a tight cropped tank. He looked polished and professional; you were a beaming pretty thing making space between his legs to kneel. You felt like a dream with your lips over his swollen, aching cock; Joel felt old. Paternal, almost.

Was it wrong to think you needed to be taught a lesson?

Of course it was. He wasn’t your dad. He didn’t do that.

But when you smiled up at him with your lips still brushing his straining bulge, Joel couldn’t resist the smallest impulse to wonder—what if he showed you?

What if he let you know exactly what he wanted, how he needed it done, and that he only ever craved it from you? If he couldn’t say it outright in words, he could guide you.

Teach you.

Your tongue traced the seam of his zip, and he groaned.

“Damn near gave your old man a stroke, y’know that?”

“I know,” you said softly. Kindly, “I’m sorry, daddy.”

His cock throbbed at that last affectionate word.

His hands couldn’t help themselves: one stayed planted on the back of your head, and the other made its way to his belt. He undid his buckle, button, and zip in a blink.

“And what was that prick’s name?” Joel grumbled.

“Gavin.”

Your mind seemed two million miles away from any shit-brained fratboy at the moment as your gaze fixed itself on the length he was working out of his pants just then.

When it bobbed out and got within an inch of your rapt expression, your lips parted on instinct; you leaned in.

Swiftly, Joel’s hand on your head halted the movement.

“Gavin, huh,” he returned, tone treading on patronizing. He knew you were salivating for that little pearl on his tip. He gripped your hair hard. “This what you’d do for him?”

You whimpered.

“No, daddy. No, just— just you.”

Joel hummed his approval but didn’t let you move. He watched you eye the head of his cock like there was no single sight more appetizing in the world, and then he saw you lick your lips. You’d get positive reinforcement.

He would take things slow, and by the end of it all, he hoped to have made it clear that this was what he wanted: you, and only you. That he didn’t want you doing this with anyone else other than him. Here, now, or ever.

The last was a lot to say, so he fed you an inch instead.

He let his cock slide between your lips and stretch them.

You breathed something soft and sweet at the first intrusion of his tip; your mouth cushioned that inch, and his head was immediately enveloped in warmth. Your tongue darted out to greet him in a gentle lick. Joel groaned again, and his fingers constricted in your hair.

“That’s it, honey,” he told you, “Suck on daddy.”

His hips hadn’t meant to jump, but the pleasure from just the cusp of your mouth was too much for him not to flinch a little. He stabbed another couple inches in that pliant ‘o’ and felt you work your jaw open to take him whole. You looked so obedient. You were doing so good.

You bobbed your head gently, and his hand didn’t need to coax you at all. You were hungry, mouth sliding up and down his thick, throbbing dick and leaving trails of spit in its wake. You wanted to please him now; he could feel it.

You had no idea what you did to him. All he wanted now. It was like trying to explain a color in words, and all the man could do was just hold your head in place and watch you take him. When your back straightened and one palm braced itself up against his thigh, the other about to curl around the base of his length, he shook his head.

He brushed that hand away and made it rest on his other leg, so you were left with just your mouth around him.

You peered up, confused. Joel was, too.

He wasn’t sure exactly what he wanted to do, but he knew he had to lead the way. Make you see what he wanted you to by guiding your motions and filling your mouth the way he needed. He tried as much by shifting his left hand to meet the right at the back of your head. Gently, he pushed your face forward to suck more in.

“Breathe through your nose, baby. Wanna feel you.”

Feel you deeper, he should’ve said. Either way, it made for a slow and painstaking slide down your tongue—sensing you flatten it and inhale a shallow breath as he worked his way in—and at the stretch, you gagged a bit.

Joel eased up, just enough to let you flit your gaze to his.

“You wanna feel me, too, sweetheart?” he asked gently.

You nodded, mouth still full of cock. Your eyes glistened in a way that said you might’ve guessed there was more to it, but you weren’t exactly in a position to ask just what. You let the fingers of both his big hands splay against the back of your head, and your jaw slackened more. Your gaze stayed on his as his cock slid deeper.

In that, there was wordless, tranquil reprieve. The sight of his spit-soaked length stuffing your mouth, skin all shiny and wet, and the way he kept going further and further and further, until your soft pert nose grazed the hairs of his belly, made Joel’s member swell harder still. There was scarcely an inch in between your lips and his heft of stomach. Your eyes were still fixed on him, and as the seconds ticked by, there was moisture welling at the corners. Joel moved his hands to thumb at those tears.

“Good girl. You’re doin’ so good for daddy,” he praised.

And something stirred in the depths of his body when he felt you try to nod again, like you were thrilled to be giving him pleasure and wanted to show it in some way.

Joel could’ve stayed like that for hours if his dick would only have let him. As it was, though, he felt the stir in his stomach accompanied by something else—a familiar pinch, and a warning jolt of pleasure. He cursed quietly.

You’d just started. He’d barely got an inch down your—

“Fuck,” he cursed again, when he sensed you swallow around his dick. The head of himself was breaching somewhere deep within your throat, and he felt it.

This wasn’t what he’d planned. You’d taken him deep before—at your father’s birthday bash last month, actually—but then you’d been blowing him under a table. He couldn’t hold your gaze or watch your throat open around him, couldn’t see the minuscule wince in your eyes or try to brush that discomfited look aside with his thumbs in the way he could now. He felt it in the pit of his gut, though: he would burst if he didn’t slow down.

With that one grounding thought, Joel tried pulling out.

Your body below him responded in sharp protest.

‘Daddy, no’ seemed almost to jump off your tongue, though it was presently weighted down by his cock. Your nails worked deeper into the fabric of his pants, like the tight, possessive grip was all you could manage to let your intentions be known to him. Then the look flared in your irises, too. They were begging him to stay in place.

Joel obeyed. Though it was you on your knees for him, lips, tongue, and throat pulsing and sucking to give him the utmost pleasure, he felt pangs of powerlessness, too.

He couldn’t help it when your lips stretched more, when your mouth opened wider, and your throat took him in all the way. He was fucked. He let out a sharp, hoarse grunt to let you know as much, and he cursed out loud again.

And then, completely axing his every well-laid plan, Joel felt the first rope of cum unload from his throbbing tip. Then another. And another. And another hot flurry of pleasure cropped up from that place your mouth was presently attached to him, and this time, the wave was too much to be overcome. The whole thing flooded him.

Without a hope of beating out that primal instinct, Joel just cupped your face in his palms and let his climax fill your throat. He couldn’t think, and while you seemed a tad surprised at how early it came, you didn’t fight it, either. You simply sat back, peered up, and let him fuck your mouth in the gentlest, most desperate thrusts, mind likely eager to feel his spend paint your open throat.

You hardly had to swallow at all—hardly could swallow, with how deep he’d gone. His cum jetted in milky strings through your plush, wet channel, and Joel could feel it gliding down with just a moment’s hitch of resistance.

Impaled as you were, you gagged once, and he withdrew in the next instant. He didn’t wait for you to catch your breath or for his cum to get down inside you. He felt too much to be troubled now; he yanked you to your feet and drew you into him. He pushed you back against the sink.

Your legs latched around the backs of his, and your body was thrust against the mirror. It was tender, somehow. Joel didn’t fight to claim your lips or invade your mouth with stifling kisses; he just pressed you to the reflective glass and hedged you in under him. He kissed you gently.

In between movements against your body, he mumbled:

“I’m sick of missin’ you all the damn time, sweet pea.”

He wasn’t sure where it came from. It just came.

Much like he had, except the stringy ropes of cum that had spurted from his dick seemed far less of a mess than whatever the fuck was coming out of his mouth right now. He felt exposed as soon as he’d spoken it you.

Then he saw your lips twitch. You kissed him back.

Someplace within where your mouth slotted over his, you were able to get out a couple murmured words yourself.

“I wish you didn’t have to,” you returned in a whisper.

You snaked your arms around the back of his neck and kept kissing him, over and over again, like your body was just starting to melt, and the heat was making you dizzy.

Joel could relate. Every time you touched him, he felt it.

He gripped your legs where they were still curled around his sides, and he held you tighter to him. He pressed his torso to yours until he was half-sure he was hampering your breaths, and then he pulled back. Briefly. Panting.

When he opened his mouth to speak, you cut in for him:

“I wish you could…be here. I wish we didn’t have to…”

Hide.

Your mouth seemed to have your mind and your usual reservations beat by a mile. It was moving fast, like his. Before you could stop yourself, your thighs constricted around his hips, you pulled him in closer, and just as you were about to finish that last quick, splintered thought—

“We’re leeeeeeeeav—OH! Shit!”

Aly Ingram’s sing-song tone was shortly supplanted by a shriek. She’d thrown open the door, unannounced, and when she saw the two of you collapsed against the sink, Joel’s undone pants hanging precariously over his hips and your mouths scarcely two inches apart, she jolted.

Or jumped, really.

She almost leapt through her skin, it seemed, and before she could even begin to recover, she just slapped her hands over her eyes and stumbled back. She was drunk.

“I didn’t see that! I did not seeee—”

“Aly!” you half-hissed, half-groaned.

“I literally didn’t see shit. You’re all g—”

Before either you or Joel could utter another sound, or attempt to split apart, Aly let out a second shrill yelp. This time, it was because she’d just tripped over a trash can backing out. She’d only very narrowly regained her bearings, had grabbed hold of the doorknob and was dragging the door shut, when the girl all but sang again:

“Have fun, be safe! Don’t make babies!!”

Joel scarcely knew how to react to that.

As it turned out, your roommate was open-minded.

Ply her with four or five shots of tequila and a couple High Noons, and she’d probably believe the moon was made of cheese if you told her in a serious enough tone.

But your goal tonight hadn’t been to convince her of a lie—it was to get a big, ugly truth off your chest that you’d been hoping to keep under wraps this entire weekend.

Now, after getting caught with your fake stepfather’s jizz drying in your throat, you had had to come clean about this thing. It wasn’t a story you’d wanted to tell, but it was one that needed sharing given the circumstances.

Aly had laughed her ass off when you told her everything.

Blame it on the strobe lights, the thumping music, or the thick, fetid air of the bar you’d just arrived at, but Aly had laughed a lot. She’d squeezed her eyes shut and slapped the tabletop beside her, like that was the single most insane thing she’d ever heard, and why don’t you write her a How-To? She’d love some tips on boning old men.

“He’s not that old!” you’d protested over your beverage.

She’d bought the drink. She said news like this was cause for celebration, and you couldn’t deny that. Smiling as you spoke, you figured this was good.

In fact, you thought getting caught by your closest friend was one of the best things that could’ve happened, all things considered, because now you knew at least one person was supportive and in your corner regarding Joel. On top of that, you had someone to help cover your ass—if a touch or a look between you two was too suspect, she’d tell you. From the second your group had Ubered to the bar, she’d been keen to see you close…though not too close. Presently, she grinned and squeezed your leg.

“I think you two would make a damn cute couple.”

“Huh?” You had to shout over the music to be heard.

“A cute couple!”

“Come again?”

You were really trying your best, but the blare of Bon Jovi overhead was a bit too much. You leaned in closer to her.

“YOU AND JOEL WOULD MAKE A CUTE COUPLE!”

And, as if on cue, Joel and Aly’s father reappeared at the table, holding the drinks they’d left to buy. Thankfully, the volume in the room was near-deafening, and neither seemed to have heard a word of hers. Scott was nursing some bottom shelf whiskey concoction while Joel double-fisted two shitty beers beside him. You had to admit, the latter looked good from where you sat: one more button was popped on his icy white shirt and a smile was plastered on his face, eyes straying to you more often than they should. The moment after that, you were doubly grateful for the blast of ‘You Give Love a Bad Name’ in this bar—the next thing you knew, Joel was dropping his head casually and murmuring in your ear,

“Aly sure likes to stare, doesn’t she?”

Followed shortly by:

“Wanna give her somethin’ to watch?”

He was clearly joking. Your cheeks warmed anyway. Then, when he started to lift his head, he left a quick, parting kiss to your temple that could’ve been construed as a paternal gesture. To anyone else but you, him, and Aly, it likely was. Your gaze slid from Joel’s face to his forearms, where the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up. He smelled like pine, sweat, and Natty Light, and you were just about to tell him that somehow that combo worked for him, when Scott interposed, loud as hell.

“You ask her yet?!” he bellowed.

He knocked shoulders with Joel in a playful way, and the pair nearly stumbled sideways. Scott elbowed his ribs.

“He’s drunk as shit,” Dallas observed idly.

“Well, what’s he—” you began to say.

Before you’d even finished the question, your answer came in the form of Joel nodding, visibly pretty buzzed himself, as he waved his friend off with a shove and a laugh. Scott just grinned bigger as Bon Jovi gave way to Steely Dan over the speakers. Joel leaned back to you.

“Scott invited us to go skiing out in Jackson, Wyoming.”

“He loves planning trips drunk,” Michelle added.

“Like they’re best friends,” Dallas chuckled.

You ignored Aly’s half-concealed smirk on hearing that; you were too stuck on the look Joel was giving you. Like he was drunk, but dead serious—like he’d agreed to this.

Something set for a future date, however nebulous and far-fetched and stupid the idea may have been, made your insides stir a little all the same. You tried tamping it down with another sip of your drink, but you still shared a glance with Joel. He was watching you more intently.

“Is that something you’d wanna do, hon?” he asked.

You might’ve liked to warn him that he was drawing too close—that his breaths were too warm on your cheek and Aly was straightening in her chair, blinking harder—but anything even approaching a remonstrance was evidently never meant to leave your mouth, as the next second had you nudged off your barstool, taken by the hand, and dragged toward the bustling crowd at the center of the room. Scott had suggested dancing; his son had readily agreed and was now leading you out to the crowd himself. You snagged one fleeting look at Joel.

Mr. Ingram had been dying to get out there, apparently. Behind you, the man spun his wife the best he could through the jam-packed dance floor of students and parents bumping their way through the very best of the ‘70s and ‘80s. He took a few graceless turns himself; while Bob Seger, Bruce Springsteen, and AC/DC reigned supreme over the wide open space, he pulled some mildly impressive moves. More importantly, though, he didn’t give a shit how he looked. This encouraged your group to let loose a little, too, and you somehow found yourself burrowing even further into the sea of people.

Your arms were compressed on either side of you. Your shoulders were bumped, and nudged, and given little more than a quarter of an inch for your chest to expand in the shallowest of breaths. Every pull of your lungs was an effort, and still, you couldn’t help but smile as you ran a quick look over the heads of everyone around. This was fun. Private, even. With dozens of nameless, faceless bodies gyrating in time with the music, you could blend right in. You could pretend that everything was normal.

Even with the press of a familiar form at your back, you could pretend it was just the crowd forcing him there—that Joel had just sauntered in behind you by accident.

It was risky, to be sure. The lights above flashed in bright white bursts, undulating with every pulse of the song being played, and it wasn’t too far from you that Aly and all the rest of them were strewn throughout the crowd.

But Joel hadn’t seemed to have noticed. Beneath the myriad limbs of the bargoers around you and him, he moved a hand to your waist. It hovered precariously for half a second, then tightened. It drew you closer to him.

You tried to push it away on instinct, heart jumping in your throat: what if Scott or Michelle or anyone else turned their heads at that moment and found him touching you there? What if the grasp their eyes caught wasn’t the wholesome, blameless kind that was meant to be shared between stepfather and stepdaughter? Who the hell was supposed to do the explaining to them then?

Clearly Joel wasn’t all that concerned about it; he slid his palm back up your side and gripped your hip hard after you’d nudged him off. He took a daring step forward, and you could feel him shake his head behind you. Smiling.

“And if I made a joke about father-daughter dances—”

“I would kill you with my two bare hands, Miller.”

Your backside glanced off his front. It wasn’t so much a deliberate move on your part but a byproduct of the rhythm. Some soft rock song was coming to an end, and your body rolled gently with his. The friction was minimal. This kind of proximity was easy to be explained away, if Dallas ever happened to look in your direction—

“Joel!”

Something hard pushed into your ass. You had to steel yourself quick, eyes darting furtively about to make sure no one had seen what you’d just felt between your legs. Then you tried wriggling away, off of him, and were rewarded with another hand on your side. It gripped the flesh just above your hipbone with a tender conviction.

Joel’s lips grazed your cheek briefly. His grip loosened.

“See what you do to me?” he murmured, and the fingers that he’d eased around your waist were turning you back.

Facing him now, away from your group. More bodies filled in between you and them, and the force of that influx pushed you closer to Joel. It shoved you together. It almost couldn’t be helped—that was what you kept telling yourself, anyway—when your frame melded to his, and his hands lowered to your hips, and one finger worked its way through your taut, denim belt loop in a manner completely unbecoming of a normal stepfather.

That callused finger held you firm to him with your jeans. It didn’t give an inch, and his eyes on yours did the same.

You were drifting further out. This didn’t matter as much. Anyone who saw you now would just have to guess that you were Joel’s, and Joel’s was yours—if only for now.

Your lips and his were gravitating closer then, too. You were just about to part yours to speak, when one soft, opening sequence broke out in the air, and you groaned.

No fucking way.

An all-too-familiar mid-tempo tune flooded the room and coursed in and out of your skull with a low, rhythmic tick.

It was eerie. Dreamy. Nearly haunting in the way it rang out right here, right now, with Joel’s hold on your sides tightening more and more with every passing second.

You hoped like hell he didn’t know this song, though you were half-certain this was a big hit from back in his day.

When Joel tipped his head back and fell right in step with the swaying cadence, you weren’t left guessing for long. Of course this slick bastard liked George Michael.

Of course he did.

What more of an appropriate song to be dancing to now, other than fucking ‘Father Figure’ of all the throwbacks?

Joel lifted both arms in a half-shimmy, half-slide and flashed a shit-eating grin down at you. It was smug.

‘For one moment, to be warm and naked at my side.’

Joel raised his brows with it, as if hearing the lyrics for the first time and being shocked. He wasn’t, clearly, as he rolled his shoulders in a stupid and seductive way, and dragged you closer to meet his body’s movements.

‘Sometimes I think that you’ll never understand me.’

Right. You would likely never understand Joel Miller.

‘But something tells me together we’d be happy.’

Well…as long as your father didn’t kill him first.

Emboldened by the pre-chorus beat and the ever-increasing swell of people around him, Joel snaked an arm around your waist. He let your body fall in line with his, rolling in gentle sorts of motions until he could find what kind suited you two the best, and he led the way.

When his head dipped to yours, you could feel it coming.

‘I will be your father figure. Put your tiny hand in mine.’

This time Joel was singing along, grin wide on his face. As if to mirror the lyrics, he took your hand and squeezed it. You might’ve rolled your eyes or pulled away when the man leaned down and slid his touch to your wrist. He kissed your palm. Then he kissed it again, sponging his lips to the skin in time with the rhythm of the song. It was both innocent and lewd. Wholesome and sensual.

Something trapped between perverted and polite, like Joel was testing the waters while trying not to make it seem that way at all. You kept moving in time together.

Joel’s other hand held you to him. His fingers flexed.

“You can’t…”

When his grip slid to your ass, you shook your head.

As much as you would’ve liked to indulge the urge that was currently flooding your system, the timing was off. The choice to give in now was wrong, and risky to make.

Your roommate and her family were no more than fifteen feet away. No matter how many strangers stood between you and them, Joel was toeing a dangerous line with his hand lowered to where it was. With his face only inches away and a sly grin spreading on his lips, it was clear he knew better than this. But he was eager to talk.

“You feel that, sweetheart?” he asked softly.

Where that single term of endearment had once made you bristle, you now sensed it warming your insides.

You nodded but were quick to add: “Joel, we can’t.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because…”

You found yourself trailing off again, just as you felt Joel’s erection grind into your front, somewhere close to the space between your legs. It rubbed right where you needed him. While another stream of airy, dreamlike notes floated out and a tenor’s voice crooned if you ever hunger, hunger for me, you peered up to find Joel deep in contemplation. He didn’t blink when you met his gaze.

Instead, he nudged you sideways. You inhaled a breath, and not long after that, you felt your back pressed to one of the lone barstools sitting at the outskirts of the room. You’d strayed far. And now, away from all the people that you’d come here with, you had two big hands sliding up the sides of your body. Cupping your face. Guiding your mouth to meet a warmer, more desperate set of lips than you’d ever been expecting to find. Joel’s kiss was rough.

It was open and aching—a wound not willing to be soothed by anything other than your tongue on his. Swiftly, he coaxed your jaw open and slid in. He licked in. He practically panted into your mouth, fingertips carving crescents in your cheeks from just how hard he was holding your face. He didn’t let up, and that hunger bled from his lips to yours. You felt a heady wave wash over your brain, and at the same time, your thighs tensed.

You pulled away.

Your lips were bitten numb. Your cunt was throbbing.

While your pulse thundered through your ears like a fucking kickdrum, your grip loosened on the front of Joel’s shirt, and you started to turn yourself from him.

What you needed to do was leave. What you couldn’t stand was getting caught again, and risk it being someone who wouldn’t take to it as kindly as Aly had.

But even as you walked, you felt a pulsing in your skull.

Between your legs, the feeling was worse, like there was something thrumming a frantic beat in that precious and defenseless place that you knew was needing him most. You were weak. You swiped a hand over your mouth like that would do anything, and you kept walking, knowing how closely Joel would be following you all the way out.

On such a clear, frigid night, the air outside should’ve been a relief. Instead, your pulse hammered and swelled. Your cheeks burned. You could’ve ground your teeth so hard that you cracked enamel, and it still wouldn’t have been enough to bite back the words inside your throat.

You turned to Joel wanting to tell him no. The expression that met yours said he was expecting as much—and was preparing to object—when you swiftly cut him off again.

It should end there. Nothing good ever came of you shedding your inhibitions or clothes with Joel Miller.

He reached out; you winced. You shouldn’t say it.

“Let’s go home, Joel.”

You were running again.

You’d nearly knocked him to the floor the second he’d turned the key in the door of his dingy little motel room, lips frantic over his and hands making fists in his shirt. It was exactly what he’d been hoping to see—part of why he’d booked this place and made the drive that weekend, to have you cradled in his arms again—but as he crossed the threshold with you all over him, Joel grew unsettled.

He couldn’t quite place the feeling, but something told him that you were only here to escape an unsavory urge. Like he was a bad habit to be flooded from your system.

You seemed to say it with every motion of your hands: skating down his front, clawing at the buttons, busying themselves with quickly trying to rid him of the fabric while your eyes stayed trained anywhere but on his face. It stung. Normally Joel wasn’t the type to ruminate on the reasons why a girl might be tearing his clothes off, but tonight, with you, this wasn’t what he usually did.

The ache unfurling in his chest wasn’t the kind to be imparted by just anyone, he kept reminding himself.

Which was why he took hold of both your wrists. Tightly. Just as you were about to try and peel his shirt from his shoulders and expose the whole naked expanse of his chest, he stopped you. He swallowed as you groaned.

“Joel.”

“You didn’t want me kissin’ you at all back there.”

In the bar, outside the building, in the car ride over here. You’d scarcely let him hold you for half a minute before begging to be taken home, and now that you were inside this room, alone, now you wanted to be touched by him.

Joel tried not to feel stupid saying it aloud, but hell, he felt pretty fucking pathetic peering down at you then.

You shook your head. Took a small step back from him.

“Yeah. Trying not to get us caught again, remember?”

And when you backed off, you stayed off, if only to start unfastening the little straps of your top and kick your shoes off your feet. You made your way over to the king-sized bed at the center of the room and sat down. Joel took off his own shoes but didn’t follow, opting instead to rest his weight on the old TV stand across from you.

He planted his hands on the hardwood surface on either side of him, watched you shuffle to the edge of the bed, and had to steel himself when the next pieces of clothing came sliding off your body. You were lifting your shirt over your head, then dragging your jeans down your legs.

Before you were stripped bare, Joel cleared his throat.

“I said we were gonna have a little chat later, too.”

He sounded like a dad. This really had to stop.

Instead of following his lead, you only kicked your pants off at your feet and leaned back. Joel approached the bed, and you greeted him with a coquettish look, like you already knew where this was going. But you couldn’t.

Joel made sure that you wouldn’t when he cupped your chin in his hand and made you tilt your face up to him.

“Honey,” he started, stern, while you reached for his belt.

You’d almost succeeded in threading your fingers through the leather and tugging it loose when Joel’s grip drew tighter. He jerked your chin up in a pinch, ignoring the roll of your eyes, and for yet another beat, he felt that obscure urge to discipline you again. Like you needed it.

If he could just control himself and play things right…

“Listen, I’m not trying to be your father.”

Wait. No. That came out wrong.

Your eyes widened some.

“Oh, really, daddy?”

Well, shit.

Joel straightened where he stood and tried not to puff out his chest like an old father-type might do, but the effort was useless—everything the man said and did was like the fucking calling card of a patriarch. He scrubbed a hand over his face and pretended not to see you grin up at him, your gaze bright and fiery as the Fourth of July.

He could hold important conversations and still not try to jump your bones immediately. He could control himself. He could slap on a semi-austere look and just tell you.

“I love you, you know that, right?” he blurted out.

Your eyes widened again, this time in alarm.

“Christ, Joel.”

You were sliding back on the bed. Shaking your head and pursing your lips in a grimace like this wasn’t happening.

“We’re not doing this again,” you added in a grave voice.

Joel was already making his way up after you—again, like a fucking moron, he felt—crawling on hands and knees across the moth-eaten, coral-colored bedspread and trying not to panic and failing miserably, per usual.

“‘S’alright if you don’t wanna say it back, I just—”

“I didn’t mean to say it in the first place, Joel!”

But there was a strain in your words. Denial.

You were working in earnest not to expose that sliver of self that wanted him, too. Joel could feel it. He planted his knees on the mattress and met you closer to the headboard, where your breaths were coming in faster. You shook your head, but you also didn’t stop him when he drew in even closer and lowered his body to yours.

He was hovering, almost.

Just as he’d been poised above your soft, beaming face all those weeks back in some little podunk town—at Balmaceda’s Mountain Lodge, where you’d been stuck together, only to fuck each other for the first time that night—he pressed a touch to your side. He rubbed his thumb just over your hipbone, where the panties you had on still clung to your skin, and he watched you tense up.

It was like before, only worse: now you knew his touch, and he knew yours, but there was a dread in your eyes.

As if you couldn’t stand to be under him, you slid back.

“Joel, please…don’t,” you murmured hoarsely.

“Don’t what?” His stomach dropped.

“Don’t ever say that again.”

That he loved you?

Joel never thought one string of words could hurt him so much, but there it was. While his heart unwound and his ego met with a swift and unceremonious death, he felt something like agitation twist inside him, too. Cruelly.

This was what he’d come this whole way to tell you.

The man could handle rejection; that wasn’t the problem. What bothered him now was how unflinchingly committed you seemed to misunderstand his intentions. Something surged in his chest again, and this time, it wasn’t all hurt—it was anger, too. Why you refused to accept that someone might love you was beyond him.

He didn’t reach for you again or crowd you further, but he raked a hand through his hair and heaved a hard sigh.

“Why won’t you believe me?” This time pleading.

“It’s not that I won’t—I just can’t, Joel. I can’t.”

“Why can’t you?”

You started to speak, but then that balloon of rage swelled bigger in his chest, and it wasn’t meant to be directed at you—it was only meant for himself, why wasn’t he enough—and he spit the words like venom.

“Haven’t I shown you that I mean it? That I— I— I care? I’m here. I came to see you. I’m telling you that I love you. How else am I supposed to show the woman I love that I care when you won’t let me in an inch, except when—”

“Except when you’re seven deep in me?” you scoffed.

It was bitter and derisive, and you slid farther back.

“For Christ’s sake,” Joel gritted through his teeth.

He didn’t even wait for you to interject, as he came back: “Is that all you think of me? Is that what I am to you?”

His voice was loud, and he hadn’t meant for it to be.

He was pushing off the bed, watching you sit back.

“I just think it’s real convenient,” you snapped again, “Betraying my trust by not telling me about dad’s affair, finding me in a weak moment, letting me believe you feel the same so you don’t have to deal with this…this…guilt.”

Joel couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“You think I did all of this out of pity?”

“I think you’re trying to be a—”

“That I would lie about it?”

His heart rate was spiking. He felt his pulse thudding in his ears as he stalked around the footboard and scowled.

“Joel, I—”

“No.” He shook his head hard. He was sincerely trying not to fit the bill for ‘hot-headed, explosively angry father,’ but the efforts he made seemed all in vain. Joel could hardly talk now without raising his voice to a shout.

“I have—” he started, only to stop himself, swallowing.

His throat ached, and he almost choked on his words.

“I have been in love with you this whole fuckin’ time!”

His eyes burned. The sound came out angry, hoarse. Maybe he was; he just couldn’t contain it anymore. Silence filled the open space, and time distended.

He couldn’t stand the way you wouldn’t believe him, even now, as you straightened and shook your head.

“No, you haven’t.”

“I have.”

“You don’t mean—”

“You don’t get to tell me what I mean!”

He stared back and watched your gaze erupt in ire. Indignation. Lips drawing tight and teeth baring and hands gripping the bedspread beside you, as if enraged.

“I do. I can. You’re— you’re full of shit.”

Your words made him want to hurl something at a wall.

“Am I?!” he bellowed.

“Yes!” you spat.

“How can you say that?!”

And, without meaning to, Joel’s knee hit the side of the nightstand while he turned abruptly from you. The whole thing shook; the lamp nearly toppled, and the man immediately reached for it, then out to you. The gesture was a reflexive apology, but you responded by shoving his hands off. An angry sound racked through your body as you moved from him—“You—you don’t mean it, Joel.”

“I do. I mean it. Believe me, I do.”

That sound from his chest could’ve been half a sob.

He reached for you again, knees sinking with the springs of the mattress beneath him, and you shuffled further back. Your movements slowed. Suddenly, Joel’s stopped.

He couldn’t see it without a wince—your hands shaking. Your fingers tried making fists but failed, and in an effort to conceal the fear they held, you seized the comforter.

His throat ached, and that pain only soared in a second.

“You can’t…you can’t mean it if I’m just a secret to you.” Your tone was a rasp. The lips that spoke it were curled, revealing teeth still gritted. Eyes filling with more tears, “You can’t say you love me if…if you’re just gonna leave.”

By the end of it, your words were ground to a murmur. Your voice was hushed and slow and begging to be spared notice, as though every syllable hurt to say.

Your bottom lip was quivering too. He knew you were kicking yourself for it—could see the embarrassment etched into your gaze as you blinked back nothing, then one, then two, then a barrage of slow, hot tears—but no matter what you did to fight it off, your body trembled.

The whole thing was practically vibrating with hurt. Humiliation and anger had evidently joined the mix, and before he could even think to speak, you mumbled again:

“You’re gonna leave me, Joel.”

The hurt wouldn’t stop.

“You don’t love me.”

Your voice cracked to continue, pain clinched with a sob.

“You can’t.”

In the look that met his, he saw a wall of warring fears. It wasn’t all for him, either. There were wounds that were the work of years beneath the surface of your skin, ones entrenched in flesh since long before he’d ever known you or laid a finger on that part himself. It started young.

Your lashes battled to keep the tears at bay, but the floodgates had opened. Your secret was gone. There was no sense in feigning indifference when the truth was laid bare—that you didn’t deem yourself worthy of love, and likely never had. Regardless, you worked hard not to cry. You scrunched your nose, mashed your lips together, and stared anywhere but him, and the tears kept flowing. Gently, but without slowing, they streaked down in turn.

“No, sweet pea, I love you. I love you. I ain’t leavin’.”

It was all Joel could do to keep his own vision clear.

He already knew you wouldn’t believe him, but that didn’t stop him from saying the words all the same.

“I— I said it first,” he went on, words tumbling out.

You turned wet, sad eyes to him in utter silence, and that made him want to ramble on forever. As long as it took.

“At the fair, a month before you ever said it, I was trying to tell you I loved you then. You ran off before I could.”

That was the truth.

If Joel had any hope of regaining your trust, it would need to start there. And out of one truth came another.

“I already knew I loved you before that. I would’ve said it, except it just felt wrong, with all that…that stuff I knew.”

He meant knowing about his best friend, your father, and his little rekindled romance with his former mistress. It wasn’t right, keeping you in the dark about something like that, but he also hadn’t wanted to hurt you. There was more to the story that complicated things further, and frankly, Joel had been too swept up in the novelty of this thing you two had had to choose the smarter path.

That didn’t excuse what he did. Hell, it only hurt him worse seeing your eyes gloss over and stay fixed on his.

Knowing you’d trusted him not to hurt you—and he had.

If you didn’t accept what he told you now, he wouldn’t fault you for it. All he could do was slide off the bed and pull you to a perch on the edge, while he planted himself on the carpeted floor and kneeled in between your legs.

Cupping your tear-stained face in his hands, pleading:

“Baby.”

You blinked back at him but ventured nothing.

“Sweet pea, I am not keeping you a secret.”

A beat.

“I’m not leavin’. I want more—need more.”

And for some reason, that felt like a weightier admission than he’d even thought possible. He wasn’t good at this.

He wasn’t quite cut of a cloth to know just how to soothe you and make things right, but he did know that holding you felt right to him. So he did. He rubbed his thumbs in little circles over your warm, wet, puffy cheeks, and he pulled your face closer to his. He held your gaze and watched an internal war wage somewhere far behind your eyes as you tried to contend with this new feeling—that of being wanted and needed and loved as you were.

You sniffled between his two broad palms.

“I want you to stay,” you said softly.

Joel’s heart hammered at that.

He couldn’t hope to leave out the rest. He let go of your face then and felt an irresistible urge to go on, even if it was much too soon and he had meant to show you later. As stupid as the idea had been, he’d already made it, and there was no going back anyhow. He would tell you here.

He reached in his pocket for his wallet. He broke your gaze momentarily to take it out, flip it open, and then card his fingers through the bills a few aching moments before pulling it out—the thing he’d wanted to show you.

When he held it up, a set, he flitted a quick look to what he’d lifted between you and him, as if the sight might give him answers on what to say. Sadly, nothing came.

Joel was totally on his own in explaining what this was. Lucky for him, though, you didn’t seem keen to judge.

“They’re…they’re tickets,” he started. Stupid.

You raised a brow, trying to read, and he forged ahead. Just as the words first appeared to register in your mind, and the faintest look of shock took shape, he hurried out:

“Billy Joel’s got a show comin’ up in Austin this June. I…I thought— well, I hoped, I guess, that maybe we could…”

Spit it out, Miller.

Spit. It. Out.

He frowned.

“I’m no good at this. Sorry. I wanted us to go…together.”

And then…

“And I want your dad to know about us before then.”

There it is.

The last lynchpin in the man’s resolve was gone. He’d said it. There was no turning back from what he’d offered, or what it required, and now you knew he wanted things to be real and committed. Serious.

Terrifying.

Your eyes remained fixed on his. For a second, that look, and your whole upper half, appeared so still Joel thought you might’ve stopped breathing altogether. You blinked. Glancing down at the tickets in his hand and batting your lashes again, as if you weren’t quite sure how to answer.

Then, at last, he heard a sharp inhale—Or was it an exhale? He couldn’t tell—and before he could blink back or wonder so much as a thought, the breath was battered out of his own chest. You rushed him.

You’d moved so fast, hugged him so quick, Joel scarcely knew what was what until he felt your arms snake around his neck. You joined him on the filthy, soiled floor and dropped your knees on either side of his body in a kind of straddling hug. It was as swift as it was unexpected, and it took him a second to adjust. But no longer than that.

Joel was relieved to feel your warmth. Squeezing him. Choking him, almost. He didn’t think you’d ever held him that hard in his life, so he did all he could to soak it in.

It was only when he heard another sob that he paused.

“You…you want to?” Your voice was tiny against him.

“‘Course I do, darlin’,” Joel answered in a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He cupped the back of your head to him and held you tighter, “Of course I do.”

Then, because the impulse struck again: “I love you.”

He didn’t need you to say it back; a look was enough. When you drew back and met his gaze, eyes still doused with tears but smiling faintly at him, Joel was content to see your acceptance. Allowing love in in some small way.

And when your lips succeeded that look, meeting his in a soft kiss, and your body shifted up toward the bed, he didn’t protest. He kissed you back. Joel didn’t have to have love spelled out in words for him to feel what you meant. You said it gently, but somehow with even more force than when you’d stumbled into this room together, touch beckoning him in as you laid back on the mattress.

Admittedly, every inch of this place was seedy. On such short notice Joel hadn’t had much of a pick among his choice of accommodations, and the shortage showed. Still, when you slid up that old, worn bed and stretched yourself in wordless welcome, he couldn’t have asked for more. He only wished that he could give you more, but for right now, at least, that was out of the question. He leaned in and found your lips like second nature, slotting between your thighs and kissing you harder. The concert tickets had shortly been cast aside on the night stand.

“I love you.”

It slipped out again, and Joel didn’t care. His tongue chanced past the seam of your lips and, once inside, explored every contour, ridge, and crevice it could find.

While he did, a touch palmed your breasts over your bra. Your skin was warm; gaze soft, the last he’d seen of it. The scent of you rose to greet him like a mist of some wild intoxicant: citrus, mint, a tinge of sweat, and a liter of your favorite fruity drink, if he’d had to guess. You flooded his senses. It wasn’t enough for him simply to hold flesh in his hands and explore your body with his lips and tongue; Joel wanted to consume something more, though he hardly had the words to articulate it.

You unclasped your bra just as his mouth slid down to your neck. There was a beat—your sharp intake of breath when his teeth met skin and marked it with the tenderest bite—and then your arms reached out. You discarded your bra and bared yourself to him, and when Joel tilted his head to take in the view, he had to groan your name.

There was no other logical route for him to go.

You’d just begun to wind your fingers through his hair when he slid down to greet that newly-exposed place.

“I love you,” he repeated against your skin before drawing one nipple between his lips. He kissed it.

Your grip grew tighter.

“Joel, please.”

His teeth had only reappeared a second to tug the pebbled flesh between them, tongue hungry and wet and laving gently across that hardened peak, when your legs wound around him too. You pulled his body into you.

Joel was helpless to the inducement. His torso fell more heavily to yours and his lips suckled with a vigor that betrayed sheer desperation. He felt it strain in his pants. When he moved from one breast to the other, he heard a wet pop, and the whimper when he re-attached himself was enough to make the bulge he felt swell even bigger. His tongue caressed in laving, measured motions along the curve, and he tried not to grow overly eager from it.

Don’t get too excited. You need time. Lots and lots of—

“Joel,” you exhaled on a particularly harsh press of his mouth. Your ribs heaved with it. “Come— come here.”

He was clambering back up in an instant. The ministrations of his lips that had practically engulfed your skin and smeared it with his saliva were swapped in a blink with them returning to your chin, jaw, and cheeks, planting kisses in between the words he murmured next.

“Yeah? Every—” To the side of your mouth. “Everything OK, sweet pea?” Feeling guilty but also simply needing to calm himself down. “Too fast?” Another to your cheek.

It wasn’t like the two of you hadn’t gone too far, too soon before. In fact, it was a pretty regular occurrence with the sex you had. Joel just needed a reset—had to make sure this was alright, and that he could cool down if needed.

He felt a pinch in his groin but ignored it.

Suddenly, your gaze was on his again.

Fingers carded through the sweat-damp, striated tufts of black and silver hair at the sides of his head, and you leaned in closer until your nose and his were touching.

“Here,” you pressed him, low. Need crept into those words, and your grasp constricted. “Stay here, please.”

It was clear you were inviting him back to your lips, to kiss them, so Joel did just that. He bracketed his arms on either side of your head and let his mouth explore as it had before. Where he resumed at equal force, you met him with still more warmth and wanting and open fervor, tongue curling around his in some soft and wordless plea

Below the belt, Joel was throbbing. He didn’t need to reflect long at all to know what that meant. Then your lips parted wider, your ankles dug deeper in the backs of his calves, and your hips started grinding against him.

Dry humping.

Whining at the friction.

“Feels…feels so good, Joel,” you told him breathlessly.

“You like that?” His lower half mimicked the motions.

Need blossomed across your face as the ridge of his cock rubbed in just the right way through his slacks. Something harder than he meant—a thrust, like he was fucking you into the bed—shook your frame, as well as the mattress underneath it. Springs creaked. Metal groaned. Warmth spread, from the pit of his stomach to where your body met his. The movements kept going.

You were slick beneath him. You must have been. Your whines had heightened to punctured gasps and your hips were so desperate, rubbing your barely-clothed core to the front of his pants and brows pinching as if—

You were already expecting this to end.

You didn’t think that he would stay.

“Baby,” Joel panted again.

By now, desire consumed him, but the urge to smooth that tiny crease of worry was coursing just as powerfully. He swallowed, gripped the linens beside your head in one hand a little harder, and opened his mouth to speak.

Another flick of your hips. Another sigh. Another whine.

Another pinch somewhere deep within him, and a groan.

Suddenly, your hands were on his shoulders, sliding up and toward his neck. Your fingers clawed for his hair.

“Joel,” you panted back.

Joel had tried to slow the motions of his lower half to talk, but yours had only sped up to grind yourself against him. He could feel the heat bleeding from you now. Wetness formed and expanded in a patch through your pink cotton panties and likely stained his front, or would.

His cock was swollen stiff and throbbing. Precum pearled at the tip of him, no doubt, and with every jerk of your body, he could feel it smearing and aching to slip in.

He wanted to be inside you. His balls twitched, his stomach ached, and his senses were suffused with you, a white-hot desire to paint your mouth, your skin, or your insides with his cum nearly as strong. But he had to stop.

Then you kissed him.

Joel’s lips were still parted when your mouth found his, kissing him sweetly and without reserve. Your fingers that had threaded through his hair pulled taut. Hard.

Your center slid up the length of his fully clothed cock, and with one more press of your legs, Joel felt you.

He’d never wanted anything more in his life, and still, he fought to speak—to reassure you that he wasn’t leaving.

“Joel—”

“I know, I know. Baby, I—fuck.” His breath hitched in his throat when his bulge pulsated again. His head swam.

With what meager resolve the man still possessed, he ventured another kiss, then drew back. His eyes dropped and searched your expression, half-crazed, and just when the words were taking shape again, you parted your lips and brought them to his. You rolled your hips, balled your fingers into fists through his hair, and with your mouth and his a quarter-inch apart in puckered, pretty ‘O’s, panting with every thrust that shook the bed:

“I love you, Joel.”

It was a breath, and the taste had never felt sweeter.

One more jerk of his hips and you were drawing in once again, panting in his mouth as if to make sure he heard.

“I— I love you. I love you so much,” you murmured, low.

His cum unloaded in thick, hot ropes. He couldn’t stop it.

Joel Miller, at the age, maturity, and level of experience he could boast, had never cum virtually untouched and in his own fucking pants since…he couldn’t remember when. But he was. His spend pulsed out from the head of his cock in dizzying bursts, and his stomach clenched. He gripped the bedspread and let out a guttural groan while he soaked the front of his boxers from inside them.

His dick throbbed and leaked, and his breathing slowed. He mumbled something back, quietly—‘I love you, too.’

Then he pushed up and off of you, out of the bed.

Seconds stretched; he didn’t feel it. Stars burst behind his eyes with every step, and he staggered that path to the bathroom like his life or his pride might depend on it.

As a matter of fact, the damage was already done. He’d jizzed in his pants like an overeager teen getting his dick touched or sucked for the very first time. What was worse, you hadn’t been doing either when he came; you’d told him you loved him, and that was enough.

Enough to make him look like a goddamn idiot, Joel thought without blinking. He kicked the door shut behind him and reached for the zip of his pants.

Sticky. Wet. A whole fucking shitshow below the belt.

He ran the tap. He had his undone slacks and boxers pulled down past his hips, and he was facing the sink in seconds, assessing the extent of the damage. Then his face flushed red at the sight of the sticky, milky mess swarming his groin and he could’ve kicked himself. He settled for yanking a towel out from one of the cubbies beneath the counter and running it under the water. He daubed quick and without much precision, gaze darting to find dozens more clumps of his spend strewn about than he thought possible. He’d cum an absurd amount.

Before he chastised himself, though, he had to pause.

“Joel?”

Your voice was soft. Sometime since he’d unzipped and started scrubbing his crotch in vicious circles, you’d appeared at the door, head peeking around curiously.

You must not have been standing there for long, because you actually drew closer to join him. Feeling comfortable enough in roughly thirty square feet of space, you shut the door again and leaned your hip against the counter.

If Joel didn’t know you better, and he wasn’t already occupied with wiping cum off of his cock and balls, he might’ve searched your face for a smile. A smirk, maybe.

It wasn’t like teasing each other was suddenly off-limits now that Joel was brimming with embarrassment. Half your communication was giving the other shit for little mishaps and quirks, and he expected that his last accident in the bedroom would be no different.

He flinched when you reached out instead.

Hooking your fingers under the waistband of his pants and his plaid boxers, you shuffled in closer to him and let out a breath. You tugged once, twice—gently, so as not to further disrupt the mess or make him wince—and then coaxed the fabric down his legs, lower and lower.

When you peered up at him, Joel couldn’t find so much as a trace of amusement in your eyes or on your lips. You just nudged his slacks to the tiled floor and hummed.

“It’ll be easier if we wash it off in there.”

You nodded to the shower behind him.

Joel turned slightly, as if considering or trying to get a glimpse of the freestanding shower with its wide-open, mildewed curtain seeming to beckon him in, then stopped. He turned back and chucked his towel.

“Alright,” he said while kicking his pants off at the ankles. Talking softly and not meeting your gaze, “That’s fine.”

He pivoted once more to peel his shirt off and make toward the shower by himself, and you surprised him, again, when you bypassed his much larger frame and hopped in first. You slid your panties off and tossed them into the pile of clothes by the sink, and you twisted the knob on the wall. You sidestepped the first stuttered sprays and drew the curtain back in wordless invitation.

Joel hovered, eyes scanning the cramped space.

“I don’t think we’re both gonna fit in here.”

Then, as though to emphasize his point:

“I can wash off by myself. It’s…fine.”

He hadn’t meant it to sound so stilted, but that was just how he felt: stiff and awkward and raw with feelings of recent embarrassment. He tilted his head to the side.

Your head tipped right back, and you raised a brow.

“Just get in, Miller. Freezin’ my fuckin’ ass off.”

And there was a smile: the first one. Faint.

Not mocking, snide, or condescending. Just the kind to usher him in and drag the curtain behind his hulking body, wipe a slick, wet hand over your mouth and grin—‘You do know I’ve seen you naked before, right?’—and that set his mind at ease. He almost smiled himself.

“So you remember that I’m a grower, not a shower.”

Joel cupped his hands over his softening length in faux protective fashion, as if you hadn’t seen the thing dozens of times by now. When he sidled up and cornered you between the soap tray and the shower stream, he found the edges of his lips kicking up a little, unable to help it.

You’d seen him hard, soft, and everything in between—mostly hard when near you. Maybe it wasn’t the worst thing that you were getting to experience him like this.

That made him lean in closer. Chance another joke.

“Looks like your old man’s stamina has taken a hit, too.”

Joel had meant it to sound playful. Suggestive, even. Instead, it came out dismal and gruff, like he was trying to overcompensate for something he was sorely lacking.

He might’ve wanted to kick himself again, were it not for the next move you pulled on him, which was enough to pluck his thoughts—and his breath—out of his body.

Without wasting a second to pretense or teasing, you simply brushed your hand down his front and touched him, gently. He was softer, smaller, and almost wholly spent from his last exertion; still, you reached and wrapped your fingers around his length with care.

Sparks ignited from the place where you trailed. Joel had to swallow a groan, oversensitive and fairly stunned, and his palm came to rest on the wall behind your head. His chin dipped toward his chest while his gaze dropped too.

He watched you stroke him once, rub your thumb along the tender skin, then bring your left hand to join the mix, carrying a bar of soap with it. You started from the base.

“Baby,” Joel rasped. The muscles of his stomach clenched while you drew circles to spread the soap.

“My old man,” you repeated affectionately.

It was artless and kind. Friendly and gentle. Most every other time he’d been touched where you had him, the hands had meant to arouse, and seek something else. Here, you were trying to help. Clean him sweetly and without concern for yourself while also drawing him in, like you always did. It made his chest hurt—and not in a way totally unconcerning for a man his age. Nonetheless, he leaned into that feeling and shifted his body to yours.

His head and your head were now doused with water, his hovering above so close that little droplets streaked from his chin down your slightly upturned face. Joel could feel you watching him. He flicked his own gaze back to meet yours, and as he did, your palm stroked him from root to tip. His hips jerked involuntarily; he swelled in your grip.

His cock stiffened but still remained far from fully erect. Joel swallowed, anchored his hand harder on the wall, and wished himself a decade or three younger, at least.

“You alright with this?” he muttered.

“With what?” you mumbled back.

Joel sucked in a breath just as your hand, and the soap, slid back down his length, and rubbed casually around it. You assumed a leisurely pace and scrubbed his tummy.

“My body ain’t what it was—”

“And it’s more than enough.”

Suddenly, your eyes weren’t just resting on his but pressing. Piercing. The circles working to clean his skin increased in pace and force, and you set the soap aside. You nudged him closer to the water, but all Joel felt was the urge to draw you with him. The shower stream pelted his chest, his belly, his freshly soaped lower half, and past the suds, a gradually hardening cock. Gradually.

You had him in your hand; you were rinsing him clean. Joel should’ve extended some murmured thanks, a calm and uncalculating touch coming to rest on one of your shoulders while you did him this innocent favor. Your lips twitched. His cock hardened. Then your back was flat on the shower wall, and Joel was hovering over your drenched and naked frame again, only his touch was descending to your hip instead. He held it firmly.

“You could have your pick of any guy—”

“Good thing I only want you.”

Your grip tightened too. Now that you’d scrubbed him clean, you seemed ready to let go in the next second, but old habits died hard. Joel leaned in to nose your cheek.

“That so?” His hand moved from your hip to what he knew would be a scorching heat between your thighs.

Two thick fingers glided through your folds and forced a whimper out of your throat. You were soaking wet, and not just from the shower’s spray. Joel rubbed that slick, delicate seam with all the self-control he could muster in the moment, and he kissed your cheek. Every inch he could feel of you was brimming with warmth and need.

You tilted your chin and caught his lips. You parted your legs and held his almost-fully erect length in your grasp.

“I— I mean it, Joel,” you answered him, surprisingly soft then. You kissed the sides of his mouth while you continued to stroke up and down. “I want you.”

Joel’s hips shifted involuntarily. As if moving of its own volition, his lower half stirred beneath your touch, and shortly, he had your legs spread wider and his body slotting in the gap between. His fingers pushed deeper.

And, just as his hand was all but cupping your mound and the wet heat of your cunt was pulsing against him, Joel slowed. He sucked in a breath and met your gaze.

“How do you want me, sweetheart?” he murmured.

In reply, you gripped his base and guided him closer. Flicked your thumb over the fat, leaking tip and sighed.

“Right…here.”

“Right here?”

Joel hadn’t meant to move you so quickly, but one blink and your hand was off him completely; your back was turned to him, and your ass was pressed flush with his groin. He had to hunch in the tight, wet, fog-infested enclosure with his chin jutting in over your shoulder and his palm splayed over your tummy. He spoke softly again:

“You want daddy in here, pretty girl?”

Your whine was all he needed to hear.

And perhaps it would’ve been wise to wait a beat or two. Work two fingers in and out of your aching cunt, drag his tongue through your folds, or else use his throbbing tip to ease you open for him. Before he could even think to make use of his hands, mouth, or head, though, you were reaching behind and taking him yourself. You pressed a palm to the wall and pushed up on the tips of your toes, and with impatience bleeding through your every movement, you slid back onto him. You did it quickly.

In the absence of adequate foreplay, entry wasn’t swift. Joel almost choked at the feeling of how tight you were around him—how rigid and warm and narrow you felt on that first slide. He planted a grounding hand next to your own out of sheer necessity. He held your hip in his other and swallowed a groan that seemed fit to nearly kill him.

“Sweetheart,” he panted against your neck, “Easy. Easy.”

You tried to nod your understanding but slid up just as fast. From a glimpse of your profile, Joel could make out some consternation fanning out. Your brows pinched.

The pretty, slick ‘o’ encircling his cock clenched again, and it was evident you were trying to force the motion back down against your body’s wishes. You whimpered a little and dropped your free hand between your legs.

Joel kissed your jaw. Your cheek. Your ear. Partly to remind you that he was fine to take things slow and partly to quiet his own hammering heart inside him.

It wasn’t working.

You were just so. fucking. tight.

“I— you gotta slow down, sweet pea,” he hissed through gritted teeth. Your walls pulsed again, and it nearly sent him spiraling. The second your ass met his hips and he was buried to the hilt, he stifled a groan into your neck.

“But I need you, daddy,” you whined, “Need you inside.”

Another grunt. Another moan. Another suffocating pulse.

“I’m gonna blow if we don’t slow down some, honey.”

It was mortifying, but it was the truth. Tonight, Joel just couldn’t seem to keep his cum confined to his balls like he normally could. Presently, they rested firm and heavy against the globes of your ass and were just then preparing to hit a rhythm as you rocked back and forth.

Your gaze flashed to his over your shoulder.

“That’s OK. You…you can— oh.”

Before you could finish that thought, your words were torn from your tongue and lost to a shuddering moan. His cock plunged deep within your soft and airtight channel, and your head lolled back a little more.

Out of habit, Joel pulled out and then plunged back in, feeling the wet clutch of you stretch around his cock.

“I can what, honey? What can daddy do?”

Lax as his voice made him sound, the man was coming apart at the seams; he had only to search your face for a fleeting, desperate moment, find you hungry as he was, and he thrusted even harder, absorbed the shockwaves of your pleasure while he fucked you up against the wall.

Gradually, the spatter of water on white glossy tile gave way to the sounds of your skin and his hitting again and again. Your face softened, and the once-taut walls eased to accommodate his girth. You squeezed Joel from base to tip, making the most obscene noises when he slid in and out, and from the look you gave him then, he could sense the need before it ever left your lips. He saw desire fill your pretty, glossy stare and felt compelled to sate it.

Again, it seemed you were begging him to stay.

Expression so pleading and sweet and soft.

“Daddy, I— I want you to cum inside me.”

Joel almost blew his load on the spot. His hips had to stutter in place—so taken aback by what you’d just said—but then you were bouncing back and forth again, neck craning to flash him the most winsome smile.

“Oh, honey…”

“Please.”

He’d finished in you before. It had been an accident. The night had ended with you and him hauling ass to the nearest CVS and hitting the Plan B like it owed you money. And now you were asking him to do it?

“I’m about to start my period. It’ll be fine.”

The half-starved look in your eyes said you’d been thinking about this for awhile. Maybe not with your rational brain, but certainly in earnest. Your smile said it.

Joel’s good sense was shot. He knew it was wrong. He was assured beyond a shadow of a doubt that if your dad ever learned he’d deliberately painted your insides white—or worse yet, knocked you up—his best friend would personally sever his dick and sauté it for lunch. Still, the urge to be joined with you in this brand new way was damn near debilitating. He couldn’t tell you no. So instead of doing what he should’ve done, he simply said:

“OK.”

For some reason, it felt wrong to finish in the shower. So he cut the water, toweled you both, and took you to bed. He slid under thin, sodden, wildly outdated motel sheets without letting his lips disconnect from yours once. He propped your legs around his hips and kissed you harder. He found a home within the furthest recesses of your body he could find, and his heart still throbbed for more. It was the best and worst agony, to be so delirious in the need for someone else, but each time you met him and accepted him in, his pleasure soared to new heights.

His cock dragged in and out of your heat in sloppy, shallow thrusts. He felt your wetness ease his passage and welcome him deeper, until the mouth of your cunt was stretched as taut against his base as it would go and your walls were pulsing with need. You squirmed underneath him. Your whines turned into whimpers, and the whimpers became ragged, hiccuping gasps as you clawed at his back and begged for more, more, more.

“‘M’so full. Feels so, so good, daddy,” you breathed.

“Yeah?” Joel said, and he glanced between your bodies to see you stretched and stuffed to the brim with cock. He groaned involuntarily. “I fit so nice, don’t I, baby?”

“You— you do, daddy. You do.”

“Can I fit a little more in?”

Your eyes widened.

As soon as realization dawned, you nodded your head and gripped him tighter. You hardly needed another stab of his hips, his thumb on your clit, or so much as a word spoken besides—at just the thought of being filled with his seed, your body seized in anticipation. It was you trembling, shuddering, clenching hard and reaching bliss before you even meant to get there, really. You were wholly overstimulated and clamoring for more, the pulses of your cunt milking his cock with all you had.

Joel scarcely had the presence of mind to get a syllable out, but he knew what he needed to say before his pleasure took hold. He smoothed a hand over your cheek, cupped it, and lowered his lips to yours, so only the cusp of his mouth and his stubble were grazing your open pout and the words he spoke were all yours to hear.

Sliding deeper. Meeting and holding your gaze with bare, uncontrived sincerity: “I’m yours, baby. I’m all yours.”

His balls tightened. He wanted to say more to set your mind at ease and assure you what you meant to him, but evidently, your bodies had other plans. In the next moment, he felt a familiar warmth spurt from his tip, and his hips jerked. His cock burrowed as deep within your wet, pliant walls as it could go, and he unloaded rope after rope of his cum. Joel let out a full-throated groan.

The wild hum of his pulse through his skull all but rendered him deaf to the sounds around him, but he knew he told you that he loved you; he knew you said it back. He felt you anchor your heels into the backs of his legs and accept him completely. You spent what felt like hours kissing, writhing, panting, and murmuring words of the warmest affection. In reality, this lasted seconds.

With you underneath him, in his arms, it didn’t matter.

“I love you, Joel,” you whispered again, smiling.

He grinned and kissed you, “I love you more.”

And he’d meant what he said: every inch of him was yours. Every moment you would let him have from that point forward, he’d spend showing you that he was there to stay. He didn’t care how long it would take to prove it.

For once, he didn’t care what your dad would have to say

[starguardianniom]

Asaba Harumasa canon facts

Like I promised here's my post about stuff I learned about Harumasa from Section 6, curtesy of Yanagi, I swear her conversations and trust events are gonna be more about her coworkers than herself and honestly I am fine with that as long as I get more info on Harumasa, and she happily delivered.

For starters, whatever Harumasa drinks is very bitter, Soukaku learned the hard way.

OH MY GOSH!!! That's so troll even for him. HAHAHAHA!!! On the other hand it means Harumasa isn't even 30 years old yet, and if he means it took 3 years off that means he also probably is under 27 years old... Good to know.

Well duh of course she would.

Oh wow, Harumasa took half an hour to calm Soukaku down from his bad joke and had to swear several times that he would live to 3 digits until she calmed down. Dawwww, even he apologizes when going too far and does his best to make it up to Soukaku, such a big brother energy, a trolling one but also he still cares.

Summed up very well by Yanagi. Harumasa is a really good person even if he slacks off and tease people a lot. Though I guess the " but still..." at the end says that she would wish he would stop teasing Soukaku like that probably. But I love my lazy troll regardless. <3

Fact number 2 about Harumasa, he's apparently the only one who can sing well among section 6, so he's the one send when they do karaokés with section 5. No really.

Apparently Section 6 and 5 don't get along too well if Harumasa's joke about them having a bone to pick with them in Virtual Revenge is any indication, and to remedy that their bosses have both sections have karaoké events sometimes. Interesting~

Does that means Miyabi only sings old songs that nobody knows? And Soukaku sings songs from her tribe, nice. Too bad they aren't on the playlists.

Understatement, her singing is horrible, even Elfy wasn't impressed.

You mean you had Harumasa sings at every karaoke events while the rest of you were cheering for him or something, for real? He is probably fed up of being the only reliable person in the group for this kind of thing, makes me wonder if section 5 are good singers. But i would love to hear Harumasa sing. <3

So yeah so far those are little facts about Harumasa from Section 6, to all Harumasa fans out there on this site, I'll keep you updated about info about him, I plan to pull for him and Miyabi. Wish me luck! And now because I can and I will I will do like Harumasa and call Yanagi Tsukishiro from now on only.

I will now make posts about both Billy and Harumasa from now on, you are warned. These boys are everything to me and I'll tell you all about them and dragging you all down with me in their fanclubs. <3

Bonus (feat Miyabi fact) :

Here's what I got when choosing Miyabi's coffee drinking habits:

Dang, that's a terrifying superpower. Miyabi is a monster (affectionate).

Same here.

Ok and?

For realsies?

Don't laugh you broke her. Dang. It's called achievment in ignorance, you can do it as long as you don't know about it, but the moment you learn about it you suddently can't do it anymore.

[sarawritestories]

Unwavering Presence Chapter 6

Cassian X Archeron Sister (Reader)

Summary: Feyre is in the Night Court and Y/N is trying to overcome the lingering guilt she feels as Cassian leaves for a week. Tensions between the Archeron twins comes to a boiling point where Feyre decides that she wants to take part in the court and meet the inner Circle.

Content warnings: Past trauma ,sibling arguments,

A/N: I am blown away by the love you guys have shown this series and I appreciate every comment, like and reblog. It seriously means more than you know! I have so much planned and plotted out for this I hope you guys are ready!

I made a playlist for this series if you're interested in listening while reading these are just songs that help me write/reminds me of Cassian and Reader

Masterlist Chapter 5

I woke up and I was the only one in the chair with a blanket wrapped snugly around me. I turned to see Rhys resting his hand on his head, his eyes closed. I sat up and stretched and when I looked over to the bed I gasped as eyes like my own stared back at me. “Feyre.” I whispered.

Rhys stirred and looked over to us, “Good Morning,” Feyre was about to talk but began coughing and Rhys was quick to produce a glass of water in his hand and pass it to Feyre, “Drink. You’ve been out for a few days.” She nodded to him in thanks and took a long drink from the glass.

She looked over at me and pursed her lips, “You’re alive.” I nodded words lost to me. “How long have you been here?”

I wrung my hands together nervously, ‘Since Tamlin forced me out.” I said through gritted teeth.

Feyre nodded her head as if digesting how long I’ve been here. “You abandoned me.” She whispered and it felt as if my heart shattered. “You just left me alone. Tamlin told me you died!”

I crossed my arms and leaned back into the armchair. “Right because he had been a picture of pleasantries and kindness to me since that day, he fucking took us away.”

Fury shone in my sister’s eyes, “Yet you could have come back, you could have found me. Instead, you left me alone, didn’t even try to let me know you were okay to see if I was okay!” I flinched guilt swirling in my gut.

“You make it sound like I did it on purpose.” I whispered, “Like I wasn’t attacked in the woods compliments of your priestess pal who left me to die.” Feyre’s eyes widened as I rose from my chair. “Tamlin sent a very clear message of his disdain for me.” I walked to the door ignoring Rhys’ attempt to speak to me in my mind. I opened the door and looked back at her; tears were streaming down her face. “I’m sorry, I failed you a second time, Feyre.” Out of the corner of my eyes I saw sadness flash in Rhys’ face, and I shut the door and walked away.

My feet led me to the dining hall my ears ringing, I didn’t even register where I was until a familiar voice called to me, “Y/N?” I looked up to see Cassian walking in from the balcony, he was wearing his leathers, his siphons gleaming on display.

I swallowed the tightness in my throat, and tried to give him a smile, “Going somewhere?”

Cassian’s brows furrowed concern laced on his features, but he nodded, “I need to go out to the Illyrian camps and make sure my soldiers are up to my standards.”

“And you were going to leave without saying goodbye, Old Man?”

Cassian’s wings twitched as his eyes widened. “Old man?”

I jokingly pressed a palm to my forehead, “Oh I’m sorry, I meant Old Male? Better?”

The General crossed his arms looking at the floor and muttered, “I’d prefer it if Old was dropped all together,” He looked back at me his features softening at me as I grinned back at him. “Do you think I’m old?”

“Cassian, you’re over 500 years old. By human standards you’re ancient. Though I think you’ve just begun your life in terms of the fae so no I don’t think you’re old. However, I will be calling you old just to get under your skin.”

He rolled his eyes, and they go vacant briefly when he comes back to, he walked up to me and wrapped his arms around me. He held me tightly and pressed his hand to the back of my head pressing my cheek against his chest, leather, and sandalwood grounding me, “It’s not your fault, Princess.” He pulls away and cups cheeks.

Avoiding his comment I whispered, “I’ll miss you,” I wrapped my hands around his rubbing small circles with my thumbs.

Cassian pulls my face closer to our breaths intermingling, “I’ll be home as soon as soon as I can,” He pressed his warm soft lips on my forehead and my eyes fluttered shut. Too quickly he pulled away and lowered our hands from my face. I laced my fingers with his and we walked out to the balcony. Cassian flared his wings, the sun highlighting the dark red hues and membrane on his wings. He turned to me and gave me a playful wink “Safe travels, General, wouldn’t want you to hurt your brittle old bones.” He laughed, flicked my nose, and launched into the air.

I leaned on the balcony railing watching him take to the skies in awe and tilted my head when he paused and turned to me, I gave him a smile, knowing he probably couldn’t see me and waved at him. He lifted his hand in response and turned and headed out, I stayed out there until he was out of my line of sight and headed into the dining room. Only to be met with a second pair of Hazel eyes. “So, Cassian’s pretty cute,” He joked throwing the line I said to him a few nights before.

Heat flared in my cheeks, “Busy body.”

Azriel just pointed his thumbs at himself, “Spymaster.”

“So, a professional busybody.” Az laughed clutching his stomach. “I liked it better when you were quiet, Shadowsinger.”

Azriel nudged me with his shoulder, “No you don’t.”

I pat the top of his head and the shadowsinger grumbled, “You’re right, I don’t.” I looked to the doors as if I could see Feyre all the way from here. “Where are you off to?” I asked and Azriel’s face showed no indication of his feelings, but his eyes held a glimpse of sadness there.

His shadows danced around his neck and a few strayed from him and swirled and weaved around my legs. The cool kiss of their touch a great reprieve to my heated skin. “I have the day off I was going to go into the city for a bit to have lunch with Mor. I’d figured I’d see if you want to train?”

“Yes, please, I can’t go back into that room. Not yet anyway.”

Azriel nods his head to the door, “Go get changed we’ll work on wielding weapons.” I smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek and ran to my room to change into my leathers. I braided my hair into a crown and walked to my door. Opening it I was shocked to see Rhys on the other side arm raised to knock. I’m pretty sure Rhys expression matched my own as he lowered his hand tucking it in his pocket. “You, okay?”

I leaned against the door frame, “Truthfully?” He nodded, “No, I’m not. She thinks I ran away and abandoned her. Thanks to Tamlin and Ianthe and their pretty little lies.” I swallowed the tears, “The way she looked at me, Rhys. It hurt.” Rhys sighed and I could see the exhaustion in his features and taking over his body. “When was the last time you slept?”

He waved me off, “Don’t deflect.”

I crossed my arms, “I’m not deflecting. I answered your question, and I am asking a simple question in regards to the wellbeing of my friend.”

Light sparked into his violet eyes, “We’re friends?”

“Now who’s deflecting?” I cup my hand on his cheek, “You need to sleep, Rhys. She’ll be fine, give her some time alone to process everything.”

Rhys placed his hand on top of mine, “You’re a good sister you know that right?”

“There have been many moments where Feyre would disagree with you.” My mind trailed off to Under the Mountain.

I twisted the goblet in my hand, another night another party that Feyre and I are the full spectacle of in matching outfits. If you could call the see through material that barely covered my breast and my ass an outfit. Feyre had swirls that matched her tattoo throughout her whole body and the same markings swirled on my skin. I remained close to my sister when Tamlin approached Feyre. I averted my gaze to give them privacy.

My eyes scanned across the room looking out for Rhysand and before I could look back to my sister and Tamlin was walking away from her. Feyre whispered in my ear, “Cover for me, Tamlin wants to meet with me for a moment.”

Relief washed over my chest, “Is he going to get you out?” I whispered so low it in her ear. “Feyre, he has to get you out.” I had her face me so she could understand.

Feyre rolled her eyes, “I’ll be fine.” And before I had the opportunity to argue further, she left. I scowled quietly as I watched her walk away and saw the High Lord of the Spring trail after her.

I glared at the door they went behind, hoping that I could him to get her out. A hand fell on the small of my back causing me to jump and Rhys’ voice was against my ear, “Just me.” He removed his hand, and he looked over to where Feyre and Tamlin ran off to and his jaw tightened. The only indication on his calm demeanor that told me he was upset. “Where is Feyre, Y/N?”

I quirked my brow, “I think we both know, you know exactly where she is, High Lord.” There was a pause, and for whatever reason I asked in a hushed tone, “He isn’t going to get her out, is he?”

“No, he isn’t.” Dread took over. I looked down at the goblet contemplating drinking the fae wine and forget my inhibitions, fueled by the anger and disappointment of not only the blonde haired green eyed high lord and my foolish love-sick sister. “You’ve been avoiding it this long, don’t start because you’re angry. That could lead you down a dark rabbit hole.” He grabs the goblet from my hand and drinks the contents, “Stay close to Lucien.” He hands me the empty cup.

“Where are you going?”

Rhys voice floats in my mind, “To fix this.”

Rhys squeezed my hand bringing me back, “That wasn’t your fault either.” I curse under my breath and rebuild my shields. “Tamlin has made a mess of things time and again. It’s going to catch up with him in the end.”

I nod lowering my hand that he is still gripping, “I should go Azriel is waiting for me to start training.” Rhys nods and moves out of the way, releasing my hand. “Go to sleep, High Lord. You’ll need your strength if you’re going to need with your Feyre Darling.” I heard his chuckle as I left to go find Azriel.

Azriel was in the training ring on the roof his arms crossed, “You’re late.”

I lowered my gaze, “Sorry, I ran into Rhysand.” I met his piercing gaze, “Don’t suppose you’ll go easy on me for it.”

Amusement graced his features, and his lips quirked upward, “Not a chance. Pushups, now.” I groaned, “Keep it up Archeron, and I’m going to double how many you must do. Give me thirty.” The morning sun caused sweat to drip down my brow on the first ten pushups. My arms were already shaking by the twentieth pushup, “I am going to have to kick Cassian’s ass for his lack of core training with you.” I was able to finish the pushups and slowly stood up my arms and legs shaking.

Azriel made his way over to weapons, “You have a preference on weapon?”  

I shrugged, “I only had access to a dagger, I don’t know anything else.” I followed him, and looked at the table, there were a few daggers, two longswords and a bow and arrow. The weapon reminded me of Feyre, “I have no interest in archery.” I murmured biting the inside of my cheek as a fresh wave of guilt that washed over me.

Azriel didn’t look over at me and simply said, “Noted.” He grabbed the dagger and handed it to me. “Show me what you can do with this.”

I walked over to the center of the training ring dummy that was on the other side and grabbed the tip of the dagger took in a deep breath as I raised my arm and, on the exhale, threw the dagger as it hit right in the chest of the dummy. I turned to Azriel’s face was unreadable, “What?”

Azriel shook his head, “Just not what I was expecting, you did this when you hunted in the human lands? You ever worried about missing?”

I gave him a wink, “I never miss, Shadowsinger.”

He grabbed a dagger from his belt, not as ornate as his other one that he always kept within his reach “Prove it.” So, we spent the rest of the hour throwing the daggers splinters from the wooden dummy everywhere. “I’m impressed, you have quite the arm Y/N. Who taught you how to throw?”

“I taught myself.” Azriel quirked a brow, “My dad was attacked by some creditors. Nesta and Elain remained hidden in our room, Feyre was begging them to stop. After they shattered his leg, I knew I needed to take action. I took a knife one of the few things we were able to keep, and I threw it and one of them collapsed to the floor. I didn’t even understand that I had killed him. Until the other guys looked at me with pure horror on their faces. They fled right after that. But the damage was done my father’s leg was destroyed and 4 sisters carried out a dead body to the forest to be eaten by the creatures that lurked there.”

“Turns out fae and human are more alike than people think at least in their cruelty.” Az said in response, no judgement, no pity, just stating a fact.

“Their kindness too, Az.” He gave a nod, “Would you mind taking me to the town house?”

“You don’t want to stay here? Close to Feyre.” Again, there was no judgement in his tone simply asking a question.

“Not today. Plus, most of my clothes are in the town house anyway and my journal.” I left out the part about Cassian gifting that to me.

“Sure, do you want to go now?” I nodded and he held out his hand which I graciously took my hand, and his shadows consumed us, and we were in front of the town house.

I looked at him, “That’s a neat trick,” A shadow slithers up to her hand and she coos at it, “Is there anything you little guys can’t do.”

Azriel made a face, “They are shadows not, puppies.”

The shadow kisses my cheek and wraps around my hair before slinking back toward its master, “I think they liked it.”

Az groaned, “They did.” I couldn’t contain my laughter. “You going to be, okay?” Rhys was kind of worried about you.” He paused, “Cassian had fought Rhys to stay. He had to pull rank.”

“He shouldn’t have abandoned his duties to help me. He doesn’t even know me very well.” I shrugged.

Azriel smiled, “Cassian has a big heart, when he sees someone is hurting, he will do anything in his power to make them feel better. I do know he enjoys your company and cares about you.”

Heat rose in my cheeks at Azriel’s words. “Well hopefully he doesn’t have to stay wherever he is at for too long. I find that I enjoy his company too.” He smiled, “Have a nice lunch Az. I’ll talk to you later.” He waved and his shadows consumed him, and he was gone. It made my way inside and ran to my room and began writing in my journal pouring out my emotions from the last few days.

A few days had gone by, and Az has continued teaching me how to hone my skills in throwing daggers along with sparring with a long sword. I spent my afternoons writing and despite Rhys’ efforts avoiding my sister. It was about a day and a half before Rhys and her came into the town house, and I just kept to myself. I kept to my room and wrote in my journal the words were flowing through me and I felt this wave of creativity. I wasn’t writing stories but just getting words on paper was a start.

The week’s end approached and there was a knock on my door as I was sitting in my bed reading a book. “Come in.” Rhys stepped in and I gave him a smile, “How is she?”

He gave me a warm smile, “Good, she wants to meet the Inner Circle. Wants to work with us.” I nodded, “So we’re having dinner tonight.”

“Okay. Have fun.” I murmured flipping the page. The book was ripped from my hand and disappeared, “Rhysand!” He walked to my closet and picked up the new gown that Mor insisted I buy weeks ago and dropped it on my bed.

“Get changed, get ready, we’re leaving at the top of the hour.” He crossed his arms and stared at the floor, “She’s been asking about you and you’ve been blocking me out. Just try, okay?” I nodded and he comes up and kisses my forehead, “Good,” he gave my arm a comforting squeeze, “Oh, did I mention, Cassian is home.” My head perked up and he had a knowing smirk on his face. “He was wondering where you were and why you weren’t in the House of Wind.” He flicked my nose, and I swatted his hand. “Get dressed.” And he walked out.

Cassian’s POV

It was an agonizingly long week Devlon was fighting me on every order and had a comeback for every word I said. Knowing that I was going to come home and get to spend some time with Y/N. Leaving her when she looked so devastated and Rhys sharing the argument between the twins in my mind set my blood boiling. I had to remember that Feyre was also hurting but it still didn’t make it alright for making Y/N feel guilty for something Tamlin fucking did.

The days blurred together but then I was on the balcony of the House of Wind and the air felt stale and I looked for anyone. My wings slumped a little bit I was hoping to see Y/N. I felt familiar claws against my shields, and I let them down.

Welcome home brother, Rhys’s voice flooded my brain.

I walked into my room and began to take off my leathers, Thanks, where is everyone?”

Azriel is wandering around the city for something, Mor is coming back from the Court of Nightmares and the twins are in the townhome with me. Everyone is coming out there to the House of Wind for Dinner.

Have the two of them made any headway?

No, they haven’t, Y/N has kept to herself except for training with Azriel. I am about to drag her out for dinner. I just wanted to welcome you home.

Thanks, I’ll see you soon.

***

I walked into the dining room and was greeted by a bubbly blonde, “How was Windhaven?”

I snorted, “Shitty,” I wrapped my arms around her, “How was the Court of Nightmares?”

Mor chuckled, “Shitty.” There was a brief pause before the two of us chuckled and took our seats. Amren sat a goblet in her hand. “How are you, Amren,” Mor gave her a smile.

Amren quirked a brow, “Ready to get this over with.”

“Come on, Little one, you don’t want to meet Feyre Cursebreaker see what she’s all about?” I countered she just scoffed and sipped her goblet.

Thunderous wings announced my brother’s presence both Rhys and Azriel had a sister and something in my chest eased to seeing Y/N. Rhys led a woman who looked so like her sister she was in a dark blue gown, and she looked beautiful. My eyes gazed over to my brother who was helping take off Y/N’s cloak and I swore the room was void of air.  Y/N was in a light blue gown shimmering with sparkles looking like water on the sunset with thin straps and a slit started at the middle of her thigh that showcased her now toned thigh. Her hair was pinned to one side soft curls falling to her full chest.

Rhys slipped into my mind, Brother, close your mouth you’re drooling.

I shook my head and subconsciously wiped my mouth and looked over to Az who gave me a knowing wink before kissing the top of Mor’s head in greeting. I could feel eyes on me, and I turned my gaze back to Y/N her smile almost made me fall to my knees. And before I knew it she was sprinting toward me, I grinned back at her and opened my arms right as she hopped into my arms and wrapped her arms around my neck. “You’re home.”

I squeezed her tightly and took in her scent of Jasmine and vanilla. “I missed you too, Princess.”

There was a cough, and I opened my eyes to meet Rhys’ and I place her down and I whispered in her ear, “You look beautiful tonight.” A blush crept up on her cheeks as the grin never left her face. I led her to one of the seats in between Azriel and myself.

Rhys looked over to Feyre who did not leave the balcony, I decided I should break her tension, “Come on Feyre, we don’t bite, Unless you ask us to.” There was slap of the back of my head and saw Az giving me a pointed look and Y/N trying hard not to laugh.

“Cassian, no one has taken you up on that offer.” Rhys countered as he had his hand on Feyre’s back, she gave me a small smile and I nodded my head and gave her a wink. “The loud one over there is Cassian, Azriel on your sister’s left, you obviously know Mor and Amren, my second in command.” Rhys led her to the table and food appeared.

“So, you took down a Middengard Wyrm, pretty impressive, Feyre.” I said piling food to my plate, Y/n tensed beside me, and Feyre looked to her plate.

“No I didn’t.” Feyre murmured her eyes looming over her twin, “That was Y/N.”

I turn to the human woman beside me, “Why didn’t you say anything?” I asked.

She simply shrugged. “You didn’t ask, it wasn’t worth talking about.” She focused on her food.

Rhys kicked my foot under the table and gave me a pointed glare. Again another few moments went by and Rhys filled the silence with what he would require of Feyre if she were to join the Night Court and fully leave the Spring Court.

 Feyre is nodding along, and Y/N had been picking at her food. I bumped my knee against hers, “Are you okay?”

She looked up at me and she smiled, “Yeah I’m great.” She leaned up to my ear and I tried to tamper my excitement of her chest pressing against my arm, “I missed you, General.”

I met her eyes and noticed her pupils were blown, “Likewise, Princess.”

“What did you do to my sister?” Feyre blurted, “What spell do you have her under?”

Y/N blinked, and her head slowly turned to her twin, “Excuse me?”

“I’ve never seen you this way, you were so cold in the Spring court and the human lands, surely, they have some type of hold on you that you are so comfortable with them. Rhys is capable-“

Y/N slammed her hands on the table and rose from her seat, her dress pooling on the floor, a true vision with rage contorting her beautiful face. “Don’t. Just don’t.” She points to Rhys, “Rhysand, offered me a bargain tattoo as a way of communicating with him in case I needed him when I was in the Spring Court. And has made sure I have been comfortable since being here.” She points to Mor, “Mor, has been a friend and a confidant and welcomed me with open arms.” She points to me and Azriel, “And these two, saved my life from the Naga when your precious High Lord left me out to rot. Everyone has been training me to fight, to strengthen my mental shield, and to read and write. Something that they are still willing to help with you if you choose to take it to give you back control.” Her hand finds mine and links her pinky around mind and my chest hummed with warmth, “You may not trust Rhysand or his friends. You don’t have to like them if you don’t want. However, by while you’re here under Rhys’s protection you will show him and his family some fucking respect, when they provided you aid, because Tamlin failed to.” Feyre balled her fist, and I could see her clench her jaw. Though Rhys had a look of shock on his face his cool mask melted away. Azriel tensed but not because he was uncomfortable it was because he was fighting back tears and Mor gave her a small smile sipping her eye. I could not help the pride swelling in my chest. The selfless, generous woman just defended my family against her own and I focus back on my plate ignoring the erratic beat of my heart.

It was Amren who chuckled low that spoke, “Oh how, I like you, Girl.”

The rest of the dinner was sat in silence, but Y/N’s pinky never unhooked from mine.

Chapter 7

Story tags: @hellodarling1357 @hnyclover @waytoomanyteenagefeels @amara-moonlight @impossibelle @esposadomd @sleepylunarwolf @stressed-reader @kylaisra @marvelouslovely-barnes @magicstrengthandcourage @spideytingley @awkardnerd @donttellthecats @tastydewdrops @vermillionwinter @asweetblueberry2 @bunnyredgirl @homeslices @azriels-mate2 @oksloan3 @wallacewillow0773638 @fandom-crashlanding @writingstreetspirit @hannzoaks @minnieloo @tuggboatfishin @judig92 @atrxidxs @dustyinkpages @secretlyhers @mxblobby @blogforficslol @historygeekqueen @turtleshavesoulmates @scooobies @anuttellaa @earth-to-lottie @slytherintaco @fxckmiup @tinystarfishgalaxy @cheesebookgirl @oucereeng @st0rmyt @starswholistenanddreamsanswered

[irisbleufic]

Of all the current Devil’s Minion writers your playlist is the one I want to see. Do you have one? If not, are there particular songs you’ve been listening into to while you write? The vibe of your prose with them is hypnotizing like the short story about them in the books, it’s impressive, and does your music also inform this choice if at all?

Intense question, anon. Fourteen-year-old me fucking hyperventilated after reading the DM chapter in Queen of the Damned (me, on the floor of my bedroom at 3am because I don’t want to get caught reading this book, staring dazed at the ceiling; me, now, three weeks ago, sitting shellshocked on the sofa after watching S1 and S2 over two days as a binge; me, over two of those weeks following the binge, rereading the first half of the Chronicles and starting to see double, tilt the prism, see what happens when the narratives are overlaid and blurred), and it still feels like that. Likely my prose turning out the way it is in these stories is about 90% my giddy teenage self having access to my adult self’s writing experience to finally write this beloved pairing without fear of litigious letters (IYKYK, my fellow elder Millennials in the fandom). I don’t often love film and TV adaptations of my favorite books, but I adore this show. It’s flawlessly transformative; its improvements only make the resonances and overlaps that much more meaningful. No notes.

However, I have been listening to the same small handful of songs on repeat for 6 days as I write these pieces. I imagine they are affecting my sense of scansion at points; my writing life didn’t begin with fiction, it began with years of poetry before I ever tried prose. These tracks are as meaningful to me as poems as they are songs. It’s as good a starting point for a playlist as any; I’ll keep adding and put it together on Spotify at some point.

1. Vesuvius - Sufjan Stevens

Vesuvius, I am here

You are all I have

Fire of fire, I'm insecure

for it is all been made to plan

Though I know I will fail

I cannot be made to laugh

for in life as in death

I'd rather be burned

than be living in debt

This song was my entire first 72 hours of writing. I’m that Autistic weirdo who will listen to a single song on repeat for a month and think nothing of it. Villa of the Mysteries in Pompeii being the nexus point of their love story from beginning to end in QotD, this is everything to me; I was never going to be able to write about the show incarnation of them without integrating this location and this imagery in the most reverent love letter I know how. This is why my series title for these stories is Caldera. Volcanic crater blowout if ever I saw one; I ran with it.

2. I Forget Where We Were - Ben Howard

Hello love, my invincible friend; hello, love, the thistle and the burr. For you, I have so many words—and I, I forget where we were. I haven’t known this song for all that long in the grand scheme, but it found me via Spotify shuffle in 2022 right after something awful happened. The longing in this song hinges on one of the lovers in it waking up to something they’ve forgotten about their relationship, something precious, and I’m thrilled to finally have a fandom application for it.

3. Make You Better - The Decemberists

I sung you your twinges

I suffered you your tattle-tales

and when you broke sideways

I wanted you, I needed you, oh

to make me better

Oh, to make me better

But we're not so starry-eyed anymore

like the perfect paramour you were in your letters

And won't it all just come around to make you

let it all un-break you to the day that you met her

No excuse for this one; it does a great job of speaking for itself. Front-man Colin Meloy is one of my all-time favorite songwriters, and his work is frequently dark, creepy, and/or gothic enough in flavor that I could find a few more.

4. Song to the Siren - Elisabeth Fraser & This Mortal Coil

On the floating shipless oceans

I did all my best to smile

till your singing eyes and fingers

drew me loving to your isle

and you sang, “Sail to me,

sail to me, let me enfold you—

here I am, here I am,

waiting to hold you.”

This cover of Tim Buckley’s folk masterpiece completely transforms the vibe of the song, and in the kind of way you need for this pairing. This one is at responsible for the events and imagery in my “Still Life with Sunken Treasure.”

5. Hal - Yasmine Hamdan, Only Lovers Left Alive OST

لأ ما أقدرشي

لأ مش ممكن

لأ ما أقدرشي

لأ مش ممكن

يا عزيزة اطلعي

لأ ما أقدرشي

يا حبيبتي شرّفي

لأ ما أقدرشي

وطلعت يا ناس، مغلوبة يا ناس

يا عزيزة اتريحي

لأ ما أقدرشي

يا حبيبتي اتلحلحي

لأ ما أقدرشي

وسمعت يا ناس، مغلوبة يا ناس

لأ ما أقدرشي

لأ مش ممكن

لأ ما أقدرشي

لأ مش ممكن

لأ ما أقدرشي

لأ مش ممكن

يا عزيزة اتفرفشي

لأ ما أقدرشي

يا حبيبتي قربي

لأ ما أقدرشي

فرشنا يا ناس، مغلوبة يا ناس

يا عزيزة اقلعي

لأ ما أقدرشي

يا حبيبتي اتجرأي

لأ مش ممكن

شلحنا يا ناس، مغلوبة يا ناس

لأ ما أقدرشي

لأ مش ممكن

لأ ما أقدرشي

لأ مش ممكن

يا عزيزة اتغندريله

يا حبيبتي اتذوقيله

افهمي يا سيدي مش قادرة

وطبعا تقنعني مش واخدة

ايه يا عزيزة؟

ايه اللي إنتي عملاه ده؟

يا يا يا راجل يا هوه!

مش عيب عليك اختشي ونو

لأ ما أقدرشي

لأ مش ممكن

يا عزيزة اخلعي

لأ ما أقدرشي

يا حبيبتي اتشخلعي

لأ مش ممكن

يا خيبتي يا ناس، مغلوبة يا ناس

يا عزيزة اتبغددي

لأ ما أقدرشي

يا حبيبتي جربي

لأ ما أقدرشي

وجينا يا ناس، غلبنا يا ناس

جينا يا ناس، غلبنا يا ناس

I don’t think the Arabic justified to the correct side when I copied this, but the translation is very easy to find. I don’t speak Arabic, but honestly the English translation is dull compared to the beauty of this language. If you haven’t watched Only Lovers Left Alive, what the hell are you even doing with your vampire-loving, monster-fucking life? All the tracks on it have the right vibe for DM, really.

[orangflowalober]

Blessed-Cursed

Pairing: Park Sunghoon x Reader

Genre: regency au; isekai au; prince!sunghoon; princess!reader

Summary: Being Crown Princess sounds fun from a modern-day point of view, no? Wrong. Wrong on so many levels. Starting from the fact that you had fight with your hands and legs to do certain things all over to marriage. Yuck. So how do you suppose one acts when their biggest secret is revealed to someone who has the power to have you executed?

Word count: 5.3k

Warnings: sharp objects - swords, arrows, daggers; marriage; mushy stuff; implications of hunting animals; death of a bear by reader's hand; let me know if I missed anything!

Series: Enhypen Regency AU

Pinterest board: <3

Spotify playlist (songs I listened to while writing / had in mind while writing) : <3

~

You didn’t want marriage.

You didn't want to rule beside another.

You wanted to be the Queen who married her nation.

…

What a dramatic way of saying that you wanted to be Elizabeth the First of this world.

Oh. Right. England doesn’t exist in this world. Or like… any other country that exists on planet Earth.

Anyway. Your name is Lim Anestasia of the Lim Kingdom. However… your real name… is y/n l/n.

You do not hail from this world and yet here you are, living in the shoes of a spoiled princess who could get anything she wanted.

Dying really do be a unique experience.

When you first opened your eyes in this body it was ten years old. You cried. You cried for so long. Women dressed in uniforms of what you assumed were maids rushed in to comfort you and help you stop crying. You couldn’t stop. You didn’t recognise anything or anyone. You don’t remember when was the last time you felt so alone. That only made you cry harder. It wasn’t until a woman with beautiful long brown hair and a worried look on her face came in, that you started to calm down even just a slight bit. After all… your brain recognised the woman as your dearest mother. You cried in her arms for a long time, but in the end… you felt so much better. Now you just pretend that day never happened.

You spent the next two weeks in a daze, looking about and recalling all the memories of your past and present life. Then you realised something. There was a whole mediaeval world out there for you to explore… yet you remain stuck within these walls of a cold and almost empty castle… So you set out back to your room and made a list.

As a Queen to be, there were some issues you wanted to settle. Making a list seemed like the right choice. You were ten now so no one would truly take you seriously and this was fine. It gave you time to plot and plan. But first… for the next few years you would indulge yourself and learn some sports you have had the wish to learn back in your day but hadn’t the opportunity to do so.

The list read:

1.      Learn how to be a brilliant archer!

2.      Learn the art of the sword!

3.      Learn how to be a great horseback rider!

4.      Teach yourself everything you can about the kingdom!

5.      Start taking interest in politics!

6.      Settle dominance so your parents don’t try to set you up at 14.

7.      Steer clear of men in general

8.      Try and turn away as many suitors as possible!

9.      More to be added

Grinning to yourself you put away the stationary and folded the paper neatly. You would hide it in your room in one of the many books you owned.

“Mother. Father.” You greeted, approaching them in the throne room, curtsying in your pale green dress.

“Anastasia,” your mother greeted with a smile gracing her face, “What brings you here my precious daughter?”

“I wish to learn archery.”

The King looked horrified.

Archery wasn’t very lady-like after all. Or any kind of sport, really.

“My dear daughter-”

Welp, you thought, time to pull out the big guns.

You stomped your foot and sniffed.

“But Father!” you yelled through the tears, “I wish to learn archery and I wish to do it NOW!”

You sniffed again and softly glared at the man on the throne who looked to be panicking.

“Of course my dearest!” he responded quickly with a wobbly smile.

Well he switched up fast you thought.

“Really?” you switched up as well, deciding to play the role of a shy child, “thank you” you whispered softly, but loud enough for your parents to hear. You curtsied and left for the library where you would read up on the history of your country.

~

As you grew older, you learned more and more.

By the time you were fifteen you mastered the bow, horseback riding and were well into practice with the sword. Your “love” for studying never faltered and you kept at it relentlessly going through tutors at break-neck speed.

When you turned eighteen, you started getting involved in the rule of your land (with the help of your parents, naturally) and continuously impressed them with your knowledge and how mature and ambitious you were. You mastered the art of the sword and started practising with daggers. It seemed fun so far.

~

Other than all of these impressive achievements, you seemed to rather… lack… in the department of social relations.

Due to the fact that you spent a lot of time either with your nose in a book or practising with a new weapon you picked up, you haven’t had the time to make good acquaintances with the children of other royal families or nobles. At most you could say that you and the prince of the Kim Kingdom were close acquaintances. Sunoo was a rather interesting character whom you had not much trouble interacting with. You even occasionally exchanged letters.

Other than him there was princess Yeji of the Hwang Kingdom, but that was limited only to the balls you both attended.

As such, you haven’t had many suitors, which worried your parents and only served to make you happier.

While you were happy as things were, your parents unfortunately were rather persistent.

“My dearest daughter,” you heard your mother sigh for the nth time that month, as you readied your arrow, “you already turned of age years ago, you must at least look for potential suitors…”

You knocked the arrow. Bullseye.

“It is not my fault all of them are too afraid to even speak to me, mother.”

“What about Sunoo then?” she asked and this time you sighed, “How does he speak so freely with you?”

“You know as well as I do that, we do not speak freely with each other. And besides, we’ve known each other for years.”

“My darling Anastasia,” your mother sighed, taking your filthy hands into hers, “for your mother’s sake,” she whispered, “please, look for a fine suitor. I know that there must be someone who will catch your eye this time. Please my darling daughter.”

She knew you were weak to her pleading. Courtesy of your close bond both with your mother in your old life and this one. You agreed.

It was the first mistake you could have made.

~

You honestly didn’t mean to sound so full of yourself when you said that you were probably the best dressed person at the ball for your birthday.

Simplicity is what will most often catch the eye of others, is something you liked to think. This time was no exception.

The dress you wore was a light pink and it reflected the light due to its shiny material. It was long and flowy, which was brilliant because it meant you could move freely, and you didn’t have to wear petticoats. You honestly did love them, but they were, oh so, impractical. The dress had a sweetheart neckline with off the shoulder sleeves. It was tightened around your waist and made your chest look bigger than it actually was, but what annoyed you was that you had to breathe rather shallowly. From the waist down the skirt flowed freely and dramatically.

As they announced your name you walked into the ball with a slight smile and nodded at the present guests before you stepped down the staircase to join the party.

You've managed to stay at the party chatting with anyone and everyone who approached you for a whole hour before your social battery completely died out and you were seconds away from starting to behave like you used to, back home. In the modern world.

“Prince Sunoo,” you spoke to the boy next to you. “Would you mind if I made a quick escape to regain my composure?” you asked with a dazzling smile.

The chubby cheeked boy next to you giggled at how direct you were.

"Why of course, princess Anastasia” he purred with a playful grin, “I shall wait for you here!"

You nodded gratefully at him and swiftly made your way through the crowd and at the back entrance into the beautiful garden your mother loved most.

Sitting down on the grey store bench in front of the small lake filled with water lilies. At least they looked like water lilies.

Sighing, you then placed your fan down onto the seat next to you and reached behind your back to pull on the string which held the corset together and took a deep breath.

Time for my annual rant session, you thought to yourself.

"Marriage" you spat bitterly, allowing yourself to go nuts with anger.

“Why do I have to marry anyone?!? Why is that so bloody important?!" you yelled into the sky, throwing your hands into the air. “Do I have to marry to be Queen?! I mean come on!”

Getting lost in your emotions you failed to realise someone was standing at the entrance of the garden, listening to every word you spoke, slowly making their way towards you.

You groaned loudly as your voice took on a sad, desperate tone.

“Mom… I miss you so much…” you sobbed, “I miss my little sister too… that annoying little stinker…” you sobbed even louder, taking your gloves off to wipe your tears away.

“I miss those stupid gatcha games too” you laughed wetly, “Cookie Run… Genshin… Honkai… both Honkai games actually…” you mumbled the last bit, picking at your freshly manicured nails.

“Why me?” you whispered, sniffing a little.

A crunch of leaves caused you to turn around from your spot on the bench, eyes wide as you faced the intruder.

The man who stood in front of you was possibly the most beautiful man you had ever seen and you knew absolutely nothing about him.

His jet black hair was in rough contrast with his pale complexion. He wore a dark blue waistcoat with golden accents and pure white pants along with knee-deep boots.

His eyes and face was what held your attention at most.

He seemed not to mind your current state, but rather… he looked worried.

You two kept looking at each other, too startled to speak.

Then you remembered what you looked like; mussed hair, undone corset, puffy face and runny nose and you weren't wearing your gloves.

“Are you alright?” he finally spoke, his rumbling and melodic voice sounding genuinely concerned about your wellbeing, extending his hand towards you.

Quickly, you scrambled to stand up, pushing your hand against your corset to keep it in place and responded to him.

“How much did you hear?”

He blinked confused, his hand stopping in its tracks.

“Pardon?”

“I asked;” your voice was high with panic now, “how much of that did you hear?” you felt as though your heart was about to beat out of your chest.

“Is that really that important right now?” a seemingly sly smile played on his lips, his hand gently taking hold of your wrist.

Your heart stuttered in your chest as you made eye contact with him.

It wasn’t simply because you felt attracted to him. On the contrary, attractive men didn't seem to make your heart skip a beat in this life. It was simple enough really; you were scared.

If he was influential enough, could he get you thrown out of the family? Would you lose everything? Again? Your heart wouldn't be able to stand that.

“P… p-please” you cussed yourself silently for stuttering, while a smile grew on his lips at your mistake, “don't… don't tell anyone!”

You yanked your hand out of his gentle hold and ran back into the castle ignoring his stare and completely forgetting about your gloves sitting on the bench.

After you had made sure you were presentable you went back to the ball room only to see that it was only just now in full swing. You took a deep breath and set off to find Sunoo.

“Princess Anastasia!” you heard someone call.

Turning around, you were met with the smiley face of the Crown Prince of the Park Kingdom.

“Prince Jay” you curtsied, extending your hand for him to take, “it is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.”

The tall, blond man grinned as he pressed a kiss to your gloved hand.

“As it is mine Princess.”

Park “Jay” Jongseong. The Crown Prince of the Park Kingdom. He was smart, cunning and straightforward. That was not mentioning how kind and generous he was. Last you heard he was to be married soon before he assumed the throne of the Park Kingdom.

Again with the whole marriage thing…

“I must admit Princess, I only came to introduce myself and wish you a happy birthday with ulterior motives.” he smiled sheepishly.

“Oh?” you grinned playfully, resting your fan on your bare shoulder.

“I am afraid so” Jay laughed, “You see my brother is rather… shy.” he admitted awkwardly and continued, “But he really wanted to wish you a happy birthday, so I thought I would help him out.”

You smiled with soft eyes.

Jay had a younger brother. Well. “Younger” brother.

The circumstances regarding the two were rather unclear as it was never disclosed into the public eye, but the two had such a close bond it felt awful to speculate just about anything. And so, no one ever pried. The two brothers were, after all, the pride and joy of the Park Kingdom.

“How very nice of you” you hummed thinking of your younger sister in your past life.

“I do try” he smiled gently, noticing your reaction.

“Princess Anastasia,” you heard someone behind you.

As you turned around, your eyes widened scarily wide as you made eye contact with the man from the garden.

“I am Prince Sunghoon” he introduced himself with a slight bow of his head, his hand resting against where his heart was.

Lagging behind, you quickly curtsied and offered him your hand.

He took it gently, impossibility so, and pressed a feather light kiss against your knuckles, never breaking eye contact with you.

Jay, noticing what was going on, made a quiet escape leaving the two of you alone.

You were too scared and entranced with the man in front of you to notice anything.

“It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Princess.” he spoke slowly, still not letting go of your hand, but you haven’t noticed that yet.

“Likewise” you awkwardly smiled, your heart beating out of your chest in fear.

Sunghoon's eyes glinted in mischief, which caused you to shift under his piercing gaze uncomfortably.

The music which was playing in the background slowly came to a stop and the man in front of you smiled as he turned to face you.

“May I have this dance, Princess?” he asked, lifting your hand higher in the air.

Meanwhile, your brain was an absolute mess. You had no idea what was going on, what this man was plotting or what he could do if you even looked at him wrong.

He currently has the potential to have you sent away.

You couldn’t take that chance.

“Yes,” you spoke slowly, “you may.”

With a bright smile, the tall man led you over to the dance floor.

All eyes were on you as for the first time ever, you joined someone other than your father for a dance.

You were anxious and terrified.

The man opposite you stopped somewhere off the centre of the dancing area and faced you properly.

His gentle smile was throwing you off track and you couldn’t focus on anything but trying not to tick him off.

Letting go of your hand, he placed it on your waist and took your other hand, while you placed a hand on his shoulder.

His giddiness at your action didn’t miss you and it made you nervous.

“Why do you look so nervous, Princess?” he asked with a grin.

Offering him an awkward smile you responded.

“Ah, no! It’s just…” you began as the music started and Sunghoon gently pulled you into a slow waltz.

“I’ve never danced like this with anyone but my father…”

The dark haired man nodded thoughtfully.

“My mistake,” he smiled, twirling you with a mesmerising smile on his face. “I thought it had something to do with our fateful meeting in the garden.”

Had you not returned back into his arms, you are sure you would have fainted.

“Speaking of which,” he continued as if he hadn’t noticed your discomfort, “you left something back there.”

You looked up at him with panicked eyes, not noticing his blush as he recounted the events.

If he says something to someone I’m doomed! You panicked. What did I even leave?!

“I took the liberty of taking them so I could hand them to you now” he spoke, as if your whole world hasn’t turned upside down.

Plural?! You wanted to scream.

“Them?” you couldn’t help but voice.

“Yes…” he hummed bashfully, as he leaned down to whisper into your ear, “You left your gloves behind Princess…”

Cold sweat broke out all over as you remembered what that means in this world.

Much like that one scene in Jane Austen’s book "Pride and Prejudice" with Mr. Darcy and Ms. Elizabeth, touching a lady without her gloves presented an extremely intimate act in this world.

You cussed internally.

At this point, you weren’t sure if you wanted to laugh or cry.

“I will leave them in the corridor once the crowds dissipate” He continued, not minding the eyes which were trained on your forms, “You just make sure your maids find them.”

Oh, so, conveniently, the song and dance ended and Sunghoon disappeared into the crowd just as quickly as he had appeared, but not before placing another kiss on the back of your hand.

You liked to think what had happened during your birthday hasn’t affected you.

~

That is a lie.

It has.

You just pretend it didn’t.

After the dance, your mother sent you questioning glances, but you avoided them like the plague until she stopped.

There was another issue, however.

You suddenly began noticing him. And he was everywhere.

A birthday celebration of a noble? He was there.

A charity event for the children of the Lim-Kim region? He was there.

Tournament competition in arts and such? He was bloody there.

And if he could manage to sneak in a dance he would. Every. Single. Time.

At this point, the only time you didn’t see him is when you were avoiding everyone and camping out in the library or in your room.

~

As summer passed and made way for fall, the Lim Kingdom started preparing for the bi-annual Huntsmen Competition.

The bi-annual Huntsmen Competition was held by the Crown for the nobles and other royals of the lands to show off their skills and gain public favour.

A problem has risen this year though…

“We cannot hold the Competition in the Twilight Forest this year” the King announced. “The animal sources are scarce and we risk endangering the ecosystem if we continue to hunt there.”

After much begging and tantrums, he had finally let you participate in these talks. And in the competition, of course. 

I'm going to wipe the floor with those losers, you cackled internally, before focusing back onto the conversation at hand.

“... so in line with that I would recommend the Fiery Forest in the south.” one of the older councilmen huffed out.

"That wouldn't be a smart decision" you hummed in reply, looking at the map, "I propose we request the Kim Kingdom to collaborate using the Spring forests we share at our borders. Our relations are better and they won't try to use this to their advantage.”

Your father and everyone else at the table looked lost for words, before turning to the map in front of them.

“My god, she’s right!”

“Who would have thought?”

Briefly, you saw your father's proud expression as you participated in the conversation even more than before.

~

Being fashionably late is probably your favourite thing to do in this world. And as the Crown Princess, no one had the right to comment on it.

You strutted toward your tent feeling eyes on your figure. 

Why wouldn't they be staring at you anyway?

You were wearing mens attire.

The pants you wore were fitted and black, squeezing around your waist. Tucked into the pants was your favourite flowy white shirt and hanging off your hips was a majestic bastard sword. That was not to mention your favourite bow waiting for you in your tent.

As soon as it was time to set off into the forest, you took the reins of your black horse Stormy and got going when you heard the sound of the horn.

Riding on the back of the horse, you fired arrows, as soon as you caught sight of a moving hide.

By the end of it, you weren’t the best, but you were third best.

You also couldn't help but notice how Prince Sunghoon smiled the brightest when you approached the third place podium.

That was your second mistake.

~

The last time you were in a daze was when you were ten. It's been so long since then that you've forgotten just how easily the feeling creeps up on you.

“Princess Anastasia,” his gentle voice shook you out of your reverie, “It's delightful to see you again.”

You didn’t turn to face him, choosing to only lift your fan up to your face.

“Likewise” you quickly responded, finding that this time you didn’t quite find his mere presence bothersome.

The man hurried to walk in step with you.

“Princess,” he called and the title suddenly felt a lot more like a term of endearment from your past life, “you always say that, yet I feel as though you do not mean it as truthfully as I do.”

You kept quiet, wondering how you could even respond to such a claim.

“You enjoy nature I presume?” he quickly changed the subject. “It seems that every time you and I see each other it is in the gardens.” he smiled softly.

You were currently taking a break from all of the hard work you were putting into studying and practising. 

As a little treat, you thought you could visit one of the more popular gardens in the Kingdom of Lee. They were, after all, most popular for their wide arrangement of flora.

And these flowers and plants never ceased to take your breath away and heal your eyes at the same time.

“Oh… yes, I suppose I do…” you hummed, “It’s rather… calming. I feel at ease to think and the colours soothe my eyes.”

The beautiful man next to you nodded and hummed, looking at you as if encouraging you to speak more.

“You see, I do enjoy reading all the books our library has to offer, but my eyes do hurt after spending too much time in my study…”

“You have your own study?” he asked with an intrigued spark in his eyes.

When you looked at him, you were taken aback by the sheer boyishness radiating from that expression, that you felt the back of your neck heat up.

“I-” you stuttered, “I do. I mean-” you turned away from him swiftly to catch yourself, “As the future Queen, I must ready myself for the incoming troubles of ruling the Kingdom and be a respectable ruler.” you explained.

His head cocked to the side, almost reminiscent of a pupper.

“You do not plan on sharing those burdens with anyone?”

You eyed him.

“You mean marriage?” you spat out the last word venomously. “I will refuse it for as long as I can. Besides,” you huffed, forgetting yourself, “it’s not like I met anyone worthy of marrying me.” you crossed your arms over your chest.

A snort sounded from next to you and you turned startled towards Prince Sunghoon. He held his hand up to his mouth, eyes wrinkled into crescents and he was slightly turned away from you.

“I-” he laughed lightly, his face twisted to make room for his wide smile, “I do not mean to laugh at your- It is only- the delivery-” he kept giggling, unable to finish a single thought.

You only stared at him in awe, your opinion of him changing subconsciously.

“You Highness, Prince Sunghoon,” a butler called from behind you, “Your brother has requested your presence back in the castle.”

“I will be right there Ian,” he said, before turning to look at you, with an impossibly tender look in his eye, “I hope we see each other like this again” he spoke as he took your hand to place a kiss on it, “I had a great time and I hope you did too.”

And then he left.

It felt like a part of you left as well.

~

You have found yourself caught up in Prince Sunghoon’s- or rather, as he insists- Sunghoon’s arms, interlocked into the second dance of tonight.

The ball was a celebration of the spring solstice.

How you ended up in the dark-haired prince’s arms you also couldn’t quite remember.

You also didn’t realise just how funny he was whenever he talked back and you never realised your love for bickering. 

You were having the time of your life.

People were sending you odd looks, seeing you enjoying yourself with the second Park son, seeing as you only ever spent time with the youngest Kim prince and even that was reserved.

But now, you were giggling, laughing and you just couldn’t keep your mouth shut.

Another plus to having Sunghoon’s company: no one was approaching you for mindless small-talk and mentions of marriage.

The Lee castle was beautiful but…

“I heard the Lee’s have the most beautiful garden…” Sunghoon told you with a mischievous sparkle in his eye.

He didn’t have to finish his thought. You already knew what he meant as he extended to you and you accepted it without another word.

Your baby blue dress fluttered behind you as you walked down the halls with Sunghoon, both of your shoes clacking against the marble flooring.

The dress had a deep V-neck and the sleeves extended past your hands, although it added to the snowy princess look.

This time, the maids took extra precaution to cinch your corset and if you couldn’t breathe then, you certainly couldn’t now that you saw the garden.

The snow had freshly melted and there were faint traces of buds all over the trees and plants.

But most of all the night sky seemed to take the cake.

“The moon looks beautiful tonight, doesn’t it?”

You turned towards the man who had made your night.

Sunghoon was not looking at the moon. His eyes looked as if someone had stolen all the affection in the world and put it in his eyes.

He looked beautiful being bathed in the moonlight. His pale shin was seemingly illuminated by the moonshine, a perfect contrast to his all-black attire.

“My…” you began, your head feeling as if it was stuffed full of cotton, “My real name is y/n.” you spoke before you could realise what you just said.

He looked stunned.

Then his hold on your hand tightened as suddenly words started tumbling out, past his soft lips, explaining his predicament in his family and his relationship with them.

He looked so vulnerable. You thought you looked the same way as well.

You pulled your hand back, out of his gentle hold, and he looked as if you had ripped his heart out of his chest. You merely pulled your gloves off, threw them somewhere behind you (which had pulled out a choked laugh from him) and you raised your arms to wipe the tears from his glass-like face.

He shuddered feeling your skin on his face and you shivered feeling his breath against your hands.

“I’m sorry” he let out as he enveloped you in a passionate embrace.

This, after all, was not appropriate for two people who weren’t engaged to be married.

~

The bi-annual Huntsmen Competition in the spring was, oddly enough, the most anticipated event of the season.

You supposed it had something to do with your appearance.

Hence, you practising day and night, night and day, to attempt to get the first place this time around.

Also, you knew Sunghoon was participating in this event and you want to impress him-

Ah right.

It is too early for the list of participants to have some out, so… how do you know?

Truth is, Sunghoon himself told you.

A development which had happened since the Spring Solstice Ball was that you and Sunghoon had started exchanging letters with what was going on in your lives lately.

It made you unnecessarily giddy and you couldn’t hide this from your nosy mother who realised you were getting letters every other day as opposed to once every two to three months.

She was, needless to say, thrilled.

But that wasn’t important right now.

What was important was winning the competition to impress Sunghoon- no y/n stop.

This time around, the senators decided to change things up a little: they added an animal which automatically secures the huntsman first place. The animal in question is a grizzly bear. Yeah. A grizzly. It surprised you too. 

You were hoping to catch the biggest fish.

Also, this time you planned on showing up in a proper fancy riding outfit, fit to a prince.

You were rather petty like that. And your ass looked brilliant in those pants.

You seriously didn’t have enough opportunities to wear trousers.

~

Arriving late, you hopped off your inky black horse, feeling eyes on your form once again.

You wore tight white pants with a sporty waistcoat with gold and dark blue accents. And you felt magnificent holding your sword at your hip.

Subconsciously, your eyes wandered, looking for a particular someone, but you couldn’t see him. A frown tugged at your lips, but you quickly stopped it and smiled as you usually would, making your way to your tent to get ready.

~

By the time you had gone into the forest you still didn’t get to see a particular someone’s endearing smile and dimples.

Hunting brought you more peace than you thought it could. You languidly shot at moving animals - birds mostly- and looked for the grizzly. 

Why draw something out for longer than it should be?

You were lost in your own head when you heard a scream.

Quickly you turned your horse around and towards the scream. 

You were surprised, however, when you ran into Sungoon, appearance dishevelled, leaves and small sticks stuck in his hair and clothes, horse gone.

Looking him in the eye, you saw him breathing heavily, eyes wide in fear, before he flinched at the loud roar the bear behind him let out.

Before you could even realise what had happened, you drew your bow and knocked four arrows at the bear and it fell over with a cry.

You and Sunghoon though, just gazed at each other. He stared at you as if you had just promised him the world, and you, from your position on your horse, bow still in hand, looked at him as if he had just told you the secrets of the whole world.

You were startled from your romantic gazing when a horn sounded, both of you looking in the direction of the trees.

“Marry me” you said before you thought better of it.

~

To say that this bi-annual Huntsmen Competition had the best ending party yet, would be an understatement. 

Everyone danced and drank as you happily held hands with Sunghoon, right in the centre of everything, celebrating what would be the best event of this life yet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My dearest girls: @ch3rryc0smos & @janaicetea

if anyone wants to be a part of the taglist send an ask <3

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

i'm outta my head over you Pt. 7

prologue (Pt. 1) | Pt. 2 | Pt. 3 | Pt. 4 | Pt. 5 | Pt. 6 | AO3 | playlist

this is the last chap of my steddie week fic!! i have a little blurb i may do for tomorrow's open ended prompt, but for now, here's the last @steddie-week prompt: misunderstandings

Robin stops him as they’re herding the gremlins into their respective vehicles. You’d think that after nearly five hours of spending the four barely adults’ money would be enough time at the arcade. But no. They’re all fighting them on leaving. As if they all won’t be asleep by the time they get home.

“Once you get it done, you may want to get up early.”

“Uh..what?”

“Steve always goes for a run at like ass o’clock in the morning.” she’s speaking low and fast to try and not draw attention to them, but their normal level of volume with one another is normally 100 times louder than this, so she’s really doing the exact opposite. “If you get up early enough, you can leave it for him while he’s gone.”

“Okayokay, I got it! Now stop making this weird.”

She looks around to find Steve already staring at the two of them questioningly.

“Oh shit… OKAY, YEAH, GOOD LUCK WITH YOUR DATE EDDIE.” she practically yells.

“What the hell, Robin? I don’t have a date!”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure it’ll be great!” she’s walking away already, shrugging like even she doesn’t know why the fuck she said that. “Call me when you’re home!”

Eddie smacks his palm against his forehead and turns to his van, not even daring to look at Steve again.

He finally does dare once he’s in his van and has started moving, giving Steve a ‘nothing wrong or weird here’ wave as he pulls away.

The expression on Steve’s face is indiscernible. Somewhere stuck between totally blank, and the most devastated look he’s ever seen.

Damnit, Robin.

He only ended up with Max in his van on the way back, so when they get back, he helps her inside, and resigns himself to staying up all night to finish the tape.

He pulls in next to Wayne’s truck at the same time his uncle is coming out the front door, a dufflebag in hand. 

“You off to work early old man?” and he asks as he gets out of his van, it’s only about 9 PM now and his uncle doesn’t usually go in until near midnight. 

“Yep, gettin’ some dinner with the fellas before we head in. Gotta leave shift early to go visit yer aunt.”

Ah. “That time of year is it?”

“Yep, I’ll see ya tomorrow evenin’, son. Don’t be getting into any trouble, y’hear?”

Eddie just shrugs. “You know me.”

“That’s exactly my point.” Wayne says with a crinkly smirk.

He gives his uncle a short hug, and Wayne kisses the top of his head with another ‘be safe’.

Then, because he’s agonizing about it, Eddie spends the next couple hours cleaning the trailer instead of picking the last two songs that will go on his side (listening to said tape while he does).

He’s still got some ideas from before, but only a couple good ones..and not all of them will fit in the time he’s estimated is left on the B side.

It isn’t until he gets to Be My Baby on his second listen through that he knows which one he’s going to add next.

After he’s got that one figured out and recorded, there definitely isn’t enough room left for the rest of the picks, so he adds the one he thinks says the most about how he feels about Steve, the one that says everything he needs to say.

-----

“Robin did say ‘ass o’clock’,” Eddie says to himself, glancing at the clock in his dashboard.

5:13. Yeah, that sounds right.

Eddie lets out a huge cracking yawn. Okay, he’s definitely gonna crash once he gets back to the trailer. He was so wired after finally finishing the tape, he couldn’t sleep even though he wanted to.

He makes it to Steve's street and parks up the road a bit (not wanting the rattle of his van to alert Steve to his presence if he hadn’t left yet), and walks the last leg. The tape in his pocket feels like it weighs a million pounds.

When he finally rounds the bushes at the front edge of Steve’s yard, Eddie feels every cell in his body seize up at once.

Nancy’s car is in the driveway.

What the–

Suddenly, the front door opens. He dives back behind the bushes, peeking through the leaves. You know, like a sane person?

Why the fuck is Nancy leaving Steve's house so early

Why is Steve only wearing those tiny fuckin’ shorts?

Oh no..

Oh shit.

There’s only one fucking reason

This is all wrong! Nancy knows he has feelings for Steve, was that not what that was at the arcade?

She’s with Robin, she didn’t refute it.

Oh fuck, he’s gonna have to tell Robin.

Eddie debates making himself known, let himself barrel over whatever awkwardness may arise, but he’s still got his heart in his pocket, addressed to Steve.. What’s he supposed to do with that then?

“Oh hey Steve, didn’t see you there! Just came by to drop off your very personal property that your best friend stole for me to defile! Nancy? Oh hey, you’re here! What’s up with tha–”

He’s startled out of his thoughts when the door of Nancy's station wagon shuts, the engine turning over. 

She pulls out, thankfully heading away from where he’s hidden.

Eddie watches until she’s out of sight, then jumps again when he hears Steve’s front door close.

Steve does a few hops in place from foot to foot on his front stoop (still shirtless), and starts off on his run the same way Nancy had gone. Had he been able to see shirtless, sweaty Steve whenever he wanted?? He just goes for runs like this every day? Why had no one told him??

‘Oh fuckin’ hell, shut up, shutup!!’ He yells at himself.

Now what?

Eddie sits in the grass in Steve Harrington’s front yard and stares at the back of his mailbox.

Does he still leave the tape? Of course he should, it is Steve’s tape afterall.

But what about the songs? Steve’s not gonna want his bullshit now…

He could go back to his van and re-write the note then come back and leave it. No, he wouldn’t have time now, Steve’s athletic, yeah, but Eddie’s been frozen in his front yard for a while now. He’d be back soon.

Fuck it. 

He’ll drop the tape on the front step, go back home and pack up his shit. Yeah. Good a time as any to get the fuck outta here.

Confessing your feelings to one of your closest friends who very obviously just got back together with his ex not even ten hours after you’d seen him and were very obviously flirting with each other?

Yeah. Not ideal.

Does he have the funds to get the fuck outta here? No. But he’s got enough for gas and he’s got a van. He’ll just load his mattress into the back and be gone before the rest of the town fully wakes up.

Good plan, Eddie’s brain. Thank you, rest of Eddie.

-------

Steve slows to a jog once he can see his house, cooling down from his run on the last little bit of his road, and stopping in his driveway to do some stretches back to the door.

He’s sinking down into his last lunge when he sees the little square of…something…sitting on the front step.

“The hell?”

He stoops down and picks it up, turns it over. There’s a piece of lined paper rubber banded around it.

Peeling off the band, Steve steps inside and unfolds the letter, leaning back on the now closed front door to read

“...oh no…” Steve looks down at the case in his hand. Now he sees why the rubberband was necessary, there’s another folded wad of papers shoved into the cassette’s case, now popped open without the band holding it together.

His heart, previously calmed down from his run, now beat wildly in his chest as he unfurls the short stack of paper.

He reads the first line, ‘8. I Was Made For Lovin’ You...’

“Holy shit.”

Steve books it up the stairs, he’s gotta get showered, he’s gotta get changed, he’s got one more song to add to the tape.

-------

Eddie’s just finished packing up his clothes when his alarm clock radio goes off, the 7am alarm still set for when he has to get up for school.

“...still don’t believe it, he was just leaving OH there must be some misunderstanding! There must be some kind of mistake…” blasts through the tinny speakers.

Nopenopenope, not dealing with that right now.

He slaps the clock around until it finally shuts off its maniacal teasing, and goes back to packing (and blinking away some wayward tears).

He’s just dropped the second bag of clothes and his sweetheart in her case by the front door and is contemplating if his mattress would actually fit in the back of his van, when there’s a knock on the door.

Eddie’s gut freezes mid-flip.

Oh no. Please n–

“Eddie, are you there? It’s Steve. Can I come in?”

‘Don’t move. Don’t make a single sound. Maybe he’ll think you’re not home and just leave.’

“C’mon man, I know you’re in there. You’re van’s out here.”

“Shit.”

Eddie trudges his way to the front door and opens it.

Even with floppy, just-washed, hair and an inside-out polo, Steve’s still the most beautiful person in existence.

“What do you want, Steve?” Wow. Even he’s surprised at how morose he sounds.

“I uh, I got your tape..my tape? I got your note. I added one more song and I thought, maybe, I could–” Steve looks down. “Are you..” his voice pitches high so he clears it. “Are you going somewhere?”

“Mhm.” Eddie can’t look him in the eye. He stares at the porch.

“Where are you–”

“Just going, ‘kay Steve? No need to worry about me being around anymore.” Eddie practically spits, still not looking up at his friend.

“Eddie, what are you–” he cuts himself off, his voice going soft. “Did you not mean what you said?”

That makes Eddie look up at him. Steve’s gaze is now cast downwards, staring blankly at Eddie’s packed bags.

“...I meant every word. Every song, Steve. But that doesn’t matter now, does it?” he’s truly mad now, who does he think he is, trying to act all glum like he wasn’t the one betraying his best friend.

“B-betraying my best–Eddie, what the hell are you talking about?”

Damn! He said that out loud.

“Just go away, Steve. I won’t tell Robin, but you definitely should.” Eddie moves to close the front door and turns back towards his room. He doesn’t hear it close, but he hears the creak of the floor when Steve follows him in.

Of. Course.

“Tell Robin what, Eddie? I already told her how I felt about you, that’s why she stole you the tape in the first plac–”

“Not that! You–” Eddie clenches his fists at his sides and spins back to face Steve. “That you hooked up with her girlfriend last night.” Steve’s face pales and Eddie continues on. “Yeah. I came by to drop off your tape; Robin thought I could leave it there when you left for your run. But lo and behold, what do I see when I come by? Nancy Wheeler’s car in your driveway at ass o’clock in the morning.

“Now, I may be a third time senior, but even I know what the fuck that means. Especially when, not long after I’ve gotten there, the Lady Wheeler herself waltzes out the door with Tiny Shorts McGee following her like a lost puppy.” he gestures at Steve, who’s still frozen in place by the door.

“So yeah, you can just burn those notes for all I care, I don’t even know why I still left it. Whatever. I’m leaving today anyway so you don’t need to worry about me pining hopelessly after you, ‘kay?”

Eddie’s chest is heaving, his eyes are burning with unshed tears, and Steve…starts laughing.

“I fuckin’ knew it!” There are tears spilling freely out of his eyes now. “You’re really good y’know, had everyone fooled. Even me! King Steve is alive and well, everyone!” Eddie spreads his hands wide and yells to no one.” I can’t believe you got me to fall for your good guy schtick. Get the fuck outta my house, Harrington.” Eddie points to the door, stalking forward.

“Eddie! Eddie, wait, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have laughed.” Steve puts his hands out and Eddie stops, crossing his arms and glaring. “Eddie, please, Nancy was only dropping something off for me.”

“Yeah righ–”

“She was! She came by that early because she’s driving to an interview this morning at a paper in Indy. She knew I’d be up for my run anyway, so she stopped to give me the revisions she made to my–you know what, hold on. I’m calling Robin.”

“Steve, I told you to get the fuck out of my house, not go further into it.”

Steve ignores him and goes to the phone, giving Eddie as wide of a berth as he can while he passes. He picks it up and dials.

“I’m not fucking kidding, Harrington, get the fuck out of here–” Eddie’s anger is multiplied tenfold when Steve holds out a finger to shush him.

“Hi Mr. Buckley, this is Steve. I’m sorry to call so early, but can I please speak to Robin? There was a last minute change to our schedule…thank you.’

Eddie watches Steve’s face morph from his customer service expression, to an admittedly frightening pissed off smile when Robin apparently gets on the line.

“Hey Robin! I found my Eddie tape! It’s the funniest thing, I came back from my run and it was sitting on my doorstep.”

Eddie can hear the muffled sound of Robin’s voice coming through the earpiece.

“I know, isn’t that crazy?” Damn, Steve’s passive aggressive voice is…something else. “He must’ve dropped it off while I was gone..why wouldn’t he give it to me in person?”

Steve waves at Eddie to come closer, and when he stubbornly doesn’t, Steve rolls his eyes and comes to him, stretching the cord across the kitchen as he does.

“Hmmm...maybe.. Or maybe something scared him off?” He takes in an over-dramatic sarcastic gasp. “Or maybe, my best friend and soulmate who stole the tape for him, told him to come by at the exact worst time! When she knew a certain ex of mine and current girlfriend of hers was stopping by before leaving to Indy and it scared him off!”

Steve tilts the handset out from his ear so Eddie can hear..there’s complete silence on the other end.

“That would suck, don't you think? Seeing your crush’s ex leaving their house early in the morning when you’re coming over to confess to them?” He continues.

“Oh. My. God. Steve!! I am so so sorry I–”

“Don’t apologize to me, apologize to Eddie.”

Steve grabs up Eddie’s hand and wraps it around the handset, forcing him to take it, then stomps off into the living room.

Eddie puts the phone to his ear and walks back to the receiver, Robin rambling in his ear the whole way. 

“--ddie, I’m so so sorry! I totally forgot Nancy was dropping off Steve’s paper this morning before she went to her interview! Please please don’t be mad at me, actually, scratch that. Be super mad at me, but definitely not at Steve, okay? I should have remembered, I should have told you, I should hav–”

It’s effective, he feels the anger draining out of him. “Robin, Robin! It’s okay, you’re okay.” Eddie glances over at Steve, who’s pacing up and down the short length of the trailer’s living room. “But now I have a very pissed off Harrington in my house right now…you got any survival tips for me?” he mumbles lowly.

“...Oh! I know, just go over there and kiss hi–her–stupid!” Eddie snorts through his nose, her parents must still be nearby.

“Got it, I’ll try that. Thanks Birdie…for everything.”

She sighs in relief. “You’re welcome, Doofus.”

Eddie slowly hangs up the phone, and turns to where Steve is. Now stationary, he’s got one hand on his hip, and the other is rifling through his hair nervously.

‘Yep. Buckley’s right.’

Eddie takes a deep breath and crosses to Steve in three short strides, grabs his face in both his hands, and kisses him deeply.

Steve responds immediately; he wraps one arm around Eddie’s waist, his large palm centered squarely on his lower back, and one around his arm, lacing his fingers into Eddie’s curls and cupping the back of his head.

Steve pulls their bodies flush and cants his hips into Eddie’s, tugs a breathy moan from Eddie’s throat when the hand in his curls tightens.

Eddie’s nose is pressed uncomfortably into the space between Steve’s nose and cheekbone with how close they’ve smushed themselves together, but Eddie can’t find it in himself to care. 

He’s kissing Steve Harrington. 

There’s a strong thigh slotted between his, and Steve Harrington is kissing him back. 

Eddie moves one hand down to clutch at Steve’s shirt, and pushes the other back, grabbing onto those short hairs on the back of Steve’s neck.

They finally come up for air after one too many teeth clashes, their foreheads coming together.

“Hi.” they breathe out at the same time, chuckling at the absurdity of it all.

“We’re kinda idiots, huh?” Steve says, looking cross-eyed between Eddie’s eyes. The hazel of his eyes sparkling with the movement.

Eddie chuckles. “Dingus and Doofus, remember?” he points to each of them in turn, only lifting his pointer finger out of the grip on Steve’s shirt to do so.

“Can I play you the last song now?”

and then they low dance in eddie's living room

Yay!! that's it, thanks for following along with this one!!! here's the last tags :o) @hellomynameismoo, @messrs-weasley, @manda-panda-monium

Here's some notes since it's the last part:

this is the most I’ve ever written in such a short time, I literally wrote each of these chapters the day before their day to be posted….most of it while at work lmao

Steve used a Sony C60 tape. i.e. there’s 60-ish minutes of space on it. before At Last, the songs on the tape totaled 55 min 55 seconds, a perfect amount left for Etta James (ending up at 58 min 54 seconds in total according to my spoofy playlist).

I know that the Eddie half of songs weren’t really…’Eddie music’, but in my head, Eddie likes music for being music. All music is good (like he said to Max in part 5). Plus, he wanted to put songs on the tape that he knew Steve would like/want to listen to.

steve asked nancy to make revisions on his nursing school application essay (he found he quite liked the process of taking care of eddie and wants to go to school for it!)

anyone else just recently realize that Take Me Home Tonight had an allusion to Be My Baby?? anyway, love that, wanted to make that a thing here :o)

and lastly, a couple of little things i LOVED about this fic that i didn’t see anyone else / only a couple people point out:

Steve singing the rubber duckie song to Eddie in part 5

Eddie literally giving Gareth the shirt off his back in part 2 when Tommy threw his pop on him (in my head, this is the same red buffalo check flannel that Gareth ends up cutting the sleeves off of and wears in S4).

that's all!! thanks for reading, friends :o)

[hannamoon143]

...👀👀👀👀👀

Imma ask all😔✨

1. What song makes you feel better?

2. What is your go to comfort show?

3. Reading or writing? Why?

4. Whats your favorite feeling?

5. How do you like to take care of yourself?

6. What’s your favorite candle scent?

7. Who do you feel most like yourself around?

8. Whats a fabric/texture that’s nostalgic for you?

9. Best childhood moment?

10. When was the last time you laughed so hard you cried? (or just felt really good afterwards)

11. Do you have a comfort item? Tell us about it!

12. What calms you down?

13. Bath or shower to relax?

14. Whats something upcoming that you’re excited for?

15. Comfort food ?

16. What’s something you want to create soon?

17. How do you feel best loved ?

18. What age in life do you think you’ll feel most yourself at?

19. Have you ever written or received a love letter?

20. Tell us about a memory you hold close to your heart.

21. Tea, Coffee or hot cocoa ?

22. Name of your favorite playlist?

23. Have you ever received flowers?

24. Who is your bestfriend ?

25. If your soul was a color, what would it be? 

26. If you could live anywhere with anyone you want, where would it be and who would you bring?

27. Do you like to garden? Have you ever grown something?

28. What are you proudest of?

29. Arw you a kind person ?

30. What do your hobbies look like ?

I'm sorry it will take time for u to answer but I'm a curious person so 😔💕✨

Take your time <333

omg thats so cutei😭💕 let's start

secret secret by stray kids, and sweater weather <3

hmmm i'd say gilmore girls, and the drama "it's okay to not be okay"

i personally love both, i love reading cause i can escape reality,also if it's just for a few hours. i love writing cause i can express my feelings so naturally, other than with speaking😅

the feeling when i'm doing something that really makes me happy, and i can just forget everything else

hmm when i feel drained i like to take a long hot shower, and afterwards jsut go to bed and read a comfort book, or when i'm in public, i take my headphones and listen to music

ohhh i love vanilla candles

when i'm alone and with @darqlys

When i was with my that time best friend at night at a little hill, we were watching fireworks, and i thought everything would be perfect forever

hmm i'd say raw cookie dough, and the blanket i have for rlly long now

hmm tbh i can't really remember

soo i think in a way my headphones are my comfort item, cause music brings me a big comfort, but also my old plushies i'd say, and that may seem weird but i keep all letters i ever got, and to this day i still read letters from people who i now not even have contact with anymore, but sweet words from people who loved me once or love me are something that brings me comfort too.

music

shower

hmm i guess i'm excited for christmas

rice.it''s light, never made me feel sick or smth and its also not unhealthy so yea

i hope to create a work of writing that i will be really proud of, and can say that i'm really satisfied with

physical affection. i love love love hugs and stuff, but also loving and appreciating words make me feel really loved and worthy

hmm maybe when i was a child around the age of 6 or maybe in some years

actually i wrote one once, but i wrote it together with another girl and it was really embarassing, cause the guy never said anything about it except thank u so it was really weird after.but i love the memory of it😂

the memories with my old best friends,yes all of them. i was always myself, and there wasn't a day where we didn't have fun together.

hmm i love tea and coffee, but i think i'll go with tea.

it's just my favorites

no

@darqlys

hard question, it'd be navy blue ig

i would move to japan, korea, or somewhere scandinavian with @darqlys or alone

yes i lowkey like it, and yes i've grown some things before

my family for being so strong even through real shitty times, and @darqlys, i'm proud of u all the time

oh that's hard to say😅 idk how other people see me but i try to always be kind.

i mostly write, read, listen to music, and yea that's it, kinda boring ig

yes that's it ig💕

[cleoselene]

rules: shuffle your "on repeat" playlist and post the first 10 tracks, then tag 10 friends to do the same. tagged by my Anthony Rizzo sister-wife @an-ivy-covered-summer

this playlist is called "Drive Time" because I mostly listen to it in the car. it has 1025 songs so this should be interesting.

1. Book Of Mormon Original Broadway Cast Recording - Two By Two (CANNOT WAIT TO SEE THIS AGAIN, WE GOT HOOKED UP WITH FREE TIX FOR MARCH)

2.The Amazing Devil - The Calling (seriously y'all plz listen to this song it is a fucking masterpiece. all of TAD is amazing but this song and "Farewell Wanderlust" are two of the greatest songs of all time)

3. TOOL - 10,000 Days (Wings Part 2) (oh I guess shuffle wants me to cry at a TOOL song this day okay! and also be filled with existential death for how many days I will have to spend in the fire with this MS! anyway this album is just constant grief in progrock metal, it's so good, probably their best)

4, Big Red Machine feat. Taylor Swift - Renegade (god this is a banger. god this era of Taylor's music, was just. *chef's kiss* this is a favorite to sing along with in the car. I think it seems like Joe got Bon Iver guy in the breakup so I fear we may never hear another one of their awesome collabs again. the way they sing verses of different lyrics at the same time is so enchanting)

5. Sza - SOS (I have been on a major Sza kick lately; the production on her music is fucking immaculate. Like R&B with lots of influences from 90s trip-hop. I am so ready for intricate electronica to make a comeback. Between Sza doing so well and Gaga's next album singles sounding super industrial, I AM EXCITE)

6. Damien Rice - The Blower's Daughter (oh gosh oh gosh shuffle YOU ARE ON A ROLL. this is my favorite Damien Rice song. so breathtakingly beautiful, you absolute bastard who has only released like 2 albums in 25 years)

7. VNV Nation - Lights Go Out (SHUFFLE YOU ARE KILLING IT. Amazing song, highlight of the Noire album, which was Ronan's response to Trump's election and climate change, released in 2018. A club banger about people stupidly ignoring the warnings and just dancing in the club to great club bangers, designed to be played in clubs as the banger single from the album. Goths, we're on a different level, okay?)

8. Indigo Girls - Let It Be Me (can you believe that my mother, who at one point was easily the most popular lesbian in Southwest Florida in the 80s and 90s, thinks the Indigo Girls are "boring lesbian music?" And yes, she likes ANNE MURRAY. Like how dare she be an Anne Murray fan and call the Indigo Girls boring. Anne Murray's music is pretty but it is also the absolute definition of boring. Anyway my mom has seen Anne Murray in concert like four times, front row every time, and three out of four times, Anne handed her a red rose at the end of the show. I guess it's her tradition to hand out roses to fans at the end of the show who seemed really into it. My mom has been an "Anne Murray is a lesbian" truther forever and took these roses as signs Anne was kinda into her. Look all I'm saying is that I am the child of a 75 year old parasocial fangirl who shades competing lesbian artists like the kids do with pop stars these days, roflcopter)

9. Les Miserables The Complete Symphonic Recording - The Bargain/The Waltz of Treachery (musical theater representing! anyway this recording is my favorite of the myriad Les Miz recordings because I loooooove the Eponine. And love Gary Morris as Valjean. Actually everyone kills it in this version. The fact that the Eponine didn't even speak English since she was from the Japanese show and still got the emotion so well is a marvel. FUCK I LOVE LES MIZ PLZ CAN WE GET AN ACTUAL GOOD FILM ADAPTATION OF IT SOMEDAY YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW DEAR THIS PLAY IS TO ME AND HOW COMPLETELY DISAPPOINTED I WAS AS I SAT IN THE THEATER AFTER HYPING IT UP SO MUCH TO IDK MY BFF TWIG AND IT WAS ABSOLUTE GARBAGE. Les Miz is better than Wicked. Give it the Wicked treatment)

10. Taylor Swift - So Long, London (oh wow another sad one. And how appropriate since @an-ivy-covered-summer tagged me in this becasue we had a Rizzo-related meltdown about these lyrics: And you say I abandoned the ship But I was going down with it My white knuckle dying grip [...] I'm just mad as hell cause I loved this place

like when we had this freakout when we were talking about Rizzo begging Jed not to trade him and saying "I want to go down with this ship" T___T

Anyway I am pretty firmly on the record thinking TTPD sucks but there are like... five songs out of the 31 that I like, and this is one of them. This one I liked instantly.

anyway THANKS THIS WAS GREAT LIKE I LITERALLY LISTENED TO EVERY SONG AND DIDN'T SKIP ONCE. Usually I don't listen to everyone for these memes but they're all worth the full listen this time. Goddamn I make good playlists.

tagging @sylvieons @thebreakfastgenie @brightnshinythings @malkaleh @coralreeferband

that's five my brain is bad i'll stop there but I would love to read any of your answers i love talking about music I will do it all day every day always tag me in these and in your answers because i miss a lot because dash is overwhelming but i am ALWAYS interested in these

there's a reason I worked in a music store for five years

[billiuspendragon]

Mob Psycho 100 playlist

I made a playlist, and I'm gonna post the songs on here and explain why I chose each of them. I'm not including every single song because of the audio limit but I'll explain the ones with the most thought behind them. Inspired by this post !

this is TOTALLY Mob about Tsubomi when they were kids.

Teacher thinks that I sound funny But she likes the way you sing Tonight I'll dream, while I’m in bed When silly thoughts go through my head About the bugs and alphabet And when I wake tomorrow, I'll bet That you and I will walk together again

Especially with the mention of them walking to school together, which is what Mob daydreams about. Altogether his crush on her is very childlike and innocent since he's loved her since they were kids, and I think this song reflects that.

Lyrics: 10 Vibes: 10

This one is why I decided to make a Mob Psycho playlist in the first place. It just brings back all my feelings from getting to the end of the show.

Oh, I'll settle down with some old story About a boy who's just like me Thought there was love in everything and everyone You're so naive! They always reach a sorry ending They always get it in the end Still it was worth it as I turned the pages solemnly and then

With a winning smile, the boy With naivety succeeds At the final moment, I cried I always cry at endings

Sorry that's such a long quote but it's so Mob I can't even. Reigen makes fun of him for being naiive but with his naiveté he succeeds!

I think it also works really well with Emi, since it talks about stories so much. She compares herself to Mob at once point too, which fits the "about a boy who's just like me" line.

Said the hero in the story "It is mightier than swords I could kill you, sure But I could only make you cry with these words

It's so him guys. His power is mightier than swords but it's his simple, honest words that usually win his battles.

Lyrics match: 8 Vibes match: 8

This song reminds me of Mob and Ritsu as kids.

And you know that I'm gonna be the one Who'll be there When you need someone to depend upon When tomorrow comes...

They're just,, always there for each other 🥹 they care about each other so much...

Also gonna share my favourite part:

Every star was shining brightly Just like a million years before And we were feeling very small Underneath the universe

It just gives me such a clear picture of them as small kids okay I just love their relationship so much aaaaa

Lyrics match: 7 Vibes match: 10

This is a brutal one to put right after the previous one, but it reminds me of Mob post-trauma.

There is no pain, you are receding A distant ship, smoke on the horizon You are only coming through in waves Your lips move, but I can't hear what you're saying When I was a child, I had a fever My hands felt just like two balloons Now I've got that feeling once again I can't explain, you would not understand This is not how I am

I have become comfortably numb

Because he starts shutting himself away and numbing himself so his emotions don't get the better of him.

Lyrics match: 6 Vibes match: 8

This also reminds me of Mob and Ritsu, but also post-trauma.

Love, love will tear us apart, again

Mob grows distant out of a fear of hurting Ritsu, and Ritsu becomes slightly afraid of Mob. Love really did tear them apart 😭

Lyrics match: 7 Vibes match: 9

This one represents Mob when he's beginning to lose it.

I look inside myself and see my heart is black

Lyrics match: 7 Vibes match: 6

I wasn't able to include it but I also have "Where is My Mind" by The Pixies for similar reasons.

This one gives me Reigen vibes.

You know "My celibate days are over" You put me straight on the finer points of my speech rehearsed In the mirror of my steamy bathroom Where the lino tells a sorry story in a monologue, in a monologue

I think this song is mostly about the singer himself, but the lyrics are just so specific and evocative that it gives me the mental image of Reigen in that one outro in season one you know.

The chorus reminds me of him too:

Six months on, the winter's gone The disenchanted pony Left the town with the circus boy The circus boy got lonely It's summer and it's sister song's Been written for the lonely The circus boy is feeling melancholy

Lyrics match: 6 Vibes match: 9

THIS IS SO MOB WHEN HE LOSES IT I CAN'T EXPRESS THIS ENOUGH

I'm not the killing type, I'm not, I'm not, I'm not, but I would kill to make you feel! I don't mean kill someone for real! I couldn't do that, it is wrong! but I can say it in a song, a song, and I'm saying it NOW!

Like PLEASE it's so fitting, especially for when he fights Shou's dad.

Also this verse:

I once stepped on a dying bird It was a mercy killing I couldn't sleep for a week I kept feeling its breaking bones

It's. It's so him.

Lyrics match: 10 Vibes match: 8

this whole song just reminds me of Reigen. I'm so annoyed that the little excerpt that Tumblr plays is never The Right Bit but --

...and for once in you're life, you've got nothing to say, and could this be the time, when somebody will come, to say "look at yourself, you're not much use to anyone"?

I just think it fits well as someone who's very confident on the surface but deep down feels a bit pathetic and doesn't know what he's doing.

(that's like my favourite song ever btw, it's so bouncy)

Lyrics match: 9 Vibes match: 8

This one just fits with the lower-stakes parts of the show to me.

Do something pretty while you can, don't be a fool, skating a pirouette on ice is cool

I don't know man, there's just something about it.

Lyrics match: 7 Vibes match: 10

I've skipped some songs out of this because of the audio limit but here's the full playlist if anyone wants to listen to it :D I think I explained all the important ones, the others are probably there for vibes.

Oh yeah and I added "Satellite of Love" onto the end because it reminded me of the aliens lmao... I might take it off though because "We Rule the School" feels like such a good one to finish on and idk where I would put Satellite of Love to get the flow right

[fantasy-mixtapes]

Fig Faeth Junior Year Playlist: Side A

It's no surprise that Fig Faeth's playlist is the one that I actually listen to the most. It's just a very good vibe and I love her. Took extra time to Song descriptions and thoughts down below. Spoilers for Episodes 1-10.

Genres included: Pop-punk, Punk, Alternative

1. hair out, Stand Atlantic

Am I fuckin' up my life? I'm just tryna make improvements Slowly givin' up the fight But I gotta cover up the bruise That I get from all the Expectations give me vertigo Wasting away to the pressure The pressure, The pressure, oh

This song is such an earworm, scratching a specific itch in my brain. Love the fact that both Kristen and Fig (the failing girlies) start with a Stand Atlantic song, and it works with the way that Fig is coming at this season. From the jump, she is one of the most visibly and audibly burnt out, specifically from the pressure of the "sophomore album" that was supposed to come out months ago. This song is definitely about the pressures of a songwriter as well as the pressures of life in general so it fits sooooo perfectly. Especially with the "I can already here people hating the song" outro *chefs kiss*

2. Who The Hell Am I?, NOBRO

God, I'm tired of being like this I can change, but in a minute Always looking for the back door, on the run Always at the party, never quite having fun Play with fire, and you're gonna get burned I'm on fire, and you know it hurts I was always on the outside looking in Maybe it's me 'cause I never wanna fit in

Fig's class struggles, her conversation with Mazey, I can't take it. I feel like we've all been there. I really love how the narrative with her has progressed, like last season was deconstructing her need to mold herself into other people (or into an idealized version of herself) now she's trying to figure out who she is at her core without all the disguises.

3. 7 Years Bad Luck, Glasseater

Something strange seems to be plaguing me Everything I touch falls apart I've lost it all, losing all my luck Suffering 7 years bad luck

I don't particularly love this song, a little too unintentionally underproduced, but it deserves a spot on this playlist. I feel like I would be Fig in the curse situation. It took me a literal year to deal with debilitating stomach problems, and I, too, waited until my friends noticed to actually do something about it. Either way, can't wait to learn more about the weird Galier Pride curse, love the representation for my stomach problem girlies

4. Where the Heart Is, Sweet Pill

Get this My mind's been in a million places but my body hasn't moved an inch And I feel like I'm missing out again Ignoring my plans Wondering how they went Feeling bad about it If I could just take a chance I wouldn't feel so bad To see past myself I wouldn't feel so bad

This is Fig's final decision to try Paladin after doing so well with Warlock. She knows the priorities in her gut don't match with what anyone else says, but she's discovering her loyalty. She's figuring out her actual drive... following her heart <3

5. Impostor Syndrome, Sidney Gish

Unfortunately, I am My own dog, my own fur companion My own old lady on a forum Who types in glittery decorum Unfortunately, I take Myself out walking every day and I had my legs to the feet and I give my head to the leash

Making Fantasy High playlists is like making a ven diagram of which dog-themed songs are Tracker-coded and which are Fig-coded. This one, to me at least, is Fig-coded. (yes, I do have a tracker playlist, and yes, every song in it is dog/wolf specific, BUT THEY'RE GOOD OK). We love our Oath/Pact of the German Shepard.

6. You Owe Me Nothing In Return, Alanis Morissette

I'll give you countless amounts of outright Acceptance if you want it I will give you encouragement to chose The path you want if you need it You can speak of anger and doubts Your fears and freak outs And I'll hold it

So I know that we're gearing up for Fig's Warlock/Paladin agreement post "mooner yulenear," but this is my interpretation of what it's going to look like. She cares about her friends, and she would do anything for them! And though I know this song came out in 2002, Alanis Morissette is a 90's icon and perfect for the grungy riot grrrl vibe I see for her

[caffieneaddictt18]

The Teacher at Forks High School

My heels click on the linoleum floor as I walk through the halls, lesson plans in hand.

"Ms. Duskbloom!" An off-pitch voice rang off the lockers lining the walls, the sound of rubber squeaking on wet floor.

"I have no idea how you are walking around in those shoes! With the rain and the wet floors! How do you do it?!" The choir teacher, Mrs. de la Rouche, wraps her cardigan tighter around her midsection. She looks almost expectant for an answer.

"Well... lots of practice." I let my old UK accent slip a little.

"Oh! I almost forgot! You sound so... American!" She gives a small shrug with a smile still plastered on her wrinkled face. "Well!" Her smile drops, "I do have to go prepare the classroom for the students. Talk to you later!" The older woman in her not-so-sneaky sneakers squeaked back to her classroom, shutting the door behind her.

A sigh of relief leaves me. It is almost suffocating to talk to her. She never seems to have anything nice to say... anything actually nice that has no underlying tone of condescension. I approach my classroom and swing the door open. The lingering scent of incense permeates the air, mixing with the petrichor in a dance.

I swing open the windows, and light some incense in the windowsill of the room. I sit at my desk and check the time. 7:13am. 47 minutes until class. I brush up on my lesson plans for religious studies. Periods 1 and 3 are studying post-theistic and naturalistic religion, periods 2 and 4 are studying ancient religions, and periods 5-6 are doing a creative writing piece based on the song In The Flood by Oleska Lozowchuk and Ariana Gillis. No worries about 7th period. Maybe I'll bring out some Fleetwood Mac or Stevie Nicks... I did love Practical Magic. Oh, but lo-fi is very popular... maybe I will find a playlist of lo-fi.

Now, to put together the final bits. Just need to edit the final posts for the online chats and post them, get the homework printed off, and finish the slides...

I sigh and leave my seat at the front of the class. I need a coffee... or a tea. Tea sounds nice. I grab the mug I leave in the classroom and heat up the kettle. I grab my sugar and milk from the mini fridge that's hidden under the counter. I grab my favorite tea from the cupboard and add the leaves to the mug before pouring the steaming water over them. I add the milk and sugar when the water seems to be an acceptable height and stir it while I mosey over back to my desk, tea materials put away. I sit and take a sip of my drink before I set it down, the spoon still stirring it, almost as if it remembers my movements.

First step, send the homework to be printed off. It's going to take a while. May as well get started on putting on the finishing touches of the slides. Remember the slides describing the classes... the slide describing the grading system... slide for classroom rules. Fantastic. I check on the homework printing process and it seems almost done, so I get up and grab my tea for the walk to the copy room. I stir my tea while I walk to the copy room, manila folder tight under my arm.

I take a sip as I walk in, lowering the cup and looking at the number of copies. I neatly shuffle the stack to fit into the folder and grab the folder & cup with my now still spoon. My heels click as I hurry back to the classroom, 2 of the 3 tasks done. I set the homework down on my desk and check the time. 7:48. 12 minutes till class. Twelve minutes until the first class of the year. I only need to edit the online post... I quickly get to work finishing the last edits of the online post. I finish the edits and quickly post it to the classroom board. I sit back in my chair, and take the last sip of my tea.

Right as the bell rings.

And about a dozen kids come flooding in.

"I know my seating chart is unorthodox, but I prefer to learn when I am comfortable. Take a seat wherever you like, but I will change you on a need-by-need basis so sit next to people you will actually work with." I gesture to the loveseats, couches, and chairs surrounding little coffee tables, about 5 to every table.

The teens filter in and find their seats.

"We are going to wait a few minutes before class starts, just for the few remaining stragglers to walk in." I go through the students and set my mug down in the sink.

I go to the incense holder and light a stick of lavender incense. "You are welcome to do whatever you like in this time, but no leaving unless you need to use the restroom. Then please grab a pass on the way out." I gesture to the passes dangling by the door.

I check the time, about 8:06. "Okay, class!" I get off my chair and sit on the stool in the presenting space, crossing my legs. "My name is Ms. Duskbloom or Twyla. I live on the outskirts of town, but I will answer emails efficiently because I have nothing else to do." A few students laugh as I click a button on the remote that triggers the projector in the room and start the slideshow.

"Now, we have a few universal rules for whatever class of mine you take. I don't like rules so there are not many," I click to the next slide. "1. If you have to go to the bathroom, feel free. Just take a hall pass. We have a few teachers that are a little... stringent on that. I personally don't care." I look at everyone just to make sure they understood. "2. Do not distract your peers. You can listen to music, do things for different classes, take a nap, I don't particularly care. Just don't distract your peers. 3. We will be having hot drinks available around the winter months. If you want to have a drink, leave a mug or cup you are okay with leaving at school. Any questions?"

I glance out at the class and wait. One student slowly raises their hand. "Yes, Mr...?"

"Eric. Eric Yorkie. Why do we not have to ask to go to the bathroom?" He leans forward, elbows on his knees. The notebook in front of him already has notes. These are only the rules...

"Mr. Yorkie, it's disruptive to the environment of the classroom if every time someone had to go to the restroom, they asked. You are all in high school. I trust you enough to know yourselves best. If this rule is abused, I will have you ask. This also applies to another topic that I did not include in the rules. If you have a family emergency, or you need to take a call for whatever reason, feel free to step out and take the call or deal with your business. You determine your learning in my class." I look out at all of the students. "Also, this is the one day I take attendance. After that, I will mark everyone as here unless you give me notice before leaving and then it will be an excused absence, and therefore not affect your record. There are no unexcused absences or tardies in my class. You either are here, marked as here, or excused to be absent."

Another boy shot his hand up. As I made eye contact with the young man, he took his hand down. "So you said we could do anything as long as we don't disturb our peers..." I raise my eyebrow. Bold... didn't even get acknowledged before speaking... "And that we get hot cocoa and hot drinks during winter..." He had a sheepish smile.

"I did." My eyebrow rises on my face, as the tension seems to grow.

"Does this mean we can eat in class?" He finishes, shrugging. He looks at Mike Newton, looking for support. Mr. Newton seemed to agree with his friend's sentiment and tried to get all of the students to agree.

"What is your name?"

"Tyler."

"Last name... Crowley?" I check the attendance sheet, "I know another man by the name of Crowley. A chivalrous fellow... Mr. Crowley-"

"Tyler."

"Mr. Crowley." I subtly cast a spell to show him I am the dominant in the classroom. "As long as you have enough to share, or you are good at hiding your food, you may eat. If you leave a mess, you clean it up. If you don't clean it, you don't eat in here. Understood?"

He nods his head and sits back in the chair. "Good. Last question. Can't stay on this slide all day."

A girl's hand rises into the air.

"Yes, Ms...?"

"Weber, ma'am. Angela Weber."

"Not old enough to be a ma'am yet, Ms. Weber. What is your question?"

"What does homework look like?"

"What a perfect segway into the next topic. Now this is also universal for all of my classes." I click to the next slide. "Homework. It is literally impossible to fail this class. We have 3 different methods. In-class participation. Pretty self-explanatory. Homework, also self-explanatory. Online discussions. Now, I understand that most of the teachers here do not use online platforms, but I do. If that bothers you, that is okay. You don't have to do them. Grading is based off of what you choose to do for homework. In-class participation counts for 50 percent of your grade. As does homework. And the online discussions, should you choose to participate, is also 50 percent of your grade." A few students jaws dropped. This is a foreign concept, it seems. To have a teacher who wants you succeed.

I drop the gentle smile that has been lingering on my face and stand up, "Every test you take is extra credit. Every bit of homework over the amount to reach an A in this class is extra credit. I am here to make sure that you are able to graduate without experiencing severe burnout or having to scramble to finish the class. I am your teacher. I am here to help. Also, I have a study period for seventh period. It is a free-range deal. If you need to attend the study hall to catch up with a class, I can write you a note, but you do have to tell me. If you don't have anything to do for 7th period and you want to hang out here, you are free to." I scan the group of children that seem as though I have dropped the world at their feet, and they are scrambling to make sense of it.

This is what I am supposed to do. Help them excel. Help them with their world.

"Any questions?" I sit back on the stool, crossing my ankles this time.

A few students shook their heads, just grateful to have this grading system.

2 hands raised, one after the other. "First hand up, what is your name?"

"Edward Cullen."

"Mr. Cullen, what is your question?"

"No other teacher grades like this. Why do you?"

"I find that this system allows for multiple paths to success, and as my entire job is to facilitate your successes and strengthen all of you, this is the most effective way to help. People eventually lose motivation when they stay at the bottom for so long. I don't want anyone left to be a bottom-feeder. Every single person has potential. Sometimes, we just need help with it. Second hand up, what is your name?" I turn to face the woman on the chair next to the table that held Edward but did hold Angela and their group of friends.

"Bella Swan."

"Ms. Swan, what is your question?"

"All tests are standard for school curriculum to judge where we are at in the class. Why do they count as extra credit?"

"Because I hate tests. Third hand!" I stare at the blonde woman in class, sitting with Edward Cullen.

"Rosalie Cullen."

"Ms. Cullen, what is your question?"

"Based on what you said, it is possible for us to get more than 150% in this class. Why make it so easy?"

I smile softly, "I didn't like talking when I went to class, and I got lots of failing grades because I didn't communicate during class discussions. Also, life happens, and it can hold you back or feel like it is. My job is to help you, not put more weight on your shoulders. Should you choose to go for more than 100%, good for you. Personally, I do not care. It is up to you."

"No more questions. This is class-specific stuff now. You are my post-theistic and naturalistic religions. Does anyone know any religions of the like?"

Angela's hand raises. "Ms. Weber?"

"Native American religion?"

"Like our own Quiluette tribe here in Forks, well done. That is ancestral veneration and respect for the natural environment around them. That is a form of naturalistic religion. Are there any others?" My gaze flits across the room, skimming over the students.

"Christianity?" Tylers hand rose, but answered without me calling on him.

"Mr. Crowley, you have begun one of the most interesting conversations of my entire teaching career. Do you know what a monotheistic religion is?" I lean forward, my tea in my hands. I had gotten up and made a new one, the old one cold.

"No..."

"Ms. Weber! What is a monotheistic religion?"

"A religion that celebrates one god as that religions one and only god. Christianity refers to God with a capital and as the 'one and only true god'."

"Thank you, Ms. Weber. Mr. Crowley, come find me after class." I press the button for us to go to the next slide.

"Post-theistic religions are religions thought to be the end to monotheistic religions or religions with no higher being. Islam is an example of a post-theistic religion that is thought to become greater than Christianity. Buddhism is a post-theistic religion that does not have a higher power but believes in spiritual enlightment to become a better person. We will touch on this for about a third of the year.

Naturalistic religions! Examples?"

Bella raises her hand shyly, as if she's hoping to hide.

"Native American?"

"That is not a religion. That is a culture and a race, but good guess. Their religion is called Ancestral Veneration! Anyone else?"

Another childs hand rose, "What is your name?"

"Charlie. Charlie Smith."

"Ms. Smith. What is your answer?"

"Paganism?"

"Yes! We have naturalist pagans! Paganism is a broad umbrella term that is frequently used to describe a religion as one that does not uphold the Abrahamic, Judeo-Christian God. Under that umbrella are naturalist pagans, or druids. Typically people who venerate nature instead of the Abrahamic God.” And they are saved by the bell.

“We have a reading on different religions and how they compare to others! Please grab it on the way out!” I turn to Tyler as he is about to leave, “And Mr. Crowley, your attempts at sneaking out of this class are abysmal. Sit, please and thank you.”

He sits, looking nervous, “Now, you aren’t in trouble. I would just like to know if you understand the differences between ‘monotheism’ and ‘polytheism’?”

“Not really…”

I smile, “That’s what I’m here for. If you don’t understand something, can you please write it down, and then talk to me after class or during study period so we can get it figured out. Your classmates love the energy you bring to class. You seem like a good kid. But I can only help if you let me.”

“Ok… Thanks, Twyla.”

“Anytime, Tyler. Now get out of here. You have another class, yes?” I start writing up a note excusing his late arrival, stating that I had held him back for some help.

“Yes.”

“Amazing. Here is a note excusing your tardiness to the other class. I shall see you next time.” I hand him the note.

“Yeah. See you next time.”

More children start flooding in for second period as Tyler Crowley leaves my classroom.

Well… they never said it would be easy.

Author’s Cup of Tea:

TWO POSTS IN ONE DAY? HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE? I tell you how! I…. Prepared…. IN ADVANCE! I had some extra time and a want to finish at least this WIP so I did! Also, I got to talking about how Twilight is basically a horror movie in Charlie’s perspective and that gave me the reminder of this aha..haha…. I am so sorry.

[aintgonnatakethis]

9 people you want to know better tag game

Thank you @bagheerita for the tag! ❤️️ Template is at the bottom below the cut.

Three ships: Young/Telford/Rush from SGU. I won't, but I could include other combinations of them and totally cheat this question - these three are the characters that just click with you, that will stick with you for your entire life.

John/Scorpius from Farscape. Me as a wide-eyed 7 year old watching a torturer clad in a leather suit come on screen: 😮😮😮

Sheppard/Todd from SGA. It's not always monsterfucking with them, but when it is... Oh boy! 👀

First ship: Third Doctor/Delgado Master from classic Doctor Who. My mum was involved in the convention scene back then so I grew up surrounded by it and we had a massive wall of every story that had been released on DVD. I hope they all made the move with us. I remember being a young kid and her bringing down a boxset with the faces of the first 7 Doctors; I'd point to one of them and she'd pick us an episode of theirs for us to watch. (Simpler times but not really)

Last song: Currently listening to Hell As Well by We Three, a band I found through @frostysfrenzy. My best songs playlist has 140 songs if you want to know my music taste without being overwhelmed.

Last movie: The Road. I saw a meme that had been made for it on here and remembered it being an excellent book, so gave it a shot. It was better in book form unfortunately. I remember it was the first time I'd seen the sentence structure of 'this happened and this happened and this happened' outside of "bad" or "childish" writing. How it was used to successfully show someone's declining mental and physical state has stuck with me.

Currently watching: Rewatching Being Human (US version) and Firefly. Trying not to let unpleasant people being involved (Mark Pellegrino and Joss Whedon respectively) ruin things I've long-term loved. So I'll engage as long as I'm not providing them financial/social/political influence to harm others. Yes, I am looking at people who still pay for Harry Potter merch.

Currently reading: Here, have a google drive full of SG1 and SGA books. I can't remember which blog linked it originally, but I'm on book 6 of the SGA Legacy series, which is basically the plot of season 6 if they'd been renewed. (Though I do side-eye some things in there, like Sheppard instantly getting together with Teyla and there being a hint to Keller being abusive in her relationship with Rodney. I don't think they would have done the former on TV as even though Teyla isn't military she's still under Sheppard's command so it would reflect poorly on the real life US military - which is the only reason O'Neill and Carter didn't get together properly, if I'm remembering right? The latter... I've seen too much of Keller bashing in fandom. I don't need it in my "official" content too.)

Currently eating: I just finished some garlic and chilly chicken drumsticks and rice. I've been eating good since my boyfriend got into cooking. 😁

Currently craving: Hmm... I think I'm good. Full of food and an extra of my ADHD meds because I'm running on night-mode currently, meaning I'd be going to bed around 6-7am except I need a doctor's appointment so I'm gonna have to stay up and tough it out. Took it at 11pm so should have worn off enough for me to sleep after my appointment. (While the able-to-focus effect only last 8 hours, the you-will-stay-awake part persists for 12. 🙄)

Tagging: @frostysfrenzy @autism-purgatory @froggy-pposto @paeliae-occasionally @the-golden-comet

@dream-i-die @gioiaalbanoart @wyked-ao3 @worlds-tallest-fairy @chaniis-atlantis

Template:

Three ships: 

First ship:

Last song: 

Last movie: 

Currently watching: 

Currently reading: 

Currently eating: 

Currently craving:

[rabdoidal]

tag game! 🎧🎶 tagged by @theocannibalism shuffle your music library and share the first 10 songs that come up.

Thanks bud! Shuffling my liked instead of my playlists for fairness ✌️

Waiting For The Weekend by San Cisco: a decent song! I liked it more in uni but it's certainly still musically pretty - it's a little trite to write a love song about drugs being personified, but San Cisco can make anything a sexy indie jam (7/10) Favourite line: And when she's standing right next to me / She's never quite as close as I'd like her to be

Your Dog by Soccer Mommy: a STELLAR song by a band truly so close to my heart - my fav combination in music is a clean voice and dirty bass. also this song also has a fucked up relationship dynamic and its. very Izzy Hands to me sorry (10/10) Favourite line: Forehead kisses break my knees / And leave me crawling back to you

Pulaski at Night by Andrew Bird: another top tier banger but also (shout out to artificial ghost radio listeners) this is my NBC hannigram song its so. like the classical instruments and delusional sweetness makes it feel like a candlelit waltz in a blood splattered suit (10/10) Favourite line: I write you a story / But it loses its thread / And all of my witnesses / Keep turning up, turning up dead

Paint It, Black by The Rolling Stones: truly wild that this is in my likes because its a great song but its like. I don't think I've ever intentionally listened to the rolling stones apart from this? anyway bangers only I always love how dramatic and goth it is (8/10) Favourite line: No more will my green sea / Go turn a deeper blue

Androgynous by The Replacements: this song honestly makes me tear up sometimes, even tho its purely joyful, because it makes me think about how its a song from the 80s that has more kindness and love for genderqueer people than most people do 40 years later. It makes me love being t4t (9/10) Favourite line: Now, something meets boy, and something meets girl / They both look the same / They're overjoyed in this world

Cinnamon Spider by Jack Off Jill: nothing wrong with an alt/goth song about revenge and guilt with weird voice modulated screaming and creepy whispering (7/10) Favourite line: Consumed by hate and guilt, she'll never retire / Too old to fix, too dead to ever acquire

Human Fly by The Cramps: I've been listening to a lot of rockabilly/oldhead goth rock recently and I'm loving the cramps! I've only really heard the big hits until recently, but Human Fly is definitely my stand-out favourite, I love songs that are kinda nasty and maggoty or more conceptual or goofy! It makes it stand out to me (10/10) Favourite line: And baby I won't care / 'Cuz baby I don't scare / 'Cuz I'm a reborn maggot using germ warfare

The Price Is Right Theme Song by Antarctigo Vespucci: I'm a little over listening to indie emo at the moment so I do frequently skip this when it comes on shuffle, but the lyricism is honestly heartbreaking (5/10) Favourite line: Oh my lord, I wish that I didn't know they'll still make TV shows long after I go.

Big Bird by AJJ: I have thoughts feelings comments and critiques of AJJ, but I can't deny that if you want to be in a dangerously bad mood it hits. it completely hits. and I think its interesting that they make songs about taboo intrusive thoughts and criticisms they have of the world, even if i dont always love the song they make in the end (6/10) Favourite line: So I bought a knife / I am a knife / I am a Knife Man

Arty Boy by Flight Facilities ft. Emma Louise: a real vibey party song about being inexplicably into the guy taking photos and smoking at the function instead of dancing - to me it reads as a little comphet, or a little bit bisexual, because the way Emma Louise is singing about the ladies is a lil sus (7/10) Favourite line: And all the girls must be models here, sipping up on margaritas / Twist their bodies so beautiful, making shapes with the music

idk who to tag but if you want an excuse to do this, go with my blessing and pretend I tagged you

[operationslipperypuppet]

i know you have a hardshine playlist, but top 5 hardshine songs 👀

ohh shit this is fun

here's my hardshine playlist as well if you want to check it out (they're probably all gonna be on here if i'm fucking honest)

If We Were Vampires - Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit [Maybe time running out is a gift/I'll work hard til the end of my shift/And give you every second I can find] This is like THE hardshine song, if we're honest with ourselves. The idea that you wish yourself immortal, so that the time you spend together could possibly be trivial? It's so perfect. And this song is something I really have enjoyed for years so adding hardshine context to it makes it that much better, for me.

Work Song - Hozier [No grave can hold my body down/I'll crawl home to her] I was conflicted for half a second what number 2 on this list would be and then I remembered this bitch. God fucking damn. Not only are the lyrics so true to them on like a wider level, but Hardwon has literally, time after time, attempted to overcome the impossible to save Moonshine. To get back to Moonshine. The bargaining with the death horseman, Jake begging Murph to let him give Moonshine one of his luck points. Attempting, as a man with -1 intelligence, to fix a teleporter that wasn't working just so he could save her. (also the mental backflips i did to not name any of my recent fics with lyrics from this song. still can't believe i won that struggle)

After the War - Branches [My home is in your arms] This one is big on loneliness, and the kind of crux of the two people meeting ending the loneliness. And I think that's at the heart of hardshine, right? That before they met, they were both lonely and alone, in their own distinct ways. And then Moonshine walked into the bar. And in an instant, Hardwon found the home he'd been yearning for, while Moonshine finally found someone who would take her culture at face value and never try to belittle it. It's why Twinkling Lights plays under Hardwon meeting Red and asking Moonshine to live at the Crick. One way or another, they are defined by finding that safety in one another.

Love Like This - Ben Rector [It's a million things about you and I don't know what it is/I have never known a love like this] One thing that makes hardshine so beautiful, to me, is the way that it's so drastically ill-defined. Not even in the way that they never tell each other their feelings in canon, but also like the way that Jake and Emily have talked about it and the myriad of different ways they've played it. They're best friends, they're soulmates, they're in love, they can't stand more than 20ft apart without feeling lost. I think if you sat the characters down they'd have such a hard time defining, truly, what they mean to each other. And the idea here of a love that defines you while you also don't know the true depth of it feels right for them to me.

Hello My Old Heart - The Oh Hellos [Oh, I don't wanna be alone/I wanna find a home/And I wanna share it with you] Obviously home is a theme in my picks, which I feel like I have mostly explained already. But this one really hits a C3 stride for me, because it's kind of talking about returning to feeling like your heart can accept someone. And I feel like there's an insane paradigm shift that happens for Hardwon, post-distress signal. He's opening up again. But his heart does already belong to someone, and he just has to find home with her once more and his heart will remain safe, with her.

Bonus #6 is The Twinkling Lights of Galaderon. For obvious reasons

[clairedaring]

Shuffle your on-repeat playlist and then list the first ten songs!*

*any playlist on any platform will do!

Thank you Kat @troubled-mind for tagging me (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ). I've been itching to share new music. 'new' being new to my playlist though, most are old releases.

1. Your Call (อยู่ที่เธอ) - TYTAN

I want you to think and reflect Who do you want more in your life? Without him, you seem to be doing fine But without me, you’ll be okay right?

as expected, i like this song so bad i even made a gifset for solely self-indulgent purposes... it's just crazy see how much TYTAN has grown since his Waterboyy days. I feel like this song was the starting point of me finding every songs i liked recently linked to MingJoe from My Stand-In.

2. ชายคนหนึ่ง (Just A Man) - Bodyslam, Clash, Potato Feat. ก้อง สหรัถ, โดม ปกรณ์ ลัม, ตู่ ภพธร

I’m just a man who wants to look after you and be concerned about you, that’s all I just want you to still have someone worrying about you, I’ve never wanted anything else You don’t have to give me anything in return I’ve never wanted anything else

I AM WEAK FOR SONGS ABOUT UNREQUITED LOVE. i first heard this song like seven years ago in Secret Seven The Series but the obsession with it has come back in full force since i recently watched a lakorn starring the original artist of the song (Peter Corp) and there's this scene where he plays this song on the guitar to the female lead... oh i was a goner. (original by Peter Corp)

3. วัดปะหล่ะ? (TEST ME) - 4EVE

Open your heart to know each other a little bit, yeah (like this) Then you will see someone that your heart is searching for

this is a popular song that came out a few years ago but i recently fell in love with it when i heard it used in the trailer for a thai film 'My Boo' starring Bow Maylada, Gee Sutthirak and Thanaerng.

4. อยู่กับฉันฝันถึงใคร (Who are you missing?) - Nine Kornchid

When you are with me, who are you dreaming of? When we're close together, who are you missing? Just a faint shadow. There is no way to own your heart. Why do you still keep me around? Whose substitute do you consider me as? Can you just answer me clearly? The reflection in your eyes, am I the person whom you are looking for.

as expected of a person who's deeply in her MSI era, of course the OST is on repeat. the lyrics though like I AM CHEWING GLASSES.

5. บินเข้ากองไฟ (Flying Into the Flame) - Big Ass

Oh, heart, remember their face They're the same person who once hurt you Enough already, don’t let them hurt you anymore Enough is enough, my heart, why love them? The more you love, the stupider you get, the more torturing it is, you never remember (enough, heart) We’ve been more than sad enough already, why love them? Nothing can be as evil as a heart hurting itself The more it loves, the more it’s hurt (remember that)

this song i actually first heard from Kidnap! pilot trailer but i never looked up the lyrics until recently and god it is so MingJoe coded. this song is a nice monologue talking to the heart and asking why it keeps falling in love, even though it knows it’s only going to get burned. like the inability to get someone out of your heart and still loving someone even though they've hurt you so bad before ಥ_ಥ

6. เพียงพอ (Just Enough) - Potato

If I had you, I would never need to reach for anything else It wouldn’t stir up troubles, anxieties just stopped, and I’m more confident than before Since I had you, I know my needs have ended No need to aspire for anything more, just this is enough Every day, to just have you, regardless of anything, I’d be satisfied

watching The Believers on Netflix really sent me down a spiral of listening to Potato (a Thai rock band). I love this song so much because it's a refreshing addition to Potato's usual collection of 'unrequite love, breakup' songs.

7. Kẽo Cà Kẽo Kẹt (The Creeking) - Hoàng Thùy Linh

I inflect every syllable so that my name goes down with history No matter how much vilification and mockery I have to endure, I’ll stand up against them again I inflect every syllable so that my name goes down with history No matter how much agony they pour on me, I’ll survive, no matter how many times they do that From dire ramified a sprig of nectarine Verdant foliage shrouded the entrance Amidst solitude, I squawked shrilly

i've been on a spiral of listening to old music i love so i'm sharing this mini commentary i made on this song a while back.

so 'the creeking' is based on tấm cám aka the vietnamese ver of cinderella. specifically, the part after vietnamese cinderella (tấm) was murdered by her stepmother & sister, she reincarnated into a bird, but then got killed AGAIN and she reincarnated into a weaving loom (insane, you just gotta read it, after she became a weaving loom, she got BURNED and she reincarnated into a freaking tree). but the simple gist is, when tấm reincarnated into a loom, the loom kept making noises to threaten her step sister as if to remind her step sister of the evil deed she did to tấm. the creeking may at first glance be a simple retell of this part of the story in tấm cám but it also parallels directly with hoàng thùy linh's life story. from the mire (the excessive hate train from her "scandal" when she was a minor and victim of revenge pornography), both hoàng thùy linh and tấm rose up to put their name down in history. ending the song with the statement that they'll survive no matter how many times evil forces (the press/media) try to bring tấm/htl down. the creeking is just such an empowering and feminist anthem like i cannot stress enough. hoàng thùy linh is currently going through her 2nd hate train rn and i honestly wish her the best bc i fully believe she'll make it through this cycle of vilification again.

i truly love this song because even though hoang thuy linh is more popular for her tiktok hit see tinh (sped up) aka ting ting tang tang, her first full album Hoàng is literally a masterpiece full of songs based on Viet culture/folklores. THE viet pop album of the decade for me tbh.

8. I LOVE U - MANBO ft. NAMVEE

viet hiphop hasn't been on my rotation for a few months but i always trust manbo to deliver a good rap on a pop rock beat.

9. Building Outside The Building - TNT

while TNT is known for their youthful, hopeful, lovely music, it's these hard hitting songs that makes TNT music so attractive to me. cpop having better hard hitting songs than kpop these days is killing me. wishing i could steal all the cpop demos and send them to my fave kpop bgs.

10. Ponytail (KR version) - VANNER

my list of music recommendations can never be complete without a glitter gel pen song. THIS GLITTER GEL PEN BSIDE. petition to ask kpop boygroups to opt their glitter gel pen songs to be their title tracks more often.

no pressure tagging @weizhiyuan @poonmitpakdee @uppoompat @sherrymagic @supanuts