#this is like..the second or third time you've done this oh my stars

[2aceofspades]

*head pops up out of the random pile of things in the corner that has not moved in weeks*

Hi yes hello Ace I hope you've been doing well and things arent too crazy for you! I know winter coldness and busy things can make things chaos sometimes, but you got thiiiisss

Always a joy to see you on my dash, even if my brain has apparently been in hibernation for the past 3 months sldkjfksd

Love u lots my friend!

~-- --- .-. ... . / .- -. --- -.

RAAAAAAAAH-

MORSE ANON!!!

Yes hi hello! 🙌✨ Ohmigosh, dude! I frickin' missed you GAH-

Things have been...~interesting~, but good, yeah. Been sketching and scheming for the most part hehe

Anywhizzle! Thank you for being so lovely and sending some kind and positive words my way! I really appreciate it 🥹 I hope you've been well and staying warm and safe through these chilly months 🤗✨!

(:

[caramelkoo]

behind your touch (18+)

jungkook x reader

genre : married couple, simp husband!Jungkook

summary : two introverts explore the sexier and much more hotter side of their relationship.

warnings : lots of smut and fluff, dual pov, Jungkook is a wild one and he's also a simp, they're adorable, oc is a tadbit nervous, they're newly married and so in love with eo, breeding kink, unprotected sex (please be safe), Oral (giving and receiving), Jungkook is dominant, hair pulling, spanking, he loves her ass, masturbating together. let me know if i missed something.

a/n : i have no idea which freaky monster was sitting on my shoulders when i wrote this. enjoy and if you're ovulating, goodluck. kisses <33

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your pov

"One more, honey. Just give me one more"

Your husband's fingers pump into you as you tweak your nipples between your forefinger and thumb. The pleasure is so intense and burning, you almost see stars. Jungkook is on his stomach between your legs wide apart, his left hand is grabbing your left tit while his three fingers thrust into your wet pussy, thumb rubbing your clit. His face is hovering above yours and he nibbles on your ear.

"I- oh my god, Jungkook I can't" you whimper as you try to control your ragged breathing. He has your body totally at his mercy and you know he's not going to stop until he makes you come for the third time. You don't even know how he pulled one out of you the second time.

"I know you can. Let me see that beautiful pussy clench. Just like that."

His finger go even deeper inside you. He twists his forefinger in such a way, you almost scream before slapping your hand over your mouth but Jungkook takes a hold of your hand, removing it from your mouth.

he warns, "Don't you dare muffle your screams or else I'm gonna spank that perfect ass until it's red and hot"

That does it, your hands rapidly grab the taut silk bedsheet, pulling and undoing it as you arch your back. Sweat beads cover your forehead as you let out a scream before coming harder than ever before.

"FUCK" you pant.

Jungkook takes out his fingers before sucking them off. You look at him with lust in your eyes and sigh. When he's done he holds you close to him as you tuck your face into his neck. Patient as you come down, running his hands over your arms, breasts and ass.

"That's my girl, you did so good" he kisses your forehead.

While you feel like you've ran a marathon, his facial expression holds nothing but pride and affection.

"God, I wish you could see yourself from my eyes right now. A fucking sight"

You chuckle, "You're crazy"

Placing a chaste kiss on your cheek he eyes find you again, "How are you feeling, wife?"

Your cheeks instantly turn a deep shade of pink. It's been twenty days since you both have been married, promised to love each other till the day you die. However, you've still not gotten used to him calling you his wife and it appears he loves your flustered face given that he calls you that every chance he gets.

You ignore his snarky chuckle and reply, "Perfect. How are you feeling, husband?

As soon as the words leave your mouth, Jungkook nuzzles his face in your neck and squeals. His golden retriever personality has always been your favorite.

"I love hearing you call me that. Is this how you feel when i call you wife?"

Indeed you do but no way you're gonna tell him that. His ego has gone big enough for the day. You push him down by his shoulders and lower yourself down to his thick length. He's still wearing his black boxers but earlier somewhere in the process he's gotten rid of his shirt.

Grabbing the waistband of his boxers, you push them down and let his thick length spring free. Your mouth immediately waters seeing his tip red and angry, begging for attention. A drop of cum has formed on top of it.

"Honey, you don't have to do this" he assures pushing up from his elbows to look at you.

"I want to" you say taking him in your mouth as his grunt follows after.

"Fuck yeah, just like that. You're so good at this, baby. So so good" his head thumps back on the pillow. His stomach muscles are clenching hard resulting his abs to look more defined. You run your hands over them. His breathing picks up when you take him deeper and when you cup his balls, his hands grab a handful of your brown locks.

"_____, baby I'm not gonna last long if you keep doing that" his hips come up pushing his cock to the back of your throat. He thrusts once, twice, thrice. The room is filled with wet noises and both of your moans. You've never heard of anything more beautiful. You've never seen anyone more beautiful than your husband.

"W-Want me to come in your mouth?" he asks as you nod frantically.

And he does. Another moans slips out of him as he grips your hair a bit tighter while also making sure not to hurt you. Your throat gets filled with his load.

"Swallow it, wife"

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Peace. If someone were to ask how your relationship is with Jungkook, you'd use the word peaceful. Love has all sort of forms and in your life where you are surrounded by so many people who love you, their love however, is slightly different yet equally precious.

For instance, there's passionate love then there's motherly love, bubbly love of a friend and nurturing love of a grandparent. When it comes to your husband, it's peaceful and calm. Your introvert personality had let people in the past assume the worst of you. The enormity of the fact that people think introverts are stand offish or impolite is beyond you.

It wasn't the case with Jungkook, though. Since you're both introverts it's never too quiet or too loud for you. A cup of coffee while you're sitting on his lap watching the sunset, taking a hot bath together where you both are not saying a word and letting silence wash over you, you reading your book while he plays his video game.

These moments might seem boring and mundane to a third party but for both of you, who feel like themselves in silence, they're more than just moments.

But that's not to say that there's no spark. That factor has certainly never been a matter of concern. Just like right now as you check yourself out in the bathroom mirror, your body has never looked this stunning. You're wearing a red lingerie which hugs your pear shaped body like a dream.

However, you can't seem to stop the fleeting feeling of nervousness creeping up in your stomach, twisting it into knots. This is new for you. Even in your past relationships you have never explored this much. It's only Jungkook's ability to make you comfortable in your body that has led you to this point. So, you take a deep breath and call out for him.

"Babe!!!"

"Yeah?" before you left him to execute your sexy little surprise, he was talking to his best friend, Jimin. It appears he's done talking.

Adjusting the bra strap, you yell again, "Can you close your eyes for me, please?"

"Why?" he's got to be kidding.

"JUST DO IT!!"

"Alright, alright woman"

You walk towards the door and twist the knob oh so slowly. You open the door slightly ajar and see him sitting on the corner of the bed and then only you walk out.

Standing four steps before him you speak, "Okay you can open them"

"That's what she said"

You huff out a laugh but quickly recover.

"Jeon Jungkook"

"Shit, you full named me? This must be serio-" his words come to a halt when his gaze falls on you.

A nervous smile breaks out of your full lips as you wait for him to continue. When he doesn't say anything you start to wonder if you overdid it but he doesn't give you much time to think further because the next thing you know is he's pushing you against the bedroom wall, lips colliding with yours.

You moan as your lips move together with him sucking your bottom one between his. It's sloppy, it's filled with saliva but you wouldn't have it any other way. Tonight, you want the sloppy and wet.

His mouth is soft and eager. One thing about kissing Jungkook is that it's never the same. It's different every fucking time and it only gets better. His tongue pushes in between your lips before you part them and allow it to slide against your own.

He pulls away and rests his forehead against yours, "Jesus Christ,____. You're trying to kill me, baby"

"Do you like it?" you chuckle.

"Like it? You have no idea how many times I've gotten off to this visual. You look like a fucking goddess and you could ask for anything right now, I'd give it to you"

He shakes his head right to left like he still can't comprehend the sight in front of him. So you decide to help him.

"Fuck me"

"What?"

"I need you to fuck me, Jungkook." you ask him in a stern voice.

From the way he looks at you, it seems like he can't wait another second to get his mouth on you. Taking a step back, he looks at you up and down as if taking his fill. The moment the next words leave his mouth, you shiver.

"Strip"

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Jungkook's pov

"Strip"

The red lingerie pushes his wife's tits up as Jungkook is holds onto this slender thread of restraint, scared that if this gets any hotter, it'll snap. Her skin is so smooth and her lips are swollen from the rather burning kiss they shared earlier. The bulge in his sweatpants must be visible but he's not embarrassed about it.

A man can only handle so much. He looks at ______ with a fire and yearning that runs so deep he feels like it'll consume him whole. He wonders what made tonight worth it? is it the lingerie? is it the fact that they're newly married? is it the honeymoon?

No, It's because of the woman standing before him. It's because of the fact that he is the luckiest man alive on the planet to not only have a woman so sexy as his wife but also someone who is an outstanding daughter, a responsible sister and a human worth living for.

People talk about dying for their loved ones but what about living for them? What about living with them? When he was standing at the alter with ______ standing in front of him just like now he had made a promise to himself that he will live for her everyday. He will make every single day worth it for her so that she will choose him again as her husband in her next life.

The red fabric of cloth falls down with a subtle thump on the ground and his eyes travel all over _____ body. Her slender legs, a dark mole just above her left knee, stretch marks looking like lightening travelling from her navel down to her knees, the curve of her waist he has always loved to hold and kiss, her tits with perky nipples begging for attention and then finally her face.

"Come here and lie down on the bed" she does as he says.

When she gets comfortable enough and looks at him he asks her to spread her legs.

"Show me that pretty pussy, sweetheart" she spreads her legs slowly as if teasing him. He sucks in a deep breath before slipping out of his sweatpants and letting his cock spring free. It slaps against his stomach and he gives it a pump.

"I'm going to fuck you real nice but before that I want to watch. Don't worry though, I'll let you watch too" his voice is as husky as ever.

He walks back to the chair in the corner of the room and sits himself down. His wife looks at him with so much innocence and wonder, for a second he considers changing his mind and snuggle her to sleep but then again, she asked for it so she'll get it.

"Slip one finger inside, baby. Make sure to do it slowly, I want you to feel it well. Soak in the feeling"

"Jungkook, I'm not sure-"

"Hey, I'm right here, my love. I'm in this with you but reconsider it and if you're still not sure, we'll stop" he gently assures her, respecting her boundaries.

______ thinks for a while before taking a deep breath and nodding. Her hand slowly travels down to her stomach and finally to her wet cunt.

"Perfect, now rub your clit slowly and then slide a finger inside" she follows his commands as she lets out a light moan, her head tipping back in pleasure. It's just the beginning.

Jungkook's hands work up and down his length as he seeks his own pleasure but he's not sure how long he can last with the look on his wife's face. It's the perfect mix of pleasure and pain. She's his strength but fuck if she doesn't make him weak in the knees. Both of their moans fill the room with several "fuck" and "oh my god" following right after.

As _____ slides her finger inside and pumps it, he also fastens the pace of his pumping.

"Two more in, baby. Give it everything I know you're close" he manages to speak in a low voice.

"Jungkook, it's too much ahhh" she whines as she arches her back off the bed and he can see her pussy going moist and swollen indicating she's almost there. His hands pump as fast working his veiny cock between his tattooed hands and as soon as his wife lets out another loud moan, his orgasm follows making him throw his head back as he comes down from the high.

When he finally gets a hold of himself, he catches a look at her. She's breathing rapidly and caressing her stomach. Walking up to her he kneels down facing her sex and puts his mouth on it, sucking loudly.

"JUNGKOOK-"

Jungkook's eyes look up to her as he slides his tongue up and then down her pussy cleaning her off as she grabs his hair in response and yanks him up. He obliges and hovers over her before taking the same fingers that were inside her as he pushes them against her lips. She opens those kissable lips and tastes herself.

"Do you understand how divine you taste now?"

_____ hums as her lips release the finger with a loud pop. His eyes trace her face lovingly. _____ has exactly ten moles on her face and his favorite is the one on her upper lip. It's meant to be kissed just like the other ones.

"You're staring"

"I like looking at you. You're the loveliest person ever, do you know that? How did I even get so lucky?"

_____ grins and it's the only thing he ever wants to see on her face.

"Tell me how you want my cock wife and I'll give it to you" His eyes are glue to her face. He could look at her all day and not get bored.

"I- I want it from behind if that's okay" there is a hint of hesitation in her voice and he doesn't like it. But that's okay because he plans on making her as comfortable as possible tonight.

When he turns her on her stomach and guides her ass upwards, her face down on the mattress, she gasps but doesn't object.

"Are you okay with me spanking this ass, honey? Want me to tell you how bad I want you?" she whimpers.

"Yes, please"

"That's a good fucking girl" his doesn't wait a second longer before giving a slap on the globe of her ass, only to slap it once more while also making sure not to hurt her in the process. His palms paint her pale skin.

He works her clit pulling a loud moan out of her. _____ breath is picking up the pace again as sweat beads her back glistening it in the best way possible. He notches the head of his cock at her entrance and pushes inside with a force that takes both of their breaths away.

"Fuck" he cries out and she whines.

He pulls himself outside before thrusting back inside, "Fuck, I love you, _____. You're the best thing that happened to me. Every morning- ugh- every morning I get excited just because of the fact that I get to see this pretty face. You beautiful, strong, gentle of a woman and you're all mine"

His thrusts fasten, he gives three kisses on the dimples of her back as he fucks her from behind just like she asked.

"I love you, baby" he hears her reply back, her voice breathy.

"You like that?"

thrust

"You like how I'm giving it all to you, huh?"

thrust

"You like being at my mercy? Desperate and needy?"

thrust

"Want me to give you a baby,hmm? Make you look all mine?" His final thrust goes even deeper before he turns her on her back. He pulls out and freezes. The woman he's married to is looking like a fucking angel who also has been fucked raw and good. He couldn't be more in love with her.

"Sweetheart, I wanna try something but I need to you to trust me, alright? I'll never hurt you" when he gets a nod from _____ he uses his knees to move up to her until he just above her stomach.

"Push those tits together for me" he commands.

So, she does. ______ doesn't hesitate this time and his chest grows another inch with pride. Her tits squeeze up with the help of her palms and Jungkook carefully slips his cock into the tight channel. Her chest is decorated with the hickeys he's given her this morning.

It takes five thrusts for him to come on her chest. White, hot liquid covers his wife's chest as he quickly pushes himself sideways and lies down beside her with a loud thump.

"Christ, that was so good" he pants.

He takes a moment to catch his breath before running to the bathroom and comes back with a wet towel. He swipes it all over her chest as he cleans her off. She's still looking at him with the same love and passion in her eyes as before. Nothing has changed and nothing will change.

As soon as he's done cleaning up and gets ready to talk his wife's ears off, her soft snores pull at his attention. Giggling to himself as he covers her with the duvet pulling it taut so she can be warm and cozy, he gets comfortable beside her and prepares to go into a deep slumber.

A hand wraps around his stomach making his silly, romantic heart flutter and _____ places her head on his chest.

Placing a chaste kiss on her temple and nose, he whispers into the darkness, "Goodnight, honey. Thank you for being mine"

[tieronecrush]

hot & heavy

chapter fourteen: stuck forever by the glue

neighbor!joel x f!reader

series masterlist

series rating: E (18+ MDNI)

series summary:

over the course of three summers, joel miller becomes woven into your life. the first summer is spent falling for him; nannying his daughter and sneaking around with him in a burning love affair. you know how you feel about joel, he isn’t so sure about how it all is gonna work. the second summer is brief. a month spent at home after graduation and before you move to boston for your dream job. one look at you, one time hearing your voice, and joel is hooked again. he pines over you for that month, but you think — how is long distance of over a thousand miles going to work for a single dad? the third summer, you return home burnt out and pride bruised from your post-grad life. you need time to feel at home again, like your complete self, so you’ve come back home with no return ticket booked. it’s only a matter of time before joel seeks you out, slowly spending more time with you. without an inevitable end to the summer looming over you both, what chances are you willing to take?

word count: 7.4k

warnings: NO OUTBREAK (don’t need to worry about the mushies), no use of y/n, inexperienced reader, age gap (joel is 30/31, reader is 22), canon-divergent (sarah is 7 y/o), nanny au, pet names (sweetheart, darling, sweet girl, mariposa, etc.), feeling familial and self-pressure, established relationship, spanish cause joel is latino, soft joel, very minimal like sweetie possessive joel, struggling with self, discussion of parenting, this is honestly just an ooey gooey syrupy sweet chapter y'all

a/n: this is so wild. it's done! (basically....epilogue to come) i seriously can't express how much it means to me that y'all read and kept up with and cared about my little story. i have fallen in love with writing and i just really thank you all for everything you've given me! i feel so lucky to have so many incredible, talented, all-star humans reading something silly i've made. THANK YOU.

and an extra special thanks to el @northernbluess who has been such a big support throughout my process of writing this story. she's beta-read nearly every single chapter and has helped me so much in developing the characters and the story and just everything. can't write without you, el. love you!

alright, enough from me - enjoy joel & mariposa's ending! and please drop any thoughts or scenarios or milestones you want to see for them in the epilogue into my inbox!!!

“Fuck, oh shit, Joel!”

You’re whisper-yelling as you scramble to throw his comforter off of you, kicking it away from your feet and jumping out of bed. One arm moves up to cover your chest as you whirl around the room looking for your clothes. As you slip your panties up your legs and let them snap against your hips, Joel stirs awake enough to pick his head up, glancing around in a daze.

“What is happening? What’s wrong?” he groggily asks, turning over from lying on his tummy to his back, arm bending to rest against his forehead and shielding his eyes from the early summer morning light peeking through the curtains.

Puffing out a breath to blow the hair from your face, hands occupied with attempting to clasp your bra behind your back, you shoot him a look.

“Check the time,” you order flatly, nodding your chin to his alarm clock at the bedside.

After a delayed beat, Joel’s head turns, studying the display before his bed shoots back to look at you, arm dropped from his head. With his eyebrows raised and mouth formed into an ‘O’ shape, he chuckles quietly at your distress.

Amid your activities from the night before, much like the last week of nights spent with Joel, the alarm on his side had forgotten to be set. Normally, you would brush it off, so long as the two of you were up in time for work, which Sarah usually made sure of thanks to her promptness, even as a ten-year-old.

But today, no, today was a weekend and also the day of the neighborhood’s annual block party and summer barbecue. And you had promised — assured — your mother that you would be up and at ‘em early to help her prep all the food she promised to make and to help decorate the street and all the tables.

Joel had promised — assured — that he set the alarm last night before the two of you started fooling around, distraction imminent for the man with his wandering hands and blood pumping. Turns out, you were apparently too tempting, and too exhausting, of a time to focus on anything else.

“Darlin���, it’ll be fine. Doubt your mom has even noticed your absence, she’s probably so busy already she’s just fluttering around your house.” Joel’s face returns to a drowsy expression, one eyebrow quirking up for a moment as you angrily groan at your t-shirt when struggling to find the head hole with it pulled over your head all lopsided.

He rises from the bed, padding over to you and reaching up to pause your frantic hands. Slow moving, he rights the material and gently tugs it down, revealing your frustrating and pouty look.

Joel coaxes your arms out of their stubborn crossed position over your chest, aiding them into the holes and fully pulling the t-shirt down. Fingers graze the top of your panties from underneath your cotton shirt, satisfied smirk when he feels goosebumps rise.

“She may not notice, but my Dad, who’s probably doing nothing, will notice and tell my mom. And she’ll tell him to go downstairs and check on me.” You swat his hands away gently, stepping backward and turning your head this way and that way to find your shorts. “And if he goes downstairs, and I’m not there, but then magically appear minutes later from my studio, well, I think they’ll clock that something’s up.”

Thick arms wrap around your waist, freezing you in place. One hand gently grips the tip of your chin between his index and thumb, tilting your head to look into his eyes.

“It’ll be fine, Mari baby. You’ll get home and you’ll go upstairs and they won’t even know you were gone for a second.” Joel punctuates his reassurances with a kiss, rubbing slow circles in your lower back.

“You are extremely calm in this situation. Why aren’t you more stressed out than me?” you interrogate, raising one brow and pursing your lips. He chuckles and shrugs, incredibly nonchalant, before pecking your lips once more.

“S’cause I woke up with you next to me.” The grin is evident in his next kiss, pulling one from you no matter how much you fight it. “Plus, had some pretty great sex last night.”

“Oh my god, okay, I’m leaving. Such an idiot—” you smack his arm playfully and untangle from his arms, “ruining a perfectly sweet, wholesome moment.”

“Didn’t ruin anything. Y’know you were thinkin’ the same thing,” he counters as he throws on boxers, following you out of the bedroom and down the stairs. 

You glance over your shoulder, shooting him an eye roll while biting back a smile. Padding quickly into the kitchen, you slip your shoes on from where they sit next to the back door, turning toward Joel in a rush as he strides over to you. Still sleepy eyes take you in, grabby hands finding your waist and pulling you in tight to his chest while you groan.

“J, baby, I gotta go.” He buries his head in your neck, shaking it enough for his messy curls to brush against your skin in a tickle. “I’ll see you later, okay? We jus’ have to make it through the party, and then I’m all yours. Deal?”

Lifting his head with an elongated sigh, he nods subtly and sneaks a quick kiss, “Deal. But I kind of don’t want to share you with the whole neighborhood tonight. Wish it was jus’ you and me.”

“Me too, baby, but we’ll survive. We’ve made it this long, haven’t we?” Fingers glide through his hair, pushing it up off his forehead. Before you step back and reach for the door, he pulls you in again, one hand finding your jaw to hold you there as he gives you a slow, syrupy, toe-curling kiss. The linger of it tickles your lips when he pulls away, a drowsy, beaming smile filling his face.

“Love you, Mari baby. See you later.”

“Love you more, J. See y’all later.” One last effort breaks you free of him, slipping out the door with him still on your tail, large palm making contact with your ass in a smack. A look back at him gives you a wink and smirk in return, Joel’s wide frame filling the threshold as you descend his deck stairs and scurry across your lawn to make it home in time.

God, you’re too old to be sneaking around with your boyfriend.

But damn, if he doesn’t make it fun.

Late afternoon, when the sticky, humid air has cooled down only fractions from the peak of the day, the whole onslaught of the neighborhood gathers on your cul-de-sac. Lawn games litter front yards of everyone around, the food tables set up between your driveway and Joel’s. Two grills are lit and manned on the asphalt in front of your garage, barely enough space to cook all the food that could feed an entire army, plus all of your neighbors.

The skirt of your baby blue sundress swishes against your thighs as you flutter around the folding tables set out to frame the street. Borrowed, mismatched tablecloths have been blanketed over the surfaces, and it’s been your latest task to arrange simple centerpieces of wildflowers from your garden beds built by Joel, and vases pulled from the backs of cabinets in your house. With every inch of your movement, your eyes flicker to track Joel’s, licking your lips as you watch the fabric of his muted blue t-shirt pull and strain across his shoulder blades. The hair at the back of his neck curled more from the perspiration that he was building while carrying coolers full of ice, beer, sodas, and water all about the street.

While putting the finishing touches on the last centerpiece, it seems that when you look up again, the whole neighborhood has shown up all at once. Joel’s gone from your line of sight, and you resign to finding the nearest cold beer and being pulled into a conversation with Mrs. Clarke and some of her book club ladies from the street over that you don’t know as well. They fuss over you, admiring your dress and your hair, and commenting repeatedly about ‘how gorgeous and youthful’ you are. As you open your mouth to accept the compliments again with a polite ‘thank you’, a familiar voice cuts in from over your shoulder.

“Excuse me, ladies, I hate to interrupt y’all but I was hoping to steal her away for a bit. Kind of need a partner for some cornhole and we’ve got a winning streak to maintain.” Joel shoots all of the older women a charming grin when you turn to your side to see him, his eyes finding yours for a split second.

“Oh, god, another one of you youngin’ neighbors! I have been loving to see so many new folks move in and all you kids that have returned. It is so lovely,” Mrs. Clarke shares, nodding her head with a mischievous grin toward Joel, “Y’know, y’all are pretty handsome together. Maybe it’s just 'cause y’all are young and beautiful still!”

Mrs. Clarke and the other women laugh, a wide smile on your face as you shake your head, “C’mon, Mrs. Clarke, you’re beautiful — Joel’s actually been tellin’ me he’s got a crush on a neighbor, my bets are on you.”

She laughs again, waving off the compliments, “Well I wouldn’t go gambling if that’s how you bet, sugar. I think you’d be at the top of all the lists if you ask everyone here; you’ve been the talk of the neighborhood since you came back from that big ol’ city you were in. Everybody’s been saying how you are still such a sweet girl, but I can tell something’s different. In a good way.”

She shoots you a wink and you soak in the sentiments, looking over to Joel when he cuts in again.

“I think I’d agree with ya, ma’am. Definitely different in a good way. Like whiskey in a teacup.” The look in his eyes is filled with the silent affection that his words coil around, saying all that he can’t say at the moment. Instead, he wraps up the conversation for you, thanking the four women before letting you step ahead of him, his hand barely ghosting over your back in what would look to be an innocent gesture.

“Now did you really want to play bags or was that just an excuse?” you tease, taking a sip of your drink while you two wander over to the game set up in the grass.

Joel shrugs, smile toying at his lips, “Had to be able to find a way to sweet talk my crush now, didn’t I?”

A roll of your eyes and growing smirk encourages him, nudging your side with his elbow, “Y’think Mrs. Clarke is gonna go around gossipin’ about us when the whole neighborhood finds out I’ve got a crush on you and not her?”

“Oh definitely. Lived here my whole life, that woman knows everybody’s business before they know it themselves. Don’t be surprised if she’s told everybody you’re in love with me by the time this evening’s wrappin’ up.” Squatting down, Joel gathers up the bean bags from the surface of the handbuilt gameboards, handing you the green while he takes the yellow.

As he deposits them one by one in your open palm, he shoots you a genuine, shy smile. “Well, wouldn’t be a lie so I guess it would jus’ help me out. Maybe we should tell Mrs. Clarke and then everybody will know tonight.”

“Haha. Very funny, Miller,” you reply dryly, shooting him a playfully annoyed look before starting the game between the two of you.

The back-and-forth flows easily for the two of you, both in gameplay and banter. At the game-point throw, you sink it in the hole, cheering for yourself when you nail the score of exactly twenty-one. Joel tosses his own, flicking his wrist only slightly at the last moment to scratch the throw, leaving you victorious. He smiles to himself as he watches you eagerly clap for yourself, turning to him and nodding toward the spread of food that was finally laid out.

You’re so beautiful.

The look you’re giving him sends a jolt into his spine, fuzzing his brain while the butterfly in his chest rapidly pumps its wings.

“C’mon, let's eat. All that losin’ probably worked up an appetite for you.” Without clasping around his, your hand brushes your fingers against the back of his palm. The softness leaves an itch on his skin, his nerves simply jumping for the chance to touch you. You lead confidently while he trails behind in your wake, observing as everyone sends you a smile or a greeting that you return right back with a glow.

He’d follow you anywhere.

And he knows how damn lucky he is that you’re willing to let him.

It’s what he can’t help but continue to think about as the night rolls on, watching you from his place at a table with a handful of the guys from the neighborhood, including your dad and brother, and Tommy, who stopped over after his own plans for the evening went belly up. While he nurses the beer from the glass bottle in his hand, you are bouncing with a baby on your hip to the beat of the song playing over the speakers. It’s the kid you nanny, having taken her from her parents to let them eat and enjoy a moment of calmness with everyone while you keep the young one entertained.

The happy baby babbles in your arms as you dance with her subtly, standing in a small group of other neighbors. It’s so natural for you, the way you’re nurturing and easily adapting to having a little human attached to your side. He can’t shake the way his body is begging him to get up and go over to you, wanting to help you, to play pretend for a moment that it’s an addition to your little family in your arms.

He nearly stumbles over himself to get out of his seat when Sarah pulls you away from the group, thanking his daughter inside his head for giving him the perfect excuse to be close to you in the moment. Tommy chuckles to himself when he follows where Joel’s gaze is aimed, shaking his head subtly at his older brother’s obvious stare.

Joel doesn’t pay him any mind as he walks over toward you and Sarah, brushing against your side as he folds forward at his waist to press a kiss to the top of his daughter’s curly hair. The baby is babbling again in your arms, wiggling and mouthing on her hand while she stares at Joel. He shoots her a smile, opening and closing his fingers in a loose fist to wave.

“Hey there, little one. Now who’s this?” he asks, eyes finding your face while you grin at the happy baby girl in your arms.

“This is Amelia. She’s Brian and Steph’s daughter, the one I’ve been nannying this summer since Steph’s gone back to work,” you adjust her again and Joel nods, reaching out absentmindedly to lay a hand on Sarah’s head.

“Isn’t she so cute, Daddy?” Sarah laughs quietly when Amelia squeals excitedly. Her hand tugs on Joel’s shirt to grab his attention back from staring at you, eyebrows raised, and the same look on her face that she gets when she desperately wants a toy from the store. “I want to get a baby!”

He nearly chokes on his breath when he rushes to respond, hearing your quiet giggle as he coughs before clearing his throat. Addressing Sarah, he gives her an understanding smile, “Babies are pretty cute, aren’t they? But you’ll need to be much, much older until you can get a baby, mija. Like you’ll need to be Posey’s age or even better, you can be Daddy’s age and get a baby for yourself, alright?”

“That’s not very fun. You’re old, I don’t wanna wait that long. It’s like an eternity,” she replies bluntly, causing you to laugh and Joel to shoot you a warning look before he returns to Sarah.

“Trust me, Bug, it’s not that long in the grand scheme of things. Before I know it, you’ll be out of my house and I’ll be even more ancient, apparently, and you’ll have your own babies. All in due time, mija. Don’t wish away your life.” He pats her curls while she stands, thought clearly turning in her head.

A lightbulb goes off and she gasps, clapping her hands together as she says only to the two of you, “I know! You can get another baby, Daddy, and then I’ll have a cute one to play with. You can get one with Posey.”

Sarah beams with what seems like a completely genius idea to her, waiting for a response or a plan of action to get this all set in motion for her. You laugh again, stepping in when Joel can’t seem to find the right words to say.

He doesn’t want to outwardly deny it. Definitely doesn’t want you to think that is something he wouldn’t want. He’s told you as much.

But he also doesn’t want to step in any hot water, doesn’t want to put his foot in his mouth if it really is something you haven’t thought about much.

“That is such a smart idea, Sare-Bear,” you grin comfortingly and reach out a free hand to brush her hair back, “Y’know who else you could ask to have a baby? Uncle Tommy. Why don’t you go ask him why he doesn’t have a girlfriend so that he can give you a cousin?”

Sarah giggles and matches your mischievous energy, scampering off to go wholesomely harass her uncle. You turn to Joel, your face twisting into curiosity when you can’t read the look on his face.

“What? Should I have explained where babies come from to her or something instead? Was it a bad idea to sick her on Tommy?”

“No, not at all. To answer both your questions,” he bites back from absolutely beaming, turning his gaze to baby Amelia’s chubby cheeks when his voice drops to a level only audible to you standing inches from him, “Would you?”

“Would I what?” Your head tilts to the side, adjusting Amelia on your hip and hiking her up. Joel opens his mouth to clarify his question when Steph sidles up next to you, thanking you profusely while she takes her daughter back into her arms. The interaction warms Joel’s blood in his veins, the wings of the butterfly pushing the rattle of nerves into his throat.

Everyone loves you so much here, and you really do have love for everyone.

A fucking solid gold heart inside of you and Joel can’t believe you’ve given even a piece, a sliver, of it to him to safeguard.

Turning your attention back to him when the two of you are left alone, you lift the corner of your lip up in an anxious comfort, “So, would I what?”

“Would you have a kid? With me. Would you have a kid with me?” It all rushes out, words blending together but you understand all the same. A quiet laugh rolls from your chest, skyrocketing his worry in the moment before you shake your head and give his bicep a quick, but reassuring squeeze.

“Course I would, J. Don’t think anything would make me happier.” Your eyes sparkle in the setting sunlight, the solid and steady beat of his heart surely heard over the music and noise by everyone around you both. Pressing his lips together to restrain himself, he nods slowly and attempts to remain casual.

“I wanna kiss you so fucking much right now, Mari.”

“I want that, too. But I think Mrs. Clarke would be jealous. Stealin’ you away from her.” The joke breaks the tension, sending him into a small fit of laughter, shaking his head at your ridiculousness.

“Guess I better go ask Mrs. Clarke the same question then, huh? Keep my options open.”

“Better go. Give her enough time to tell Mr. Clarke she’s running away with the neighbor forty years younger than her.”

“Definitely think that’d go over better than you, the beloved, sweet neighborhood girl, running away with me.”

“Oh hush, doesn’t matter how well it’d go over. Jus’ matters if we can run fast enough away from the angry mob that’s gonna come after ya.” You wink and laugh again, your head shaking back and forth before it whips in the direction of your mom calling your name. Another soft and subtle touch is fleetingly felt against his skin, turning over your shoulder to mouth a quick ‘love you’ to him as you walk away.

He returns it before searching around to fill his hands before returning back to the table and sitting down next to his brother. Joel sets the full beer bottle next to his half-full one, eyes still trained on you before Tommy grabs his attention with a hard jab to his side and snags the full beer.

“So why the hell is my niece asking me when I’m gonna get a girlfriend so I can have a baby?”

Night has overtaken the sky, with sprinklings of stars and a waxing moon as its centerpieces. Everyone along the road has turned on their porch lights, extra portable camping lights, and hanging lanterns brought out to make enough light to continue the party. The handful of neighborhood kids run around to catch fireflies while the adults either stand around in conversations or gather in the open space between all of the tables to dance. Your parents, ever the hosts that they are, have popped back into the house to gather more drinks and desserts for everyone. Wrapped up in a chat about a potential hire for a job with a guy from a few streets over, Joel hasn’t paid mind to where you’re at or if Sarah’s running along with the other kids. He shakes the man’s hand and promises to stop by when he can during the week to check out exactly what the job would entail and if his guys can get it done.

Turning away, the sight of you is perfectly framed by warm lights, a tunnel of everything else fading away while he observes you from across the street. The mop of curls he loves dearly bounces around with you, your hands holding Sarah’s and spinning her around the dancefloor. His daughter’s laughter hits his ears over the sound of the music, tugging a smile onto his face that nearly matches your beaming grin.

This whole night, he hasn’t been able to stay away from you long. And he hasn’t been able to shake the feeling of how desperate he is to stay in your pull, to be able to make you smile and laugh, to make you happy.

You do so much for others, offering a hand or making them smile with your genuine care and humor. Everyone is so drawn to you, he’s not the only one who wants to have you around. And he knows about what you’re going through behind closed doors, the things you tell him about when no one else will listen or understand. The same things he heard from you when you were thousands of miles away, voice crackling over the phone. All he wants to do is to be there for you, to show you the same kindness that you show him, that you show everyone you encounter.

Ever since he met you, he’s never wanted to be apart from you. But he didn’t trust himself not to make selfish decisions, so he pushed you away that first summer, and let you go the second. Now, with no endings in sight at the end of summer, anything is possible.

One thing’s for sure though — he’s tired of hiding.

All it does is take up more energy that he could be giving to you, to Sarah, to a better future for all of you.

And fuck’s sake, if he doesn’t want everyone to know that you chose him. The best person he knows — has ever known — chose him and continues to choose him, to forgive him, to love him. He doesn’t know what the future holds, doesn’t know what everything will look like for y’all in a week, in a year, in a decade, but all he can say is that whatever it all entails, however much it scares him, he wants you there by his side. He needs you.

Without a second thought, he moves toward you as the song changes, depositing his nearly empty drink on the nearest table. Swiping his clammy hands on his jeans as he walks, he takes a deep breath before he taps you on the shoulder. He shoots Sarah a wink over your shoulder while you turn around, her giggle bringing a lopsided grin to his face.

“Oh, Joel, what’s up?” you ask casually, cocking an eyebrow up in confusion.

He addresses Sarah in the next moment, putting on a formal tone and clearing his throat, “Excuse me, Miss Sarah, but would you mind if I steal Mariposa away for a dance?”

“Of course not, Daddy!” she grins widely, showing off her missing tooth that came out a few nights ago, “Have fun, Posey!”

Sarah scurries off to find her friends from the neighborhood, and Joel holds his hand out with a soft smirk. Utterly puzzled, you glance around before focusing back on Joel at the sound of his voice.

“May I have this dance, Mari?”

You’re surprised, stumbling out a response as you tentatively place your hand in his, “Yes, I mean — yes, but — What are you doing, J?”

With your hand in his, he leads you further into the couples dancing along to the sweetly slow love song playing. In the middle, he stops and faces you, keeping your hand in his, holding them up close with a bent elbow while his other finds your waist and pulls you in closer. The two of you start to sway and Joel’s lips settle next to your ear while you dance.

“Joel, everyone’s staring…and talking amongst themselves. What are you doing?” you ask in a hushed voice, pulling away to look into his eyes. Anxiety flashes in yours and he gives your hand a gentle squeeze before replying.

“M’letting go, mi amor. Let ‘em stare,” he replies, the corners of his lips rising in a tender grin. He slips his hand from yours, fingers trailing down your arm to bring it to rest on his shoulder like your other one. Both of his hands spread across your hips, pressing into the fabric of your dress and pushing around to settle at your lower back.

“But they’re gonna start spreading shit and I know you weren’t ready before to tell anyone else — my parents might be around, J. I don’t want you to do this if you aren’t ready, or if you’re just doing this for me.”

He leans closer, tilting his head down to lay his forehead against yours. Holding your eyes, he speaks quietly, voice rasping with the strain of the volume and the emotion coating his words, “El amor es ciego, pero los vecinos no. (Love is blind, but the neighbors aren’t.) There’s always going to be people to gossip, or to whisper about us. All that matters to me is what you think, and how you feel. I want to be able to tell everyone that you’re mine, and I’m yours. I’m so lucky, and I am so proud to be your partner in life, Mari baby. M’tired of trying to predict what the future’s gonna be for us, and m’tired of trying to keep the reality of life away from us. Truth is, I don’t think there’s anything that life could throw at me or you that we couldn’t get through together. I need you there, always, sweet girl. Todo va a salir bien. Everything will work out.”

“I-God, I don’t even know what to say…” Tears well at your waterline, none daring to fall over the edge while you attempt to remain composed for the crowd that is surely watching everything happening. “All I can think about is how much I love you, Joel. And I want all of the same things, and I know that with you, we can handle whatever life has planned for us.”

“I love you too, baby. Te amo siempre, mi Mariposa. (I love you always, my Mariposa).”

The song’s last few notes fade out, some of the couples filtering out of the dance floor when the music changes over. After another short peck from Joel, the bubble the two of you were in dissolves when Sarah runs up, asking Joel if she can have another cookie. He gives her the quick go-ahead, watching her rush off as quickly as she came, and suddenly you’re reminded you’re in the middle of the whole neighborhood.

No one says anything as you lead Joel away, hand-in-hand. But a few looks are exchanged and the eyes of everyone feel hot on your neck. A glance around proves your parents aren’t outside still, and your stomach flips with the real possibility that someone, particularly nosey neighbors, may have beaten you to the punch in terms of telling them about you and Joel.

Tugging him from a good few steps ahead, Joel widens his strides to catch up easily as you beeline toward your garage, the mechanical door wide open for people to come and go as needed. You stop in your tracks right in front of the door to the inside, taking a deep breath before turning around to face Joel.

“Alright, it’s now or never, J. Either we’re the ones to tell our parents, or they find out from Mrs. Clarke’s book club that we were on the dancefloor and kissin’ each other and—”

Joel interrupts your ramblings with a gentle chuckle, tilting his head to the side as he looks over your face before locking his eyes with yours.

“So are we the ones meant to be saying we were on the dancefloor and kissin’ each other?” he asks with a smirk, one eyebrow raising in question.

“Oh, c’mon, Joel.”

“M’kiddin’, Mari. It’s now or never, and I am not a man that says never. So lead the way, sweet girl.” He gestures to the door behind you, a genuine smile on his face quelling your heightened nerves.

If you could read his mind, you know he’s freaking out right now.

But no, instead he’s keeping it cool on the outside, trying to be a calming presence for your own anxious thoughts.

Can’t help but ask himself questions. What if your parents get upset or angry? What if they dismiss it, not believing that it would ever work between the two of them? What if they take it out on you? It’s not your fault that they didn’t find out earlier — would they hate him if he defends you in an argument? What if they don’t think he is good enough for you?

He has his own doubts, but hearing it from your parents would crush him.

You walk ahead of him, holding onto his hand while you walk inside and through your empty living room. He drops his hand from yours right on the threshold of your kitchen and gives you a tight smile when you look back at him. Wiping his clammy hands on his jeans, he takes a deep breath before following you into the room.

Clearing your throat to grab your parents' attention, you saddle up to the island and lean forward with your elbows on the cool countertops. Joel stands next to you, a respectable distance away but you feel the itch to bring him closer. Your dad turns around first, pausing his task of filling a cooler with ice from the freezer.

“Hey there, kiddo. Oh, and heya, Miller! Y’all havin’ a good time tonight? Need anything?”

“Or are y’all bein’ sweethearts and have come inside to help us with all this?” Your mom nods over her shoulder to the rest of the desserts plated across the counters.

She turns around next after washing her hands at the kitchen sink, patting them dry with a towel before she crosses the small walkway to settle on the other side of the island. Joel shakes his head when you’re silent for a moment, giving both of your parents a smile.

“No, don’t need anything. And I would be happy to help, ma’am—” Joel ever so politely offers before you interrupt him.

“I, uh, I actually wanted to talk to y’all about something.” Your voice wavers only slightly, a stuttering sound coming from your throat as you clear it again. One of your mom’s eyebrows raises in curiosity, much more sprawling thoughts happening in the subtle twitches of her eyes as she looks at your face, then at Joel’s, and back to you.

Your dad is a bit oblivious.

“Joel and I will leave ya to it, y’all can fill me in later,” he faces Joel, nodding toward the direction of the door and closing the top of the cooler he packed full of ice a minute ago. Joel opens his mouth to respond when you fill in again quickly, holding a hand up to stop your dad’s movements.

“No, um, actually, it’s better if you’re both here and Joel’s here ‘cause, well…” A flip of your stomach nearly sends your dinner back up, but you swallow it down and lock your eyes on your hands as you finally spill the secret you’ve kept for the last three summers.

“Joel and I are together. Like in a relationship. A serious one.” You kept adding clarifications to fill the silence that’s fallen over the room, and Joel steps closer, reaching a hand up to rest on your back between your shoulder blades. He braces for ridicule, eyes trained on you as you keep yours on your hands.

Nothing. Your parents are saying nothing.

And you cannot take the silence anymore, so you begin to recount it all from the first summer, meeting him and getting to know him — sparing the details of the two of you…getting together. The short month-long second summer, Joel holding out his hope for you to stay but eventually letting you go. The year between that time and the beginning of this summer, infrequent phone calls and life updates. And finally, this summer, when you came back with no end in sight and nothing holding the two of you back. Given the chance to finally give it a proper go, and falling even more in love with him than you thought you could love anyone.

Your eyes flick to Joel’s as you confess that, and he returns the sentiment with a warm smile and his hand rubbing slow circles against the bare skin of your back exposed by your thinly-strapped dress. 

God, you really do love him.

So much so, it occurs to you that it doesn’t really matter what comes after this. You choose him, and he’s chosen you, and your family would have to accept it. You’ve spent too much time without him in your life, completely, and there isn’t going to be another summer ending in heartbreak.

At the end of your three-summer abridged summary, Joel turns toward your parents, speaking up for himself. “I just—I want to tell you both that I care very much about your daughter. I love her dearly, and my life’s gotten astronomically better since she stepped into it. Mine and Sarah’s. You’ve raised an incredible woman, someone who is kind but never lets anyone push her around. A complete force.” Joel turns back to you, a growing, shy smile tugging at the corners of his lips, “I can only hope that Sarah gets the same fierceness and is as self-willed as you. I’ve said it before, but you’ve got a golden heart. You’re magic.”

The four of you talk it through, fielding their questions and small concerns as best as you can to reassure them. They share a look before your mom speaks, taking a deep breath that lifts and drops her shoulders.

“We can’t say that it’s not going to be an adjustment. I mean, dropping this all on us after not telling us for so long is a lot to process—”

“Of course, of course. I should’ve said something earlier, I’m sorry.”

“No, no. Don’t apologize. I just…Did you feel like you couldn’t talk to us about it or something, sweetie?” There’s a thickness in your mom’s voice, one that makes your chest ache.

“Oh, mom, no. It wasn’t like that, I—”

“I was the nervous one. I asked for more time before we told you this summer. I know how extraordinary your daughter is; she is definitely too good for me, and I was real nervous that you wouldn’t approve. I mean, I definitely have a different life than probably what you pictured. But I want to promise you both that I am proving myself every day to her. I always want to be better.”

To your surprise, your dad cuts in before you or your mom can say anything.

“You’re right. Our daughter is extraordinary…” He paused, continuing, “But you’re a good man, Joel. Trustworthy, dependable, respectful. And you very clearly love our daughter. There’s nothing more I could ask of someone for her. So long as she has a good, happy life, I’m content.”

Joel exchanges a relieved smile with your dad, your focus on your mom again as one arm snakes around Joel’s back to hold you closer.

“Your dad said it. If you’re happy, honey, then we’re happy…” She studies the two of you with tender care in her eyes, holding her hands to her chest before releasing them with a content sigh. “And I mean, I knew.”

Immediately, your brow furrows with confusion and Joel laughs, holding it back when you shoot him a warning look. Returning to your mom, you raise a question in response, “I’m sorry, you knew? How did you know?”

“Well, nothing was ever confirmed. But I did mention to your father quite a few times how I caught you sneaking glances and smiles toward Joel.” She directs the next question to your dad, whose focus has been lost on the plate of desserts in front of him, “And, how often did I mention to you catching Joel looking at her like all of the sunlight was radiating from her? Like he was completely head over heels.”

“Oh, all the time,” your dad answers nonchalantly. You laugh, shaking your head in disbelief, Joel’s laughter bubbling over while he tugs you into his side and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“To be honest, I thought maybe he was just in love with you and you were either oblivious or waiting for him to say something. Glad to hear that I was right!” she jests, laughing to herself and exhaling dramatically.

“So does this mean I can get my renovations done with a discount?” Your dad tilts his head up to look directly at Joel who holds a hand up in oath.

“Free labor from me always, sir. Can’t promise the discount for Tommy’s help, though.”

“Oh god, Dad, seriously?” you groan, rolling your head back while Joel looks on with a smile.

‘What? What’s wrong with asking that, kiddo?” Once again oblivious, your mom waves him off to drag the cooler of drinks outside. When he’s gone from the kitchen, she rounds the island, beaming with a grin.

“Well, I just can’t wait to already live next to my grandbabies! Don’t even need to move to be any closer, unless we move in with y’all into somewhere bigger—”

“Alright, Mom, I think the party’s probably missin’ these desserts, yeah?” You usher her by handing her a tray. She gives you a motherly eye roll before resigning her thoughts and taking the plate.

“Fine, fine, I’m going!” She shuffles in her sandals before glancing back at the edge of the threshold, “We really are happy for y’all.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Oh, Joel, c’mon. You’re part of the family now, call me Jen. And you can call her dad Mark, even if he gives you shit for it, he’s just trying to make you nervous. And then tell me, I’ll give him shit right back.”

At the click of the door shutting behind your parents, you face him and grin ecstatically, clasping your hands together. Joel’s shoulders relax with a sigh and your arms hook around his neck. He scoops you up in a hug, laughing when you shriek excitedly. Spinning the two of you around in a small circle, he settles still again, eyes locking with yours as a wide smile replaces his once apprehensive expression.

Joel nudges your nose with his, slow, warm breaths exchanged in the closeness before he kisses you. Slow, delicate, light melting into fervor — hot and heavy with all your love for each other.

Breathless, you pull away and he chases your lips for a chaste kiss, pressing his forehead against yours while you both start to laugh quietly.

“What a summer, huh?” you ask, another fit of laughter leaving your mouth.

“Definitely was a fun summer, sweetheart. And the last two, too.” Joel shakes his head, thumb brushing your cheek as he grins back at you, “Can’t wait to have all my summers with you, Mariposa.”

An ache is felt in your cheeks from smiling, but the dull pain pales in comparison to the all-over lightness; adrenaline and excitement make you feel as if you’re buzzing head to toe. Stealing another kiss from Joel, you feel him grin against your lips. Breathy chuckles fill the space between you when you pull away, tilting your head back in his hand to see more of his face.

“Wanna dance, J?”

“With you? Anytime, Mari baby. Lead the way.” He nods toward the door, taking your hand and following you closely as you head back to the party. Coming back out, all the eyes and whispers aren’t feeling like heat against your skin, instead the warmth of Joel’s palm grounds you and sends a shiver down your spine. He takes the lead in the moment, stepping ahead when you falter for a second and pulling you to the middle of the asphalt-turned-dancefloor.

The ever-so-familiar piano trills, along with the bright, smooth voice of Don McLean start to play out on the speakers, bringing wide smiles to both of your faces. As the beat picks up, Joel starts singing along, taking your hands from his shoulders and spinning you around as if you were swing dancing.

Both of you were clumsy, tripping over each other, but your laughter only brought brilliant, broad grins to your faces. The rest of the party fell away — it was only you and Joel, and all the memories that this song brought back.

The skirt of your dress kicks up as he spins you around and around, pulling you into his chest and swaying with you for the entire song, his deep and drawling voice singing along to the lyrics and sending goosebumps spreading across your skin despite the humid, sticky heat of the night. His steps slow down at the end, turning you both in one final, exaggerated circle before settling on the last note.

Joel looks down at you, adoration glinting in his eyes and his dimple showing as his mouth holds his smile. One of your hands slips away from his, reaching up to skim your fingers along his patchy beard and rest at the side of his neck. With another song turning over on the speakers, Joel leans down and catches your lips in a supple kiss. It’s slow and saccharine, savoring the taste of you on his tongue before he pulls away, waiting with bated breath.

 You break the moment with a sweet, melodic laugh and a shake of your head. 

“Of course, that song came on. Did you plan all this, Miller?” you interrogate playfully, the world still tunneled between the two of you.

“Absolutely not. But pretty serendipitous, yeah? Guess we should take that as a sign. Right person, right time. Finally.” His response gives you another laugh, nodding before going in for another short kiss.

“Yeah, think it’s safe to say it's the right time, finally. Was always the right person.���

“You can say that again, Mari baby.”

taglist: @beskarandblasters @undrthelights @swiftispunk @joelsversion @asirenbyanyothername @ellenmunn @ja-ehyun @sw33tp1xie @marisemonteiroo @brunetteeras @bongsrconfusing @addictedtotlou @angie2274 @pedrostories @pedroholic @theelishad @johnwatsn @elissa @felicityofbakerstreet @atinylittlepain @northernbluess @cannolighost @casa-boiardi @wannab-urs @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @fishingforpike @msjarvis @walkintotheriveranddisappear @sugadolly @yazsos @peppesgirl @pastawench @anoverwhelmingdin @wolfbook87 @mswarriorbabe80 @planet-marz1 @kiwisbell @lizzie-cakes

[starberry-cupcake]

Alrighty, here we are again

previously, in harrowcita the ninth:

this happened

currently, after ch. 2 (once again, I wanted to read more but realized these notes were too long):

first off, I need to point out something very important

reading the first part of gideon, this was how the dynamic of her and harrow felt like, from gideon's pv in the first chapter or two

this is what it actually was like, now that I have harrow's pv

so, now that we've cleared that up, let me tell you about the emperor

I don't know about this guy

something's not adding up for me

I feel like he's either lying, telling half-truths that benefit him or he doesn't know what he's doing

and none of those options are very god-tier

he's also constantly going like "harrow, I'm gonna let you choose" and five minutes later he's "oh, actually, you never had a choice to begin with, I'm so sorry about that"

I don't think you're sorry if you've done it like 3 times since we've met you

maybe say what you actually mean, unless you're full of lies

he takes harrow on a walk through the clown death star ship he's got going on

and takes her to his coffin hangar

shows her coffins of the people he made to send to the ninth

the new ninth people

aiglamene is gonna have to work overtime

(I can't believe I've never forgotten her name)

and then there's coffins for all the little friends we made in canaan house

:) ♥

except there are a bunch missing people

let me just note the info we got

the second says "no human remains inside"

last we saw them, martita was KO and judith was bleeding to death

nobody from the third as well, and we already have suspicions about wtf is happening with these parsley and cilantro twins

from the sixth, one is empty because CAMILLA ISN'T DEAD GODDAMMIT

the other one has little pieces of palmolive in it

me picking up the pieces of palmolive from the decor of canaan house

there is one coffin for not!dulcinea

the emperor guy says he's taking her with the other lyctors

as long as he flushes afterwards, it's fine

we are, by the way, trying very hard to not mention gideon ever, apparently

just wanna point out real quick that THERE'S A LOT OF PEOPLE UNACCOUNTED FOR and this guy is GOD so he's doing a terrible job

or he's not saying all he knows

or both

all this time, ice cube barbie is tagging along

ice cube barbie is harrow's babadook, which I stan tbh

since she's here to stay, let me show you another pic of that doll because it's my favorite from the haunted beauty collection

so, the emperor starts telling harrow what they're fighting against (or escaping from) and where they came from

this man explains what he wants and leaves out what he wants

at one point, when harrow asks something like "how will you explain all the dead people?" he goes like

he asks harrow about death and the process of it and she says, at one point:

"In cases of apopneumatic shock, where death is sudden and violent, the energy burst can be sufficient to countermand osmotic pressure and leave the soul temporarily isolated. Whence we gain the ghost, and the revenant."

this is important for the later conversation about revenant beasts, which are the things that the emperor is having trouble with

but I highlighted it because I am adding it to my notes of "reasons why gideon could be not dead forever"

I am holding on to all the hope I can get

because if sudden violent death can leave the soul temporarily isolated and not do the due process of transitioning to the river or whatnot

and gideon isn't within harrow or whatever

maybe

maybe she's somewhere else

I don't know, let me have this, don't tell me anything, just

LET ME HAVE THIS

so yeah, basically the story is that the emperor is running away from nine revenant beasts, which were created during the resurrection, when a planet was blasted off

nine beasts like nine houses

there's three left now

I don't know about all of this, you guys

I don't have enough context and I don't trust this guy here

how do I know where we stand in all this?

what if he's not the good guy and what he did was some planetary bullshit to begin with?

what if the other side is the good guys?

what if he's killed by one of our heroes? like harrow or gideon or camilla?

because he's actually a false god jerk?

what if I kill him????

and then we have two last important things

first, barbie ice cube speaks now

love that for her

then, very crucial

the non-gideon mentioning seems to be a Thing

I don't know if I'm understanding correctly but

the emperor mentions ortus

ortus, the one we knew, our old pal from the ninth

and I got the feeling, idk if I got it, that he just assumed ortus was the cavalier she had with her

because 1) he didn't go down there and 2) no body was recovered

and then harrow also mentions ortus, but she says he "died thinking it was the only gift he was capable of giving" and that she "wasted it" and idk if she did that because she's blocking sad memories, she's confused because she's Not Doing Great Mentally Right Now, she doesn't wanna tell the emperor what actually happened, or all three

there's stuff about ortus I don't know, but that sounds to me more like what gideon said than what ortus "Got Blown To Bits With Mom In Ship" did

and then the emperor says his name again with suspicion and I'm like

I think this clown doesn't know

I think he doesn't know about gideon

I think he doesn't know about gideon or who gideon actually is

which we don't know yet either but it's probably important

because she's hercules, as previously established

I think maybe gideon is an outlier

an important planetary outlier

I have hopes

also, another day without camilla

god (not this one) I hope I can make shorter recaps but there's so much happening, I'm so sorry

[ethicaltreatmentofcowplants]

Asylum Challenge: Day 11

Note: While I had done well at remembering to back up my save files, I was less vigilant about my screencaps (context: I tend to move them into different folders per save so that the screencaps folder doesn't get too cluttered) aaaand those were not up-to-date. So unless I can get my old laptop to work properly again, I've lost them. Buuut as I said before, I'm not too fussed.

This is therefore a time jump. Also the first day I played of this save with Wicked Whims installed, so while no adult content will be shown here, the dynamics within the household have become a little more... interesting.

We begin with Lilac very close to finishing her first aspiration, but it's also five am, so she's still snoozing away.

Level Four - Painter Extraordinaire

❌ Reach Painting Level 10 (9/10) ❌ Complete 5 Masterpieces (4/5)

Which isn't to say that it's quiet exactly. Downstairs, two of our token occults are making a solid start to their day.

Lilac's Two Star fame quirk is that she has acquired a stan. Who today was Wolfgang Wilder. When Vlad came downstairs for an early morning snack, Rory wasted no time in exacting retribution for her woof-woof in arms.

Results were.... predictable. And now Vlad is both angry from the taste of disgusting wolf blood (while I feel that's his bias coming through, I'm also going to take his word for it 😬) and humiliated because he lost to this fleabag.

L. is the third to wake up (well, second since Vlad never slept in the first place) with a rather pressing - or 'pissing'? - need. Go piss, L.! No one is stopping you! Peeing is self-care!

Speaking of L., with Whims installed she so far has been the Sim bringing all the attractiveness alerts to the yard. Both Raj and Vlad think that she's absolutely breathtaking. Well, at least until her MEAN trait kicks in and she starts insulting Raj, that is.

Which would likely make her all the more beguiling in the eyes of Vlad, but away from @cantseemtohide's influence, Raj in this save is not a murderous fiend, but a rather likeable Everyman, and so he quickly departs.

Another Sim collecting those attractiveness alert pings is our main girl Lilac. In Vlad's head, she's an absolute goddess. In hers, however, he's visually from some place much much much further down than Mount Olympus.

He attempts to gain some sympathy points by complaining about Rory (a vamp's gotta eat, after all).

She's unmoved.

(Also I just realised that Rory was nearby making the punching bag fear for its life the whole time, so in hindsight this was actually rather ballsy of Vlad...)

Once Vlad goes downstairs however (possibly to try his non-existent luck on some other poor unfortunate soul), Lilac achieves her fifth and final masterpiece. Woo Hoo! Which is the only kind of 'woo hoo' happening up here. Sorry, Vlad.

And then after a dinner break, she finally maxed out painting.

It was only a 'normal' quality work, but a completed aspiration is still a completed aspiration.

Oh, go on then. You've earned it.

Reward Trait: Expressionistic

Expressionistic Sims have mastered the medium of emotion, and as such, they can paint emotional paintings no matter their own mood.

I'll likely be combining Day 12 and 13, as Day 12 got a little... active, and not a lot happened that would be safe to post here lolololol.

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Hello M! So excited you've opened up kinktober requests! Sending you a request for Fingolfin x afab reader for the impact play (spanking) kink - thank you!!

Here you go!

"New source of pleasure"

Pairing: Fingolfin x Fem. Reader (Elf/second person POV) | Location:  Tirion upon Túna

Themes: Smut 

Warnings:  Spanking | Kissing | Explicit language | Dirty talk | Rough sex | Penetrative sex | Cream pie

Word count: 889

Summary: Fingolfin is asked to do something he had never done before. 

Rating : 🔥🔥 |  Minors DNI | 🔞 | You are responsible for the media you consume. 

The plea was a shock for him to hear. 

Fingolfin, ever the consummate and gentle lover, was stunned by what was asked of him. 

"Mark me," was the desperate request. "Mark me with the flat of your hand."

He had never heard of pain being used to bring about pleasure. He thought it was wrong and wanted to refuse. Inflicting pain went against his nature. Still, it was what his love desired. For your sake, he swore to try at least, no matter how strange it was for him. 

The first strike was against your thigh. It was more than a little tremulous. Fingolfin did not want to go too far, to forget his own strength, or to hurt you. Yet, it was not enough. You urged him to strike harder. Please, you entreated. Please, please, please.

Fingolfin yielded again. This time, he did strike with a little more force. You writhed beneath him. Moaned in pleasure. His own breath quickened. 

What is this new source of pleasure I have discovered? Now he was truly curious. He struck your thigh a third time, harder than ever before. His name spilled free like a half-whispered chant. He moved and sought your lips—the welcomed warmth of your mouth. Hands that he would recognize even when blind moved to cup his arse, pushing him in even deeper. Fingolfin laughed breathlessly. 

"Are you that desperate for my cock?" 

"For all of you, my lord. For all that you are willing to give. The pain and pleasure both."

"Is that so?" Fingolfin, having shed his fears, struck your thigh once more, and watched. The pleasure that flashed in your eyes, the lust and the need, were wondrous to see. "Then please, allow me to grant you all you seek, my love."

Oh, he granted you all that you wished for and so much more. Fingolfin did not hold back, not even for a little bit. It was as if a wildness crept up on him; he allowed himself to be ensnared in its grip. His kisses were dark and damning, his embraces rough and bruising. He rose to his knees and took you with him. 

Smack. 

You see stars. It was not enough. "More," you say. For Fingolfin, your wish was his command. 

Smack. 

Now it was the soft flesh of your back. It was electrifying, and fed the flames that sprang to life. 

"More." This time it was a plea, wanton, and shameless. Fingolfin indulged you again. And again. And again. You took his face into your hands and kissed him. The sweetness of your lips and your tongue roused him. 

Smack. 

Your moan was thick with desire. You moved to meet his thrusts, your nerves already aflame. Fingolfin tore free of your kiss, only to dip his head and latch onto your breast. He suckled greedily, unleashing a fresh wave of ecstasy. The nails that dug into his shoulders were not even felt. 

"M-my l-lord." This was a surprise, and a most welcomed one at that. Fingolfin drew back, his cornflower eyes now dark and hazy, even in the light of nearby candles. 

"More?" 

"Please."

Your lips met his in another feverish kiss. Fingolfin plunged deep, and hard. 

Smack. The soft squeal that followed was rewarded with yet another slap that was so swift and sharp that it reduced your bones to water. It was dizzying, left you helpless and weak before the fiery wave that rose to claim you and dragged you to unfathomable depths. Your entire body pulsed, fueled by a need to be taken completely. 

"Do not stop," you heard yourself say. 

Fingolfin neither stopped nor faltered. He opened his eyes, inviting you to drown in a sea of the richest blue. They were dazzling, those eyes of his. You could not get enough of them. 

Smack. Your body tensed like a string that had been pulled taut. With just the right tug, it would snap completely. Fingolfin's hands were smooth, gliding over your body like water before leaving the mark you had hungered for. 

Smack. You jolted, your pulse quickening with each gasp. Fingolfin pulled you even closer; his arms were like steel. You drank in the stunning expressions that flashed in his eyes, the hunger hidden within their depths. It was all too much. The tension within snapped in a violent frenzy that consumed you. You shook, arched your back. His name now comes out like a sob. It shattered him. Fingolfin drove up and drove fast, his lips parting in a deep, guttural cry. With one last flash of need, he spilled his seed within you. 

Everything was a glorious haze. Fingolfin was the first to open his eyes and clear his head. He took in the bruises that had begun to form. In another time, perhaps, he would have been ashamed of such conduct and for using his strength to inflict any kind of pain. For the present, however, he felt no such shame, only pride, for being able to make you feel such intense pleasure. 

"Was it how you imagined it would be?" he probed, his eyes filled with worry. 

"All that I could have dreamed of and more," you vow. "And perhaps we could do it again the next time?"

Fingolfin blushed. "Yes," he promised eagerly. "we will do it again the next time."

[torto-isemusings]

Ah, Common Sense Media: One Million Moms on a budget.

Home of one of the worst, most ignorant reviews of our beloved Incredibox I've ever seen (below)

One star from an Adult. A tough crowd these ones.

Join me, dear Reader, as I Torto breakdown the points of this review one. By. One.

For your entertainment, of course ;)

1) "Nobody will like this lackluster 'game'"

*hysterical, borderline-demonic hyena laugh*

But seriously, given the amount of fanart, mods, YouTube videos, and blogs dedicated to this game it seems like the word "nobody" implies whole swaths of people in the definition. *Sparticus voice* I AM NOBODY!

2) "The same man is copy-pasted at least 6 times"

Most people who complain about this haven't done the bare minimum of research to discover that, yes, they are all one man. That is, of course, Paul "Incredible Polo" Malburet, who voiced them all. It's meant to showcase what *just one man* can do with his (aptly named) incredible voice. Love you, Polo❤️

3) "There's really nothing to do but click on the men to produce lackluster sounds"

Say that to his adorable face, I dare you!

Risk being the target of Gallic Rage!

4) "Sure, there are different costumes but they do nothing to enhance the game"

OP must be really fun at Halloween parties /s. Repeat after me: "Costumes enhance *everything*!" Also, now that you've taken a shot at Paul, you can't resist taking a shot at Romain as well, how thoughtful. Love you too, Bily❤️

5) "There are no puzzles [or] prize wheels"

Okay, I'll give them this one. Even though the bonuses are kind of like puzzles, no puzzle just gives you the answer by hovering over the icon. However, I think this is one of the things that makes Incredibox so special: It's not about puzzles. It isn't one of those instant gratification, constant rush of dopamine games(which, imo, are on par with the "brainrot" section of YouTube). Just like writing your own music, you have to stew on it for a while, see what works, and most of all enjoy it! Experimentation can be fun!

6) "There's no way to customize the look-alike men -they're all in boring black and white"

First, see my rebuttal to point #2. Second, this just tells me you didn't play past Little Miss(which is all but confirmed later). LM is only the second version. Each version gets better than the last as the guys hone their craft. Even your oh-so-despised costumes get better! In Jeevan alone you have practically all the colors of the goddamn rainbow! At the end of the day, even though Incredibox is more about the music than anything else, the costumes are a neat bonus that keep things visually interesting. Long story short, if you want customization The Sims is right there.

7) "The game is so boring I quit after 1 minute"

While I'm pretty sure 1 minute is an exaggeration, this does pretty much confirm OP didn't play past Little Miss. Geez, even a goldfish would know you need to pay attention for more a minute to accurately assess the quality of a game.

8)"It takes about 25 minutes to load the game"

This one's just a flat out lie.

9) "The developer isn't even updating the game anymore...terribly outdated...stuck in 2019"

Patience, Grasshopper. The latest bonus for Wekiddy was released only 9-10 months ago. That isn't forever. I'm sure all three guys are working their culs off to get the third one out in a timely manner. Especially Allan, who I haven't mentioned yet. Love you as well, Al❤️

Also define "stuck in 2019"? What does a game have to do in order to be worthy of the 2020s, include a Covid-themed version?

10) "Forget about Incredibox and just get My Singing Monsters instead"

...you're lucky TV Tropes lists us as Friendly Fandoms, or I would get mad at that. I however won't because I'm mad enough.

And there you have it, Reader, my full thoughts on this godawful review. Tell me your thoughts in the tags, and if there was anything I missed💜

[smaller-comfort]

Would you recommend The Locked Tomb Triology or Rook and Roses more? I have both unstarted in my Audible Library.

OH BOY. I'm slightly drunk and you've basically just activated my trap card.

Okay, these are very, very different literary experiences. I highly recommend both, but for wildly different reasons. I have listened to the audio books for The Locked Tomb, but not for Mask of Mirrors/Rook & Rose, so I can't really compare them. TLT's audio book is very well done, but the narrator does mispronounce one character's name throughout the whole thing, and that drives me slightly crazy. (Nonagesimus: uses the church Latin pronunciation. EDIT: I SAID I WAS DRUNK. IT'S THE OTHER WAY AROUND. No-na-jess-i-mus. Not It's no-na-guess-i-mus.)

The Locked Tomb series is amazing, and extremely rewarding, but it's a difficult read. The prose is dense and full of obscure and sometimes baffling references. The first book is relatively accessible as a science fantasy murder mystery; the second book is actively hostile to you, the reader, and it wants you to suffer on multiple levels. You will suffer on multiple levels. You will need to reread it at least once to actually understand what's really happening. The third book is less hostile, but it's definitely not comfortable. The series is unfinished; book 4 is still being written. Rereading the books is extremely rewarding, because you will miss things the first time around.

If you've ever read Homestuck (at least through the Scratch), then I would recommend the series unreservedly. The author is kind of famously a former Big Name Fan there. It is thoroughly, pervasively queer, but it's not really romantic; you'll see it marketed as "lesbian necromancers in space" but it's fundamentally a story about love, grief, loss, and the violence of colonialism/imperialism. (I draw a lot of parallels between it and Sea of Stars/Saboverse because of those themes.) The books are more appropriately set in the Horror genre than straight sci-fi/fantasy.

(I love the worldbuilding and the treatment of necromancy/magic as a science. Delicious.)

Mask of Mirrors/Rook & Rose is just a hell of a lot of fun. It's basically set in a fantasy eastern European city that was violently colonized by fantasy Italy, and the worldbuilding is fantastic. It also deals with themes of colonialism/imperialism, and at its core is grappling with ideas of identity and diaspora.

That's the high level themes at work in Mask of Mirrors, but I tore through the whole trilogy in less than a week because the characters are delightful, the worldbuilding is extremely tasty, and it's really about a badass con artist doing badass things. There are a lot of queer characters (including a handful of explicitly trans characters, and some implicitly asexual and aromantic characters), but the main romance is het.

(Rook & Rose magic systems are half numerology/scientific principal and half tarot/intuition, and I honestly adore it.)

With the locked tomb, it's kind of a running joke in the fandom that you can get spoiled for all the major plot points and still not have any idea what the hell is going on. With Mask of Mirrors/Rook & Rose, I really, really don't want to spoil anyone because some of those plot twists were so satisfying to experience, and I would've been so upset if they'd been spoiled for me.

Rook & Rose is a completed series, and the third book does wrap everything up pretty neatly. Maybe too neatly, in some ways, but it's still delightful. The books are long, but relatively easy reads (with the caveat that my idea of an easy read is...probably slightly distorted. I read book one in a day and a half. It's 630 pages long).

So, if you're okay with cliffhangers and being emotionally devastated (but in mostly good ways), go for The Locked Tomb. TLT also has an enormous fandom. If you want something with a definitive conclusion, swashbuckling shenanigans, and only mild to moderate emotional pain, and a fandom of like 3 people, please read Rook & Rose.

[trashboatprince]

SO!

The Star Beast!

Let's talk about it!

(Major spoilers under the cut)

-First off, I fucking love Fourteen, absolutely a delight, I wanna hug them (Okay, technically I HAVE hugged them when I got to hug David at the con this year, but still!). Also, 'male-presenting Time Lord', bah! Still gonna use they/them when I refer to them because please just let me have this, I don't care, the Doctor canonically doesn't give two shits about gender and even refers to going by the article Doctor over a pronoun in this special anyway.

-Second, DONNA! OH DONNA! I love her, I love her so much, just- oh, she hasn't changed a damn bit! Including missing the fucking alien spacecraft because that was exactly what I expected from her. <3

-Also, most supportive mom, love that.

-Rose~! Oh, oh Rose, how I love you! No notes, she's amazing! It did hurt to hear her dead name being used, but considering that it was done by a bunch of dickheaded kids, it makes sense. But we will never use that name for her here, nope, she's just Rose. <3

-Shaun is a delight, Donna got herself the most excellent of malewives ever

-Sylvia, ah, exactly as I expected, though she is trying to be better for her daughter and granddaughter, so points to her.

-Meep! So much to say on the meep but I'll keep it brief: transphobic little shit.

-UNIT is always fun to see, but how well known are they nowadays because the BBC report actually referred to them. I dunno, I've still working my way through the Third Doctor's era where UNIT was a major plot point and I haven't... finished watching Thirteen's era yet (only because I want to watch it with my gf the next time we see each other).

-Fourteen interacting with the Noble family was great, especially with them trying to see the Meep and Sylvia panicking and wow, this face cannot escape being slapped I wonder if Donna will get to do one herself.

-The action stuff is so much fun, exactly what I expect from this series.

-Being on the Meep's ship, the fact that Donna went to help the Doctor and just... oh, oh, them freaking out and crying because they were scared she'd die when she remembered. I started sobbing.

-Hell, I was crying when they held her in their arms and said he didn't care if the grunts shot them... uuuuhhhhhggggg... Fourteen cares about her so much! That's his best friend!

-Rose! Rose and Donna, Time Ladies! Lord, Lady, and neither! Don't care what anyone says, I loved this. I didn't voice it, but I had a very strong feeling that Rose would inherit the DoctorDonna.

-Was a little confused about them 'letting go' but... yeah, alright, okay. Still, I wonder if there is still a bit of Time Lord left in them.

-Is there any chance that they can sell Rose's plushies. I really want the Ood one.

-THE TARDIS!

-Oooooh, she's beautiful and big and very classic and yet so very nuwho at the same time, a perfect blend, and just so gorgeous! And Fourteen freaking out in excitement, running around like a child, being so happy about a coffee maker in the TARDIS! <3<3<3

-And Donna's reaction! She was so happy too!

-But then the 'killed me' scene... oh, oh honey, you've been holding onto that for centuries, those memories and the guilt. It's honestly heartbreaking to know that the Doctor, through all their new faces, still held onto those feelings about what happened to Donna.

-I'm excited, don't know what the fuck is gonna happen in the next episode since we didn't get a preview and I think it's the least known of the episodes so far.

-I saved this for last, but I wanna talk about the sonic screwdriver cause I know some people are gonna be all 'oh, it's too OP!'

First off, the sonic has always been, it always will be, it's a fucking sci-fi tool, sci-fi series always have some sort of tool that does everything.

Second, whatever the hell it did to make the shields was awesome, that's such a cool trick and I love it. I bet it's done using sound and light waves, which makes for a very interesting concept and something I'd love to explore in one of my sci-fi aus. Not sure how it made that cool schematics things, but whatever.

Also, leave me alone! I love the new sonic! I need to get my hands on one, but they're always sold out or too expensive!

(Okay, not really last, just a bonus, but damn, no offense to Ten, but Fourteen is a bit more attractive to me. I dunno, I mean, I was crushing hard on the DT at 15, but at 31, it's like, oh. Oh no. He's aged so well, he's so pretty. This is probably Crowley's fault.)

[michaelmyersmybeloved]

hey love, could you do an RZ! Michael Myers, Bubba Sawyer, and Thomas hewitt smut where a the male!reader is tied up and sitting in their lap and they've never messed around with other boys before (or theyve never gotten themselves off) so theyre just overstimulating thr fuck outta the reader continually jacking him off till he's crying whining 🤭🤭 it can be hesd canons or whateverd easiest to write <33

Of course I can <33

I'll go with little headcannons and a little fic for each <33

Rz Michael Myers, Bubba Sawyer, and Thomas Heweit with a Male! s/o who's tied up in their lap

Minors please DNI!

RZ! Michael Myers

The moment you showed any sign of arousal, Michael knew.

The thing though, was he was not going to reciprocate it.

Just to see what happens (he does a little trolling)

Eventually he cant take it anymore, seeing you walk around with a boner, making little noises as you shift uncomfortably.

He ties you up, with little protest at all.

His hand wanders down your chest, tugging at your clothes slightly, but never taking anything off (cus he's such a tease)

Michael gets what he wants, so when he ghosts his hand over the raging election in your pants, he nearly begins rutting into you. He takes your pants off, and starts rubbing you slowly.

"Michael please, please go faster"

Of course he can oblige, but will he? You've been kinda bad Y/n. Getting all aroused and not coming to him.

Once he figures out he's your first, his chest swells up with pride. He is the one making you whine the way you are, HE is the one who will bring you to your first release.

Will make you cum at least 3 times

"Please michael, go faster, pleasepleaseplease, oh god." Sitting in Michael's lap was pushing it as it is, but sitting in his lap, tied up, and with a boner? Now you're asking for it.

He rubs you up and down, cock weeping with pre, whines and moans escaping from your lips. Of course, Michael is only going to continue teasing you.

As you feel your third orgasm approaching, suddenly Michael speeds up, hand twisting and rubbing your length until you burst. Shaking, tears begin to roll down your cheeks. "Please Mikey, n-no more!" "Oh fuck fuck fuck Mikey please ah fuck~" He only stops when you can't speak anymore <33

Bubba Sawyer

Goodness is he overwhelmed when you're walking around with a boner. Whenever he gets them, he immediately excuses himself, so why aren't you?

He comes up with the conclusion that you need help with your little 'problem'.

As soon as your on his lap, you're squirming. We can't have that now can we?

Once you're nice and tied up, he teases your hard on through your pants, other hand tracing your hard nipples.

Eventually, your pants come off, and Bubba makes you cum so hard you're seeing stars. 'Where did he even learn how to move his hand like that?'

He already knows he's your first, so he wants to make it special and feel good.

"Bubba please, please oh my god" as your second orgasm approaches, he keeps on at his brutal, but loving pace. "Please Bubba, I can barely see, please oh god let me cum please please please."

He leans into your neck, licking and nibbling, until he gets to a spot that's making you see stars. "Oh god Bubba right there yes, yesyesyes please!" Of course he continues, using your pre as lube. He knows you're close, so he speeds up, and takes satisfaction in the whines coming from your mouth.

Thomas Hewitt

Once he catches wind (by that I mean sees with his own two eyes) of your erection, he's immediately scooping you up to your shared bedroom.

He knows you've never done anything like this before, but that's okay cus neither has he.

He sits you in his lap and holds your wrists behind you, stroking your cock through your jeans.

"Please Tommy, just take me"

He isnt ready to completely have sex yet tho, so this is what you get for now y/n.

Your third orgasm is approaching quickly, and Tommy knows. He slows his hand, and drags out your ogasm.

Thomas knew he was your first, so of course he's making you feel good. He does not expect anything in return, so just lay back onto his chest and let him make you feel good.

"Oh my god Tommy please, please go faster" 'no, no I don't think I will.'

Of course he can't stand your whines (lovingly) so he speeds up, and let's you cum. He only stops when you beg him to <3

I hope this was okay! I'm not too well varsed in masturbation writing yet so this was good practice. Thank you so much for the request <33

[inklore]

break the chains

prev chapter | series masterlist

premise: it’s been a month of spending your summer days with eddie. a month that is closer to coming to an end. the feelings that have grown between the two of you within those days meaning a lot more to you than you want them to.

pairing: eddie munson x richgirl!reader

word count: 6.6k

warnings: eighteen+ content, quick mentions of oral sex, come eating, weed mention, time jump, anxiety and panic attacks, blackmail, angst angst angst, fluff in the beginning to even it out tho, hickeys, mention of doing spicy things in public (fingering), trauma and emotional abuse at the hands of shit parents, diet culture.

etc: ok so like this chapter actually fucking killed me to write, like it was all over the place and just angsty and wow can these two get a happy ending yet my godddd. but i kept thinking about this little fluff piece i wrote for them and how it happened days before the events of this chapter and it made all of this hurt even more.

i do not give anyone permission to translate or repost my work, please be respectful — if you enjoyed please comment or reblog!

The Dio song from one of the many mixtapes that Eddie has generously gifted you over the last month—“to enlighten your musical taste buds” he had told you as he handed you two of them, then a third the week after that—plays loud enough that you’re surprised the neighbors have yet to complain.

Your parents had ditched you; was it still considered ditching when you refused to go when your father would only ask out of pity from your mother not asking you? Escaping to their summer cabin with some friends for the weekend, leaving you home alone and blissed about it.

The three of you living like disgruntled roommates as you tried to never be home when they were. Them never asking you where you were, who you were with, what time you came home or left the house.

You’re sure if you dig deep enough it makes you sad to know no one truly cares about your well being. That they probably would only notice you’ve disappeared once they realized you weren’t cashing your monthly check.

But avoidance of feelings is bliss and while your parents weren’t taking up space in your childhood home you were going to make the most of it.

Which is why you’re sat at your bedroom window waiting to see that old rusted van come down the road, sticking out like a sore thumb, completely out of place with the large statured homes around it—and the barley scraping the owners salary, cars sitting in the driveway.

When you had called Eddie earlier, once your parents took that first step out of the door and you were finally rid of them. You had picked up the phone and with little to no convincing he was agreeing to come over.

“What do I get out of it?”

“To see the inside of my castle.” You teased.

“Is that an innuendo?”

You scoffed, “you wish, Munson.”

“Oh yes, many a’wasted stars have been used for wishes on you, my fare lady.”

You roll your eyes, that cheesy smile on your lips when you say, “are you coming over or not?” You wait a few seconds, a minute, what feels like forever as your heart beats in your chest, “I miss you, or whatever, just come over!”

He’s chuckling into the receiver, you can hear his loud footsteps throughout his trailer. “I’ll be there, princess.”

After you've hung up you feel a tinge of embarrassment, don’t know why you said that. Went and told him you missed him like you haven’t spent the last month spending nothing but time with him. Getting high. Making out. Sucking him off. Him returning the favor.

The two of you had to take a week respite because your lips had felt so chapped from how often you found yourself in a lip-lock with him, once you were done puffing and passing on the never ending supply of weed he had.

And within that week you may have warded off kissing, but that didn’t mean Eddie stopped touching you. Or returning the favor that felt more like something else than a favor.

When the two of you had walked in high as a kite to see a late showing of Pretty in Pink, a movie neither of you wanted to see but it had been the only thing showing, and had told Eddie it was his turn to see how the other half lived.

“The other half goes to see Pretty in Pink?”

“Yes! All of my friends love Molly Ringwald.”

“Therefore every person with a trust fund wastes their daddies hard earned money for tickets to this snooze fest?”

“Munson,” you had fake whined. “You’re killing my high right now, all I want to do is go watch a movie and eat some really bad-for-me popcorn, okay?” You held your hand out as the two of you stood in front of the theatre in the town over. A theatre that looked too fancy for Hawkins residences, let alone the inebriated like of you—not to mention it was the only theatre open right now and that you were sure of wouldn’t be housing any of your so called friends, or people who would think twice to see you and Eddie walking hand in hand into the theatre as you dragged his grumbling form along.

And what you had expected to happen while the two of you sat in your seats as the movie played—sharing the popcorn, banter, more complaining from Eddie that would be better than the movie because you’d get to hear his laugh and nothing beat that nowadays—did not happen.

Instead his lips were close to the shell of your ear, his hot breath making goosebumps prick your skin as he whispered in your ear. His fingers bunch up the bottom of your skirt as they move up your thigh, pulling your legs apart so he can push his fingers between them and inside of you.

Your no kissing rule because your lips hurt being dead in the water as your teeth bit into your bottom lip to stop yourself from moaning—trying not to let the other patrons know that the boy beside you was making you come on his fingers.

Eddie Munson was full of surprises.

And so were you the day you had found yourself at the local bookstore, Lord of The Rings in hand, and looking completely out of place. And maybe you had always meant to read it because you’d heard in passing that it was good, you wouldn’t consider yourself a person too interested in reading. Your mother had always said being too smart wasn’t something a man wanted, but being too stupid would land you a shitty one.

You had been made to fall somewhere in the middle. Not hating or loving having a book in your hand.

But hearing Eddie talk about it one night as the two of you laid high and spent on his couch, your heads touching as he lay at one end and you the other. His fingers dancing in the air as he spoke about the book, the world building, the characters. How he made them come to life and you could barely understand a word he was saying—how it was filled with passion, something that went into the same sentence as Eddie Munson perfectly, as peanut butter did jelly; it just made sense.

It had made you realize you’ve never heard anyone talk about the things they liked, loved, like he did.

Your parents barely touched each other let alone spoke of passion about their love. Nor did your ex with anything he spoke about, or your so called friends; unless it was in malice by putting someone else down.

Just as you were learning to roll the perfect joint, and the world of Tolkien; the more time you spent with Eddie the more you realized you’ve never smiled this much in your entire life. Or enjoyed your days in this shit town more than you have in the last month, and you loved it.

There had been fear with that realization. There still was fear. Fear of how long it was going to last. Fear of having to go back to your real life, the reality of it, in less than a month's time. How you would have to say goodbye to Eddie eventually.

Because this was just summer fun. A fling. A…whatever to pass the time while you were at home. It held no substance. Was the behavior of a silly girl with a crush your mother would say if she knew.

But you didn’t have a crush on Eddie and going back to your life before this, before him, wouldn’t be as bad as your chest made you feel each time you thought about it.

It’s not like the two of you were serious. You were friends who got high together and made each other come. That’s all. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Or so that was your internal mantra every night Eddie brought you home, every night you had to resist the urge to ask him to stay at his place, to burrow your way into his arms forever so you wouldn’t have to leave his side and go back to your castle where you were unwanted.

Because while the two of you may have only shared kisses, joints, and bodily fluids—at least in those moments spent together, laughing, teasing, talking about life, you had felt like you mattered. That you weren’t just being used for someone else’s benefit. A robot in the machine of the sad pathetic life of a rich girl who had everything but hated it all. You weren’t a fucking cliché when you were with Eddie.

You were you.

And the summer wasn’t over yet, so when reality came crashing down then you’d worry about it. You’d pack your bags and go back to your life and be fine.

As the mantra goes.

As luck would surprise you, it doesn’t take much effort to sneak Eddie in through your back door; giving him specific instructions to park in the signature location and sneak his way through your yard—without looking like a total creep to any neighbors that could possibly be nosy-ily peeping out of their windows.

When you hear the soft knocks at the door your heart does an annoying leap as you race to swing it open. Trying to hide your amusement as you see him grip his knees as he doubles over trying to catch his breath.

“Your yard is bigger than my trailer, shit.” He fans himself with his ringed fingers dramatically.

“Don’t participate much in gym do you?”

“This body is made for love not torture,” he waves a hand along the front of him.

And yeah, maybe your body feels things from how tousled his hair looks from running, or the way his chest is heaving, the collar of his shirt sitting low enough to give you the perfect view of his necklace —of the tantalizing column of his neck you love to run your teeth along.

And maybe it’s also the way the porch light shines down on the leather of his jacket and dark jeans—always filled with holes—but you’re just now realizing how much you missed him in more ways than one, a way that has a dull throbbing starting between your legs.

You wordlessly grab his wrist, pulling him through the threshold and right to your chest. Your hands finding the warmth of his chest through his jacket as you look up at him with a sly smirk, “maybe you should show me this love you speak of.”

The heel of his sneaker finds the edge of the door swiftly kicking it shut as he leans his face down into your space. “Anything for you, princess.”

While your feelings for certain things—Eddie—may have been morphining and changing into something unexplainable to you; the act of the two of you only keeping your physical relationship strictly oral had not.

If this were any other guy, that you knew, he would have already moved on. Every guy loved blowjobs, loved to cop a good feel of what you were working with. But holding out for sex? When there had been plenty of times for it to happen?

Maybe you had just been seeing the wrong guys. Had let the wrong ones take up space in your life and made you feel inclined to please, to give, but never to take or receive. To do what was expected of you.

And maybe you shouldn’t classify every guy into that bubble of misogyny and insensitivity. Because Eddie was the opposite—so much so that it proves your track record of guys were not the right ones.

It’s not like you were holding out to see his resolve. To see if one night he’d actually act or initiate it. If he did you know you’d gladly do it. Gladly let him, someone worth it, inside of you.

Instead of the usual parasites.

But maybe that’s why you haven’t done it.

Why you’ve stopped yourself from pushing it to the next level. Because Eddie was good. Too good. For you, for the confusing feelings you got the more you spent time with him, for the fact that you were leaving at the end of summer and all of this would probably fade into the background noise of your life and you two would forget about each other and move on.

Deep deep down mixed in between those fuzzy feelings you get every time his fingers brush against yours when you’re walking beside each other, or passing a joint—your heart stopping when he kisses the side of your throat, when he’s between your legs, when he’s actually listening to you talk about things he doesn’t quite get and vice versa—if you fucked Eddie Munson you don’t think you’d be able to leave.

And that scared the shit out of you.

Because it was both incredibly ridiculous and stupid all on the same hand as it was so bitterly-sweet that it fucking hurt your chest to even think about.

So you swallowed it down like every other feeling. You let it pass. Let it drift to that lump in the pit of your stomach where you stored the things you’d never be able to have, obtain, because of who you were.

“Fuck,” Eddie gasps, his chest heaving. As he shoots rope after rope of cum across your chest, the heat from it giving the tops of your breasts a tantilizing burn—your eyes casted up at him as you watch his mouth hang open, adore the bruise you had sucked right below his jaw, love the way his eyes roll back and hips stutter as his fucks his fist, getting out every last drop from the head of his cock.

There’s drool coating your chin, drying and becoming cold in contrast to the rest of the air in the room; the smell of sex, come, and desire filling your childhood bedroom full of a different type of heat than the one outside.

Your throat feels raw and swollen from letting him fuck it, from how deep he had gotten. It brings a sweet smile to your lips remembering how he had asked the first time you told him he could, that he didn’t have to treat your mouth as if it were something fragile, that you would not break because of him–for him was another story.

“Are you sure? This is alright? Shit, that–yeah–fuck okay that feels good.” His cheeks had been a pretty pink, a nervous flush that soon turned into something needy and depraved.

You’d always think Eddie was pretty like this. Pretty in general.

Even if the word was miles off from how he normally looked, his brooding scary stature that most would swear off.

But that was the beauty of you being with him like this; you saw him, in ways no one else had and that meant too much to you.

The pull of the corner of his mouth as he looks down at you, his breath coming back to him, his eyes lazily filled with satisfaction and admiration, has your stomach plummeting into regions of your own need—and other places that are being ignored. How his bottom lip pulls into his mouth as he lets two of his fingers run along your chest, skating across a nipple making your breath hitch as the pad of it gathers the remnants of his come and brings it to your open mouth.

Your lips wrapping around them, tongue swirling around the tips to gather his taste and swallow it down as you suck them clean. Your eyes never leaving his as you do so.

It's crazy how well the two of you have grown to know the other body. What turns you on, what gets you there faster, the words you didn’t know you needed to hear in order to make your orgasm more intense.

There had been brief conversations over joints and a shared six pack. Eddie enclosing to you what he thought about late at night when he fucked his fist, and where your thoughts would lead you when you were all alone in your room with your hand between your thighs. The both of you sharing wants, needs, and things you’ve always wanted to try. The conversation being a pivotal one to you and your insides, the comfortability to talk about such things was something that you'd look at as far fetched if this were two months ago. But now it felt like the simplest thing in the world, easy, special to your used-to-being-closed-off feelings.

What was Eddie Munson doing to you?!

After you’ve cleaned yourself up, Eddie being as gentlemanly as ever as he helps you to your feet, hand in his as he pulls you to your ensuite to set you on the counter and run a wet cloth over your messy chest. A look of precision as he does so. Like a doctor holding a scalpel.

“And there, all perfect once again.” He grins, sets the cloth on the counter as he rights your top. Hands lingering to rest at your hips as he stands between your open legs.

“I think it was perfect the way it was.”

“Ooh,” Eddie leans in to you, mouth centimeters from yours. “Of course you did. Sometimes I forget how much of a depraved sex demon you are.” He snickers as he presses a quick peck to your lips.

Dodging the slap you give to his arm as he moves towards the door to run out of the bathroom as you chase him, hollers and giggles filling your room as he throws a pillow at your head.

“Eddie! Not the pillows my mother will–” another hits you in the face before you can finish your sentence. A shrug of innocence on his face when you scowl at him, a low growl in the back of your throat as you ignore your own words and pick up the small pillows your mother had knitted herself—that were gaudy and ugly but insisted you decorate your room with, as if they were classy and not actually tacky.

The two of you spend the next ten minutes shouting and tossing pillows, and whatever else you can get your hands on, until Eddie wraps his arms around your waist and tackles you to your bed. Your back hitting the plush duvet heavy and hard with his weight over you.

“I didn’t call you over here to wreck my house!”

“You should have been more clear on the phone then,” his cheeky smile has you about to give a playful pat to his cheek but then he’s grabbing your wrists and pulling them over your head.

“You’re cleaning this up!” You grunt as you try to lift yourself from his hold to no avail.

“I think it gave the room some life, it was too..” he makes a face as he looks around your bedroom, a grumble echoing through his chest. “Pink.”

You can’t help but laugh, “pink? That’s the best insult you have, not that it looks like it was decorated by a sixty year old grandmother? Pink?!”

“I was trying to be nice.” He makes a face, tries to hold it, but his laughter seeps through.

“Eddie the chivalrous.”

That soft look of admiration is in his eyes again as he presses down, his chest flush against yours as he moves closer to your mouth with his. “Only for you.”

“I think the press would love to know about this.”

“‘Hawkins Freak actually a decent person, who would have thought’. What a headline.”

Your chest tightens, a small frown washing away your happy expression. But you don’t let it stay, let it stick. Don’t let Eddie see as you use all your strength to pull out one of your wrists from his hold to bring it to the back of his head, fingers splaying in his hair. “I think it’s a perfect headline.”

“If thy majesty approves then who am I to argue?” His smile morphs against your mouth as the two of you kiss. “Now, should we get back to the real reason I’m here?” His brows waggle dramatically as he rolls off of you and onto his side, fingers dipping into his front pocket to pull out a joint.

There’s an array of condiments and chip bags littering your island as you lean over it, chin in your palm as you watch Eddie make his version of nachos. Your throat dry and burning from the joint and the laughter that keeps slipping out from him, your stomach caving in as you try not to grab a handful of shredded cheese and toss it into your mouth.

“Trust me, one bite of these and your fancy smancy country club will be put to shame.” He declares with conviction, points a finger in your direction as he puts the concoction into the microwave and lets the ‘magic happen’ as he says.

“I don’t think they serve nachos there, this is already an unfair fight.”

“I never thought a sentence could hurt me until now.”

You roll your eyes, “they should change your name from freak to dramatic.”

He shakes his head, “doesn’t have the same twang to it.”

“Twang?!” You laugh, covering your mouth with your palm to stop the echoing of your giggles throughout the large kitchen.

Eddie bites back a grin as he watches you lose it, leaning himself on the opposite counter, arms coming to cross over his chest. “What kind of food do they serve to the Royalty anyway?”

Once you’ve given yourself a stomach cramp from laughing too hard and have caught your breath you’re shrugging your shoulders. “I wouldn’t know, I’m only mandated a salad.”

“Mandated?”

You nod, “yeah.” A chuckle slips in between a puff of air, “my mom thinks it's proper for a lady to keep a healthy diet. Therefore what she eats I eat.”

“Always?”

“If I’m accompanying them, yes.”

“I’m guessing no is not in her vocabulary?”

“You’d guess correctly.” You can feel the ill feeling from the conversation bubbling up in the pit of your stomach, that sting of perpetual dread you get when you think or talk about your parents with anyone. As if your body is waiting for the sickening pity that’s going to come from them, you don't need anyone pitying you. Or the ‘you have everything, your parents can’t be that bad’ that was worse than the pity. Like a reprimand of the damage your parents have done to whatever part of your brain that holds your feelings—and traits that make you turn into a decent human being. Both parts have dents and nicks no thanks to them.

But Eddie’s not looking at you with either of those things on the horizon of being spoken. Something that doesn’t surprise you, but does make you chew happily on the skin of your bottom lip.

“And when you’re away?”

“She’d have an aneurysm with all the takeout boxes in my dorm room.” You joke but the thought actually brings you a dark kind of joy, “I should just order a steak the next time I’m forced to play happy family with them.”

“The biggest.”

“Juiciest.”

“You have to get fries!”

“Fries? Forget an aneurysm, it’d be cardiac arrest!”

Eddie’s chuckle, the rise of his still blush tinted cheeks, the way even after having wrestled with you and taken a few pillows to the face his hair still looks perfect—you know, from the smell, but also having seen his bathroom, that he spends way too much money on hairspray—makes those annoying flutters bother your insides again.

When the microwave goes off you can feel your mouth watering from the smell wafting from the nuked chips he pulls out. The cheese melted to them looking burnt and fried, like it’s going to take some effort to separate them. Eddie grabbing a few condiments to scatter across the chips; sour cream, hot sauce.

After he’s done he holds it out in front of him with a smirk, “ready to taste heaven?” You make a face, trying to suppress a smirk of your own at the innuendo that’s dying to come out of you, that has him shaking his head. “Don’t tell me.” He says as he walks past you and heads towards the stairs.

“What?!” You’re laughing as you follow close behind.

As hard and nuked as the nachos looked, as much as you figured—expected—them to taste like something they’d serve you in middle school and call it lunch; they tasted amazing.

And maybe it was how high you were and how you were still rolling off of the sex endorphins, or maybe it was because Eddie had made them and everything he did just felt, tasted, was better. But it was almost obscene how you were hoovering the chips down, sour cream coating your fingers.

Eddie’s fingers looking the same, “told you, can’t get enough, huh?”

“I’m just high.”

“Mhmm and I passed biology.”

You snort, a chip flying across the plate from your fingers to land—sauce free—against his chin and then onto your duvet. “Yes, they’re amazing, we can add Eddie the chef to your resume.”

He makes a show of doing a fake bow as he pops the chip you threw into his mouth.

Your thrown chip leading into the two of you trying to see who can catch one in their mouth on purpose this time. The stains that would surely be present in the wash was sure to give your mother heart palpitations—good.

You couldn’t find an ounce of caring about it, about her, about anything other than this moment. The way Eddie’s missed his fourth chip and it’s landed in his hair, sour cream coating one of his curls. A look of dramatics one his face.

“Unbelievable.”

“It’s just a little sour cream, Munson. You’ll wash!” You tease, trying to hide your laugh by putting a chip in your mouth.

“It’s just three inches away. Aim better!” He mocks back at you as he cleans the white from his brown lock.

“Oh it’s my fault that you can’t catch?”

“I see why cheerleading was your top pick, that’s all I’m saying.” He holds his hands up in defense, the playful grin on his face making you scowl at him.

You don’t think, only react, as you scoop up a dollop of sour cream and toss it at him, it landing on the front of his shirt.

The look of astonishment on his face lasts for half a second before his finger is scooping it back up, jumping across the plate of nachos that crunches under his weight, to tackle your back down onto your mattress and swipe his finger—and the sour cream—against your forehead and hairline.

“Eddie!”

“You started it!”

“My bed!”

“My shirt!”

You let out a frustrated puff of air, look over at the mess on your bed, at the front of his shirt, up at the coolness of the white you can’t see but can feel drying against your skin.

And then up at Eddie the both of you holding stoic faces until you can’t hold back the laughter any longer. Your chests vibrating against each other as you laugh in the crook of each other’s necks. And it’s like it all clicks; something changing in the air, inside of you.

It wouldn’t matter if you fucked Eddie or never fucked him, if things just stayed like this and you never took those next steps, went to that next level: it was going to be hell leaving this behind either way.

This comfortability, these nights spent together, all that’s been shared, that’s been discovered, these feelings..this crush.

It was going to tear you in two no matter the circumstance. No matter the level. You could convince yourself otherwise all you wanted, but your heart knew.

So why should you wait? Why should you continue to hold back?

It was obvious you both wanted each other, that it wouldn’t take much to get to that level. It’s been dangling right there in front of the both of you since the first night you spent together.

Maybe it was time you faced this reality and stopped running from it.

And when Eddie pulls his face from your neck, smile faltering when he sees the serious look on your face, eyes still soft as ever; your choice is made.

Fuck it.

Your palm comes up to his cheek, thumb running across his bottom lip. There’s a need and want thrumming through your body that you hope he can see in your eyes. Hope he can read it through your touch, through your unspoken words—the heavy beating of your heart speaking the syllables you can’t.

You’re positive he knows because he doesn’t say anything just presses his lips to yours. Connecting your mouths in an agreement that you wish you would have settled on weeks earlier.

Eddie’s shirt is the first to go, him balling up the material to clean the gunk from your forehead and hair. A laugh shared between the two of you before your lips reconnect, before your shirt is peeled from your body. His body slotting perfectly between your legs, his hardness pressed to your thigh through his jeans. Your hips gyrating in attempts to ease the ache between your thighs, to get whatever friction you can against him—to feel him.

His lips attaching themselves to the side of your neck, sucking your sensitive flesh into his mouth. Teeth scraping against it causing gasps to fall from your parted lips. Body pushing up into his. Hands in his hair.

You were really going to do this.

Finally going to do this.

You're about to moan his name, about to ask him if he wants this as bad as you, but then the ring of the doorbell from downstairs has the two of you freezing.

Your breath caught in your throat, heart stopped.

Your parents' friends knew better than to call before dropping by. Your mother hating unexpected guests—needing time to put on her fake game face.

And your friends were barely in existence.

“Expecting someone?”

You shake your head, “only you.”

A half smile pulls at Eddie’s lips before he pulls off of you and the two of you right yourselves. His hand comes out to grab your wrist and pull you to him before you reach the door. A deep kiss pressed to your lips from his as he speaks against them, “hurry back.”

It’s a tenderness, on the cusp of being romantic that has you forgetting how to breathe for a second. Almost as if you don’t recognize the boy in front of you.

Until he opens his mouth again, “I really don’t want to clean up this mess myself. Especially when it was your fault.” He grumbles as he motions towards your messy bed.

The moment gone. Lost.

Somehow making it even more special.

“Don’t boss a princess around.” You tease as you slip through your bedroom door, closing it behind you and skipping down the steps. Hoping that maybe it’s just some neighbor kids messing around and you can get back to Eddie, and what you were about to do, quicker.

Conversing with a neighbor or someone you knew was not something you were in the mood to do right now.

But you put on your signature fake smile just in case as you open the door. The mask faltering, your face dropping, heart hanging heavy in your chest when you come face to face with your ex.

While you’re freaking out on the inside the cocky smirk he has on his face is picture perfect.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He chuckles under his breath as he doesn’t wait for you to invite him in. Pushing his way past you and into the foyer.

The feelings inside of you quickly mold into aggravation.

“What do you want?” You slam the door, a little too hard. “Why are you here?”

“I can’t come see my girlfriend?”

The laugh you let out is obnoxious and pretentious and lathered in humor and ‘get real’ with a touch of ‘in your dreams’.

“I’m not your girlfriend.” You cross your arms. “I thought the fact that we haven’t spoke, let alone seen each other in two months, and me telling you to fuck off the last time I saw you was enough of a confirmation of the fact.”

“Couples fight.” He shrugs, that smirk still in place. Still making you want to drive your fist into his face.

“We are not a couple!”

“Don’t be childish.”

It sounds like your mother. It’s her voice that you hear when he says it. It’s the same red rage you see when she says.

You open your mouth to tell him to fuck off, to get out of your house, that it’ll be a cold day in hell before you ever torture yourself with being with him let alone being around him.

But then he’s saying, “Carol said she saw you with that freak Eddie Munson.”

“Don’t call him that.” Your mouth, heart, speaks before you comprehend the words, the meaning of them, the threat that’s bound to follow them. Your chest sinking until you feel like you might get sick. Your body now adding nerves into the mix of your aggravation.

And all you can think to do, the only thing that your mind can compute right now is to deny deny deny. Lie. Do what you’ve been trained to do your whole life.

Ignoring the pang of pain you feel in your gut at your words, “get real.” You scoff, roll your eyes. “Just because I don’t want to be around her bitching doesn’t mean I’m hanging out with the steerage.”

He nods, pressing his lips together in a tight expression that lets you know he’s not buying it.

Can’t bullshit a bullshitter.

“I don’t care what you’ve been up to, who you’ve been hanging with.” He strides to you, putting him too close in your space that it just makes you even more nauseous at the smell of his expensive cologne. His thumb coming up to press into the side of your neck—a hiss leaving your lips, a feeling of childish humiliation washing over you as you realize Eddie must have left a mark from earlier. Your hand comes up to cover it. “Or who you’ve been fucking.” His hands slip into the front pocket of his dress pants, “you’ve had your fun, saw what it’s like to run with the lower class. But now it’s time to come back to reality.”

He presses a chaste kiss to your cheek before he’s moving past you and over to the front door. Opening it and stepping between the threshold. Looking back at you to add, “we’re going to get back together or I’m going to break the news to your parents, let them know their daughter opens her legs for anyone these days.” He gives you a smile before he’s shutting the door behind him and leaving you alone—with your heartbeat pounding in your ears, the aggravation gone, the nerves making it harder to breathe, the threat playing in a loop in your head to the point where it’s only his voice you can hear.

And only your parents faces, the horrific look you know they’ll give you. The screaming in your face you know your mother will do. How she’ll call you ungrateful and tell you how disgusting you are.

Your father will look at you as if you’ve murdered someone. As if you’ve put shame on his name, like they’ll never be able to show their faces in town again. Like you just ruined their lives. Like you’re pathetic, and for what? For falling for the town freak? For spending time with him? For finding someone who actually makes you feel good?

No that’s not allowed and you’re stupid for thinking it could ever be.

“What were you thinking? You stupid girl!” Your mother will yell.

And maybe that’s exactly what you were. A stupid girl.

What were you really thinking spending all this time with Eddie?

Lying to yourself thinking that this would wrap up in a happy little bow. No one finding out.

You were stupid to think so.

When you finally drag yourself up the stairs to your room Eddie is sitting at the edge of your bed, teeth biting at the beds of his nails, knee bouncing.

You notice that he’s cleaned your blanket off. That the music that had been playing isn’t anymore, when did it stop? Did you turn it off? Was it ever on?

You don’t remember. Can’t think.

Your heart feeling like it’s going to burst in your chest.

The look on his face, a look you wished to never see on those features. A look you know you’ve caused.

“Did you-”

“Hear it all? Yeah..yeah.” Eddie stands. Runs his hands down his thighs, taps his finger against his leg as the both of you stand there awkwardly.

The first awkward moment you’ve ever shared.

Once again caused by you.

All of this mess caused by you.

Your fault.

Stupid girl.

“Cats out of the bag now,” he jokes. Tries to give you the smallest of smiles but you don’t return it. Can’t and it makes his face fall as you start to pace.

Your hands shaking. There’s fear and heartache making your blood boil, making your limbs feel weird, making your head spin.

“It’s a good thing you’re not embarrassed to be seen with me or this might be realllll-”

His sentence is cut off, unfinished when your eyes connect. When he sees the look on your face that does the opposite of denying his words. You can’t even open your mouth to save face, to tell him that’s not the case because would that even be true?

The two of have been sneaking around. Have gone out of your way to keep it a secret. You thought it was a mutual agreement that yes, while you weren’t embarrassed to be with him, that it was best that no one knew. That your parents never found out.

It’s not like this was anything. It was nothing. The two of you were just hanging out. It didn’t mean anything.

Your pacing stops as does your breathing when you realize you’ve said those words out loud.

And if the look on Eddie’s face before had hurt the one that he was giving you now was enough to make you want to fall to your knees.

He nods, chuckles weakly under his breath. “The steerage will see himself out. So long, princess.” He says without another glance to you. Without looking back at you, without yelling at you the way you know you deserve right now.

But that wasn’t Eddie.

You weren’t brave and he wasn’t a fighter.

What a match.

You don’t wait to make sure he’s gone before you let out a broken sob, the burning behind your eyes finally coming to the forefront to have hot tears pouring down your face. You can feel your heart shatter in your chest, knowing that the sweet summer you’ve spent alongside Eddie is over.

As is the hope you had held out in your heart that maybe a different life was something you wanted for yourself. That you could tell off your parents. That you could feel something other than dread. That you could actually be yourself with someone.

That maybe these feelings could withstand past the summer and you’d actually be happy to come home on holidays because you’d get to see Eddie.

But maybe these were just more lies you were good at telling. Because look where hope got you, where feelings got you.

Your mother was right.

Girlish feelings only ruined things.

And you’ve gone and ruined everything.

[jackdaw-kraai]

Jack! I need urgent assistance!

Why the fuck is it so hard to make a realistic fictional language?!

I have literally scoured the deepest, darkest places of the internet to try and understand how to make my own fictional language that is important to story but I just don’t get it.

I have watched behind the scenes Star Trek, Game of Thrones, and Avatar to try and understand how they came up with such beautiful and articulate languages but once again, came up empty, it’s like trying to explain physics to a donkey AKA me.

Can you help me? And if you can, please explain it to me like I am a dumb toddler trying to learn how to write my name for the first time?

Oof. Now, there's many conlang guides out there, but they're all for people who actually like conlanging and I, dear reader, do not. I hate conlanging, I suck at it, and analytic grammar is a consistent foe of mine that I cannot beat. But, conlanging is one of the best ways to introduce a whole heaping helping of realism to your setting as well as getting you to really think about how said setting works as you need to figure out what would have an individual word and why. Now that'll make sense in a moment, I promise.

But first...

Jack's Quick 'n Dirty Guide To Conlangs For If You Hate Conlanging

Step One: sounds.

Sounds (ha!) easy right? Weeeeeell... yes and no. Now, the easy part is making the sounds, really. Just start babbling in a way that you want your conlang to sound like and get going! Sing a bit, put on whatever accent you want, really have some fun with it until it sounds right. You got that? Good, now note that down in plain text as best as you can. Do whatever makes sense to you, but make sure you know exactly how to pronounce the sound once you've annotated it so you can reproduce it later, trust me on this one. But now comes the hard part.

Step Two: IPA

If you don't know what IPA is, bless your heart you innocent soul, you're about to learn something that will make you lose a bit of innocence today. IPA stands for the International Phonetic Alphabet and it can annotate the exact pronunciation of any words in any language in the world. If you've ever had a dictionary in front of you and you see that little section underneath the word where it's written again but like, with upside down Es and symbols that look like æ and đ and even ɮ? Congrats, you know what IPA looks like. Now, this thing was designed by some very clever people with an eye for thoroughness but not for practicality. See, it can notate every pronunciation there is, but boy oh boy, will it not make that easy for you. Read up on it anyway, learn how to use it, pull out an afternoon for it, you're gonna need it. IPA Chart is a good website that will help you out here, it's an interactive version of the IPA alphabet with short pronunciation sound clips attached to each symbol. Done all that? Good. Now we get to the really bitchy part.

Step Three: notate every funny sound you made down in IPA

Yes, every single one. Pull up an excel spreadsheet, notate the plain text in one column, a pronunciation in the second, and leave a third open for later. Notate every single word as best as you can, and make sure to save your work. This is gonna be long work, this is gonna be tedious work, and it's gonna be necessary work. You won't like it, you won't have fun, but future you will thank you and you would do anything for that bitch so get notating until you get to

Step Four: What does anything even mean????

Finally, some fun again. Now we get to the part where you get to assign meaning to each sound you've produced. Remember how I advised you to sing a little song? Yeah? Excellent. A quick and easy way to get a bunch of words sorted is to write a roughly similar song in a language that does exist and one you preferably understand already, and use that as a "guide" of what each word is "supposed" to mean. Make your own rosetta stone! Give yourself a break, trust me, it's much easier this way. And don't be afraid to get creative. See one sound or syllable you used a lot? Great, that can be a pronoun or an article or something else that's often used in a language.

Example: I liked the word "ra" a lot, so that's the word for "I" in Karilaa. From there I picked a few other words I liked and roughly hashed out the following

Ra = I

Ta = You

Su = We

Vu = They

Easy, good, simple. I don't bother with gender because fuck gender, but if you want it, go for it champ, now's the time. And you know what else I noticed while doing this? I was using "ra" and "ta" a lot in the last syllables of words, so I figured out how tenses work in my language as well in one fell swoop and made them affixes to verbs.

Really, there are no rules, so make them up to suit whatever aesthetic you want your language to have, but make sure to write everything down. No exceptions. Everything has to be written down.

Step Five: Rinse and repeat

Congrats, you now have some basics of a language! You can basically use and reuse this recipe to get More Language of the language you already have and guess what! Now you already have some language so you won't have to start from scratch! It's like a sourdough starter! Now ain't that neat. Now, if you do this and keep meticulous notes like I told you to you'll essentially be building up your own dictionary as you go, ready to consult for all your future conlanging needs.

Now, is this how good conlangers do it? No! Hell no! Absolutely not! But I'm not a good conlanger, and if you want this guide, neither are you. I'm sorry, but I'd rather you hear it from me than them when they invoke J.R.R. Tolkien's ghost to roast you. This is a guide for people who want a conlang but suck at conlanging. This is a guide for people who can't do it all neat and according to the rules but need to brute force a bitch in order to get some practical results for immediate use.

Now go forth and create!

[givemea-dam-break]

To Let Go

a/n: the second part for my druig x reader, To Make Amends, which you can find below. i hope you enjoy, part three will be coming soon! @measure-in-pain and @spoookygirl666 this is for you <3 Warnings: mild violence, mentions of death Words: 2K Gender-neutral reader

part 1 (To Make Amends), part 3 (To Spend Forever)

The suit feels strange on your skin after not wearing it in so long, constricting almost, but it's exactly how you remember it. The gold material shines in the light of the Domo and, though he's no longer here, you can hear Kingo's voice like an echo. Light given human form. It seems so as you stride into the room where the others - Sersi, Phastos, Thena, Druig, and Makkari - stand, discussing the plan once again. You can feel the bracelet, the Uni-Mind, pulsing on your wrist, but it's not a visible thing, anymore, having melded into the suit. Seeing you, Makkari smiles, and you naturally drift to her side. She and Kingo have always been your closest friends within your family but, even then, they'd been second and third for a little while, only to Druig. The telepath's eyes seem to follow your every move, examining them, searching for any hint of what is going on in your mind, but you give him nothing. He may want to fix things, for you to forgive him for his cruelty, but he can wait. He has to wait. "Are we ready for this?" Sersi asks and, in her green suit, you can imagine it's millennia ago when you were all still a family. Before two of your own died and two more became traitors. Well, Sprite is really just a sheep, following Ikaris everywhere because of blind, unadulterated loyalty, but it still stings that she's gone. As for Kingo... He doesn't agree with preventing the Emergence, but he doesn't want humans to die. In a way, you're glad he's left. He can spend his time with Karun, his new family, before the possible end of the world. Oh, what you'd do to make sure Madame Noémie is alright, to just say goodbye - and maybe steal one of her pastries. "We have to be." Your eyes flicker over the room, the place Makkari made her home for the centuries, the place that had been your second home for the millennia before, second only to the developing towns and cities you stayed in with the mortals. It's cluttered with bits and bobs, little pieces of memorabilia you know gives Makkari a sense of comfort. "What if it doesn't work?" you ask, your voice quieter than you thought it'd be. "What if we can't stop Tiamut from emerging?" "Do you really doubt me that much?" Druig says sarcastically, and you meet his gaze, watching the cocky grin rise to his lips. Makkari briefly grips your wrist before signing, "It has to work. We haven't done all of this for nothing." In Madame Noémie's words, you could become a Polly Pessimiste, but for the sake of the others, you keep your mouth shut. Once, it was second nature for you to look on the bright side but it's becoming harder to do that, to be that person. Especially since the reason stands a few feet away, smugly smiling like this is some sort of game. What Druig did isn't something you can forgive. He left you without a second thought after spending centuries pining after each other, spending nights close for comfort. It's not something to forgive, but it's something you can understand. You could've gone with him; it wasn't just a choice that he made and, if you had his power, you would've done the exact same thing. Maybe it's time to let go of grudges. -- Ikaris is dangerous. He can fly - very quickly, might you say - and can shoot lasers out of his damned eyes. That, however, gives you an advantage. Well, you think so. Phastos's theory isn't much more than that, a theory, until you try it out. The lasers, though they use energy from within Ikaris, are narrow beams of light, with other properties that you've already forgotten, and light, thank the stars, is your power. Somehow, he believes that you will be able to manipulate the light within the lasers, bending it to your own will, just without the damage that Ikaris can cause. Your powers are limited to light and shadow, not the properties within eyeball lasers. You watch the sky carefully, waiting for the moment that Ikaris spears through the sky in search of you all. Thena has stayed on the Domo, waiting for his arrival, ready to battle with him to give the rest of you enough time to power the Uni-Mind and

stop the Emergence. "We need to start," Sersi says. "The sooner we do, the quicker this is all over. We can't wait any longer." Risking another second to watch for danger, you turn to stand with the others and, despite your better judgement, your eyes find Druig's. He's looking at you in a way that makes it seem like he's examining your face, memorising every feature and detail as if it's the last time you'll ever see each other. It very well could be. You don't hate the fact that you do the same, studying the curve of his smile and the little scars on his face. The anger in the pit of your stomach seems to dissipate a little, allowing room for an old feeling, a softer one, to emerge. Admiration, perhaps a small piece of the love you know you still hold for him somewhere deep inside. "Do this," you say softly, "and we can make amends. I won't forgive you, but we can come to an understanding." A smile reaches his mouth, but not a cocky one. No, this is more genuine, more pleasure than arrogance. It reaches his eyes, those damned sea blue eyes, and twists your heart so that it feels like the blood stops flowing. "Your wish is my command." Surprisingly, a small smile of your own tugs at your lips. The words felt good to say, to finally release some of the weight that's been piling and piling for centuries, millennia. The smile only urges Druig on more. When the Uni-Mind activates, your body feels aware of everything. Your feet lift from the ground as you and the others rise into the air, forming an almost semi-circle around Druig. He's a few feet away from you, but your minds brush as your power, Sersi's, Makkari's, Phastos's, and Thena's all give and give to the telepath. It almost feels like a caress, a touch of permission to take the power, and your mind instantly accepts. You feel the links between you and the others, see them in the back of your mind as gold threads, see them physically as the geometric golden shapes that appear with your powers. It's... exhilarating. Breath taking. And then you feel it. A tug in your mind, powered by that intuition Kingo is so envious of. Ikaris. It's hard to pull a part of your consciousness from the Uni-Mind, but you manage, turning your gaze in time to see the form of an Eternal shoot through the sky as the Domo slowly begins to fall like a giant beast. You can feel the build up of light before the lasers come shooting and, when they do, your body reacts in an instant, hands shooting out to bend the stream of light. The lasers veer to the left, but they land close, closer than they would've if the majority of your mind and power wasn't being used to aid Druig. Another blast comes but, this time, the Uni-Mind is too much, it's taking too much from you, and it hits Druig square in the back, sending him tumbling to the ground. The Uni-Mind stay intact for a moment, a moment too long for you to even try and react, because Ikaris soars down, grabbing Druig's neck with a bruising grip and stealing him away into the sky. You drop out of the Uni-Mind's bond, hitting the ground with a thud. Your eyes stay on Ikaris and Druig, now so far away it's almost hard to see them, but not far enough for what happens to not be visible. Druig is thrown down forcefully and, as he plummets hundreds of feet to the ground, Ikaris shoots beams of deadly light, striking the telepath and shoving him to the ground faster. Druig's body hits the ground so hard a massive cloud of dust and dirt shoots up, but Ikaris doesn't stop, pushing and pushing with his lasers for what seems like an eternity. Maybe you screamed and that's why your throat feels so raw. Maybe you've been crying. Maybe it's both, but you barely feel as Makkari pulls you up or when Sersi speaks. All you can focus on is the sight of Druig's body being buries into the ground by the things you could've controlled. The Uni-Mind was meant to make you stronger, but it only led to even more pain. -- Ikaris comes to gloat, to tell you all how he has won and how Tiamut will Emerge, as fate had planned, but he barely gets the chance

to touch the ground before you strike. He has always been a strong Eternal, but he relies on sight, being able to see in the light, but you've become accustomed to darkness. With a jab of your arm through the air, circled by golden circles and diamonds, shadows bubble and bloom, surrounding him in a cage that you pass through with ease. Your insides feel like a raging inferno. Though Druig had done you wrong, though you wanted to hate him for what he did, watching Ikaris kill him had ripped open a hole, once that begged to be filled with vengeance. Despite it all, you still love Druig, and Ikaris has torn your chances of making amends up like an old newspaper. "You're a coward, Ikaris," you say within the darkness. Ikaris could easily shoot out of the shadows, but they extend as he moves, surrounding him even further. It puts him off, and you almost smile. "I'm a coward for wanting to carry on the natural way of life?" he challenges. "We were made for this purpose, and you want to throw it away for humans that don't care for anything but war." You halt and, as if feeling your presence, he pauses his pacing. "I have lived among them, become one of them, unlike you. You've always distanced yourself from them and, for all your moaning about Druig claiming to be a god, you sure act like you think the same." Circling him, you feel the lingering presence of Makkari beyond the walls of shadow, the fading one of Sersi. "To be honest, I wonder what Sersi ever saw in you." "I could say the same about you with Druig." "You won't say his name," you growl, coming to stand almost nose to nose with him. "Not after you killed him." "You won't hurt me," he insists. "I know you." Falling back a step, you drop the shadows, shaking your head. "No. No, you don't." And it's Makkari's turn to strike. With her super speed, she blasts forward, grabbing Ikaris and disappearing, dragging him through every obstacle possible until they're out of sight. "Sersi's going to try," Phastos says. "It has to work." You take a deep, shaking breath. "We need to help Makkari hold Ikaris off. She can for a certain amount of time, but he'll get her somehow, and then he'll go for Sersi. I can't let him get Makkari, not like he did with..." It hurts to even try and say his name. "For Druig," Thena sneers, staring over at where you can see Makkari's blurred form speeding around distantly. Her golden weapons appear, glinting dangerously in the sunlight. You take it back. Maybe it isn't time to let go of grudges. Not ones against Ikaris, at least.

[drvnkd4zed]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ beyond the stars || Lee Heeseung

2

The boys welcomes me with a big hug once we're out of the airport. The air of Mokpo goes right inside my nostrils, reminding me of the ocean and the big variety of entertainment featured in the city. The moment I face Heeseung, a weird feeling crosses my eyes. He takes few steps towards me, smiling, knowing that I missed him. "I know what you've done with Jay" he whispers to my ear. The hot breath of his caresses my neck, giving me goosebumps. Niki sees us from the side, giggling and smirking. "The car I rented is round the corner, let's go" Sunghoon says as he grabs his luggage. I watch the others going first, staring at them walking. They've done all of this so I could rest and find a haven somewhere, a place where we could come and have fun from time to time.

We enter the big house we booked for the week, it looks like a luxurious one, full of marble forniture and lots of modern items around the rooms. Jungwon and Jay run to the biggest tv I've ever seen first, trying to turn it on as soon as they left the baggage at the entrance. "We're playing lots of games here!" Jungwon says. I roll my eyes back, taking off my jacket. I suddenly feel Heeseung's hand on my shoulder, which makes me turn to look towards him. "Let's find a bedroom for us" he whispers, taking my hand. He leads me around the house, asking me which room I like the best. Every room has a gold number on the door, just like in the hotels, it makes this house even more chic. The first one, is a big room for two which owns red walls, red blankets and lots of painting with frames made of gold. It looked like a room for a king and a queen.

the second one is even bigger, there's a big walk-in wardrobe, all colored in blue. blue walls, blue bed, blue tents. I feel like I'm at the bottom of the sea while being there. Us two move to the third one, which is yellow. yellow is happiness and brightness, so I kinda want to have this one, after lots of grey skies and souls. "I know you'd like to sleep here" he says as he tightens the hold of my hand. "This room is so big and... yellow" I say as we get out. The fourth room is kind of... cold and sad. No artworks on the walls, just a tiny ass window covered in dust with two white beds. I open the wardrobe to see what's inside, but there's only dust and insects. Someone enters the room making me startle a little. "We're playing a game to decide the rooms" Jake says as he gets our attention. "Aren't we choosing the rooms?" I ask very confused. "Not really" he answers.

"How does this work? make it quick" Jay says as he sits on the couch. "We're throwing the dice to decide which rooms we're going into, if you get 5&6 you'll go last and throw again" Jake explains, taking a dice out of his pocket. "This is so stupid, why can't we just choose the rooms?" Sunoo asks. "Which room do you want?", all of them answering "the red one" kinda makes me laugh. "see? I'm avoiding fights" Jake states. Jay takes the dice out of Jake's hands, rolling and throwing it right after. "I got a 2" he says. It means he got the blue room, the biggest one which is upstairs. Jay takes his bags and goes upstairs without saying a word, he probably doesn't like the idea of choosing the rooms like this. Sunoo grabs the dice from the floor, throwing it and getting a 1. "Sunoo in that... romantic room?" Sunghoon asks, very shocked. "You jealous?" Sunoo replies. Sunghoon angrily throws the dice, getting a 3. "Fuck, we all got different rorooms" says sunghoon.

"Niki, go ahead", right when my words left my mouth Niki gets a 1, realizing he's sleeping with Sunoo. " Oh God, I can't tell if I'm lucky or not" Niki states as he grabs his bags. "Goodbye" he whispers dramatically, following Sunoo to the left stairs. Only me, Jake, Jungwon and Heeseung are left. "Jungwon, you haven't said a word yet" Heeseung says. "I'm fine sleeping with anyone" he replies. Jake hands the dice to Jungwon, suggesting that he should throw it first. "4" Jungwon states. Jungwon said he was fine sleeping with anyone, I'm sad that he got the dusty room. Anyways, I am more concerned about who I am sleeping with. "Y/n, do you want to throw it now?" Jake asks. "I want to be last" I answer, determined in my tone. "I'll go!"Heeseung smiles and takes the dice, kissing it before throwing it to the floor. " Two 4 in a row!" Jake shouts. "I'm surprised we got no 5&6, it looks like we were destined to play this game" I reply. Heeseung takes his bags downstairs and after few seconds of only hearing his steps, a loud bang echoes in the main room. It's only me and Jake now, staring at each other. He moves a streak of my hair behind my ear, caressing my cheeks. "J-Jake..." I stutter. I see him biting his lower lip, then his eyes fall to my chest, just like his hands. He starts unbuttoning my top, revealing and revealing more. Before I could realize, my hands are on the buttons of his pants. "We have few minutes until the members finish unpacking their stuff". Even if I know I shouldn't let him have me, Jake makes my heart run fast. "Get on your knees" he orders. I'm about to kneel when I hear footsteps from the stairs at the right. "Jake and Y/n aren't done yet?" we hear someone shouting, most likely to be Jay who only wants to sleep.

"Let's do this quickly and forget what just happened" I say as I botton up my top. My mind's confused. Even if these days I only have to relax and think positive, living through the good vibes, the boys are making it hard to me. Niki appears from the corner, playing with his Nintendo. "Damn, I've unpacked everything already and you two haven't found a room yet. So sad" he says as he walks to the kitchen, not raising an eye. "I got 2" Jake says as the dice hit the floor. "I'm sleeping with Jay, so...". I pout as I grab my bags, carrying them to the room 3, the one that I wanted. When I enter the room, Sunghoon is laying on the bed while reading a book. " Oh, it's you" he says. "If you're disappointed that I'm here, you can go" I reply. Sunghoon looks back at the book and sighs. Right when I put the bags on the floor, my phone vibrates again. "Doesn't matter where we're sleeping tonight, I'm thinking of you".

taglist: @rikisnuggie

hope you liked this chapter!

[drippingmoon]

This or That Writer Edition

Done this before, but y'know, you're completely right @sleepy-night-child. I'm gonna take this as an opportunity to ramble some more because I really feel like it. Thanks so much, nightfriend❤ this really is therapeutic

And for that matter, anyone can join me. Open tag<3 the questions will be, uh, behind the cut.

1. historical or futuristic

I kinda love reading about history hahaha, and it was mostly fantasy in medieval settings that got me into writing, so this is a no-brainer. (Even my sci-fi shortie will have some dated technology🤣 for plot reasons, of course)

2. the opening or closing chapter

Mmm idk what it is about them, but endings always come to me naturally🥰 surprisingly with 'quiv it was both, but it was also meant to be a short story before it spun out of control🤷‍♀️ and though I kinda know where I wanna start Icy, fun fact! I have the endings for all three books down and detailed😇 I guess it's always the ending that draws me to writing a story🥺

3. light + fluffy or dark + gritty

how do you even separate them. Okay, when I first started writing I was all for the latter, but that changed quickly. 'Quiv has me loving it as much as I do especially because at its core it was a warmer, gentler story full of hope🥰

4. animal companion or found family

Before 'quiv, my casts used to be fully animal or >50% comprised of animal characters. Even now angel mannerisms are more bird-like in nature than human🤣 animals have always owned my entire heart❤ you've never known true love until you've had it curl in your lap🥺 Also, I'm all for the 'two people against the world' which doesn't really fit found families

5. horror or romance

Just saying, the Turning🤷‍♀️ and some of you might know I'm all about platonic love, soooo. Oh, and my sci-fi shortie will also be horror🤔 though I guess Icy breaks the mold and is a romantic comedy...

6. hard or soft magic system

Can't really have dances and song as time and emotion magic feature as a hard system. And I like to surprise myself when writing too🤣 so no systems. Would make me anxious and 100% like all my plans I would *not* follow them lol

7. standalone or series

...not gonna lie, I'm really drawn to series🤣 but that's also how I got burnt out, and since 'quiv is my love, I'll go with standalones. They're a much different writing experience🤔 feel a lot more compact. There's no "later", and that hit differently and in a good way😳

8. one project at a time or always juggling 2+

I did try juggling. I really did. I said, if I get in the mood to start something else, then that's what I'm gonna do. But apparently only one wip can devour my entire mind at a time, and though I can brainstorm for the others, after a few hours I just yearn to go back to 'quiv, you know? It's complete brainrot🥰🥰

9. one award winner or one bestseller

One finished book, I digress lmao

10. fantasy or sci-fi

^same as the historical/futuristic one. I guess fantasy doesn't have aliens🤔 and it's been growing on me lately with all y'all wips🥺🥰 but fantasy will always be my beloved

11. character or setting description

Character descriptions run the risk of turning into lists😬 I mean, settings also should. But for some reason they've also come more naturally to me, and I enjoy them loads more🥰 and lately I've started describing characters like settings, ie 'as beautiful as rain' 🤣🤣 but that's cheating. Also also. Let me just say. Star descriptions🥺 idk how angels in space came to me as an idea, but it was by far the best I've ever had. I have so much fun writing the setting💞

12. first or final draft

If final drafts are anything like, second, third, fourth drafts, then first drafts oh my god

13. Literary or commercial genre

I don't believe in these genres lol

14. love triangle in everything or no romance arcs

Never seen the appeal about love triangles, but then again I'm not a romance person. Just give me two people loving each other deeply and it'll turn into 'quiv I'll be satisfied🥰🥰 and no, for the record, it doesn't have to be carnal for it to be love or soulmates to me

15. constant sandstorm or rainstorm

How can you not love rain?? For plot-related reasons or not, once it gets to the rainy season I really feel like it's restored some life to me🥰🥰 and rainy settings are godsends for scenes. That, and I've never been fond of desert settings

[yostresswritinggirl]

Seers' Miscellany

Prologue: Origins of the first bloom

A circular fic for the Dainsleif mini-series I'll be working on. This will be the introduction; of the evanescent bough keeper of the new world. "Observers of the North do not usually wind up in personal business, but when they do, in their wake comes great shifting of the plates of the timelines." Logs of the stag and the delicate flower.

Pairings -> Dainsleif x Reader; Reader is NOT Traveler

Word Count -> 1579

Themes -> Pretty sad, but also fluffy

Chapters -> 1

Warnings -> Story progression takes a while, oh dear why am I doing this now, I'm so busy

"500 mora; and three answered questions."

He's not really sure what lead him to indulge the requests of a simple adventurer when he made his rounds around the city of freedom. Was it the simple need for currency? It couldn't be, he was better off with other commissions that Katheryne could offer.

Was it the desperation in your voice and eyes? You looked at him like a prophet, your only salvation, and perhaps in this context that may be true. You were but a lone adventurer and the way your weight leans heavier on one foot shows your struggle to those who have keen eyes like him, no other person wished to indulge your needs and you were getting desperate.

Or was it the three questions? Dainsleif have yet to hear such contractual obligations before, but it felt as tho it was the most important part of the agreement he took the moment you pleaded with that soft voice. Humble yet resolved, not letting him walk away without at least considering it once.

And so he found himself traversing the land of the wolves through a dangerous path, where you skip ahead with a gait of happiness, bubbly and energetic enough to surpass even his long legs. You hummed without consideration at the glee of finally having a companion, and he did not mind it at the slightest despite the attention it may bring upon your little party.

"First question," Dainsleif fleeted his gaze away from the horizon to turn to you whom slowed your pace to match his, head looking over your shoulder with a wide grin. "How are you?" So innocent.

He huffs in amusement, the most emotion you've seen of him. "You don't need to waste a contract question for such a simple question, you know," he stands behind you as you crouch down on a shrubbery filled with Wolfhooks. Your main objective for visiting Wolvendom in the first place.

You assured him that you meant your question in every way possible as your hands carefully pick at the herbs, wary of the thorns and the intrusive prickly leaves. Despite your attention turned away from him he knows you await his answer. Dainsleif hums to himself and stops—

How is he? What does he truly feel in this moment of his time?

A simple question yet risked for one of the three inquiries agreed upon definitely holds a deeper meaning. His train of spiraling thoughts halts upon the sound of otherwordly grunts and chants as he turns away from your still busy form (you seem very focused on your foraging) to find three Hilichurls approaching with ill intent.

Dainsleif squints at the impending threat before shooting a final glance to make sure you weren't looking. His arm glows blue as he raises it, power in the form of blue swirling mist surges around him - how are you? The feeling brings him back to vague memories of his past, of the energy rising through him at his expeditions with an old companion, of the thrill spent upon encountering the unexpected. Such thoughts are not vivid but the familiarity of what he is experiencing right now was enough for him.

Though he was sure that there were no camps before they went through this route.

"You asked me how I am," he spoke when you finally turned from the bush with an armful of Wolfhooks on your arsenal, confusion on your face at the sight of downed Hilichurls and the side profile of the bough keeper.

His cerulean eyes were fixated at his left hand that he repeatedly closes and opens for a few seconds, before he fully turns to you (your eyes did not miss the blue glow from underneath his cape, where his right arm should be) with a wisp of a smile, "I feel alive right now."

You reciprocated the gesture with a wide grin, "I'm glad to hear that!"

A majority of the wolfhooks gathered where given to the little Botanist Chloris, the seller of flowers, who looked relieved and ecstatic upon your arrival. Something Dainsleif took great notice of. Carefully handing over the berries and some which you had to pluck singularly from your companion's flowy cape, the little girl gave you her Valberries in exchange.

It was sweet and familiar, something Dainsleif took note as he accepted your offer of the fruit despite his none need for sustenance.

Your little chewing sounded through as you two settled on the humble camp you managed to setup with your supply for a single individual. There was a little hole in the middle for a campfire Dainsleif had made the effort to prepare knowing the coldness the night will bring soon enough, and your fragile form is not something he wishes to bargain now. Is that really the reason? Perhaps in the back of his mind, he was really just working on forgotten routines.

"Second question," his footstep at the edge of the camp halts as he turns once again, where you sat on the mat as tonight's bedding, hands flicking to remove the stray juices of the berries. He stood still in wait before he goes back to his mini mission of getting fire wood.

"Go on," he urged when you stood a minute longer in silence.

"Do you like traveling, Dain?" Easy enough, he simply said yes and left when you ended the conversation with a nod.

When he came back with the wood and tinder bundle for easy spreading, out of the corner of his eye he watched your hands work on the mortal and pestle as you grinded the remaining wolfhooks on your person. The fire started the moment he was done setting up the kindling and your face filled with admiration at the sudden and immediate spark, praising him for his quick work.

Dainsleif is both talkative and not, and at times he finds himself rambling to the wind. The moments of the night passed without much details until he found himself talking about his past adventures with his old companion, of the world they've seen together and the now estranged relationship between them.

His responses were sometimes cryptic unintentionally, and he apologizes when there are things about it that he couldn't answer simply because he could not remember. When silence struck after he finished his tales and meal, the beautiful spike in his eyes found yours gleaming despite the drowsiness pulling at your whole feature.

"I'm glad you're very fond of traveling. If not, I wouldn't have met you," and he wouldn't have taken the commission. Dainsleif's eyes flashed in recognition, finally understanding the meaning behind your second question. Somehow this little commission deal turned into a silent back and forth quip of him understanding past your simple inquiries.

Like a little game he muses on with his curious mind.

That night you rested with the extra comfort of his eccentric cape, something you needed more than him as he gazes over the clear night sky. His eyes silently traced the galaxy of stars while the sound of your whispered breathing accompanies his sleepless night.

The last question and that last of your very quick expedition came the next day at the cliffside overlooking the lair sealed by winds.

Your fingers were dusted by the violet paste of grinded wolfhooks long consumed the night prior, stained fingers gripping the thin and fragile stem of the yellow dandelion in its grasp. It was his great observation that let him realize the disaster that happened now but even his foresight could not prepare him for what has to come.

"Third question," his head snapped down to watch your ethereal face don a calm smile, the sun's setting light kissing your cheeks in the right angle that matched that of the clean clouds above. Your eyes silently questioned his unfocused gaze but he only shook his head.

Don't worry about it. "I know this last question would end the commission with you," your voice trembled in both fear and fatigue but Dainsleif didn't force you to preserve your strength like he should. "But I wanted to ask, maybe tomorrow again,

do you want to be my traveling companion?"

The hand that clutched the Dandelion found it way to the side of his mask, the petals brushing against his eyelids as he looks down at you with an eye. A ghost of a smile lingers on his lips as he leans on your hand.

"It would be my pleasure."

Life momentarily flashed over your orbs before you let out a sharp exhale and a breathless, joyous laughter. Relief overtook the tension that laid on your shoulders, and your hand would have dropped to the ground immediately if he had not gripped it on the last second.

"That sounds good. I've always wanted to travel the world," he pulls the cape closer around your form as your eyelids droop to a close. And he witness another breathe, "It was supposed to be today, but I feel really tired today, I'll rest early too if that's okay."

He rose from the ground with you in his arms, "I'll be here."

"Mmm thank you... good... night."

"Good night, little dandelion."

And perhaps that distant memory from faraway had urged him to invite and indulge, when he saw the same spark of intrigue and desperation, of the warmth of carefree days in front of him.

"But I will require advance payment,

500 Mora, and three answered questions."

Dainsleif SUPREMACY MWAHAHAHAHAH

@genshin-idiot : here's your Dainsleif content

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