#those who know why R&J know those who don't don't

[sparkles-oflight]

Romeo and Juliet

Is this angst? Eh, not really.

Bojan and Kris' age: 18/17 (during the band break, no "real" romantic interactions)

Synopsis: It's the last week os summer vacation, Bojan shows up at Kris' house during the night and they sneak out

"Breathe, keep breathing Don't lose your nerve Breathe, keep breathing I can't do this alone"

Disclaimer: Please think of these as characters and not the actual people. I don’t encourage anyone to send this to any of the actual JO members nor do I encourage people to force any type of relationship between anyone.

Ema is a fictional name

The night was hot. Extremely.

Kris twisted and turned in his bed, turning his pillow every 2 seconds in hopes it would be just a bit colder each time. He even tried to let his window open to let some wind through and pretend that the cold shades coming from the moon outside would provoke some sort of psychological effect that would lead him to believe it was cold. That works, right?

Regardless, he can't sleep. It's his last week of vacation and he just can't sleep.

And even though he tells himself it's only because of heat, he knows it's not true. There was something bugging his mind for the past couple of months. Well... various. For starters: Ema dumped him. It's not like he treated him very nicely, but he always did whatever she wanted and how she wanted. One time they had a disagreement and puff: all the "love" she had for him was gone.

Then there was the elephant in the room: Bojan and the band.

After July and the Špil league, Kris barely saw any of the boys. Before, most of them were busy trying to get into university and pass all the exams, the band stopped being a priority, but now, in the few rehearsals they had, Bojan was absent.

- Aaaah. - he sighed in frustration.

He wanted to sleep and forget all those problems, he really wanted to...

But nobody gets what they want as he hears something hitting his room's outside wall - stupid birds.

But then he hears again, and again and again. Shit, he had to check.

Kris swiftly got up and checked on his window only to be blinded by an orange light of a flashlight.

- Ah, what the fuck!?

- Hi. - a voice coming from below smiled.

- Why do you have a flashlight, Bojan? - he asked as Bojan finally stopped pointing with the light at him, allowing him to recover his vision.

- I came to see you.

- Do you know what time it is?

- Yeah, time to pack and get dressed before your father hears us.

- Before all hell breaks lose?

- Precisely.

Kris didn't bother dressing up fancy or anything, he only put a shirt and shorts on – technically they were “summer pajamas” but who the fuck uses pajamas during summer? - and took a pair of flip-flops with him. He was as quiet as he could to not wake up any of his family members nor Apple, the dog.

When he reached the outside, Bojan was there and took him to his car that was parked two streets away.

When they got inside, Kris got curious:

- Where are we going?

- Today, we escape.

Kris wasn't sure where the two of them were going, but he was thrilled, though anxious at the same time.

Bojan drove them to a children's park in the center. Why? Kris doesn't know, he just did.

They both sat on a bench and the singer offered him a cigarette and Kris took it. Bojan lit his own and then gave Kris the lighter to light the other's.

- How have you been doing? - Bojan broke the silence.

- Great.

- Ema?

- We broke up.

- I feel ya.

- I know that... You and-

- Yup, also didn't last.

They stayed quiet for a few more moments.

- Are you scared? - Kris asked - About uni. Are you scared or anxious?

- Like anyone would. - he let the smoke escape his lungs - But I'm more scared of losing myself, to be honest. Kris...I have to tell you something.

Kris made a guess.

- You are leaving the band, right?

But Bojan didn't reply.

- Is this because of the fight you had? Bojan, I know you can finish the song! I know you can do it! It's nothing compared with what we already had to endure. We finally have someone behind us an-

- It's not just that. - he laughed in frustration - It's just... What if the band really doesn't work out? I mean, we haven't had a proper band practice in a while! I don’t even show up to rehearsal anymore because everyone seems busy with university. I know you will only start worrying about it now but...okay scratch that, you are always worried but! Kris...

Bojan threw his cigarettes on the floor and stepped on it.

- I don't think we can make it as a band either... realistically, a solo singer is more successful.

- Is that really what boils down to you?

- No...more like: I don't know what else I want to do with my life. If not music, then what? I already devoted myself so much to it! And I even started writing some songs for myself.

Bojan hesitated before continuing.

- And I’ve met a producer that has promised me things... He says I have the voice for it. This might be my chance, Kris.

Kris also threw his cigarette on the floor and stepped on it, angrily.

- Bojan, it's just not fair. - he turned to Bojan and stared at him as if he wanted to grab him and demand he stayed in the band forever - If you keep drinking out of that "fountain of wisdom", I hope you choke. I hope your voice drowns.

Kris got up, pretty angrily and didn't direct Bojan a word. However, he only took a few steps away from him before going back to him immediately. He grabbed the fucking flashlight out of Bojan’s hand - seriously why did he have that? - and turned it on. He pointed with the light towards Bojan's heart.

- One chance. Give me one chance and I'll show you that the band is worth fighting for.

- What will you try to do?

- I'll... - the wheels in his head started turning - I'll sing us a song. A song to keep us warm.

- And try you will.

♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩

(I didn't quote the hunger games at the end, shut up)

Polaroid Photos Universe | Recommended next: Gola

[virginreprise]

J U N K Y ' P R I D E

joel miller x reader

" MY MEAN DADDY, MY BAD BABY, DON'T YOU WANT ME? " ✧ ⁺ ⁺ 　°

CHAPTER ONE

WARNINGS: age difference (although no age is mentioned), pervy joel, trailer park joel, joel is still a sad old man, joel being mean again, smut, references to harassment (not from joel), literal sex, breathplay, oral (f receiving), although joel may get some head in the future if he's lucky, you're more important than him, two uses of daddy, just because joel is disgusting and i wanna test the waters before i fully commit to my depraved fantasies of calling a grown man daddy, joel no aftercare miller because he's lowk a little asshole who's afraid of women, pussy pronouns because i feel like that's joel's brand atp

WORD COUNT: 14.6k

AO3 LINK

CHAPTER TWO—PRETTY BABY

Joel had cowered in his trailer for two weeks, acting like the recluse he was at heart, avoiding interactions with others, communicating with grunts and murmurs and looks that made sure anyone who dared speak to him in any way that could’ve been perceived as “cheery” would be off his back and turn the other way. 

He hadn’t been rattled by the conversation he’d had with you, nor had he been left feeling some ridiculous guilt just because he’d got in your face and made those pretty features contort in fear. No, he had purely been pissed off with you. You thought you’d hit the nail on the head with your analysis, that you knew anything about him at all. And when you’d asked him if he was okay…well, after that, most of his restraint had been lost. 

Storming off like a petulant child was better than hurting you so badly he’d never get a taste of your sweet cunt just once. After thinking about it, it was better that he’d walked away when he did, simply because it gave him the ability to get his head straight again, shake off some of the rage, and channel the rest into fucking you until you cried. 

Before, he would’ve never been so volatile with you, would’ve never even thought about fucking you at all. He’d fix what you wanted fixed, he’d smile at you and call you “Ma’am,” like a sociable, pleasant old man. Not the sad sack of shit he’d turned into it. So angry all the time for reasons he refused to unpack. If he acknowledged it, he’d have to acknowledge that she would’ve hated what he turned out to be. 

You were younger than what she would be if she were alive today. Would it have made her feel sick? Would it have made her run away from him, unable to recognise the man she’d called dad? 

In part, it was the reason why he’d banished you. Not in the moment. No, in the moment he’d wanted to choke you. But some subconscious part of him, some ghost of compassion had possessed him and he’d thought about her eyes, how scared she’d looked as he’d held her and how similar you had looked when he’d raised his voice, when he’d kept it quiet, all menace and intimidation, when he’d touched you, gripping onto your thigh—when he’d looked desperately into your eyes and hoped that you’d crack a smile. That you’d stop looking at him like he was the fucking devil. 

You really were something else, something so ridiculously dissimilar to himself, better than himself in every conceivable way, and yet simultaneously aggravating because you wouldn’t stay away from him. Every single time, you kept crawling back like you had no other choice. Like Rick across the way wasn’t a better plumber than Joel was and would’ve fixed your stupid tap permanently for free. 

He wasn’t blind or oblivious to your efforts. He’d called your bluff a long time ago, when you’d come skipping along and bat your eyelashes at him, acting like the most innocent little thing in the state of Texas, not knowing that Joel had seen you tripping over your feet at night with a cigarette in your hand, circling the park again and again and again, worrying at your bottom lip. Or when you’d kicked over your bike in frustration because the chain kept falling off or when you’d got in Linda’s face at the Fourth of July barbecue because she’d been whispering amongst the trailer park's entire female population that you were a whore. 

Joel had laughed to himself when the rumour had found him—had laughed even harder when you’d defended yourself, thrown your coke all over the fucking gossip and stormed off, only to knock on his door later that day to give him his mail that had made its way into your letterbox, a pretty little smile on your face and a sweetness to your voice that hadn’t found its way into your tone the day before. 

There was a fierceness to you, a deep-cut vision like a B-side from a beautifully crafted album, the scraps just as brilliant as the first choice. Under all those pretty smiles, was anger, a knack for getting what you wanted with a few shouts and a quick tongue. He’d seen it when you’d misread him, called him a pervert with puffed-out cheeks and left Joel with a suspicion that you would start stomping your feet and smoke would pour from your ears. However, unlike your confrontation with Linda, you’d cowered when he’d fought back. Part of him had hoped you’d keep going, that even when he’d scared you, you’d push through fear and slap him across the face. 

Maybe it’d bring back his sense. 

Maybe he’d slap you instead, make you give him some fire. Anything that he can use against you to reign you in. 

Joel had no interest in hurting you though. Simultaneously, he had no interest in keeping you safe from what he knew he truly was. If that led to hurt, it was unintentional. You weren’t a schoolboy crush, nor was the situation love at first sight, but you were interesting to Joel; he wanted to get to know you. There was something there, something repressed that you kept locked away, that only came out to pounce on you when you were alone in the middle of the night. 

The only issue was that if he had to get to know you, that meant you’d have to get to know him too. Joel’s history was something he wasn’t prepared to let go of, an incomplete manuscript that couldn’t be edited, that was full of flaws and bad decisions. He wouldn’t let you open it, wouldn’t let you peer at the front cover or skim the spine with your finger: it was guarded by tendrils of barbed wire, pushing through the clouds and up past the stratosphere. It would be difficult to damage it, damn near impossible to break the fortification entirely. 

So, naturally, Joel left you alone. He didn’t look at you in the mornings, didn’t peer through the windows at night and in turn, you left him alone too. Though nowadays there was a sag in your shoulders, a frown constantly tugging at your lips and he felt a certain sense of pride that he was the reason for it. He didn’t need to ask you, he knew. Could tell by the way you avoided eye contact when he’d driven back from the store (he’d been low on Camel’s) and saw you sat on your steps, puffing away and gnawing on your bottom lip. 

It was petty, the way you’d turned away immediately upon hearing the sound of his engine, stubbed out the cigarette and stormed back inside. 

Joel didn’t mind all too much. You were bratty and he liked it—enjoyed when you spoke back like he wouldn’t be able to knock you out with one weak punch. 

It had been a surprise when you’d turned up on his doorstep on a Friday night, all dressed up, makeup you’d clearly worked hard on, ruined by your streaming tears. 

“I’m sorry,” you’d blubbered, shaking like a leaf on his porch and he wasn’t sure if it was the chill of the night air or fear. “I know you don’t want me here.” 

Then why show up? It’s what he wanted to say but he bit his tongue to save you from collapsing from dehydration. All those tears you were coughing up like there was a free supply of them behind those pretty eyes—eyes now red raw and bloodshot. 

“What’s the issue?” he asked, less soft than you perhaps would’ve liked. He couldn’t give too much attention to it, though: the concern he felt buried underneath layers upon layers of tough exterior; even your flood of tears couldn’t wash away the rubble to find it. 

“I-I was out, I wasn’t doing anything wrong, t-this- this guy he…” 

Right there, Joel’s blood burned bright fucking red. He’d felt it with Dale when he’d seen the old man drooling after you like a rabid dog, eating away at your ankles—just begging for a taste. He’d scared the man shitless when he’d grabbed him by the collar once he was out of your eyeline, yanked him along to the outskirts of the park and spat in his face. The only reason he didn’t beat him bloody was because it would’ve been unnecessary and Joel had been sober that night so had been thinking at least a little rationally. 

But this guy…whoever the fuck he was, hadn’t just made you uncomfortable, but had made you come to Joel Miller for comfort. Had forced your hand, had caused you to swim into the shark's mouth. Perhaps, worst of all, he’d made you cry—big, hot, glistening tears that travelled sporadically in all directions across the expanse of your face, dripping from your jaw and settling in your clavicle. 

“What’d he do?” Joel was intimidatingly calm, voice even and eyes sharp. 

You sniffled, lip quivering and your mouth opened to speak, then closed as if the words had gotten stuck—that the force of your pain overpowered your ability to be coherent. 

“Baby…” Joel murmured, unable to stifle the smile that twitched and fell when you snapped your eyes to his—hopeful with the promise of the nickname. “Tell me.” 

Taking a deep breath, you swallowed away the thickness in your throat, tried to stop the shaking by playing with your fingers, lips downturned and looking like such a scared little lamb. Despite being a wolf, Joel managed to set aside his natural tendencies, tucking them away safely for whoever the fucker you were crying over was, and instinctually, wanting to keep you safe. 

“I was all by myself, I shouldn’t have gone by myself,” you looked away from him like Joel would judge you—like he would think it was your fault. He wanted to say something but waited patiently for you to continue, wondering when would be the best time to invite you in. If he even should invite you in given the implications of the statement and what he had done the last time you’d stepped through the boundary separating the inside of his trailer from the outside. “He wouldn’t stop touching me, I tried to get him off but he wouldn’t leave me alone and I- I got out of there when he wasn’t watching but he fucking followed me home-” 

“Where is he?” It was instant, the way Joel snapped into action, fists clenching—prepared to fall right onto his face and break his fucking nose. 

“I- I don’t know,” you muttered. “I just came to you.” 

Unsure of how to react to the information, he scanned the area behind you, taking a singular look at your trailer and deciding that he could not, in good conscience leave you alone. Having a good conscience in the first place had been a foreign thing to Joel for such a long time that the feeling of wanting to do something right, the knowledge that he was not inviting you in because he wanted to touch you but because he wanted to protect you, was a troubling thing to realise. He couldn’t afford to go soft, to let people in, to hold them close until he inevitably told them everything and they realised how much of a bad person he was. But with you…it hardly mattered. 

“Okay, babygirl.” His hands twitched towards your face, both palms landing on either cheek—so natural that it should’ve scared him. “Come on, let’s get you warm.” 

Stray tears fell at his affection and he couldn’t bear to look at you crying anymore so guided you inside, letting you occupy his space, and took one last look outside before closing the door behind him—locking you both away.

It was when he’d called you babygirl, that you knew you’d fallen deep. The entire purpose of going out that night had been to forget about him, find someone else who maybe had that same smouldering look in his eyes, that same mystery that rendered every single movement an enigma. It’d been useless of course and you’d been harshly reminded of why you never went out in the first place, certainly not by yourself and certainly not to hook up with a stranger. The ache was just so very large, all-encompassing and you struggled immensely with the silent treatment he’d inflicted upon you. 

You’d be lying if you said it was much different from before. Lack of conversation between Joel and yourself was in fact extremely common but the context in which the communication had haltered, the undeniable tension that permeated every accidental look and every longing stare at that white door in the middle of the night, was a pain you would never admit to him. 

You didn’t want him to think you were weak, that you needed him in any capacity, so you’d got out. You’d ran away from him and in a cruel twist of fate, you’d crawled right back—crying on the doorstep and looking more pathetic than you think he’d ever seen you. 

However, he’d held your face in his hands, gazed at you with something akin to pity and you wouldn’t have left him even if he’d asked you to.

You’d shuffled into his home, rubbing at your bare arms and staring at Joel’s back as he reached into the cupboards for a glass. You wanted to bury your face into him, wrap your arms around his waist and drag him close. The cold sting on your cheeks from where he’d touched you, the echo of his words in your ears wasn’t enough. You wanted him near, wanted to bury your head between his chest and beg him to tell you that you were safe. 

“Drink.” His words snapped you back, eyes stinging as they flitted to his face and then to the glass he was holding. 

“Thanks,” you muttered softly as you reached for the water, fingers brushing against his a sensation you attempted to ignore. After a moment standing, eyes fixated on his shoes and mulling over the situation, you apologised again. The “Sorry” falling from your mouth, the feeling of stupidity as the tears finally began to subside, and Joel’s gentle touch as he took your chin between his thumb and forefinger: delicate and affectionate. From the outside looking in, it would seem like a man simply comforting his girl with firm words and soft fingers. 

“Don’t apologise. It ain’t your fault.” His gaze was set, those gorgeous eyes still hard and stony, fixated on you—hoping to bury the words beneath your skull. 

“I just don’t wanna bother you-” 

“I ain’t got nothin’ better to do.” There was a hint of a smile at his lips but it didn’t reach his eyes, corners of his mouth twitching, looking like the action itself was painful—like the words he uttered echoed in his ears and bashed at his eardrum. Maybe he should have something better to do than sit around and look after you.

You furrowed your brow at his expression, looking just as pained as he did and sipped your water—throat finally feeling some reprieve from the scratches that littered the flesh. His hand fell from your chin, resting at his side and you couldn’t shake the burning in your stomach as he refused to cease the eye contact so you did it for him, eyes firmly on the linoleum and teeth sinking into your bottom lip. 

He probably didn’t want you here—surely he didn’t. He’d spent the past two weeks ignoring you, refusing to acknowledge the conversation you’d had the other night, when you’d felt everything brew up inside you and finally boil over. When you’d thrust a finger in his face and pointed out every flaw and every observation. Everything that Joel Miller was. 

That solemn, brooding solace you found being close to a personality that reminded you of days long past. The intimidation that he used like a shield, strengthening his defences after people tried to get inside his walls; he’d shot them down with arrows, leaving the bullets in his palm for himself. You though…he’d let you in. He’d shot at your shoulder then let you past the gates to dress the wound. 

“Might wanna wash your face,” he said grimly, brushing past you to go sit on his leather throne. 

You gazed at your reflection in the window above the sink, light from the ceiling flooding you in a spotlight and illuminating the streaming makeup, the blotchy face and the red eyes. Suddenly conscious, you snapped your head back to him, his back turned to you, working at the TV with a steady hand. 

Sensing your eyes, the stare that burned through him—full of pity and understanding—he muttered, “Bathrooms first door on the right.” Trying to get rid of you. 

Wanting to ensure he was comfortable in his own home, you placed your glass on the counter, turned on your heel and began down the hallway—stopping at the first and only door on the right-hand side and slipped inside. You wanted to shower but knew it was a step too far, that that would be taking his hospitality for granted, so you settled for the sink. 

Makeup was crusting along your skin, forcing its way into your pores and mingling with the sweat and dirt from the long walk you took from the centre of town. Hastily, you turned on the tap, cupping your hands under the stream and splashing it over your face. You sat with it for a moment, with the cool droplets running down your face and soothing the stinging of your eyes before scrubbing—wanting it all off. It felt wrong along your skin, the crusted tears near your eyes painful as you washed them away. It was effort, with just the water, but when you rose from the sink basin with a fresh face, you felt better. 

You were safe with Joel, that much you were sure.

You took a deep breath before retreating from the solidarity of the bathroom, door handle cool under your palm as you inhaled, held, and exhaled. With the dispelling of that cool air, you pushed, stepping out into the hallway and hearing the faint sound of late-night television coming from down the way. 

Joel was still sat where you’d left him, putting his cigarette out and discarding it inside an empty beer bottle, eyes fixated on the TV and although it looked like he hadn’t heard you, you knew he had. That subtle tensing of his shoulders, shuffling in his seat as he cracked his neck distractedly. You stood there, looking at the back of his head for far too long, lingering in the shadowed hallway and hoping he’d turn around and look at you—grant you that deep gaze that held so much. So many words said with just one glance. 

But he didn’t. He stayed exactly where he was, nestled in his corner of the world. 

You went to him on shaky legs, entering his living space with short breaths, playing with your fingers as you stopped just in front of where he sat. 

“Thanks for-” you began, stopping yourself when you heard the crack in your voice—how hard it was to speak with the heaviness of your eyes and the hoarseness of your throat. Managing to swallow away some of it, some of that pent-up misery you felt clawing its way up the passages of your insides, you uttered quietly,” Just…thank you.” 

“Yeah,” he said back, voice just as pensive as yours; you didn’t know if he wasn’t looking at you purposefully or if he truly was just as nervous about the interaction as you were. The notion that Joel Miller would be nervous at all was laughable but you knew there was something there—something greater than he let everyone think. Curiosity was a big driver in your interactions with the man, a desire to see what he felt, hear every thought that burrowed itself in his head, but right there, your insecurity prevailed and you decided it’d be best if you left him alone. 

“I think I’m gonna go home now,” you said reluctantly, knowing that all you truly wanted to do was crawl into his lap and bury your face in the crook of his neck. “I’m tired.” 

“Okay,” he nodded and as he turned to look at you there was a glint in his eyes—almost begging—that said ‘Don’t go.’ You didn’t want to, you wanted to stay wrapped up in him forever, limbs entangled in feverish desire. But you couldn’t stay. You could barely move in his presence and it wasn’t worth it to be engaged in something that would cripple you forever. 

So you repeated his word, purse hanging loose from your fingertips as you turned your back on him and headed for the front door. 

He halted you before you could get there. 

“If you see him again, even if you hear a noise out there, you come back to me.” There was a care in his voice, a forceful attentiveness that left you reeling. He was letting you go but inviting you back too. He was professing something, expressing words unspoken, with actions and you couldn’t help the way your heart swelled in your chest, your throat constricting as a sob attempted to choke its way into your mouth.

You just nodded, sure that if you spoke you’d end up crying again. 

With no more words left, you opened the front door, stomach twisting as you looked around to check that you were alone, and scurried down his porch steps, not knowing that once Joel had heard your door close, he’d stepped out into the night and placed himself on his shitty white chair—watching the surrounding area until dawn came, ready to deter the danger if it came for you. 

Sunlight shot through the half-open window, the heat stiflingly stagnant, sweat trickling down the back of your neck as you lay, immobile on your bedroom floor—hoping that the dewy grass underneath the trailer would somehow rise up through the ground and relieve you of the suffering that was prevalent whether you were indoors or out. Your shitty fan was rattling in the corner, doing little to alleviate the pain, and in the midst of a Wednesday afternoon, work already completed, you had no other choice than to think about the man next door and his actions. 

There was a gentle acknowledgement, a careful unspoken communication that something, whatever it was, had switched in you and Joel. After that night, that pathetic night when you’d cried on his doorstep, he had not thrust you away as you had expected him to. He had barely even been rude to you, that awful scowl that was perpetual in every sense, stripped from his face. The careful commands, the casual way in which he took care of you. 

The only thing you wished, was that he’d let you stay the night—that even if you had been the one to suggest the departure, he would ignore your wishes and make the decision for you, grab you by the hips and pull you down on top of him. Kiss you on the lips with all the ardour he had stored somewhere deep in the pits of his being. Damn your age, damn the consequences, damn anything that would occur in retaliation. You wanted him. If not for selfish reasons, for an interesting sympathy that you held for him every time he looked in your eyes, every time someone speculated on why he had turned out the way he had. 

The whispering, the wondering, the stories that seemed so elaborate and profound that you couldn’t bring yourself to believe them. The contractor who’d told you of a man named Joel Miller. His fate. What befell him that September when he’d lost everything meaningful to him. 

You didn’t know, however. You didn’t know what was the truth and what was all facade, if Joel had shot down the rumours himself by telling a fabrication of reality to all of those who dared make false assumptions. 

So, you settled with the equivocations, the image of him in your mind expanding until all that remained was a pity that ran through each of your bones, vibrating your insides; the pleasure of his touch was the only sedation. 

Laying there, on the carpeted floors that you wished were wood, you thought of him. You thought of him deeply, throwing your mind back to that first interaction with him when he’d stood in the light of the rising sun, eyes running all over you. Observation. It was something he was good at, being able to discern the very fabrics of the human soul by glancing over at your movements, your mannerisms, taking note of the way you spoke to certain people. You were sure he knew you were smitten from the moment you opened your mouth. 

In truth, you had been completely enamoured by him. Despite those initial reactions to his leering gaze, that sleazy look in his eyes that rendered you disgusted by his very presence, you had mulled over it on those particularly boring shifts, those mundane Sundays when you gazed at the empty white chair on his porch and thought about how handsome he looked sat there: legs spread wide, thumb and finger playing at his furrowed brow, cigarette burning between those pretty fingers and the portable radio next to him expelling a country tune or the occasional Texas Rangers game. 

You fantasised about sitting there with him, fingers curled around his as you lounged in the chair adjacent—always looking like it was waiting for someone to sit in it. For you to sit in it. 

But you weren’t brave enough. You weren’t brave anyway. 

You weren’t brave enough to speak up when you felt like you were caving in on yourself, boulders falling from the tip of your head and landing at your feet—breaking each toe until you couldn’t move, suspended by the sensation of skin melting from your face, your brain losing all rational thought. You weren’t brave enough to do something bigger with your life, to approach every memory that haunted you like an evil phantom, intent on breaking you down into nothing until you sat as dilapidated as the abandoned moonshine still that rested its weary legs just opposite the bypass. 

You weren’t brave enough to tell Joel that you wished to have him completely. That you wished to help him build himself back up; if what was said about him was true, you were willing to ignore all of your demons, to repress them like you had many times over, and place all your energy into making him smile. 

Instead of actively hoping to remedy the situation on your lonesome, to be active with your desires and do everything possible to make them come true, you instead wait for someone else to fulfil them for you. If Joel wasn’t willing to tell you, to confess every depraved fantasy, you’d continue to lay on your bedroom floor and hope for things to be different.

In the sweat of that Wednesday afternoon, in the midst of summer despair, you thought of him. In your bedroom you had not decorated, staring at the ceiling fan that did not work, you thought of him. Through the fog of everything that made up your regrets and your achievements, he remained the central thing that kept you alive. 

A knock on the door brought you back, three raps that came down hard and assured. With a thick head, you peeled yourself off the floor, brushing down flyaway hair that had ran away from your scalp and cracked your back as you stood. 

Just that simple movement had sweat pooling at your lower back, the sun at its highest peak, menacingly bright and dangerously hot. Sniggering as it watched you stumble down the hallway, lethargic with the soupy air and trying your hardest to put a smile on your face as you pulled at the doorknob—a wall of heat separating you from the outside. 

That half-hearted grimace that had replaced your frowning, quickly transformed into an expression littered with confusion as you stared at the man before you. Had you begun thinking about him so much that you’d started to hallucinate him? Had you thought about him so loud that he’d taken the time to knock on your door and tell you to shut up? 

You said nothing as you stared at him, the delirium of the day causing your brain to momentarily stop working—greetings and manners that you’d been taught since you could walk something you gave no attention to. Only able to focus on his broadness hogging the space, the way he stared down at you with a clenched jaw, the perpetual tense of his shoulders and the hardness of his eyes. Just seeing him was enough to send you falling headfirst into a sensation you had no desire to express to him. 

“You okay?” he asked, softer than expected and your heart sank as you looked down at his hands to see the two envelopes nestled between his fingers. He’d come to give you your mail. 

“Yeah,” you mumbled out, lingering too long on the paper before flicking your eyes back to his and gathering yourself, scolding the fact that you couldn’t focus around him. You nodded briefly to what had caused that pit in your stomach to open up again. “That my mail?” 

He nodded in response, handing it out to you with the manner of someone who wished to be away from the situation they were involved in. 

“They keep getting us mixed up,” you said, forcing a smile and trying to make it all as comfortable as possible. “I still think they do it on purpose.” It was a poor attempt at a joke, coercing a conversation so that maybe he’d stay a little longer than intended. You yearned for a little courage, hoping that your mouth would expel the words you wished to speak: invite him in, ask him if he wanted a drink or a cigarette or both, tell him how much you’d been thinking about him. 

“I’ll have a word if I see them.” 

Why was it awkward? It was unusual, the way he wasn’t leering at you, how he wasn’t purposefully overpowering you. It seemed that he was more intimidated by you in that moment than he ever had before in his life. What a strange feeling it was: to have Joel Miller cowering. It gave you some much-needed bravery as you placed the mail on the side table next to your door, near the bowl that held your keys and discarded receipts you hadn’t bothered to throw away. 

When the words came tumbling out of your mouth, you struggled to believe they were real. 

“You wanna come in?” The shaking in your hands as he raised his eyebrows, the doubts hurtling at your chest with all the force of a high-speed collision. “I haven’t got anything else to do all afternoon.” You decided adding a little context would be better—maybe sway him a little more. 

You couldn’t tell if the slight smile toying at those pretty lips was genuine or a courtesy, nor did you know if when he’d accepted your invitation he was doing it just to be polite or because he actually wanted to. 

In your delusions, you told yourself that it was all because he did want you around, that he’d just been playing hard to get all this time because, like you, the thought of letting anyone in was so incredibly daunting. No matter how much you wanted Joel, just the thought of kissing him made you nauseous—the anxiety of what may occur after, the consequences to everything, what he would think when he realised that you weren’t all sweet. That you were awkward and mean at the best of times; the way you’d presented yourself to him was not your true character. 

You feared that after everything, he would decide he didn’t like you. That you weren’t worth his time. From the things you’d heard about him, you weren’t even sure he’d let you stick around long enough to figure out what you were truly like. 

As he walked into your home though, nothing in his hands to suggest that he was only here to do some light maintenance and be on his way, you couldn’t think about that. You were no longer on your bedroom floor, begging God for things to be different. Things were becoming different, and when you offered him a drink, assuring him that he could smoke inside despite never doing it yourself without hanging halfway out your window, you found yourself becoming comfortable. Too comfortable honestly. 

He settled himself on your couch, hips rising as he reached into his pocket to pull out a crumpled pack of cigarettes and a scratched-to-shit silver zippo and shook his head at your offer of coffee. You nestled yourself a respectable distance from him—tucking your legs underneath you and watched as he brought the light to the dangling stick and lit it. A cloud of smoke muffled his face, the scent of tobacco tickling your nose and bringing comfort sliding down your spine. 

It was silent, in the most blissful way, the heat blushing his cheeks, the loving caress of the setting sun as it promised to fall beneath the horizon as soon as it could—that its day of evil heat was slowly falling away. The light breeze that trickled through your open window, taking the smoke away with it, guiding it up towards the sun and stars. Cicadas chirping, birds coming to and from their nests, searching for some good food to bring home to their babies, and snakes burrowed in the shade to escape the searing heat. All of nature's beauty peeking its head past the haze of despondency just to enlighten you and Joel—to help you feel greater than you had just five minutes ago. 

It helped clear your thick head, helped escape the thin veil of your body's disparagement to get to a point where you could focus on Joel and only Joel. Watch him take a drag and exhale, chest rising and falling. 

When his head rolled backwards, resting on the edge of your couch and revealing each tendon in his neck, you finally decided to open your mouth. 

“Thank you for the other night.” The words fell quietly, whispered to him as if not to disrupt his moment of relaxation. “It was late and you…” 

How he looked at you…you couldn’t quite describe. Those eyes wide and glinting, the unadulterated sympathy that lingered in those pits—something else dancing with it that you were unsure of. Hoping to God that he would tell you outwardly instead of hoping you’d understand that one meaningful look. 

“Couldn’t leave you cryin’ on my doorstep,” he uttered, holding that stare, refusing to look away. 

“I’m sure lots of people would’ve,” you rebutted. 

“No one can say no to that face,” he finalised. 

Your heart fluttered in the confines of your chest, eyes wide as he looked at you—those perpetually tired eyes, those tense shoulders and clenched jaw, desperate to stroke your fingers over each eyelid and lull him to sleep. See if he would drift away with a smile and wake up with the same expression permanently etched into his face. Hoping he’d look at you like that for the rest of your life. 

“I wanna thank you properly, Joel.” There was a brief pause, a flicker as he scanned his way across your face, and then the heat of his stare was gone and you were left dowsed in ice water—waiting for his words. 

The hasty way he brought the cigarette to his lips, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees and gazing at the grey as he exhaled, huffing with the force of a dragon trying to dispel the danger. The harsh way in which he shook his head, the utter rejection that brewed up inside you once you’d realised that you’d gone too far. The bravery you’d been gifted for speaking up had betrayed you; you’d crossed the line. 

“You really wanna go there?” 

You paused, eyes flickering softly over his form. He’d caught your double meaning with the grace of a fly falling directly into a death trap, flown right through your words, and came out the other end with a defiance you had expected but had not wanted. The man who looked at you like he wanted to lock you away, display you on a shelf so he could poke at you for eternity, had rejected you. It was more insecurity-inducing than you had thought. 

Feigning ignorance to heal the aching in your heart, you continued the game through a hoarse throat—wishing for the man who’d drooled over you that very first time you’d set eyes on him. 

“Go where?” 

“Don’t play stupid, we both know you ain’t.” 

He glared at you, the brightness of his eyes disappearing—a strange uncomfortable glint dancing in the shadows of them; you couldn’t stop looking at him and thinking that he looked goddamn exhausted. All the time. You were unsure if he ever slept, if he ever allowed himself to have a moment of peace, a short second to himself where he screamed into a pillow and rolled over to the other side of the bed—ready to drift off. You’d hold him until the frown on his face disappeared if he’d let you. 

From the way he stared at you, however, you were sure he didn’t want you there at all. 

“I just wanna thank you,” you said softly, gazing at him earnestly. “Seriously, Joel, you do a lot for me-” 

“I fix your tap and give you your mail, you don’t owe me shit.” It was almost self-deprecating, the way he refused you—as if he didn’t think he was worthy of you. 

“Will you just let me do this one thing?” 

“Now, let's get this straight,” he interrupted, accent growing as thick as his aggravation. “We ain’t friends.”

“I never said we-”

“I need you to listen to me.” The fatherly tone startled you, a far cry from those leering looks and sleazy stares—silencing you with the harshness of his tone. “You’re a goddamn kid. Whatever you think…whatever I’ve-” he cut himself off with a shake of his head, bringing the cigarette clasped between his fingers to his lips, inhaling sharply; all the smoke went into his lungs and none came out as he spoke again. “It ain’t right.” 

Silence encapsulated the space, your heart sinking as those words entered your ear and left through the other side, the rejection everything you had not expected. What had you expected really? For him to profess his undying love and hold you forever? For him to put you on his lap and tell you that he was proud of you? That he would be there for you forever and always? 

You’d hoped a little bit too much and consequently, been disappointed by your own expectations. 

“Who says?” you tried to level your voice, to rid of the fear and anxiety that had clouded your entire being since you’d learnt about your mortality—when you’d sat on a rocking chair at the ripe age of thirteen and rocked it so far you’d fallen flat on your face and hadn’t gotten up years later. 

“I say.” It came with so much conviction, that signature stare still plastered onto his face, set scowl all intimidation and no love—nothing behind those eyes except persistent irritation and self-hatred. 

Suddenly, you found some gall, blood bubbling as you mirrored his frown. “So it was okay when you looked through my bedroom window whilst I was changing? It was okay when you said I’d get cockdrunk real easy and laugh about me being dumb with your buddies? I thought I wasn’t stupid, Joel.” 

“You ain’t-”

“Then you should know that I know exactly what I want and what I want is to thank you!” A deep breath, gulping away the saliva that had accumulated in your mouth and observing every twitch of his jaw—the shake in his hands. “In a way that I know you want because I’m not stupid. You might think that you’re subtle but I promise you, you aren’t.” 

“What do you want from me, huh?” he asked abruptly, venom in his glare, all of it directed at you and poisoning your blood indelicately. 

It was a good question—one that stumped you if you were being completely honest. What did you want from him? A good fuck, someone to hold, someone to tell you that you were worth it? Or maybe, you just wanted him to make you feel desired. To make you feel like you were wanted by something, even if that something would hide you away, isolate you from your friends, and keep you trapped in a palace of deceit and fresh blood—cutting away at your flesh to keep the supply of crimson flowing. 

Joel urged you on with the power of his stare, waiting for an answer with false patience. 

“I just…” struggling to form a proper sentence, stringing together words in your mind that didn’t make sense. “I just need to know how you feel.” 

The answer didn’t seem like enough, his eyes trained on you for a few seconds more before he broke the contact, leaving you shivering as a breeze suddenly pushed through the open window—drapes dancing with the force of it. 

His attention was captured by the cigarette in hand, the thing almost smoked down to the filter, grey billowing from its end as he sniffed, shook his head, and stood. 

“You got an ashtray round here?” 

It startled you: the way he changed the subject so quickly, so determined to make you forget. To make himself forget. Standing there, hogging the space with his bulk, you could sense the turmoil—his hesitation to do what he wished to do and his distaste with himself for doing what he didn’t want to do: walk away. 

You were granting him an opportunity, a chance to put all that time spent watching porn into practice—to take whatever he wanted from you without guilt. 

However, it was better to acquiesce to his cowardice. Arguing would only push him to the point of no return. Truthfully, you were afraid of Joel and his temper. Sometimes, it felt dangerous to rile him or to talk to him out of turn. What he was capable of, you weren’t sure, but from the story that Spencer Dressure had told you about that one time his brother had taken off with Joel’s pills, the manhunt that followed it and the fact he had not pressed charges despite having to be hospitalised, left little room for you to think it was a good idea to be on Joel’s bad side. 

Calling him a pervert until he fucked you seemed to be a surefire way to get you on his list of foes. 

“It’s in my room,” you stood carefully, brushing past him to get to the small kitchenette, trying to subdue the result of smelling the remnants of cologne and tobacco that lingered on his skin. “Just put it out in this.” 

You handed him a dirty mug from the pile of dishes you had yet to tackle, cheeks heating as you became all too aware of your untidy home, before stepping a respectable distance away and waiting for his next move. 

What followed, you had not expected. The undeniable whiplash, the pain that ravaged your stomach as it flipped continuously, looping round and round like the coaster at Coney Island you used to fantasise about as a kid. 

“C’mere,” he murmured, a softness to the edge that melted you, pathetically accepting his advance as you stepped forward once, twice, thrice, only three steps and you were closer to him than you had been when you’d been situated on the couch moments before. 

The simple movement of him holding up the burning cigarette that was begging for death, the shortest ring of white decorating the cylinder, had you shuddering in anticipation. The brush of your fingers as you reached up to take it and the warmth in your belly as he shook his head and thrust the thing closer to your mouth. You caught his intentions too late for you not to feel embarrassed, gazing at him with a determination you knew was false, something he was bound to pick up on too if the shaking in your legs was as bad as it felt. 

Leaning forward, you parted your lips, clamping down on the cigarette with bravery you were surprised you could muster, and inhaled softly—taking every last thing it could give you and savouring the taste of his fingers on your lips as they brushed ever so slightly against his skin. 

“Listen,” he murmured as he watched you, eyes trained on your pursed lips as you pulled away and expelled the smoke from your throat, chin tilting slightly to direct the trail away from his face. “You’re a pretty girl.” 

You stayed rooted to the spot as you listened intently, eyes carefully observing his movements, the flex of his forearms as he dropped the dead cigarette into the mug and the sound of it sizzling as it reached the remnants of your morning coffee that nestled at the bottom. The way he looked at you and made you feel like he was your single priority—like nothing mattered in that moment except you and making sure you were holding onto his every word. 

“And I don’t hate you,” he continued, tilting his head to gaze at your face. “But you gotta understand, that you ain’t gonna be a long-term thing.” 

You could’ve laughed in his face if you weren’t so intimidated by the proximity to him, the warmth that emanated from his body and the goddamn smell of him that had your body reacting in ways you hadn’t ever expected it to. That telltale ache and warmth that pooled in your shorts, the way your skin burned—hair rising from your arms and breath catching in your throat as you were overcome with the need to start hyperventilating. 

“I don’t care either way,” you managed to huff out, shuffling slightly closer, teasing those boundaries you hadn’t known were there in the first place. 

He looked far from convinced, eyes narrowing slightly, chest heaving with a single, deep breath, and hands balled into fists at his sides as he tried as hard as he could to get inside your head. 

“I don’t know if I believe you.” 

Joel stayed leaning against your counter, casual in his stance but all-encompassing dominance in his demeanour. His menace plagued the trailer park, red “X’s” on every door that the man had targeted—a reminder to passers-by of his impact; what could happen if he was crossed: damnation, ostracisation, and wet pants from where they’d all pissed themselves under the strength of his harassment. A figure that the Preacher warned of as the making of the devil, the bottom of America’s proverbial melting pot. A figure that you now stood toe-to-toe with—staring evil right in the fucking face. 

If Hell burnt, he was surely a child of the underworld, scorching the earth beneath and ravaging the heat blazing in your pants. 

“What is there to believe?” you asked breathlessly. “If you wanna leave after, you can leave.” You failed to mention how desperate you were to lay skin-to-skin with him, to feel the heat of him everywhere as he wrapped himself around you: glossolalia in your ears as he lulled you to sleep.

“Babygirl, I ain’t afraid about wanting to leave.” 

It took a second, a moment of analysing his words before the sincerity of them reached your chest and broke all your ribs. Your lips parted, chest unashamedly heaving as the impact left you winded, and a shake in your legs that you tried to ignore in fear you’d fall flat on your face. 

Noting your body language, observing every inch of you—even the smallest of reactions—he took your sporadic breaths as an indicator to continue, standing to his full height as he stepped closer; towering with the grace of the land of Idumaea above you. 

A hand cupped your cheek, a tenderness to the touch that was destroyed by his next words. 

“You ain’t stickin’ around,” he said plainly. “I need you to know that.” 

“I know,” you said defiantly, growing increasingly annoyed with the tone he was taking with you—like you were some disobedient kid who needed reprimanding. It seemed he didn’t much appreciate how you spoke either as his soft touch quickly transformed, fingers gripping your chin and squeezing.

“I don’t wanna be the one to say I told you so,” he murmured. “I don’t want you whinin’ after this or talkin’ about me with Lillian otherwise the whole goddamn place is gonna know that I fucked you. Then, they gon’ be askin’ about you and I don’t like sharin’.” He tugged on your chin, tilting your face so he could lean in. His lips against your ear made you shiver, hot breath against your skin causing every hair to stand to attention and a sweat to form on the back of your neck. “Understand?” 

He pulled away, eyes back on yours—that tiredness replaced with a lust so profound that you were sure he could’ve made you spontaneously cum just by looking at you. 

Attempting to ignore the ache between your thighs, you nodded. When you replied with an “I understand,” there was the overwhelming feeling that you had just signed away your life to an evil force, a ghost with bad intentions that had asked permission to haunt you for the rest of your days. You could move houses and he would be there, you could move states and he would be there, you could move out of the entire country and he would be waiting for you with a hard stare and a clenched jaw. There wasn’t a single scenario in which you could get away from him. 

A stain between your legs: forever. 

“Alright,” he drawled, breathing coming just as heavy as yours, eyes flicking to your lips—subconsciously licking his own. “Alright…” 

It was slow, the entwining of lips, the gentle way that you both leaned into each other—picking at each petal on a daisy until all that remained was the yellow disk in the centre; lips meeting in the middle of the earth and connecting each continent until you both brought back the great mass of Pangea. His hand cupping your cheek, opening his mouth to let you in, tugging at your waist to pull you flush against him and breathing heavily through his nose when the shock that froze you washed away and you wrapped your arms around his neck. 

You leaned up, chin tilting as his hand engulfed one side of your face, fingers tickling your hair, teasing the short wisps before threading his fingers into the length and tugging at it: hard. 

A soft whimper left your throat, vibrations running through your body as he trailed his hand under your shirt—desperate to feel the dip of your waist, the soft skin just beneath your ribcage that he ran a gentle thumb over. 

Tongues entwined in heavenly matrimony, the taste of him tingling on your flesh, the heat of him burning your insides until all that remained was a bubbling pit in your stomach that spit lava and breathed fire. 

You truly lost your head when he snaked his hand further under your shirt, taking advantage of your lack of bra as he skimmed his fingers under your breast and smirked against your lips at the sound you emitted—a shuddering, high-pitched thing that shot right from the back of your throat and sent heat streaming in waves down your legs.  

Desperately, you tugged at the hair that tickled his neck, pressing your weight against him, allowing him to brush every so slightly over your nipple and relish in the reaction he caused as your knees fell weak and your kisses grew harder. 

“Joel,” you murmured between the kiss, finally feeling the heat of him against you, the hard plains of his body that kept you grounded—locked in a transcendental dance, swaying in the lamplight as he hummed into your mouth: his response to your call. 

The words you had nestled on disappeared from your head, your questions and answers, statements and expressions all leaving on a cloud that settled out of your reach with God on high. His hands left you empty, his lips causing your stomach to flip and your cunt to ache in the crudest, most hedonistic sensation humankind had been granted. The deep, gruelling feeling between your legs that flashed so hot, so wet, that you found yourself unconsciously grinding your hips against his—catching the groan that dispelled from his lips and the grip on your hips that grew hard enough to bruise. 

When he pulled away to press an array of kisses to your jaw, trailing down to your neck and sucking on the junction, your knees grew weak and the fire inside you raged so large that you would’ve begged at his feet to put it out. You were choking on the smoke, flames licking at your calves and travelling higher, and with another call of his name, he commanded Noah to grant you a flood. 

He trailed his fingers over the hem of your shirt, pulling it tight and tugging it upwards. You didn’t want to part from him to get it over your head, clinging to him like he was life itself, ignited by his palms pressing over your bare breasts as he hiked the fabric up towards your chin. You obeyed his quiet command, pulling away just far enough for him to peel it off and then brought him right back towards you as his head fell to your chest and his lips clasped around your nipple. 

“Fuck,” you whispered between laboured breaths, his tongue laving over your skin, lapping at every sweet flash of flesh.

His lips moved against you as he uttered a muffled, “Filthy mouth,” kissing back up to your lips in haste. “Always got somethin’ nasty to say.” The deep, rasp of his voice fell into your ears; the heat of his breath against your mouth as he stared at you with an intensity that flashed right through the very core of your soul. 

Bare-chested in his presence, the rough fabric of his shirt rubbing against you, you couldn’t quite come up with a reply. Words failed you, wit and intelligence just out of reach and the feeling that you were drunk on him without even having a cock inside you. Joel had been right. You think he might’ve been right about everything and you were prepared, in your shitty kitchen, with your shirt laying in a heap on the floor, to do whatever he wanted you to. 

“Joel.” It was the only constant word running through your head, the only name you could muster as he pecked you on the lips and splayed his hands along every bare bit of skin he could reach. 

“Not gonna fuck you in the kitchen, baby,” he murmured, lips brushing against yours as he spoke. 

You wouldn’t have minded if he had, the adrenaline of his touches leaving little room for you to feel picky, but with the slow merging of lips as he placed gentle kisses to your mouth, coaxing you to speak, you managed to shudder out a sentence. 

Nodding, you removed your hands from his hair, reaching for his palm that rested on your waist and entwined your fingers with his. You couldn’t bear not feeling his warmth, his weight, over you, your feet hurried as you turned away from him and tugged him down the hallway—intent on shouldering through the open door that led to your room.

With the sun setting in the west, shards of golden light shot through your bedroom window, the patterns on the lace drapes casting shadows of profound nature marching across your comforter—the bunched-up blanket that lay at the foot of your unmade bed after you’d kicked it off in the middle of the night: too hot and head too full of the man that pushed you down onto the very mattress you’d touched yourself in the night before—ignoring the beauty of the four walls illuminated by mother nature’s dying heart. 

Human consumption, an all-encompassing need as he ate at your flesh, ripped your skin from its bones as he positioned you in the middle of the bed, kicked his shoes off, and nestled on top of you—a knee between your thighs that pulled a gasping breath from your lungs. 

“Pretty baby,” he murmured, lips back on your neck, teeth grazing your collarbone and thumb working over your nipple—watching carefully to note the furrow of your brow, the parting of your lips and the bend in your back as you arched into him, reaching for his shoulders to feel the entire weight of him pushing you through the feathers and springs. “Always so pretty.”

Kissing down your bare stomach, tongue flicking against the skin as he reached his hands into your shorts—fists tugging just slightly to reveal your hipbones and the slight dusting of hair that nestled between them. He lay his lips on it, eyes ablaze when they opened and settled right on your heaving chest. There was question in them as he ran his thumbs over your hips, asking non-verbally whether he could strip you bare—fingers clasped around the hem, pulling just a little further and then ridding of them completely as you nodded your head and bucked your hips to ease the fabric down your legs. 

“No panties?” he grumbled, letting you kick away the shorts—hearing the thump as they landed somewhere at the foot of your bed. 

The air hitting your naked body left you writhing in the wake of enlightenment, body attuned to every touch as he rubbed his lips over your mons, breathing you in and forcing a whimper from your throat. A retort to his question pulled you from the reverie of weary head, smiling softly as you mumbled, “You’ve already seen them before.” 

He narrowed his eyes, smoulderingly handsome and devastatingly beautiful—beauty stripped away as he landed a smack to the side of your thigh, pulled a gasp from your throat and hummed softly. 

“Yeah, they were pretty.” He silences any response by grabbing onto your thighs, spreading your legs apart and tilting his head as he stared blankly at your cunt—taking in every detail. “Pretty like this pussy,” he murmurs into the space, breath fanning over your wet slit and causing your hips to twitch. Noting the movement, he slowly and deliberately purses his lips, inhales and breathes out a line of air against your clit. It pulses through you, the cold stream causing your eyes to flutter shut and a heavy heat to settle in your stomach. 

“J-Joel,” you stutter, biting your lip, hoping desperately that he’d touch you properly—bring you to that blissful brink where you could teeter just once and go falling over the edge into a meadow blanketed by the hands of angels and the mouth of God. 

“What?” he asked, a teasing lilt to his tone that aggravates you further. “Gotta speak up, sweetheart, I ain’t no mindreader.” 

“No,” you manage to huff out as he manoeuvres your leg over his shoulder, his thumb running along the outside flesh, teasing you to the point of no return. “No, you’re just an asshole.” 

“Mhm,” he agrees, licking his lips as he brings his eyes away from yours and gives his full attention to the leaking slit between your legs that pulses with the heat and aches with the denial. “She don’t seem to think so.” 

God and it's disgusting: the way he talks about you. It’s depraved and sick and so awfully indulgent but lying there, limp and at his mercy, you can’t care. All you can think about is his thumb travelling slowly, back and forth, along your slit, the gentle kisses he places on the insides of your thighs and the words “Think I should give her some love, don’t you?” swimming in your head before your mind blanked completely and your skin sears as he presses his mouth fully over your cunt, and begins to lick with intention. 

Expletives fall from your mouth, silenced by a second smack to your thigh and a chastising “Language,” as he pauses briefly, leaving you sweating and scared he’s changed his mind before he’s diving headfirst inside you again—tongue teasing at your hole. 

It pulls the worst of sounds from your, body reacting on autopilot as you arch into him, head falling back into the pillows and hands grasping the sheet beneath you in the hopes of gaining a semblance of stability. 

He doesn’t seem to like that, however, his head tilting upwards and hands grasping onto yours as he pulls them to his head, shuddering as your nails reach his scalp. “Hold on, baby,” he says with a slight smirk. “Don’t want you fallin’ off now, do we?” 

The assault on your cunt begins again, his tongue dancing with ease over the full surface, sucking and nipping and eating like he can’t stand to hear the growling or feel the sharp jolts of pain in his stomach anymore. The breathy moans ripping from your throat, the wet sounds reverberating from between your legs that you couldn’t bring yourself to be embarrassed by—the tearing sound as you gripped so hard onto his hair that you pulled tufts from the thick grey. 

Whimpering and writhing; unable to function with him lapping up everything from you—stealing the sweetness of your heat and hoarding it away in his back pocket.

When he sunk his fingers inside, life was pumped back into you, a phantom defibrillator bringing a gasp from your throat—eyes snapping open. 

“Shh,” he murmured as he pulled his mouth away, working his fingers in and out, stroking at the spot that sent you straight to heaven. “Relax, baby.” 

The words swam in your ears, feeling that sweet pressure in your stomach as he continued thrusting his fingers into you, curling them upwards in a manner that had your thighs shaking and a deep exhaling pouring from your chest. You trapped him between your legs when he leant down to lick at you again, small laps that transformed into blissful suckling as he took your clit fully into his mouth. The combination of his mouth and his fingers, the encouraging way he looked at you every single time you dared open your eyes, all had you ascending. 

Every nerve was on fire, synapses working double time to keep up with the overload of sensations imploding inside of you. The world scurried away on a wave, eyes rolling back, toes curling as you squeezed your thighs around his head—locking him there to ensure he would not leave you. That he would keep this feeling brewing in your stomach building forever. 

“Joel,” you murmured between moans, a trail of expletives following it as you stepped to the edge of the cliffs in Big Sur, looked down at the rolling waves as your eyes fluttered shut, swaying in the wind, and letting the gust sweep you over. 

A strangled cry left you, a powerful force of nature overtaking you as you gripped tight onto his hair—briefly recognising his growl as you did so. You continued to fall, the sound of crashing ocean in your ears, before you landed softly in the tall grass and basked in the glow of the setting sun as it nestled across your face. 

Your chest rose and fell as his fingers slowed, mouth now hovering above you and watching intently as your head fell into the pillows and your body slumped with the exhaustion of pleasure. 

You found his mouth wet when you finally opened your eyes, his fingers smearing slick over your hip as he crawled up your body and tugged you down the mattress. 

“You still with me?” he asked as he placed kisses on your neck, brushing sweaty hair away from your forehead and cradling your face in his hand. 

You managed a nod, communicating with actions as you pulled his face to yours, kissing him earnestly and trailing your hands towards the hem of his shirt, muttering an “Off,” barely registering his laugh at your eagerness. 

“Yeah, you’re still here,” he said with mirth, straddling your hips as he sat up to rip his shirt from his body, throwing it next to the pile of your clothes. “Still want it.” He grunted as he palmed himself through his jeans, the sight of him on top of you, so strong, so powerful, caging you in like you were a baby deer and he was the one standing over your dying body with a rifle. A shot through your legs as you heard the clink of his belt buckle, another to your stomach as he slid it from its loops and finally, one to the head when he reached into his pants and pulled his cock free. 

Sizeable in an entirely intimidating way—the vein on the underside that peeked through his fingers as he firmly stroked himself. That slight lick of precum gathering at the tip that dominated the space, your mouth watering as you were taken by the overwhelming urge to suck. He didn’t let you, however—pulling away to slide his jeans off his legs, boxers with them and leant over you to kiss you again. 

You couldn’t get enough of his lips, plump flesh bringing you to life as he nestled his mouth against yours—tongue forcing its way inside to meet yours. He tasted faintly of cigarettes and pussy, smelt of them too, yet it was buried under the overwhelming scent of him. The slight whiff of dollar store soap which was endearing more than anything, the musk of cologne he habitually sprayed over himself every day—a few more squirts when he was bedbound for a few days, unable to move with the pain weighing him down, and hadn’t found the will to shower. 

It hadn’t been one of those weeks though. You could tell as you ran your fingers through his hair, soft and fluffy, slightly wiry with his old age and thinning in the back but still so full and gorgeous. He smelt so good. So much so that as he buried his face in your neck to nip at your collarbone, you inhaled softly, breathing him in, feeling so content being trapped in this complicated dance with him. 

Your head was going funny, your body tingling and then going into overdrive when his hard cock touched the insides of your thighs—his bare chest against yours as he kissed back up to your lips, pecking twice before pulling away to stare at you. 

“No thoughts in that head, huh?” he murmured, leaning down to steal another kiss. Back up again to brand you with the force of his eyes. “Just want daddy’s cock, don’t ya.”

The visceral reaction that ran down your spine, shocked you. The undeniable shiver at the nickname, the complete perversity of it that had your cheeks heating in shame. 

“You’re fucking disgusting,” you breathed out, no real conviction to it, predicting perfectly what his next words would be. 

“And you like it.” His hand slid down your stomach, diving straight inside you and then falling in one swift movement. Fingers brought in front of your face, a slight smile on his face that you revelled in—the prospect of seeing him even slightly happy making butterflies fall and flutter in your stomach. “Sure looks like you like it.” 

The physical evidence swayed the final verdict, his wet fingers falling to your lips, you opening your mouth to let it in and lick away the verification. 

The groan that came from deep in his chest when you sucked his fingers had slick dripping down your thighs—the hasty way that he pulled his hand away from you to reach for his cock: all-consuming. Every cell cried out for Joel, for the blissful stretch, the fumbling of bodies as he slotted himself inside you and the casual roll of his hips as he drilled into you. 

His head at your entrance was undeniably overwhelming, the feel of it dragging back and forth along your slit, slipping in twice before he finally sunk inside—his body covering yours as he breathed a “There you go,” against your lips. “Take it for me, baby.”

His words helped with the ease, the burn of the stretch still prevalent but the need to please him, to be good for him, dulled the pain. The kisses on your forehead, the whispered, strained praise as he pressed inside of you, words jumbled and hurried—no sense to half of them—until he was fully inside you, balls pressed against your ass and a tear trailing into your hairline. 

Joel kissed it away, lips closing around the salty liquid, pulling away to gaze at your expression. His palms settled against either side of your head, grounding himself—trying to remain the competent party between the two of you, pulling his teeth between his lips and clenching his jaw as his fists curled into the sheets. 

When he’d settled and become comfortable with the tightness of you around him, he kissed you again, lips wet and swollen from where he’d bit at them—a full-mouthed kiss. Opening you up, distracting you from the length of him pulling away, leaving your cunt open and lonely, then the gasp and shudder as he pushed back into you. 

“J-Joel,” you stuttered out, unable to recall if you’d said anything except his name for the past hour. 

“I know, babydoll, I know.” 

He started slow, hips rolling, cock sliding: in and out, round and round, pubic bone catching on your clit—the sweet pressure that clouded you, that left you boneless and aching. The moan you let out was something that you would’ve been embarrassed by if it wasn’t for his praise. The sweet “Good girl,” that crept past his lips, followed by the “Keep makin’ those pretty little noises for me.” It could’ve been perceived as affection if it wasn’t for the growling tone it was uttered with, a particular harsh thrust that was met with a grunt and a whine. 

The world around you slipped away, the only constant being Joel and his hooded gaze, his parted mouth as he sucked in every breath you exhaled. Those perfect arms hooking around you, locking you in with him, the weight of him leaving as he sat up on his haunches to gaze down at the sight of him lost inside you—the fire that danced along your belly as he pulled your legs apart and began thrusting at a pace your mind could not catch up with. 

Words muffled in your ears, “Such a sweet little cunt.” A flash of heat down your neck as they reached your cock-muddled brain—whispered right inside your head. “Dreamt about this pussy.” Pace faltering as he parted his mouth and took a deep breath; his eyes fluttering shut. “Always fucking dreamin’ about ya.”

That southern drawl that lulled you right through every sensation, comforting words that helped you gain some amount of strength—just wanting to reach him and pull him close. It was cold without him pressed against you. Detached. In a way you didn’t want to be, in a way that you had always thought sex shouldn’t be. 

When he grumbled out, “My perfect girl,” you couldn’t stand the separation anymore, pushing up on your forearms and somehow managing to jump him, bracketing his thighs and swinging your arms around his neck—kissing him madly. 

The surprised grunt he let out made you smile, his hips stilling as you sat on him—feeling him so deep inside you it felt like he was stabbing at your stomach. You whined against his lips when he rolled his hips upwards, losing the will to move as you buried your face in his neck. 

Bodies entwined, limbs entangled and a mouth moving against your hair as it uttered words so sinful that you were sure the cross on your bedroom wall, hung right above your bed, would turn upside down all on its own. The devil in your room, his spawn fucking you on your bed and a laugh on God’s lips because he always knew you were false. That there was no verity to your prayers, that you weren’t ever a true daughter; that you would never spend eternity with him when you fell from the burning bridge to the lake. 

“Does my baby wanna ride?” he asked, hands on your ass, moving you up and down along his length whilst he smiled into your hair. Enjoying the desperation—basking in the way you pleaded for him. 

You nodded your head at his question, unable to breathe with the casual move of his hips paired with the strong manhandle as he moved you along him. 

“Wanted to feel you,” you mumble out softly, entirely dumb with the feel of him—sweat dripping down each body and mingling at the bottom of a well. “Just wanted you.” 

Within Joel Miller, in all his outright madness, past all that anger and tribulation, lay a vulnerability you had always wanted to pull from him. A vulnerability that he showed you, in your bed, with you wrapped around him, grinding your hips against his to feel that growth in your stomach. Vulnerability that he perfectly lay in front of you with broken laces lined up in an order, as he whined. A low, breathy thing that had something snapping inside you—a primal instinct as your slick spilt onto his thighs and your brain decided to give him everything. 

You reached up to drag your hands through his hair, using his hands on your ass as a guide—where to start and where to stop, where to speed up and slow down—as you rode him. Nails dragged down to his shoulders, digging into the skin of his back as he bucked his hips upwards. 

“Pretty, pretty, baby,” he mumbled. “Think about you all the time. Think about that perfect little face when I’m jerkin’ off.” 

Such crude words had your heart fluttering, your pace picking up as you pressed your forehead against his and chased that fleeting high. Unable to think of the comedown in the moment, too enraptured by his arms holding you tight against him, the slight dusting of hair against his chest that stimulated your nipples so perfectly and of course, his gorgeous fucking cock that dragged inside you with the sweetest of scrapes. Pushing and pulling, touching against the mind-numbing spot inside you with every thrust—every time you slammed down against his hips. 

“I- I,” you managed to breathe out when it all came flooding in. A hurricane swept past the county, headed straight for your home, walls down and completely defenceless when you felt the wind knocking against the panes. “Joel.”

“Shhh, baby, I got you.” He wrapped his left arm fulling around your waist, placing the right against your face to tilt your head back. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere.” 

Rain was fully beating down on your shelter, dripping through the rafters—threatening to push through the roof and flood you with debris. 

“I got you,” he repeated, holding you tight as there was nowhere else to go. Nowhere to run. Just wait for the glass to break and the door to slam open. 

You could only moan, unable to keep moving—just letting him do all the work. To keep doing exactly as he had been as the rain came pouring in through the cracks, water rising so fast you were waist-deep in it by the time he muttered a “Let go for me,” his hand moving to cradle the back of your head and keep you locked in place. “C’mon, baby, give daddy another one.” 

His words broke the glass entirely, the roof caving in as the hurricane raged, inching closer and closer until it found you—beating you right to the floor.

It was a continual cry of his name, his words sweet in your ear as he worked you through it, tone strangled and tense as his stomach clenched and he thrust his hips at breakneck speed—deciding that he couldn’t focus on you any longer as he was beaten to the ground by the twister alongside you.

Pulling away hastily, he reached a hand down to rub his cock, fisting at the length until he spilt over you with a broken moan and painted your stomach with the making of your union. 

You were still twitching when his breathing slowed, his arm still tight around you; not quite ready to let go yet. 

The storm had passed, and you were left with the damage of its destruction. 

Broken furniture, ravaged landscape, and a hole where you and Joel lay—fingers brushing against one another as you reached out to him. 

There was a brief moment of peace, the time between now and what was to come, pausing as if to grant you the sweet mercy of holding on for just a minute longer. 

Then, as quickly as it came it was gone, a single kiss to your lips before he gently laid you down, hesitating just a moment, gazing at you like he wanted to stay, before deciding that he was too stubborn to go against his word, and stood up from the bed to find his pants. 

Stupidly, in your fucked-out, hazy state of mind, you decided to ignore everything he’d said before: about you not being permanent. Some part of you wanted to believe that he had said it just to hurt you, that there was no real meaning behind them except mindless arrogance and a will to push you away because he was afraid. 

“You aren’t staying?”

He paused his movements, halfway through putting his jeans on, and looked at you with something akin to disgust. 

“What’d I tell you, princess?” 

It was awful. That switch.

As soon as his dick wasn’t wet and leaking, he was gone. Lost to the tunnels of his mind, trapped in a maze that had no exit. You couldn’t find him—couldn’t see that Joel that had been there just moments ago, calling you pretty and perfect. Telling you that you were his girl. 

You’d agreed, you knew you had. It didn’t make it any less painful as he refused to look at you when he re-buckled his belt, didn’t even glance over when you reached down for the blankets and pulled them around you—suddenly feeling entirely exposed. 

All you could do was watch: in an awkward silence. Scan his face for anything as he pulled his shirt over his head and didn’t even dare sit on the bed to put his boots back on. 

It was hurtful when he reached into his back pocket to shake out a cigarette, bringing it to his lips and flicking open his zippo in a way that shouldn’t have been so damn attractive. 

“Joel?” Where the bravery had come from, you didn’t know, your body shaking under the covers as his eyes landed on yours for the first time since he’d stared at you as you came undone. 

“Mhm?” he grunted out in response, breathing out the smoke and going straight in for another drag. 

What you were going to say, you hadn’t thought out. You hadn’t thought out the entire encounter in general and in that moment it felt like you hadn’t thought out anything in your entire life. So, when the mumbled, “Thank you,” fell from your lips and the harsh chuckle fell from his, you couldn’t quite stop the feeling of utter embarrassment and humiliation. 

You’d promised him you wouldn’t tell anyone, that you wouldn’t go spouting his business to the park's biggest gossips, so you wouldn’t. You’d have to sit with it, to go back to lying on your bedroom floor every day and regretting everything and everyone. Rehashing every person you had wronged when you were stuck in the harshest depths of your mind, every time you’d been beaten down by those out to get you—every fork in the road you’d come across that seemed to harbour identical destinations: damnation. 

“Gratitude accepted,” he mumbled out, cigarette perched between his lips—inhaling and exhaling with it still in his mouth. 

For some reason, you wanted to cry. Your throat closed, lip quivering and tears forming in your waterline. You suppressed it—at least, you tried to. He’d already seen you cry before. You had no interest in letting him see it again.

There was a heavy silence as he stood there smoking, eyes trained on you and taking note of your throat bobbing as you swallowed down the lump. You knew you’d been caught then, his twitching jaw that he rid of with another drag of the cigarette, the slight sigh that he huffed out through his nose and the single nod of his head as he walked the few paces to your bed and sat down atop the mattress. 

Quietly, he gestured the burning stick towards you, watching as you accepted it gratefully. It helped rid the ache in your chest. 

“I said I didn’t wanna say I told you so,” he said, running a hand over his scruff before placing it on your thigh—skin burning through the thin material. 

You sniffled, trying to maintain composure as you jutted your chin out and gave him the hardest of stares you could muster. 

“And I said I understood.” You let the cigarette burn between your fingers—the single drag making you feel sick to your stomach. “I’m not…naive. Not stupid either.” 

“I know,” he said plainly. “I know.” 

“Then why are you still here?” It was said bitterly, a tone that you hadn’t wanted to take with him but left your body unconsciously as some form of repressed rage came bubbling in pieces through you. 

He swallowed calmly, pulling his hand away as he plucked the cigarette from between your fingers—deciding he needed it more than you did. 

“Just wanted to…” he cleared his throat upon hearing the strain in his tone, seemingly struggling to speak the words aloud. “Just wanted to make sure you understood.”

“And I do,” you countered quickly.

“Good,” he countered even quicker. 

Your skin was burning, and your cunt began to ache with the loss of him—the imprint that he’d left inside you that you were sure would be there for some time. 

The smell of tobacco was starting to make you feel sick, the scent of sex in the air a harsh reminder of everything you’d gained and lost in the space of a few hours.

The sun hid itself behind the horizon, its light no longer shining through and piercing your heart. 

It was instead the harsh stab of his gaze, the lasting feeling of his hands on your thighs and the intense tightness in your chest every time you looked at him, that broke you completely. 

“You can go,” you mumbled, watching his face for any sign that he didn’t want to do as you asked—that he’d finally lay beside you and stroke your hair as he told you everything he’d done wrong. Just so maybe you could feel normal. Like someone else in this world had finally seen you and understood that you weren’t perfect—that there were more flaws than strengths and more fuckups than good decisions. 

There was nothing. Just a blank stare as he stood, knees cracking and back aching—walking away and leaving the phantom feel of him inside you, nestled between your legs. 

“See you ‘round,” he mumbled, standing in the doorway.

“Yeah, okay.” 

There was a pause as he waited, eyes firmly on the floor as he screwed his brow up—looking like he was thinking hard. Weighing up his options before flicking his gaze up and landing on you: naked and trembling in bed. 

“I still mean it.” You were confused for a moment, waiting for a confession, hoping in the grandest of your delusions that he’d change his mind and love you till the end of time. Then, the confirmation that, upon close inspection, seemed to be the closest to a confession you would ever get. “You need anythin’, I’ll be there.” 

You nodded to show you understood, unable to speak in fear you’d crack and crumble, and watched with a deep longing in your heart as he turned his back on you, and walked away. 

His footsteps were heavy against the floor, his power reverberating all throughout the trailer—the gentleness he displayed in small gifts of protectiveness and affection, shown through the way he closed the door as quietly as he could. If it wasn’t for the creak of the steps, you would’ve thought he hadn’t left at all. 

When you were sure he was gone, you allowed yourself a moment to cry, turning over in bed to curl up in a ball of self-pity. 

Why he couldn’t stay, you were unsure. Why he wouldn’t hold you close, if only for one night, you didn’t know. You didn’t know anything. You were lost in a world you were so sure was not meant for you, knowing right there, in the sweat of your bed with tears dripping off your nose, that you did not know Joel Miller and would never know him for as long as he lived. 

Cracking him open was like trying to split a coconut with nothing but your bare hands. 

Crying with no one to hold you, those final words of admission ran through your head; you knew that this problem, you could not go to him with. That the word “anything,” was a courtesy and a promise he could not cater to. 

Head pounding with disdain, tears running with despondency, chest aching so painfully you thought your heart would fail. In some way, you wished it would. Just so you could rest for a moment. Because you couldn’t without the warmth of him behind you, his arms tugging you close and lips on the side of your head—whispering everything that had pulled him to you and kept him there. 

Turning around to face your window, pressing a palm to your head like it would take away the pain, you gazed at the trailer that neighboured yours. The cracks and cobwebs that littered its surface, the two chairs that spent every waking moment together, tucked into their own corner of the world where they could whisper and giggle—expel every truth because all that time had left them with nothing but absolute trust. 

You realised that sitting in the chair on the left, the one that had no owner would mean that you and Joel would have to navigate the same type of relationship: one that relied on a bond unbroken by anything except their mistakes and mistruths. 

You faced away, closing your eyes and willing God to send you an eternal sleep—pathetically pretending that he was there beside you as you ran a finger over the drying cum on your stomach and the lingering bruising inside of you that left a blood on your thighs and a butterfly in your head as it knocked against each surface of your skull and fell gracelessly when it came hurtling against the wall.

© virginreprise

a/n: well, i finally got it out!! not entirely pleased with it but i never am lol. it's only half proofread just because i got bored halfway through and only went through what i wrote today. either way, i hope you enjoyed it!! maybe...there'll be more chapters after this. it's quite a depressing ending which is what i like best tbh but it'd be nice to see joel finally stop being a dick :))

thanks for reading !

taglist: @1maasrpe

[maythearo]

" Welcome back to Night Raven College's "Ghostly Gossip"! The school's unofficial main online source for the latest news, articles and trending topics circulating around campus! "

" now introducing our second student entry for the blog... 'some guy I found on my grandma's attic'-- huh..? Wait, who wrote that down?? "

Navigation:

R. Rosehearts - T. Clover - C. Diamond - A. Trappola - D. Spade - L. Kingscholar - R. Bucchi - J. Howl - A. Ashengrotto - J. Leech - F. Leech - K. Al Asim - J. Viper - V. Schoenheit - R. Hunt - E. Felmier - I. Shroud - O. Shroud - M. Draconia - L. Vanrouge - S. Zigvolt - Silver

Messy (but progressively getting better) design notes:

Epel was one of those designs that just clicked instantly with me, I had a vision of the basics I wanted all sorted in my head even before I gathered most reference pics. I don't expect this to happen again to a majority of the remaining cast though 😫

Watching those doll restoration/repainting videos while drawing helped me set the general mood I wanted for him, even though the final result doesn't show much of this inspiration, at least in my opinion... I love the makeup and face painting details these artists put on the dolls, but I was afraid too much of that would make his design too heavy-looking combined with the rest of the outfit. If I ever decide to design alternative outfits for this series, I'll try to show off more of this lost aspect there

For the character in itself now, I imagine him in this AU to be more free to do and act however he wants compared to his og universe counterpart. Still being supervised by Vil, but not in the same level as before. Probably the reason why he got all those scratches and cracks on his body, I like to think he's having a little more fun with being a gremlin and running around all he wants lol. And due to that, his skin care routine baisically consists in Elmer's glue, to stick any broken porcelain shards together. Vil is not exactly content about that, but he lets most of it slide at this point 👍

Epel's totally the type of kid who goes around the gardens to casually collect bugs like he's in animal crossing. Like this video I found on reels, which I don't reccomend watching if you have a phobia of spiders/insects/bugs/snakes/frogs/etc cause, you know. But anyway I think MH Epel holds this exact energy and it's- kinda terrifying! In a good way though. come on let this kid be a kid for once. I also think this more playful part of him fits well with the fact that he's a little doll. OH and the fact that og Epel grew up around the elderly back in his hometown kinda makes sense in this universe too, like, he's the type of doll some grandparents would keep in their old house as a family relic or something. Could very much be the beggining of a horror story.

[yelenasdiary]

what if i have a drabble idea?

yelena x reader

TW self harm trigger warning tho

after the date things get a little heated and it all brings the two into the bedroom. the only thing is that r forgets about the scars on her thighs, and when yelena takes off her pants, silence falls. r starts mumbling, worried about Yelena's reaction, but Yelena starts saying very nice things that warm R's heart and make her feel loved!!!

yeah well, I hope you can do something about it lol

love u, byee

Drabble || My Beautiful Love

Pairing: Yelena Belova x Reader

Summary: Yelena assures you that she loves you no matter what.

Angst, Fluff, Suggestive Themes

Warnings: Light Smut, 18+ ONLY! Minors & Men DNI! Mentions of Self-Harm & Scars, Mentions of Depression & Dark Thoughts. This is not proof read or corrected! | 0.4K

Translations: detka (baby), голубь (dove), moya krasivaya lyubov' (my beautiful love), milyy (darling),

AC: Thank you for sending this, I hope this brings comfort to anybody who needs it. Remember that you are never alone and if you ever need somebody to talk too, my DMs/Asks are always open x

From the front door to the bedroom, the steamy make-out session didn't break. Yelena carried you to the bedroom, your legs wrapped round her waist and your hands tangled in her locks of blonde hair. Gently, she laid you down on to the bed, her lips making their way to your neck making you moan softly at her touch.

Her lips kept you distracted while her hands worked your clothing, you managed to pull her t-shirt off and throw it to the floor before she sat back and slowly pulled your pants off, adding them to the small pile of discarded clothing on the floor.

"Detka" Yelena said ever so softly. Your eyes dropped to your thighs and quickly you pulled the throw blanket over your legs, muttering things Yelena couldn't quite make out. She notice the way you were doing your best to blink back the tears that were building up. "голубь" she spoke once more, moving closer to you, taking your hands into hers, "please don't hide from me" she added.

Silence filled the room before you looked up at her. Without hesitation she kissed you deeply, "moya krasivaya lyubov' , I'm not mad with you and I don't think any less of you" she said, slowly removing the blanket from your legs, "we all have scars" she added.

"B-but mine are...I did that" you replied in a stutter. Yelena gently cupped your face, "you are stronger than anybody I have ever met, ever know for that fact" her thumb gently stroking your cheek, "why didn't you talk to me?" she asked.

You shrugged, "I don't like to worry you with my issues. You have must more important things to worry about than my stupid depressed mind" you replied.

"Detka, nothing is more important to me than you being happy and healthy and that you're safe. I would take a bullet for you if it meant you were going to be okay. Worry me with your mind detka, tell me all those thoughts that keep you up and I will do whatever I can in my power to make you feel better"

Her words meant more to you than you knew it, she pulled you into her arms, hugging you tightly while she whispered sweet nothings to you. She truely was the best, somebody who misunderstood but knew you inside and out and cared about you more than you realised.

"Lena, if it's okay with you...could we just cuddle and watch a movie tonight? I...I j-just want to fall asleep in your arms" you asked. Yelena smiled softly, "of course we can my angel, what movie would you like to watch?" she asked before getting out of bed and getting pjs for the two of you.

Taglist: @marvelfan98 | @boredandneedfanfics | @music-4ever | @marvelwomen-simp | @swaqcenix | @scarlettbitchx | @mallyka-blog | @itsalwaysskorpioszn | @caporal-nino | @natashamaximoff-69 | @evilcr0ne | @boredandneedfanfics | @teganmiller | @ihavezeroclue13 | @tobiaslut | @itsmelulu | @axolotllover225 | @koinsss | @nuianced-tck-enby | @springsheep | 

If you want to be on the taglist for my work, please click HERE.

[zforzelma]

A list* of Shakespeare characters for which casting a trans actor is the strongest choice.

Take a look at your complete works of Shakespeare. You can pack so much Gender in those plays. I am of the opinion that casting should be undertaken to highlight the text and make new discoveries.

Really, any Shakespeare role can and should be played by a trans person of any variety, but there are some roles in particular that I think would unfold incredible revelations about the text. I'm leaving out magical characters and fools because that's too obvious.

Lysander - Mids; why don't you want me to marry your daughter? Say it, you coward.

Helena - Mids; This one would be psychologically intense for the actress, so really only attempt if you've got a good therapist. Having a trans woman in this role would be such a gut-punch for so much of the text, I honestly think it would make the audience uncomfortable at some parts. To which I say: GOOD.

I have so many more.

Viola - 12th; Also pretty psychologically intense with all the cross dressing, and the wow-you-look-just-like-your-brother, but her equivocation about gender in her conversations with Orsino would absolutely sing.

Orlando - As You Like It; His older brother won't let him go to college with the other men. Proves himself by winning in a wrestling match. Doesn't recognize his crush when she's cross dressing.

Mercutio - R&J; At this point I feel like everyone knows Mercutio is a nonbinary lesbian or trans masc. Right? Like, we all know that. Jokes aside, I think his difficult relationship with masculinity and honor would be interesting if interpreted by a trans actor.

Hamlet - Hamlet; Obviously. I mean duh. trans masc, trans fem, man, woman, both or neither. Any queer person probably gets Hamlet on a visceral level better than any cis straight person. Who's even casting a cis man as Hamlet in the year of our lord 2023? Yawn.

Laertes - Hamlet; Yeah I don't know what it is. This one is purely vibes based.

Macduff - Macbeth; I actually made Macduff a woman, changed all the pronouns and made him a lesbian when I directed, and I'd probably do that again. But I think Duff could also - or alternately - be trans. I think it would say something interesting about violence of his journey, the scene with future King Malcolm, and the fact that Duff is the one to behead ol' Mack.

What do you guys think? Did I miss an obvious one?

* this is not at all a comprehensive list

[lilyorchard-exposed]

Lily's Incest Loving Friend, nooblord9001

Friends indeed, for a reason.

Besides nooblord9001 being obviously into "The Coffin of Andy and Leyley" as a signifier for liking incest, there are other reasons Lily might have become her friend. Let's look at why.

In "The Wholesome vs Dark Media Debate" video, Lily confirms that nooblord9001 (a formerly suspected sockpuppet) is her friend (although she doesn't follow her on Tumblr for some reason, at least at the time Lily made the video, as seen in the screenshot below. I'll give her the benefit of the doubt and say she took this screenshot logged out of her account).

(video link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5prj2N5aGxY) The link is also available in archive.org

The interesting thing about nooblord, is that, like Lily, she is also into incest!

In this post, we can see that nooblord links her google drive to her ocs.

(post link: https://www.tumblr.com/nooblord9001/755420376569462784)

When you click on her Google Drive (link: https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1IeTDMlVF85u_0PKZltMgtkZlDZPIsK4o), you can see which email this is being shared from.

Searching her name brings interesting results. First of all, you can see her publicly available YouTube account, which confirms this is her other username and not a coincidence. You can Google this yourself.

(link to channel: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC-j-xny3sY1Tcset8SNi_3Q)

She has a Reddit account (link: https://www.reddit.com/user/GammaWALLE/) where she talks about Lily, the Coffin of Andy and Leyley, among other normal topics. Again, this is likely to be her Reddit account, considering the alignment of topics on her Tumblr and Reddit, as well as her user icon.

(link to post: https://www.tumblr.com/nooblord9001/753407438179418112/cackles-evilly?source=share)

Pretty consistent, considering there is always the "That's not my account! That's a stalker!" argument Lily and others like to make. No stalker has any reason to go back in time and fake being nooblord/gammawalle, since she was only talked about as a potential sockpuppet within the last month or so, not all the way back then.

Well, now to the meat of the post.

There's always deniable plausibility involved with these kind of things, where a person can always say they like a property without enjoying the bad or reprehensible part of it. That could be made for "The Coffin of Andy and Leyley", but there is no denying that Lily's friend, noodlord9001/gammawalle is also into incest.

(link: https://www.reddit.com/r/CoffinofAndyandLeyley/comments/1cgykak/lord_unknown_incest_pandemic_breaking_up/)

(link: https://knowyourmeme.com/photos/624035-gravity-falls)

For those who don't know, the Gravity Falls one is more egregious, considering the Pine twins (their ship name being "Pincest") are 12 years old in the cartoon.

(link: https://knowyourmeme.com/photos/1480265-intensifies)

Also, there is something ironic about this comment.

I'm sure there is a lot more, but I'll stop here for now. These are the kind of people Lily calls her friends.

Edit: She is possibly into her mother.

(links: https://www.reddit.com/r/CoffinofAndyandLeyley/comments/1d6f744/comment/l6w0cf0/

https://www.reddit.com/r/CoffinofAndyandLeyley/comments/1dc0hwl/comment/l7w14gx/)

[bendyartistic]

Be Aware of alexbstudios. (Part 2) TW: uh.. slur, sui mention.

Recently I've been requested by some people to make another awareness post about Alex, and what has been going on since I made my last callout. So.. let's take a look. I'm gonna be honest I have been paying little to no attention to him at all since my post up until this point, didn't think I'd have to.

Ever since I made it, Alex has been talking about me a lot more, and it feels much more obsessive in a way. I think it's funny but also pretty weird considering some of the things he's said about me. Eugh.

Anyways let's get to the stuff from after my callout to the present. This is just a rundown of everything, and there is some stuff I skipped since I didn't feel it was worth mentioning. Once my post had been made, a lot of people went over and said stuff to him (Though I didn't encourage that behavior, I only wanted to make my post so people knew about him, I'm not covering those unless it's important in this.) Little afterwards he made this... post. Erh, are you stalking me and other people?? ALSO don't say the r slur man, like what.

I find it really creepy that he has this list, and has notes along with them about why/who they are. Also why'd he spell my partners name like that? 💀 Next a little after that he reblogged someone's art and introduction saying this. (I don't want to really @ people in this, nor get anyone involved unless they asked to be.)

I still don't understand how Alex views me, but saying this in a reblog no less is so strange. Reblogging another post, saying this with it...

You're right Alex, I didn't need you in my life, yet here we are. Unfortunately. Besides that, no, 12 year old's should NOT be on Tumblr at all, even with restrictions, said restriction should be having the app blocked from their device.

I'm just gonna.. move on from that. Alex reblogged an art post, where he proceeded to @ over 50 people, myself included, saying "surely you can see the problem". I can't fit the entire thing sadly. I don't get what the point in these posts are honestly, besides annoy everyone. He's done it before as well. He got into a small bit of beef with a handful of folk not too long ago, which I got @'ed in at some point I think, didn't really pay much attention to it. Basically the original post is someone talking about art supplies and asking what one's other people use, which I personally think was a very neat post. Alex comes around though for some reason going off on nonsense. Hello? Who invited you!? (Again, censoring names cuz I don't want to get ppl involved.)

I'm honestly kind of wondering why he even showed up. He pretty soon after made this dumb post as if it could have some effect on the situation.. uh?

I guess mark your calendars guys for this date, where we have to immediately forget everything and forgive him! /j And there's this response he gave to an anon responding to his ✨patience✨ post.

Dunno, so far it hasn't because he's still talking about it, so clearly he hasn't gotten over it enough to let it blow over.

He's giving me those like.. stupid sigma edit vibes sometimes. Y'know what I'm talking about? Yeah. Also I'm not sure what to say about this really, but it's pretty funny.

Context for this next one: You and the person on your lockscreen fight god..? That's a weird one.

Wdym racist though? 🤨 Genuinely kinda curious about that. Btw wouldn't that make you like.. 9?? On a different note, I saw him previously talk about this "friend" he has going to a mental hospital, but I know nothing about it, nor do I really want to, however reblogging on an art post saying this feels off. Think the emotes are what do it.

Don't joke about mental hospitals at all, I shouldn't have to explain why. I'm going to move on from all the short stuff now because I do wanna start talking instead of making short joking comments.

Alex made this post, and so it begins with him talking about me again, eh?

Alex, you're already doomed. I can't put it any other way but from what I've seen maybe only 1 or 2 people even like you. The rest either hate you or want to avoid you at all cost, and I don't blame them at all considering you act like a fool and make everyone uncomfortable.

For my thoughts on you? I don't like you, never did. I just have to put up with you because this is the internet, and you'll probably never truly leave me alone like I once hoped. It's a shame honestly that you cannot follow a simple request from anyone. Don't think I don't know about your planned "response post" you're making, I'm still waiting for it. I don't know what good it's gonna do you though. Personally I don't care if you make one, I'd just read it to see the stuff you make up in it lol. (Edit: He decided to stop working on it after seeing this post lol.)

Enough of my rambling, I should continue with this so I can stop talking about him sooner. Regrettably I had to actually look up what this was about, I felt.. iffy reading it.

Saying gyatt right afterwards wasn't funny. At all. I'm quite upset now. There was absolutely no reason for that.

I was gonna be reasonable and say something genuine but I don't feel like it anymore, this ruined my mood. All I have to say is as much as I dislike you, don't actually do that. Sadly moving to the next nonsensical thing, he made a poll post asking this. (It's still ongoing btw)

Are people like.. forced into giving a reason? Like if I for example chose Bendy, am I immediately supposed to state my reasons? What if I don't want to, are we being held at gunpoint? What's up with that? I'm too lazy to interact with the post, I don't really feel like it anyways even if I wasn't lazy. Which one would you choose though lol I'm going to be serious now again cause this last thing is really just.. what the fuck. Palestine related 🍉, someone asking for help came to Alex, and this was his response to it...

MY GOD Alex. Did you really have to respond to that in this immature, insensitive fucking manner? Could it have not been in one of your stupid rambling posts. It should've been. I'm sorry to the person and I'm sorry I had to read it. You're pretty sick honestly. You need help.

That's it. I'm done.

In conclusion:

Alex is still the same and is still never going to change probably. He still shouldn't be here and I believe he really should get off now more than ever. If not I fear what else he might do next.

All I can really tell you folks is please, DNI with Alex, just leave him alone and block him. You're again not obligated to, but I am suggesting it if you want to be left alone by him. And hey, maybe you'll make it onto his dumb creepy list too, who knows. Alright, I'm finished, I stayed up way too late for this... I'm tired. Cya.

Reblogs are much appreciated, it helps spread the word, thanks.

[kalki-tarot]

YOU KNOW THEY DON'T LIKE YOU, SO WHY DO YOU KEEP THE HOPE ALIVE ? 🍷

Pick a picture that attracts you the most ♡

TAP ON MASTERLIST FOR MORE 🍓

This is an intuitive tarot reading and it is just for entertainment purposes. I am not responsible for any actions or decisions taken by anyone on behalf of this reading as tarot is not 100% true all the times.

Read this with an open mind and let go of whatever doesn't serve you.

PILE 1.

Confirmations or signs : blue or white birds, peace symbols, refrigerators, black umbrella, red color, K, S, G, Sun, F, Cathedral, Catherine, Karina, Karen, Kaliber, back n white, kanye west

The reality of this person you're holding onto is very obvious to you. They are someone money minded and look out for material things in life mostly, they are too invested in their career and building a weath right now. They are someone who has no clarity or clear vision in life. They sort of run after material things, and they sre working hard for these material things. To be honest, they don't have any time for you and you will be victimized in this connection if you stay any longer. They are someone childish and not meant for you.

Let's get to the point that why are you still holding onto them? You feel this little spark with them. You feel hopeful about this connection even though it's not headed anywhere and you are accepting the breadcrumbs babe. You literally don't realize your worth I'm sorry if I'm too straightforward but it is what it is. You don't like to see yourself winning is that it? No? Then stop believing into false hopes and delusions bestie. This is the only way i have to tell you this. Like stop! You are disrespecting yourself by acting like that. You are the only one working hard in this connection and they r not even reciprocating shit. Well, i see that you have a cycle of meeting people who don't reciprocate what you give in to build up a relationship but eventually you have to walk away because they don't live up to your expectations or they don't invest as much as you're investing in. The universe is trying to teach you that you should know when to stop and walk away if people don't care about your efforts bestie. You will repeat this cycle unless you realize your worth and take your power back!

PILE. 2

Confirmations or signs : lamp posts, yellow/golden flames, Army, Police, J, S, M, N, F, G, sun, moon, stars, shimmer & shine, ticking clocks, weirdo, joker

The person you are asking about is very ambitious and hardworking. They have a set vision for how their life should be or how much they should achieve before this particular age they hit. They want to create something of their own and to be honest you are nowhere in this picture. They don't really care about love and relationships that much. Also, this person may try to mould you they way they want you to be, they won't be as accepting of you. You know those people who have a fixed type of person to marry and they would try to make you become what they would like to see and not the actual you. This person is very superficial and it's hard to change them. They are very stubborn.

The truth about this person is that u won't be emotionally fulfilled by them and you'll end up walking away. Ask yourself "Are u just clinging onto them only because of the fear of being left out?" This person will be very hot and cold towards you. And you have this tendency to attract these kind of people into you life. Do you crave validation? Don't work hard for them, don't waste your energy manifesting them. They are not meant for you :( They would cause you more harm than good. You'll hurt yourself. First fix your unhealthy tendencies and fill yourself with self love. Then try to manifest a loving and stable partner.

[vulpixisananimal]

<Null> {Mal Du Pays} [Loop] (Siffrin)

. . . .

Ha. . .

HahahahahahahahahAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Yoooooooou're fine!!! You're fine!!!!! Look!!! Everything's fine everything's fine everything's fine everything's fine everything's fine everything's FINE!!!!

You're sitting back at the favor tree with the stupid rain raining on your STUPID STUPID FACE!!!! HAHAHAH OF COURSE IT'S NOT THAT EASY!!!

Oh nieve little Siffy~ naive little cute little STUPID LITTLE SIFFRIN!! You're so stupid so stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid!!!!

You want to go home.

You're stupid. It would never be so simple. Stupid, stupid, stupid. . . You just, just, j-just wanted to, fight that stupid blinding sadness and what happens?!?

Mirabelle, she, she, s-she--

Someone's calling your name. You can't, can't, can't make out what, w-what they're saying. Your whole body hurts, everything hurts. You're crying, you're shaking, you can't, can't, can't, t-think or. . .

Mirabelle died.

Mirabelle died and its your fault. YOUR FAULT YOUR FAULT YOUR STUPID STUPID FAULT!!!

You're being talked to.

Isabeau hates you Odile hates you Pétronille hates you Mirabelle hates you Ramos hates you Bonnie hates you everyone everyone everyone hates you you're stupid STUPID STUPID STUPID STUPID STUPID STUPID-

"SIFFRIN!!!"

You snap back to reality. You're hyperventilating and sitting there. Mirabelles hands are on your shoulder, she's worried, panicking, no, she's, she's crying.

"M-mira. . ."

"Siffrin!!! Oh change you're okay! Y-you weren't responding, a-and, I thought you were hurt, or-"

"M-mira. . ." You feel weak, but. ". . . hug, please. . ."

She blinks at you, then wraps you up in a soft hug. She's warm, she's alive, she's okay, she's, she's not dead. You're crying. You, move your arms, around her. You cry. You just, cry. . .

You're, okay. . . You're okay. . . . .

". . . Siffrin, what, what happened?"

You're mumbling. "I-I, it was, w-was. . ."

"You don't need to answer right away, okay?" She responds, holding you close, you're safe. "Oh! Uhm, who are you right now?"

"I. . ." Who are you?

". . . I don't, know."

"T-that's, that's okay." She pulls away from the hug, smilling, softly in that was she does. "Do you need a minute?"

"N-no I'm, fine-" You try sitting up and instantly are hit with a huge wave of dizzyness and nausea. You fall to the ground, Mirabelle and, and, what, was, their. . . Ramos. They're both next to you.

"C-careful! You look like death, j-just, lay down for a minute, okay?" You feel Mirabelles hand on your head. It's so cold.

"O-okay. . ."

"Craft exhaustion." Ramos finally speaks up. You close your eye.

"R-right, it, looks like it. Have you been looping?" Mirabelle asks.

You nod.

". . . Rest up, Sif, can't have you dying on us, okay?" Ramos' voice. You nod again, breathing steadying. You feel a vial at your lips, medicine, you drink it. That concoction for this kinda thing, right? Okay, okay. . .

. . . Your breathing. . . It's like waves. . . .

Black sand beach. . . A path to a tree. . . Looking out to the lightless sky. . . You're, shaking. . . You're alive. . .

You want to reach out to a star and eat it.

You breathe in. . . And out. . . . .

Who. Are. You.

. . . . . . . . . . .

"So, they probably already know, huh?"

"About Isa? P-probably, oh Sif. . . Just, how many times have you gone through this."

"It looks like a lot already. Stars, they're such a savior for being able to give us a second chance."

"Y-yeah. . . When, when we were going to fight the King, when Siffrin was stuck in those two days. We, we had to chase after Siffrin up the House."

"Chase him?"

"Y-yeah, they ran off because, uhm, it's not important. B-but! Going up the house, all the traps were disabled, sadness beat, everything."

"Woah. . . Did, did Siffrin do that, all by themself?"

"Yes it was! It was, well, impressive! A-and, terrifying-"

"'Belle!! 'Oz!!"

"Bonnie?!?"

"Why's everyone acting so WEIRD. Za's weird, 'Dile's weird-"

"It's mind craft again, kid. Did they grab you at all?"

"Nuh uh, I'm okay. I-Is, 'Frin okay?"

"Oh! They're exhausted, looping again. It's, well. . ."

[You take in a deep, deep breath, fill your lungs, before errupt into a coughing fit. You're okay, your body hurts, where, were you? Favor tree? It's raining. It's raining? Oh right, it's, raining. You feel a hand on your back.]

"A-are you alright?!?" [Mirabelle asks. You nod. You're just peachy~]

[You sit up, holding your head with a pounding headache. What the, stars, you're, what, where, uh. . . Okay. . .]

". . . Better?" [Ramos asks.]

"Oh stars no." [You chuckle.] "My head's been cracked open like an egg."

[They laugh, you smile. Well at least you can still do THAT. You look up at them.] ". . . Sorry, I'm, not entierly sure what's been happening, aha. . ."

"Uhm. . ." [Mira tilted her head.] "Do you know who you are now?"

"Oh! Loop, just your good ol' wonderful loop~" [You wink.] "What did those blinding idiot other me's do."

"Looped a lot, by the looks of things." [Ramos comments. You noticed they scooted away from you a few inches.] "Are you sure you're, uh, okay?"

"Ah just give me a few minutes and we'll be set to go!" [You rubbed your neck. Looking between Mira, Ramos, and. Bonnie, Bonnie was here. Was Bonnie always here? Stars. You close your eyes, and think.]

[. . . No, no they weren't. Have you really been out here that long? Usually by now you had been inside, right? Well when you went through the kitchen they were gone. And you had only ever seen them when the sadness appeared.]

[You shake your head, stars, wait, what on earth did you miss? Break ins? Sadness? Strangers? Stars. There's so much. Last loop, what happened. You fought a sadness, yes, beat it, everythng went fine, then. . .]

[. . . Something terrible happens. You can't remember what, just that absolute fear. Just that, you shouldn't, kill the sadness.]

[Concerning!]

[You shake your head again, back to attention. You smile at your companions.] "All good, now, I think."

"Don't push yourself, okay?"

"Yeah you CRAB!!!"

"You're our key player here, can't have you getting KOed."

[You nod, sheepishly.] "I'll do my best, can't say the same for the others~"

"Well that'll have to do!" [Mira huffs, and nods.] "If they keep being like that I'll have a stern talk with them. Now! What happened."

"Well. . ." [You start explaining what comes to mind. Suspects, who's affected, the sadness, it came to mind like. . . Like you were asking the questions to someone else, and you got an answer. Then you relayed that answer to Mira, Bonnie, and Ramos. What a strange memory to have. You don't remember, you more, remember remembering.]

"And, last loop, we were able to beat the sadness, but then. . ." [You squinted, trying to remember, but. . .] ". . . I don't remember, but something bad happened."

"Oooooookaaaaaaay." [Ramos rubbed their neck.] "Don't kill the very dangerous big scary sadness, got it."

"Uhm. . . What about those two who left?" [Bonnie asks, finally speaking up.]

"About. . Oh right! I never met them." [You try to think, could it have been them?]

"Uhm. . . I asked Jan about m' this morning." [Bonnie shrugged.] "Some traveling, uhm, researchers. Going to Worlworth, left early. Stayed a few extra days, so uh. . ."

[Hmm. . .] "How far could they have gotten?"

"In this rain? I dont know. . ." [Mira looked out to the woods.]

"Well, there's some chance they're still near. Mind craft has a bit of a range limit, I think that's what that star I had was for." [Ramos quiets down sheepishly at the end. Good, feel ashamed~]

"Well then I have a plan~" [You stand up, stumbling a little, then stretching your legs. You needed to get feeling back in them.] "Ramos, Bonnie, you two stay here. Those two random travelers, Vixul and Wren, they can help fight off the sadness, I think. Polaris too if you can undo the mind craft."

[You stretch your arms next.] "Me and Mirabelle, we're going to find that couple, hopefully they're right down the road~"

"Are you sure about that si- Loop?" [Asks Ramos.] "If they ARE the people who caused this, then, maybe I should-"

"We can't leave the inn undefended~" [You stick your tongue out. Plus, you didn't want Ramos around. And Bonnie should be out of harms way.] "Mirabelle and I can handle it."

"But-"

"We'll be alright, Ramos." [Mirabelle replies.] "We wont even need to fight if they are, and, if it is then we can beat them easily."

[Ramos looks between the two of you, unsure, then shrugs.] "I-if, if you're sure."

"Hey!" [Bonnie stands up.] "Just, don't get hurt okay?! Crabface."

"Not a scratch, Boniface, teehee~"

[The others stand up as well. You say a quick goodbye, Bonnie hands you some tonics, and that's it. You and Mirabelle went to the road leading to Worlworth, you had no idea how far you'd have to go, or if those two were even there, but. . .]

[. . A few minutes pass. Mirabelle speaks up.] ". . . . Loop, what's going on?"

"Hmm?" [You turn to look at her, smiling as you walk.] "Apart from the looping? Oh nothing~"

"Loop." [There was that stern voice again.] "I know you didn't promise to talk about your feelings, but you're still in my friends body, s-so."

"Nothing's wrong, Mirabelle." [Mask in place.]

[She stops in the road. She's looking at you, glaring at you. You feel a shudder run up your spine.]

". . . Mira-?"

"Loop. Please."

[. . . Your mask slips for a second.]

[You can't trust Ramos you're tired of looping you're paranoid about mind craft Isabeau yelled at you Isabeau kissed Mal you don't feel right in your body everything hurts all the time you still can't remember so much and they'll never know.]

[They all must never know.]

". . . . . . . . . . . ." [You look away.] "I'll. . . . Try to tell you, sometime."

". . . . Alright." [She sighed, then smiled.] "That'll have to do, but rememer, we're feelings buddies too, okay?"

[You nod, and smile.] "Okay, thank you, Mirabelle."

[She offers you a hug. You hesitate, then take it. She offered you a hug. You. You. Remember that. You hold the hug for a moment before stepping back.]

"Better?"

"A little~ Shall we?"

[The two of you headed off again at a steady pace. The rain didn't hinder you, if anything, it made you more determined to get this done- wait! You look down at the path, sure enough, there's a pair of footprints in the soft mud.]

[That makes you speed up. Maybe this was it? Maybe this was who you were looking for! Maybe you could get this all resolved and not tiptoe around everyone. Maybe you could finally relax.]

[Looking behind you, Mirabelle was keeping pace. Her expression. . . It was determined. She was a good friend. Is a good friend. She's, she's not your Mirabelle. But, she's family.]

[And she's strong.]

[One of the strongest people you know.]

[You don't know how long it took, but you soon came to a fork in the path. One to Wolworth, another leading to the Poterian border. There's a tree at the fork.]

[There's a couple sitting at the tree.]

[You feel a knot in your gut.]

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Silver, Azul: Equal Parts Noble and Naive

... Why's he making a Malleus "r u lost bby ghorl" face while also copying Lilia's chin-in-hand pose/Malleus’s Dorm Uniform pose 🤡 There's another Malleus parallel in the vignettes; Silver comments on the same Philip-Aurora dancing painting (that is shown in Malleus's Groovy) and says that he took up dancing too since he admired the prince. Boy was ready for GloMasq/j Malleus glaring at the happy couple and Silver determined to stand firm against a fearsome foe... ;v;

I don’t know if I should be concerned or not given the Groovy and potential foreshadowing for book 7 😂 since there’s fan theories about how Silver could be the “sword” that slays the dragon… *rubs hands together* but it would be fun if it happened…

Fun fact about this Groovy: it had to be corrected because during the initial drop the devs forgot Silver's eyeshadow www The first time this mistake happened, I believe it was on Platinum Suit Vil's chibi.

A Tale as Old as Time.

There was a magic to two sets of parallel lines, bound together to form a quadrilateral. A great number of things could be contained within it. Upon a storybook's page or a painter's canvas, endless possibilities and mystical beings.

Silver gazed at one now.

A spindly dragon, horned and with massive spines protruding from its back, was poised in a platinum frame. Its belly was a violent shock of violet, its scales black as the night. Leathery wings splayed, gaping maw glowing green, trails of smoke exuding from its nostrils, the fearsome beast was prepared to strike down any warrior foolish enough to approach it.

"This is the Thorn Fairy in her dragon form," Silver murmured, his expression set in seriousness. "I'd always dreamed of seeing it for myself someday."

"How wonderful that your dream has now become a reality," a slick voice crooned. It belonged to Azul, who had sidled up to him like an all-too-eager used car salesman. "Ah, but you seem to be troubled. What ails you?"

“It's just... for the Thorn Fairy to have assumed this form, it means she felt as though she was in danger. Someone may have threatened her or put her in this situation."

“That’s true.” Azul nodded. “As I recall from our Magic History lectures, fae tend to be reclusive creatures with rather tumultuous relations with other races.

“In the days when magic was branded as heresy, fae were particularly ostracized due to their natural affinity for it. Humans far and away wide feared them. It's possible that this painting depicts a struggle of a similar nature."

“A struggle…” The corners of Silver’s mouth turned down. “Yes, humans and fae have historically been at odds with one another. We are fortunate to live during an era of relative peace."

“Quite! My own people—the merfolk—have also had a strained relationship with humans. It was through the union of a mermaid princess and a human prince that we were able to begin efforts to mend that bond. I am most gracious to them! It is because of the mermaid princess that I’m afforded the opportunity to study on land.”

“That’s great, Azul. I’m happy for you.” Silver gave a smile that was as softy and airy as dandelion fluff. “It’s nice that we’re able to meet and share ideas with people from different walks of life. It makes the world a richer place.”

He looked to the painting again, his eyes tracing the curved horns of the dragon and stopping at the sharp tips. His liege, too, had a pair like those.

“… As much as I hate to admit it, it will be a while before fae and humans can reach that level of understanding." Silver folded his arms. "Sebek says the differences are too numerous, but I… I want to believe that we are capable of bringing about that kind of a future.”

His vision, so clear, so pure. It sparkled like the face of a polished mirror.

Azul pushed his glasses up, his hand concealing a smirk.

"Fufufu. Perhaps it is possible to achieve with your endless optimism and empathy, Silver-san. After all, I don't believe I've witnessed you losing your cool even once with Malleus-san, Lilia-san, or Sebek-san. That kindness and patience is your strength, stronger than any sword you could wield."

He pretended to hesitate. "Though... I do wonder what should happen if--no, never mind. Please forget that I said anything."

"What is it? You can tell me," Silver reassured him. Dread surged up from his stomach--but the spike soon settled.

"Well--" Azul made a little show of choosing his words carefully, as though he were thoroughly coming through ingredients lined up on a shelf. "Consider: what happens if the day comes when you are forced to point your sword at your master?"

"At Malleus-sama?! I can't imagine..."

"If, if. This is entirely hypothetical," his peer tutted. "Let us say that Malleus-san were to make a decision--a decision which has dire consequences for you, for all of humankind. Silver-san, would you be able to salvage that precarious peace?"

Surprise lasted for a second before it vanished from the knight. Back was a quiet stoicism, steel sharpening the delicate colors to his gaze. A hand clenching his chest, as if to keep his heart still.

Finally, he spoke.

"I will do what has to be done. I will not back down. If there comes a time when my lord strays from his path and into the darkness, then it is my duty as his retainer to return him to the light."

“And you are not concerned for what awaits you in the aftermath?”

“No,” Silver replied matter-of-factly. The answer was simple. “I will offer my hand.”

“I beg your pardon?! Am I hearing this correctly? You plan to help the person you just opposed back up after you defeat them?”

“That’s the right thing to do. Everyone deserves a chance for their feelings to be heard. If we listen, then we can find a solution together and keep the same misunderstanding from happening again. That’s my hope.”

His wish was like the buoyant notes of a bell. Clear, crisp, resonant. It flitted up, rising above the boys’ heads, at last bursting like a bubble and letting the words rain down on them in thoughtful flecks.

"… I see,” Azul mused. “So that is the type of person you are."

How noble. How naive. It seems that Silver-san is a very bit like the prince from the story he so deeply cherishes. Neither will recoil from foes, no matter how formidable.

The valuable piece of information, he tucked away for a rainy day. With his probing settled, Azul brought his hands together and flashed a winsome grin.

Here was a hero in the making, and he, the sponsor to the champion.

“Your character is commendable!! I look forward to witnessing your many friendship-fueled triumphs.”

[ofstarsandvibranium]

My Sweetheart: Part 2

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: You purchase a vintage sweetheart bracelet from an antique store and with it, comes the spirit of the woman who owned it. Through her, you go on an interesting journey to find out what happened to her old lover.

Part 1

It's been two days since you've basically taken a ghost back home with you. Said ghost named Dot who was attached to the sweetheart bracelet you bought. In the few days since discovering her, you've discovered that she can be pretty powerful. She'll open doors, knock things over, stuff to grab your attention. While she does have a lot of energy, communicating with you can take a lot out of her sometimes. Now it's day three and you're at your computer with a pen and paper beside you to see if she can give you the name of this Jamie person.

You watch as the pen moves a bit but doesn't lift. You're sure she's trying her best, but it kind of frustrates you. You want to help Dot so she can move on and so that you can get back to living your regular life, completely alone without your newfound ghost roommate.

Ways to talk to ghosts

You type the words into google and click on the first link you see: ouija board, a spiritual medium, pendulums, rods, voice recorder, or a spirit box.

Out of all the options, you felt like the ouija board would be the best bet to communicate with Dot. So later that day you go to your local Target and purchase a ouija board, because, yes, they do sell those there. The board being considered as a game.

Later that night, after you've had dinner, you sit in your living room. You have the ouiji board set on your coffee table. The lights are off in the room except for a few candles you lit. You place the sweetheart bracelet beside the board, hoping it'll bring as much of Dot's energy as possible. Beside that, is a pad and paper for you to jot notes

You take the planchette, sliding it over to HELLO.

You take a deep breath, "Dot, are you here?"

With your fingers lightly touching the planchette, they slide towards YES on their own.

"Alright. What is your full name?"

You watch at the device slides over each letter to spell out D-O-L-O-R-E-S-M-I-L-L-A-R-D.

"Dolores Millard. Okay. Nice to meet you, Dolores. But I'm assuming you prefer Dot?"

YES, she says as it slides to the upper left of the board.

"Alright, Dot. Who is this Jamie you want me to look for him? Why do you want me to look for him?"

J-A-M-E-S-B-A-R-N-E-S

"James Barnes? Uuuhh, is there anything else you can give me? Does he have a middle name? It'll make things easier to looking him up."

B-U-C-H-A-N-A-N.

"James Buchanan Barnes. Alright. Give me a second," you pull out your phone and type in James Buchanan Barnes as well as 1940s.

You went through a list of men, Dot either telling you YES or NO. Then it hit you, "Wait. Hold on."

You type in BUCKY BARNES to google and tap on a picture captured of him and Sam Wilson, "Is this your Jamie? Is Bucky Barnes your Jamie?"

YES.

"...well shit!"

_______________________________

Bucky didn't expect things to go this way. He didn't think he'd find himself working beside Captain America again. However, he did find it therapeutic in a way. Sure, he still went to therapy, just not with Dr. Raynor anymore, but this was a different kind of therapeutic. This was him doing good, to make up for all the bad he's done as the Winter Soldier.

The newly renovated Avengers Compound in upstate New York was where Bucky stayed a majority of his time. He still had his place in Brooklyn when he needed to get away from Sam and the newbies, but, for the most part, this was where he can be found.

"Uh, hey, Mister Barnes?"

Bucky looks away from the tv to see Kamala looking at him confused, "What is it, kid?" He asks the young Avenger.

"So there's this lady in the main lobby asking for you. She said it's important?"

"Define important."

Kamala shrugs, "I don't know. Something about a bracelet and a lady named Dot."

Bucky's brows raise in interest, "Dot?"

"FRIDAY?"

"Yes, Bucky?"

"Bring up the CCTV footage of the lobby?"

"Got it," a holoscreen appears and you're seen sitting in a waiting area. Your leg is bouncing, your fingers are tapping on your lap.

"Is she someone you know?" Kamala asks.

Bucky shakes his head, "Nope, but she's mentioned someone that from my past. So I guess I'm gonna talk to her."

Kamala excitedly asks, "Need backup?!"

He chuckles at her eagerness. Even after working with Carol and Monica, Kamala is always wanting to jump in to help, "I think I'll be okay. You can watch the live footage if you want, just in case."

"OKAY!" Kamala plops herself onto the couch where Bucky previously sat and watched the holoscreen eagerly.

It takes a few minutes for Bucky to get to the lobby. The new Avengers Compound is much bigger now after Thanos destroyed the first one.

His brows furrow as he thinks about Dot. It's been literal decades since he's seen her. He knows she's long passed away after looking her and several other of his loved ones up on the internet. She ended up marrying another guy, had a few kids, and a few grandkids. She died about a decade ago.

When Bucky entered the lobby, you spotted him immediately. One of the security guards rushed to stop you, but Bucky held his hand up, "It's okay."

He then looks at you, "Do I know you?"

You shake your head, "No, sorry, um...can we go somewhere private?"

It's Bucky's turn to shake his head, "Sorry. Since I don't necessarily if you're a threat or not, this is the best we can do."

"Alright," you sigh and pull up your sleeve to reveal a bracelet, "Does this look familiar to you?"

Bucky looks down at your wrist and gestures, "May I?" You slip it off and place it into his metal hand. He looks at it and suddenly remembers, "Dot. I gave this to her before I was shipped out for the war."

"Right. Okay, so, um...do you believe in ghosts, Mr. Barnes?"

He snorts, "Call me Bucky, and, I mean, I've fought aliens, super soldiers, died and came back a few times now, so, sure, I guess ghosts are real. Why?"

"Soooo it seems that Dot's spirit is still connected to this...realm...? Anyway, she's attached to this bracelet and her spirit asked me to find you. I think, maybe, for some closure?"

"Is Dot here now?" Bucky asks, a bit, weirded out by this whole thing.

You shrug, "I don't know. I can't see her."

"Then how'd you communicate with her?"

"She wrote on my steamed up mirror the first time and then it's been primarily through ouija board."

"Those things actually work?"

"Seems so. Anyway, I'd really appreciate it if you helped me give her spirit closure so I can start living a normal life again, sans my new ghost roommate."

Bucky snorts. You're very interesting. It seems you're also very determined and a little desperate to solve this Dot situation out. Bucky's not busy. Sam's away on his own mission, so that leaves Bucky to some free time.

"Yeah. Sure, I guess I'll help."

"Thank you!" you fist bump the air, "Should we start now?"

"What exactly should we do first?"

You slip off your tote bag that you've been carrying and pull out the ouija board you've been using, "We can make contact with Dot?"

"You're...efficient," you shrug and Bucky chuckles, "Yeah. Sure. Okay. Um, we need to get you clearance first so, uh, come with me." You follow him to the desk and watch as he discusses your clearance badge to one of the security. You never thought buying a pretty vintage bracelet from an antique store would lead you to meeting an Avenger.

[herejusttosufferalong]

Hi. Love your blog, but a bit of critism here.

You are a bit similar, you and Mpov, just opposite side of the spectrum.

She really does not like L, and getting worse hiding it. This J M related stating the girls will be on s4 is really low of her tbh. I stopped following her, she is really negative and strongly biased.

But you tend to look away and disregard signs of his character being shady. Not just stupid ass but nice boy, no. Shady and egoistic.

Like the fact he takes pictures of A's b a@@ and R posts it, then deletes. GQ pic w 3 of 🤡 demonsrating L is taking it, with 🦀 looking back. Or her last summer pics from SH where she wears a tiny tiny bikini, he liked and most probably took.

The colours of their outfits at pap walk. It's the colours of Polin in s3, you have to be blind not to see. I am not sure he orchestrated, but 🦀 blue dress is very sus, and his light yellow is s3 Pen colour for sure. It possible though he was set up, idk.

I don't know the drivers behind, but these are really suspicious. I agree with everyone saying he must have been a sweetheart during Bton shootings bc everybody loves and praises him. The two personas are so opposite it's almost psychotic, so something is not addig up. Maybe he got hurt by N and these are him is being petty and getting back or sending messages to her? I do not remember clearly when, but I can recall him saying in an interview that if he (or Colin?) is ever wearing yellow, it's a message to Pen?

I am sure N loves him, but could have rejected him for a good number of reasons (not wanting to be a rebound, seeing him flirting with too many women, idk)

I would appreciate if you would address these. Would be more balanced from your part.

But it's your blog, your decision.

I’m sorry but tf am I supposed to be criticizing exactly???

Him taking pics of her?

Okay but why? Just because ppl don’t like the kind of pics he’s taking?

For what we know now, they are dating and yes we can nitpick the validity of their relationship but they are together to some degree.

Idk about y’all but my man takes those kinds of pics of me as well.

Now if the accusation is that he is taking them as a part of some kind of game with the fans, well here’s me addressing that?

I don’t care. Let him pick on the crazy fans who are acting a fool in his comments section.

I’m telling ya right now, he’s a lot better than I am because I would have to the fandom to go fuck themselves back in 2022 and never interacted with them again.

So the other issue is what?

That they wore blue and yellow to the after party?

I have addressed this multiple times. I can’t help people get over it.

[internetgiraffekid1673]

What the Hell is Wizard101 (and Pirate101)

I'm making this post for the lovely @ellazimmermansblog, who is very sweet and wants to actually have half a clue what's going on in the fandom that I'm in but she's not. And oh sweet cheese and crackers. You asked for it. I tried to leave this in the comments. I really did. This is gonna get long, so feel free to read this in chunks or disregard it or just read it whenever you get the time.

Genre:

Wizard101 is a JRPG or junior-role-playing game that's also an MMO or Massive Multiplayer Online game that was big in the 2010s. In case you don't know what those are:

A JRPG is a game where you basically play as the protagonist of a middle grade fantasy/adventure story, meaning the target audience is usually 7-13. Think Pokemon or Kingdom Hearts.

An MMO is a game where everybody who plays the game is playing at the same time, in the same world. You can always interact with other players and are heavily encouraged to team up and collobarate.

While it is advertised as "free to play," it's only free for like the first hour or so of playtime. You can do the tutorial and like two other areas before you have to fork over some cash for a membership.

Basic Story:

Anyway, the spoiler-free story of Wizard101 is that you are a young Wizard enrolled in Ravenwood School of Magic by Headmaster Ambrose. He found you magically transported from "a strange world that doesn't believe in magic" (read: Earth). He believes you may be "the one we've been searching for." After doing a personality quiz to decide which school of magic you belong to, your enrollment is immediately crashed by Malistaire Drake. He used to be the Professor for the Death School, until his wife fell ill and he went mad with grief and turned evil trying to bring her back.

After beating up your would-be teacher, you learn that he's been unleashing scores of undead onto Wizard City, mind-controlling people, is going after major infrastructure, and is just being a dick in general because he's eeeeeeeeviiiiil. Ambrose turns you loose in the streets to help a number of other student NPCs save the city and do general damage control.

The main story of Arc 1 basically has you trekking after Malistaire like a lunatic, cleaning up his messes and trying to stop him from breaking the world apart while he attempts to ressurect his wife. This is where me and my brother J-Dog are at in our playthrough.

But there are 4 arcs, and the story continues WELL after you mop up the Malistaire problem. It's basically the Young Wizard saving the spiral from major threat after major threat, trekking through quirky worlds willy-nilly, and meeting a massive and entertaining cast of NPCs, all with different motivations and sidequests and problems for you to solve (or cause).

Each world in the spiral is also kind of an analogy for a real life place or a popular fictional story, but you replace all the humans with anthropomorphic animals (I'm really not sure why this game isn't more popular with furries). Marleybone, for example, which is where my brother and I are right now, is analagous to Victorian era England and populated by a bunch of stiff-upper-lipped dogs that nobody likes, mutliple crime rings of cats, and a contingent of Irish foxes that only appear in the less-popular but very good companion game: Pirate101 (I'll get to that).

That's the most basic I can make the gist, but there's still a lot of other basic information that might matter when I talk about it, so I'll put that under a cut!

Magic Basics:

The 7 main schools of magic that you can play as, and what they're general purpose/ability is are as follows:

Storm: Hit things really hard in exchange for a low accuracy rate and lower base HP. Glass cannons basically. This is what I'm playing as.

Fire: Also hitting things, but focuses more on damage-over-time spells that kill your enemies slowly.

Ice: Damage Sponge. They have the highest natural health pool, access to some decent spells early on to reduce damage, and even have a taunt spell that can draw enemy fire onto them (this isn't very useful in practice from what I've heard).

Those are the three elemental schools. The next three are spirit schools.

Life: Healers. What did you expect? They're the only class with the ability to heal other players. They get a high health pool, really good accuracy, and a lot of healing spells, but they're less good at hitting things and dealing damage. This is what J-Dog is playing as.

Myth: Summons. You can summon lots of different minions to help you out. From what I understand, each minion plays slightly differently and you're supposed to build different strategies around what they give you.

Death: Drains. Stealing health from the enemy basically. A lot of their spells will hit the enemy really hard, and then give half of that back to you. Because of the capability to hurt and heal in the same turn, they're the best to solo the game with.

And finally there is a school that lives in between Elemental and Spiritual:

Balance: battlefield control. They have a lot of damage increasers and damage reducers, and have the capability to mess with the powers of any of the other schools.

While each class does have it's unique and specific niche, they do all have the same main function: summon a monster to hit your enemy. All the combat in the game is done in a summoning circle where you take turns summoning monsters to hit each other. Each side can have up to 4 allies at a time (are we sensing a number theme yet).

Each enemy in the game has an assigned school that they belong to. Casting spells from the same school as them does less damage, while spells from the opposite school are stronger. Opposites are as follows:

Life and Death

Fire and Ice

Myth and Storm

Balance is a special snowflake that has no opposite :)

Your ability to cast spells depends on your Mana, which can be restored with blue wisps of magic floating around the world. Your ability to not be dead depends on your health, which can be restored with red health wisps.

Most spells that you cast, especially damaging spells, have a chance to "fizzle" or fail to cast. It's like missing in a pokemon game. This is the bane of every player's existence.

There are also Astral Schools later that do other things, but I ain't got there yet, so it's whatever.

Extracurriculars:

There are a number of other fun things you can do in Wizard101 that don't involve saving the world:

PvP: player versus player combat! Get the shit beaten out of you by people with more time and money! For fun! Beat the shit out of other people and win arena tickets, which can buy you cool prizes like better gear!

Pets: You can have a number of adorable little animal companions that, if you take good care of, will help you in combat! Some of them cast spells on their own, some of them give you extra spells to cast, some of them have passive abilities that increase your strength, and all of them will get more helpful the more you train them. You train them via minigames, like teaching them to dance or having them eat snacks off a stage or FIRING THEM OUT OF CANONS (amongst other questionable activities).

Gardening: Take care of the weirdest assortment of magical plants you've ever seen, in exchange for harvesting them for money and crafting ingredients and treasure cards and stuff. All of them are puns btw. Like. I have laugh-o-dils, despairagus, baby carrots (literal screaming baby carrots in diapers), and dandelions (which have actual lion faces) to name a few.

Fishing: Pull weird magical pun-based fish out of the water and sell them for exorbitant amounts of cash or stick them in your aquarium or something!

Monstrology: Study various creature types by killing them a lot until you become an expert and can either summon them as minions, stick them in your house, or just get EXTRA good at killing them.

Crafting: Use natural ingredients you found across the spiral (reagents) to make better gear yourself!

There's also photomancy, but that's just a glorified screenshot feature and we all know it.

NPCs:

Me and everybody else who plays this game is fucking obsessed with all of the non-player characters in both games. There are so many of them though, and they're so different from each other, that you're better off just asking who's who every time I post about one.

Pirate101:

While the Wizard is off being a tragic chosen one saving the spiral from various world-ending threats, there are other adventures going on underneath their nose! Pirate101 takes place at the same time and in the same universe as Wizard101, but never interacts beyond vague references.

The basic spoiler-free plot of this one is that you are a young orphan who got thrown into prison after crossing the Clockwork Armada, a tyrannical army of steampunk clockwork robots who want to conquer the world and end our God Given Right to steal shiny things (and also suppress free will or something. Idk. I never got that far).

You're broken out of jail by eccentric pirate captain Boochbeard and his monkey first mate Mr. Gandry, drag a fellow captive along with you, beat up one of the high-ranking members of the Armada, and are taken to the pirate safe haven of skull island. You're introduced to it's steward, the successful and retired pirate Captain Avery, who immediately enlists you as his errand boy/girl/goblin thing. You meet one of the first companions of your crew, Bonnie Anne, and together you run some turncoat sharks out of town.

After proving yourself to Avery and getting swindled out of a real ship, you basically spend the rest of the game chasing after untold gold and riches, beating up the Clockwork Armada, and helping out unfortunate souls where you can.

The critical difference between wizard and pirate though: The wizard makes temporary NPC acquaintances and even a few true friends, but they're always left to fight alone with just themselves (and a few other wizards if you're playing the game multiplayer, as intended). Meanwhile, the pirate is collecting ragtag companions for their motley crew like they're pokemon cards. Some of them are looking for adventure, others money, others freedom or a new life, and a lot of them just feel like they owe you because you beat them up.

All of these NPCs join your crew and you can have up to 3 of them in a fight with you, in addition to a pet. They all have highly entertainig personalities and different sets of abilities that are useful in different scenarios.

Pirate101's combat is much more up close and personal, playing more like chess where you have a bunch of different pieces that you have to strategically move around to hit different attacks with.

The different classes of pirate, which are determined by which crime got you in jail at the beginning of the game, are as follows:

Musketeers (my fave): guns and traps. The idea is that you don't have to get too close with them.

Witchdoctor: magic! They function sort of similarly to wizards in wizard101, but they can also hit things over the head with their staff and get stabbed, so no they don't.

Privateers: Healing, boosting, and commanding other pirates

Bucanners: Big sword that hits one thing very hard (and also big defense) at the cost of more agility and freedom to move.

Swashbuckler: Also hitting things, but less defense and health in exchange for more agility.

Pirate101 also has ship combat. While Wizard has convenient magical teleporters to move you between worlds, Pirate101 said "get in your boat and drive there yourself." You basically fire canonballs at each other until one ship gets damaged so badly it stops moving and gets boarded, at which point you transition to regular combat.

Pirate101 is in general, the neglected younger sibling. Kingsisle doesn't pay a quarter as much attention to Pirate, but it's still really good.

Apart from the companions and the combat, the biggest difference in pirate is probably your lack of supervision. You don't constantly have people glaring over your shoulder and telling you what to do, you just have a ragtag gang of misfits and a general order to "get money, don't die, and don't be a dick." The pirates get to be very chaotic in comparison to the wizards.

Holy mackeral, that was a lot. Anyway, I played both games a lot as a kid and spent my summer allowance on memberships for them. Now that I have an adult brain and adult money and am a lot better at video games, I have returned to enjoy them again, and I am dragging my brother along with me (don't worry, he's having fun too).

I highly recommend that you play them both, they're very fun. But this post should be a good guideline if you don't want to put that much investment into it, but still want to have half a clue what I'm talking about when I bring up either game. Thanks so much for asking!

[jackoshadows]

IMO, If there is one person Jon Snow is going to be most affected by after learning about R+L=J, it's going to be his mother Lyanna and not the men - Ned or Rhaegar. He's going to be shaken to his core knowing the truth of his mother.

The mother he keeps hoping to remember. The mother he thinks of when he sees his siblings get a mother's love. The mother he wants Ned to tell him about. The mother he dreams about - who she was, where she was, did she love him?

"Am I?" the dwarf replied, sardonic. "Do tell my lord father. My mother died birthing me, and he's never been sure." "I don't even know who my mother was," Jon said. - - Jon, AGoT

"The Watch has need of every man it can get," Donal Noye said when they were alone. "Even men like Toad. You won't win any honors killing him." Jon's anger flared. "He said my mother was—" "—a whore. I heard him. What of it? Words won't make your mother a whore. She was what she was, and nothing Toad says can change that. You know, we have men on the Wall whose mothers were whores." Not my mother, Jon thought stubbornly. He knew nothing of his mother; Eddard Stark would not talk of her. Yet he dreamed of her at times, so often that he could almost see her face. In his dreams, she was beautiful, and highborn, and her eyes were kind. - Jon, AGoT

Your half brothers, a voice inside reminded him. And Lady Stark, who will not welcome you. There was no place for him in Winterfell, no place in King's Landing either. Even his own mother had not had a place for him. The thought of her made him sad. He wondered who she had been, what she had looked like, why his father had left her. Because she was a whore or an adulteress, fool. Something dark and dishonorable, or else why was Lord Eddard too ashamed to speak of her? - Jon , AGoT

"They were as close as brothers, once." Jon wondered if Joffrey would keep his father as the King's Hand. It did not seem likely. That might mean Lord Eddard would return to Winterfell, and his sisters as well. He might even be allowed to visit them, with Lord Mormont's permission. It would be good to see Arya's grin again and to talk with his father. I will ask him about my mother, he resolved. I am a man now, it is past time he told me. Even if she was a whore, I don't care, I want to know. - Jon, AGoT

"But it's a lie," Jon insisted. How could they think his father was a traitor, had they all gone mad? Lord Eddard Stark would never dishonor himself … would he? He fathered a bastard, a small voice whispered inside him. Where was the honor in that? And your mother, what of her? He will not even speak her name. - Jon, AGoT

The Old Bear shrugged. "A boy king … I imagine he'll listen to his mother. A pity the dwarf isn't with them. He's the lad's uncle, and he saw our need when he visited us. It was a bad thing, your lady mother taking him captive—" "Lady Stark is not my mother," Jon reminded him sharply. Tyrion Lannister had been a friend to him. If Lord Eddard was killed, she would be as much to blame as the queen. - Jon, AGoT

The old man seemed to sense his doubts. "Tell me, Jon, if the day should ever come when your lord father must needs choose between honor on the one hand and those he loves on the other, what would he do?" Jon hesitated. He wanted to say that Lord Eddard would never dishonor himself, not even for love, yet inside a small sly voice whispered, He fathered a bastard, where was the honor in that? And your mother, what of his duty to her, he will not even say her name. "He would do whatever was right," he said … ringingly, to make up for his hesitation. "No matter what." - Jon, AGoT

Tyrion Lannister had claimed that most men would rather deny a hard truth than face it, but Jon was done with denials. He was who he was; Jon Snow, bastard and oathbreaker, motherless, friendless, and damned. - Jon, AGoT

I have no place, Jon wanted to say, I'm a bastard, I have no rights, no name, no mother, and now not even a father. The words would not come. "I don't know." - Jon, AGoT

Soon they were high enough so that looking down was best not considered. There was nothing below but yawning blackness, nothing above but moon and stars. "The mountain is your mother," Stonesnake had told him during an easier climb a few days past. "Cling to her, press your face up against her teats, and she won't drop you." Jon had made a joke of it, saying how he'd always wondered who his mother was, but never thought to find her in the Frostfangs. It did not seem nearly so amusing now. One step and then another, he thought, clinging tight. - Jon, ACoK

"I am." "Who was your mother?" "Some woman. Most of them are." Someone had said that to him once. He did not remember who. - Jon, ACoK

She smiled again, a flash of white teeth. "And she never sung you the song o' the winter rose?" "I never knew my mother. Or any such song." - Jon, ACoK

"If you kill a man, and never mean t', he's just as dead," Ygritte said stubbornly. Jon had never met anyone so stubborn, except maybe for his little sister Arya. Is she still my sister? he wondered. Was she ever? He had never truly been a Stark, only Lord Eddard's motherless bastard, with no more place at Winterfell than Theon Greyjoy. - Jon, ASoS

Was this how it was for my father? he wondered. Was he as weak as I am, when he dishonored himself in my mother's bed? - Jon, ASoS

They shared the same sleeping skins every night, and he went to sleep with her head against his chest and her red hair tickling his chin. The smell of her had become a part of him. Her crooked teeth, the feel of her breast when he cupped it in his hand, the taste of her mouth . . . they were his joy and his despair. Many a night he lay with Ygritte warm beside him, wondering if his lord father had felt this confused about his mother, whoever she had been. - Jon, ASoS

Ygritte was much in his thoughts as well. He remembered the smell of her hair, the warmth of her body . . . and the look on her face as she slit the old man's throat. You were wrong to love her, a voice whispered. You were wrong to leave her, a different voice insisted. He wondered if his father had been torn the same way, when he'd left Jon's mother to return to Lady Catelyn. - Jon, ASoS

Jon has a mother. Wylla, her name is Wylla. She would need to remember so she could tell him, the next time she saw him.- Arya, ASoS

And knowing that, yes, he had a mother who loved him dearly and made Ned promise to take care of him on her deathbed is going to profoundly affect him and he is going to be bag of emotions!!

That he could visit her in the crypts of Winterfell, that she is buried there - his mother!! Hope we are still getting a Jon Snow POV after death/resurrection/becoming a king because GRRM writing this stuff?

[omniuravity]

NSFW Alphabet: Vox

Warning: This obviously contains NSFW content, Minors DNI

Thanks to @pinkhimecat and @bloodypeachblog for the help!

Also tagging: @fatgumsurpremacy-remastered @je-suis-eternel-jennie

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

Vox is pretty good with aftercare. He cares too much for him not to care about you.

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

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

This man loves so much about himself, it's hard for him to pick just one.

He loves your hair. How smooth it is, the way it smells, the way it feels when he grabs it to get your attention.

His cum glows an eerie blue, he loves seeing it drip out of your abused pussy.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He doesn't mind being on the bottom. As long as he takes care of you.

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

He's not too experienced, but he does know what he's doing.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Cowgirl, he loves it when you take control after a stressful day. Plus, he gets to see your face which is always a plus.

G = Goofy (are they more severe in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

He's pretty serious, he likes to stay in control during sex.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He doesn't grow hair, so he's clean down there.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? The romantic aspect)

He's super intimate with you, he loves reminding you how much he loves you. He also loves being in control with you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Why do it himself when he can have you suck his dick under his desk?

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Daddy kink, he loves being in control of you. Voyeurism, he does enjoy watching you when you don't know it and then coming to your aid. Cockwarming, he tried it once, now you are constantly sitting on his lap during meetings, warming his cock. He also likes to electrocute you, nothing too serious, but he likes making you squirm. Finally, voluntary hypnosis. Vox isn't a forceful man when it comes to you, so he'd make sure you're okay with him using his hypnosis on you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

In his office for sure. He loves bending you over his desk and fucking you raw. He also loves you sucking him off under his desk during meetings.

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

Praise, this man lives to be praised by the public and especially you. He lives for those moments you tell him how smart and handsome he is.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

Nothing that can seriously hurt you and gross stuff. He's not afraid to draw a bit of blood every once in a while, but he wants you to be safe.

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

He loves receiving oral sex from you. He thinks your mouth is just perfect to him. He's not greedy though, his tongue isn't just for show. He loves pleasing you too.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He's rough, but his pace depends on his mood. If he's feeling tired after a long day of work he'll take it easier on you, but if he's feeling stressed or angry, prepare your pussy for the fucking of your life.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He loves a good quickie. Vox is a busy man and doesn't always have time to always have a long intimate experience with you, so every once in a while he'll call you into his office for a nice quickie.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

Oh, he loves taking risks with you. Especially, risking getting caught with you. He knows he can charm the pants off of any person who questions his relationship, so it's not like his reputation would be ruined if he was caught with you.

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

Dude runs on coffee and electricity. He can go for hours. I'd say he'd go until you're unable to. Some days he runs low on energy, so he only goes about 6 rounds.

T = Toys (do they own toys or use them on a partner or themselves?)

He does own a few toys, all of them are modeled after his own dick thanks to Valentino. Most of these toys are gifts from Valentino.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He loves teasing you as he pounds away at your body. He loves teasing you about how much you love his cock, or how good you take it.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He wants all of Hell to hear how good he is in bed. As for what sounds he'd make, probably some breathy grunts and moans. "Gah...ngh..fuck.."

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

His ero zone is the plug where he hooks into his TVs, on the back of his head.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He's rocking a 6 inch cock, very nice girth. As for color, take a normal human cock, and invert the colors. Add more emphasis with the blue on the head. That's Vox's cock.

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

His sex drive is pretty high. He dated Valentino, he has to be able to keep up. Plus, if you weren't so fucking cute all the time he wouldn't be horny all the time.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

If the sex is good enough, he starts to doze off not long after he's done. Otherwise, he's ready for the next round relatively quick.

[hueningchu]

Never again.

Genre: Heeseung+Jake x Cheater!Reader

Parings: Smut, Angst, Established relationship

Song: “Unfaithful” by Rihanna

Warnings: Smut, Angst with a sort of happy ending, Mentions of cheating on partners, Established relationship, Toxic friendships and Toxic relationships, Gaslighting, Manipulation, Spanking, fingering (I apologize in advance if any of this is cringy)

Summary: After one more month of sneaking behind Heeseung’s back, You and Jake are beginning to get messy with covering it up. It all comes crumbling down when Heeseung receives a text from someone. What is the text about? Who sent it? How will they explain themselves? Who will Heeseung blame in the end?

Pt. 1

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You would like to say those hours a day you spent with Jake was not worth it but..my god it was. You did not regret a single minute that you spent with Jake. Heeseung was so sweet and so attractive but Jake was just something else to you. He made you feel good but so bad at the same time. The electricity and the heat you feel between you and Heeseung was nothing compared to how you feel with Jake. People say girlfriends are supposed to have butterflies of excitement when their significant other walks in the room. However, when yours walks in the room you feel guilt and nervous butterflies. Nervousness that at literally any moment Heeseung can ask you..

"So you and Jake have been getting along pretty well?" Hee asked with his back turned to you while he stirred his drink. Distracted by your phone, you almost missed the question, so he cleared his throat and repeated it. "You and Jake have became good friends, no?"

Getting asked that so out of the blue made your voice a tiny bit shaky but you were hoping Heeseung did not notice that."J-jake? Oh! Yeah he's uh..really cool. That's probably why he's your best friend huh?" You tried to give a normal answer that wouldn't sound suspicious but that sort of failed.

"Why is your voice so shaky? Geez, I'm only asking a question." He giggled and flashed you a smile. His sweet smile was a sign that you were off the hook.  "But really quick.." Hee got up and walked into the bedroom to fetch his phone that was charging. "I got this text today." When he walked past the couch, He tossed the phone to you so you could read over the text. "Take a look at it. It'll make you laugh." Heeseung giggled again before walking back in the kitchen.

You felt your heart stop the minute you saw the contact name of the person who the text was from. It was a very long paragraph to Heeseung, from none other than...Jake.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jake: Hey r you up?

Heeseung: It's like 3 in the morning.

Jake: You answered tho..

Heeseung: Well no shit. I'm awake

Heeseung: I'm just pointing out that it's late as hell and you're texting me

Jake: when has this ever been a problem in our friendship?? You used to text me at 5am to get ready for school together😭

Jake: Don't think I forgot lmao

Heeseung: Shut up

Heeseung: what did you text me about tho?

Jake: oh yeah

Jake: It's kind of a lot so like should I tell you in person?

Heeseung: why did you even text me if you weren't gonna tell me until later..

Jake: I'm sorry

Jake: I feel really bad about it. So I guess I'm avoiding the topic..

Jake: I'll just tell you now then

Heeseung: Are you trying to make me nervous or sum??

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next text Jake sent to Heeseung was the last of the chats for that conversation. It was a lengthy paragraph explaining how you and him have been together without Heeseung knowing. You could start clapping on the spot because of how good of a show Jake put on. God, he acted like such a quiet and innocent little boy in front of Hee but if only his best friend knew the things jake would do while he kept Heeseung completely oblivious. All of those little moments you had with Jake were coming back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Yo. Wanna ride with me to go get snacks. When I come back the three of us can go." Heeseung said to Jake as he grabbed his keys out the dish near the front door. "Y/n is still getting ready so by the time I get back she should be ready to go."

"Nah, I'll stay here and keep y/n company. I don't mind keeping an eye out for her." Jake smiled at his bestie before Heeseung quickly left out the door. "Hey, y/n!" Jake yelled out for you as he hopped off the couch to walk into you and Heeseung's shared bedroom, where you were currently getting ready. "Hey." He poked his head in the doorway and smirked at you.

"Hey?? Did Hee come back already? You guys ready to go?" You we're sitting on the bed, putting on lipgloss and adding the finishing touches on your makeup.

"He actually just left. I wanted to come see what you were up to. Maybe we have some time to fool around a bit." The sneaky boy started to walk over to you and smiled. "You look so sexy with all that makeup on." Jake leaned down and went in to kiss you.

"Are you crazy? He could walk in at any minute. Besides, I just finished my makeup!"

Jake grabbed your chin. "Come on. I didn't say we had to screw or anything. Let's just.." he shrugged and sat down next to you. "Makeout or something before he gets back."

When he tried to kiss you on your freshly made lips again you moved back and rest your elbows on the bed. "Stop it! It's obvious when people get done making out. Especially with the way you do it."

"Come on. We are gonna be with Heeseung all day. I need something to think about while we watch the movie." He sounded so desperate for you. He started to use the baby voice he uses when he wants something. When you shook your head again which caused him to groan and put his head in your lap. "Please babygirl..I can't go a whole day without kissing your pretty plump lips." That's what got you. The second you leaned down to give him a deep kiss, you both heard the front door open. "Awe that's him. Well, let's get this day over with.” Jake hopped up and stood with his back facing the door. “And don't say anything stupid that'll get us caugh-"

Jake could barely finish his stupid sentence before Heeseung walked in and leaned on the doorway. "Let's get going. Y/n, Put the snacks in your bag."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

All the flashbacks and memories were running through your head while you read the text message. "Heeseung.." Before giving him an explanation you realized there wasn't one and just started thinking of which excuse you should go with. "What is this?" Oh. That's really how your instincts decide to play it? The oblivious act was not gonna work on Heeseung and the way you were executing it, that act wouldn't work on anyone.

"That's exactly what I'm asking you. Why do I have my friend texting me at 3am, telling me that he's been fucking my girl behind my back?"

"Jake is a dirty liar. I don't even know why he would tell you that. Let alone why you would believe him."

"I don't know. I've been friends with him for almost 15 god damn years and he's never slept with any of my girlfriends so.."

You tilted your head, waiting for him to finish his sentence. "So?..."

"So I'm guessing it's true." Heeseung walked over to you. "I should have known." He shook his head. "I should have known the minute I caught you leaving the house in the middle of the night." Heeseung was getting himself worked up. You could tell he was slowly boiling over. "I'm so fucking stupid. You told me.." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "You fucking told me you were going out for gas and I believed you. I can't believe I trusted you."

"What about Jake?" You quietly said.

Heeseung tilted his head and raised his eyebrows. "Did you seriously just ask me that? What about him?"

"Why is it all my fault and why is none of the blame on him?" Just as you said that you both heard a doorbell ring, causing your heads to turn towards the front door.

Heeseung chuckled and started to walk over to the door. "Funny you ask that. Cause I actually called him earlier and asked if he was busy. Told him that if not then he should come over so the three of us could talk." When Heeseung went to open the door you couldn't take it. You wanted to leave but there was no where to run. So you ran up to Heeseung and tried to convince him otherwise.

"Please Hee. Don't do this." You pleaded for him to just ignore it or tell the person on the other side to go away. You knew it was Jake and your heart couldn't take anymore stress or heartbreak.

"Don't call me that. I don't ever wanna hear you use that nickname again." Heeseung replied before pulling away from you to open the door for the visitor. Of course, it was just who you expected.

When the door swung open and you were both met with the main manipulator himself, You looked away and ran into the kitchen to get away from what was awaiting you. While Heeseung on the other hand faced his best friend head on. The minute he opened the door, Heeseung gave Jake the most bold and serious stare possible.

Jakes 'sincre' eyes met Heeseung's serious ones and he only said three words. "I'm sorry, man."

"Yeah. You said that already." Heeseung said as he leaned a arm on the door frame. "Don't just stand there, come inside."

Heeseung shut the door after Jake walked in. "So.." Jake took his coat off and started to walk towards the living room. "Where is she?"

"I don't know. She probably ran upstairs." Heeseung just stood near the front door, covering his face with one of his hands as he let the other rest on his hip. He was thinking about how hard this whole conversation was gonna be. "She's embarrassed."

Jake chuckled and started walking up the stairs to go find you. "Embarrassed? What is she embarrassed for? She did this to herself."

When you overheard Jake say such lies you came out of the kitchen. You were almost just as mad as Heeseung now. "I did this to myself?!"

You scanned the room for Jake and tears almost fell when you seen him and his shit eating grin standing at the top of the stairs. "There she is. There's the bell of the ball. Or should I say the lying cheating slut." Your eyes widened when Jake came at you with such vigor. He walked over to you and then pointed at Heeseung. "Look at him." When you wouldn't turn your head to face Heeseung's, Jake grabbed your chin with his other hand and forced you to. "Look at how hurt you've made him. All because you wanted one night of fun with me."

"It was more than one night, you asshole!" There goes the tears. You pushed Jake away from you and shook your head to get his grip off of you.

That's when Heeseung decided to jump back in on the argument. "How many nights exactly was it, Y/n?" He took Jake's spot and stood right in front of you. "Was it a special occasion type thing or was it every other weekend?" Heeseung pulled out his cellphone. "Oh, how about this? Let's go through our messages and see just how many times you have used a shitty excuse to blow me off."

Jake walked over and leaned on Heeseung's shoulder. "Should we make a game out of it? Try to guess which excuses are real and which ones are fake."

When Heeseung pulled up the messages he scrolled back a bit and then let out a giggle. "What about this one?" He showed Jake and kept it hidden from you. "Was she telling the truth?"

Jake took time to read it and then he giggled too before shaking his head. "Sorry but she was lying. It’s what women do, Heeseung. They lie and cheat.”

Gosh this was SO ironic coming from him. The fact Heeseung hasn’t called him out yet surprised you but it seemed most of his anger was towards you. "Who do you think you are? Don't try to pin this all on me." You turned to Heeseung and threw your hands in the air. "How can you let him stand here and talk about you like this? How can you let him come into our home and disrespect us?!"

"Us?! No y/n, I don't think you understand. There is no more us." Heeseung pushed you out of the way and walked up the stairs. He was gone for a bit before walking back with two suitcases. "And this home is no longer 'ours'."

"Are those my things? Are you throwing me out?!" You started to run up the steps but before you could Heeseung threw the bags over the stairs. You stood there shocked for a moment before the anger struck. "What the fuck! I'm not just a animal, Heeseung! You can't just throw me out onto the streets whe-"

"I can and I will. Do you expect me to keep you here after what you've done to me?"

"So let me get this straight." You pointed to Jake who was standing at the bottom of the stairs so innocently. "You'll kick me out and never speak to me again but there's no repercussions for Jake?" You gave Heeseung an exasperated look. "Am I the only one who this falls on? What's so special about Jake that you just can't bring yourself to lay the iron fist on him?

"What do you want me to do Y/n?! Want me to get in a fist fight with him because my girlfriend made a move on him?"

"He was the one who made a move on me first!"

Jake shook his finger. "Uhh actually no. That's a lie because if I remember correctly you told me that you had been wanting to hook up with me for months before I even brought it up to you."

"Ah ha!" You pointed at him again. "So you do admit that you're the one who made a move on me first!"

When Jake realized you caught him he switch the topic so no blame could fall on him yet. "I told you the first time we did it that it would never happen again. I made it clear that it was a mistake and that I never wanted to continue contact after that."

"I never asked for you again after the first time."

"So explain to me how you and Jake became a casual thing. If neither of you contacted the other after the first time then how did this become an item."

"Jake called me a two weeks after and told me he couldn't control himself. He said he knew it was wrong to go behind YOUR back but he couldn't help it and needed me in his bed again."

Heeseung looked hurt by this information and sent Jake a perplexed look. You knew he was secretly hurting and was trying to keep it together but he asked for the truth. So you gave it to him.

Jake definitely noticed the look Heeseung gave him so he took that as the cue to start explaining himself.

Only he didn't explain himself. Instead he shifted the blame again and somehow made Heeseung even more mad at you. "Oh? Was I the one who hit you up on Valentine's day and practically begged you to come over and fuck me?"

"Wait..Valentine's day?" Heeseung turned back to you with his brows furrowed. "Didn't I have to spend Valentine's Day in the ER with my brother?" You seen Heeseung start walking down the steps towards you. "I thought you were sick in bed all day and couldn't come with me to the hospital.

When Heeseung said that Jakes eyes widened and he held a smirk on his face. A smirk that made it obvious that he was trying not to laugh. "So..how is it possible that you were sick at home AND over my house on Valentine's Day?"

More tears found their way in your eyes when Jake fed into the fire that was burning in Heeseung. "I n-never went over Jake's house. Heeseung, I swear. I was at home on Valentine's Day." Your emotions started taking control and you started falling apart inside. The lying was a clear sign of that.

"Heeseung." Jake looked over at his best friend. "Why would I lie about something like this? Shit, I even have pictures in my camera roll that me and her took on Valentine's Day."

When Heeseung got quiet Jake knew it was the perfect time to convince him. "Take a look. They aren’t dirty pictures or anything. Just some pics we took at dinner." Jake pulled out his phone and started tapping and scrolling until he found the picture he was referring to. "Check the date."

Heeseung's face got even more sour when he seen this piece of evidence. "Seriously, Y/n?! While I was at the hospital with my brother?!" You jumped when he got loud. You don't know why. Heeseung never hit you but you were so scared. "To think that my girlfriend would rather fuck my best friend than come with me to the hospital to care for my brother is...a wake up call." He started to walk over to you. "I'm surprised I didn't find out earlier. Love makes you so blind and oblivious sometimes."

When you thought Heeseung would zero in on you some more for the horrible truth he just found out, he turned around. "And you." He looked straight at Jake and shook his head. "I can't even begin to tell you how hurt I am."

Jake put his head down in false shame and nodded at Heeseung's words. "You're right. I'm sorry I let me and y/n's  relationship get this far."

Heeseung waited to hear more from Jake but that was it. Heeseung raised an eyebrow. "So why did you do it?"

"I'm sorry?" Jake was a bit confused by the question.

"You said you knew your relationship with y/n shouldn't have gotten that far. So why did it? Why did you call her back and tell her you needed more."

Jake rubbed his arm. "I honestly couldn't tell you. Heeseung..You know I'm not the best with girls and so when y/n showed me the passion and love that she did I couldn't just let her go. I wanted more of that passion in my life."

"So what.." Heeseung shrugged and tried to hold in the tears that were threatening to fall. He didn't wanna cry. He wanted to be a man and face this situation with a cold attitude but it was too much..even for him. "Are you like..in love with her or something?"

Jake whipped his head up at Heesung and quickly shook his head. "N-No. I don't love her but I-"

Heeseung walked down the steps, walking past you until he reached Jake. "Are you saying you wanna steal her love and passion away from me?"

"Heeseung, I-"

No matter what Jake tried to say, Heeseung wouldn't let him get one word in. "Because that's exactly what you did. You stole her from me and ruined a perfectly good relationship. I can't even live in the same house as her anymore because all I can think about when I look at her is how you defiled and ruined her."

"He didn't ruin me, Heeseung." You tried to speak to him and get him on your side. "I'm still your perfect angel." You couldn't stop sniffling. "I'm still your baby."

Heeseung shook his head. "No. It's not the same anymore. God, I can't believe this is ending like this." You could see a tear fall onto his cheek but before you could wipe it for him, he turned away from you and Jake.

"It doesn't have to end like this!" You followed him into the living room and sat down on the couch in front of him with your hands together. "Please. Please give me another chance. I'll be better to you, I promise."

"No." Heeseung sat down next to you and took one of your hands into his. "I can't do that y/n. If I take you back then I'll have to break it off with Jake." Heeseung said this quietly to you so that Jake wouldn't hear.

I nodded my head and leaned closer to whisper to Heeseung. "Do it. Break it off with Jake and keep me. Jake was the one who started all of this turmoil. You should hear the things Jake used to say about you when we were alone."

"What type of things did he used to say?" Heeseung asked as he looked up at you and held your hand.

Just then Jake slowly stepped into the living room and you could see a scowl creep across his face when he caught glimpse of the hand holding you and Heeseung were doing. "Ask him yourself. Jake tell him about the things you used to say."

Heeseung let go of your hand and stood up to question Jake. "You gonna explain?"

Jake chuckled and wore that stupid smirk again. "Explain what? Explain how y/n used to scream out about how she wanted me and how i fucked her better than you?"

Before Jake could speak anymore a loud smack echoed throughout the room. "Could you have at least some respect. Is this situation not serious to you?"

The slap from Heeseung immediately made Jake go wide eyed. "I was just quoting what your so-called girlfriend said about me."

Heeseung went for another smack but Jake managed to block this one. "Did you just say 'so called' girlfriend? She was my very serious girlfriend who I loved very much.” Hearing Heeseung speak in past tense broke your heart and stunned your hope of a second chance.

"Listen. I'm sorry if you think I'm being disrespectful about this but you need to wake up and realize that she's the problem here." He put his hand on Heeseung's shoulder and looked him in the eyes. "Our friendship was perfectly fine before she came along."

"Our relationship was perfectly fine before YOU came along!" You stood up behind Heeseung and put your hand on his back.

"Get your hands off of him, slut." Jake pulled him away from you.

"He's my boyfriend."

"Didn't you hear him earlier? He's throwing your ass out."

"No. He said he's reconsidering giving me a second chance." You grabbed Heeseung's hand. "Right?"

"Go on. Tell her no." Jake’s grip on his shoulder tightened.

Heeseung broke away from the both of you and he put his hands up defensively. "Both of you need to back up." He stammered. "I don't even know what to think anymore. All of this is too exhausting."

"It's an easy answer." Jake stood near Heeseung. "She's out of the picture."

"Jesus, Jake. Why are you being so overbearing?"

"Because you are having sympathy for this girl who backstabbed you."

"Oh, that's rich coming from you." You said under your breath.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, Come on Jake. You're not a very innocent soul in this." Heeseung let slip.

"So what? You're on her side now?"

"I'm not on anyone's side! There are no sides in this!"

You sat back down and started to suddenly cry again. Both of the boys stop and looked at you. One of them came to comfort you and the other didn't.

Can you guess which one comforted you.

"Baby.." Heeseung kneeled down and rushed to your side. "Why are crying again?” He brought a hand up to rub your knee.

Of course it was Heeseung. It was always him. How could you not tell that Jake never truly loved you. Jake was only using you for pleasure. If anyone is to blame for this, it’s you for trusting Jake. With his dumb smile and empty words.

"You're gonna leave me Heeseung." You sobbed. "Aren't you?"

"I'm.." He paused and looked away from you. Trying to figure out the answer to that question for himself. He still hasn't decided what he wants to do. "I don't know, Y/n. I just know I love you."

"So you are basically saying you're taking her back?" Jake scoffed. "Gosh, you're so stupid."

That's when Heeseung snapped even more. "Seriously? What is your problem?! Do you have no shame or remorse?!"

"I have remorse but I'm just telling you this girl is not worth fighting for."

"You just stumble in and ruin my relationship. Do you even feel bad about what you did?”

Jake shook his head. “If it means I saved you from wasting your time on her.”

Heeseung stood up again. That was it. He couldn’t do anymore of this back and forth. "Get out. This is our home and I need you to leave right now." Heeseung raised his voice and pointed to the door.

You've never seen Heeseung yell at Jake like that. They are best friends so you have never seen them really argue. Unless it was over the video game. When Jake stood in silence for a while he eyed the two of you and both, you, and Heeseung could tell he had so much more to say. He looked like he wanted to blurt out a thousand things at once. "Do you really want me to leave?"

"Yes. Want me to walk you out?"

Jake widened his eyes and shook his head. "Nah. That's fine." He waved his hand in the air and turned around to walk to the front door.  "I've been here a thousand times. I know my way out."

Heeseung waited until he heard the door open and close. He let out a sigh he never knew he was holding in. "It's just you and me now." Heeseung had a sort of disgusted look on his face as he turned to eye you up and down. "How could you let him do that." He shook his head and walked up to you, bringing his hand up to cup your cheek. "You let him see and touch all of the places that were meant for me." His other hand started to travel up your t-shirt as he wrapped his arm around your waist. "I was your first and I was supposed to be your last."

"I'm s-so sorry." The tears were still running from earlier. You couldn't tell if the mood was more or less tense since Jake left. You looked up at him and leaned into his chest. "Please don't make me leave. I'm sorry I caused this."

He sighed and put the hand that was cupping your face behind your head, holding you close to him. God he wanted to scream and scold you but he just couldn't bring himself to truly kick you out. He loved you and all the chaos that came with you. It's not like you did this on the daily or anything and he knew that. That's why he was seriously considering taking his girl back. He wanted his sweet princess back.

"I'm not gonna kick you out."

You leaned back and looked up at him with wide teary eyes. "Really?"

He nodded.

"Does this mean you are gonna break it off with Jake?"

"You know I can't do that, baby." He kissed your head. "He's my best friend and I can't abandon him. Just like I can't abandon you."

"Oh Heeseung.." you wrapped your arms around his neck and jumped up into his arms. "I'm so sorry. I'll do anything to prove myself to you and show you that I'm gonna be better."

"You keep saying that but you are gonna have to show me now." Heeseung lightly pushed you down on the couch. "How about you take your pants off." With no hesitation you listened to him and took your pajama pants off. You then took your shirt and bra off to get it out of the way.

"You a little excited?"

Nodding, you spread your legs for him.

He chuckled. "Jake's right. You are a fucking slut. I never seen this side of you before." Heeseung leaned in, reached his hand down and started to harshly rub your clit. "You're always so incredibly innocent for me." He swears when he took your virginity and you looked at him with that doe like gaze he fell in love with you and you're pure like aura. He couldn't lie that he sort of liked this side of you too. You were just as submissive as before but a tad bit more straight forward.

Just when he got you wet enough, Heeseung stopped rubbing you and leaned back again. "Turn around for me."

Once again, you did as he said and turned around on your stomach.

"You gotta understand that I can't let you off too easy, baby." Heeseung started rubbing your clothed ass before he landed a hard slap on it. "If I don't show some assertiveness then you're gonna think it's okay to go around whoring yourself out." Another smack landed on one of your cheeks.

You let out a helpless yelp. "I promise. I'm never gonn-"

That landed you another hard smack "Don't speak. I'll tell you when you can talk to me."

He started undoing his belt and he swung it out of the loop holes before folding it. "Get over here and lean over my lap." Before he could say anything else, you bent over his knees. “Should I give you the pleasure or pain first?” He started to rub your ass again where he smacked earlier.

Not wanting to piss him off anymore, you waited a bit to answer because he told you not to speak unless he said so. “You can talk now, honey.”

“Pleasure!” You blurted out. “Give me pleasure. I’m begging you.”

He thought about it and nodded. “Alright baby. Whatever you want.” Heeseung set aside his leather belt for now and quickly pulled your panties down. He grabbed your hair and pulled your head up to whisper in your ear. “I’m gonna finger fuck you until you beg me to lay my cock into you.”

Ughh why was he so irresistible. Every word slipped off his tongue like a symphony and it incited the heat in your lower abdomen. Slowly you felt his hand creep right between your thighs and you opened your legs best you could. Heeseung slipped two wet fingers past your folds. Your man knew exactly what you wanted because he wasted no time pumping and pistoling his fingers in and out of your plush cunt.

Since Heeseung was getting tired of waiting for his turn he decided to speed up the process of you getting yours. The way he decided to do this however was something you were a bit scared for. He let go of your hair and reached over to grab his belt. “I’ll show you what dirty cheaters get.”

A loud wham filled the room, followed by a yelp from you. He continued fingering you roughly as he hit your ass with his belt ever so often. "Did I not fuck you good enough? Or did you just get tired of me? Is that why you went and had Jake take over for a while?"

"No Heeseung. I could never get tired of you."

"Then why did you do it darling?"

You stayed silent and looked down in shame when you had nothing to say. "It's okay. I'll make sure he never gets in your pretty little head again." Heeseung grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you off of his lap as he stood up. "Make sure you stay dumb for me and my cock only."

Heeseung pushed you down by your shoulders and you looked up at him, while getting on your knees. Watching as he pulled his layers of clothes down and let out his unbelievably hard dick. “I gave you pleasure then pain. You put me through so much pain and so now you have to give me my pleasure.”

You moaned as you took him in your mouth. Letting him do as he pleased. You were so pliant for him. The safe feeling you got from Heeseung made you start to think. You couldn’t believe you ever took this for granted. “Your pussy is probably gushing wet while sucking my cock. Isn’t it?” Heeseung kept a fistful of your hair in his hand while he thrusted his hips towards your face. “You wanna touch your pretty pussy, don’t you?”

When he could feel and so he pulled your head back and made sure you looked up at him. “Go on. Play with yourself while I cum on your face, gorgeous.” He took his other hand and started jerking right in front of your face, groaning when he caught a glimpse of you actually moving your hand down to begin playing with yourself.

You whimpered as one of your fingers slipped past your entrance. Heeseung could feel his first orgasm of the night coming and you were trying to finish what Heeseung started earlier.

Your whole body tensed up to give you a warning that your orgasm was here. As if all this wasn’t enough, Heeseung groaned loudly while his cum dripped onto your face and lips.

Heeseung bent down and grabbed your chin roughly. “Look at that face. So cute.” He leaned so close that his lips were almost touching yours. "This is your last chance, you little whore. Don't fuck with me again."

Everything was still so fuzzy but you managed to nod slowly. "Of course. Never again."

He kissed you deeply like he's never kissed you before.

"Never again."

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word count - 5.6k

Notes: I’m so happy I am finally in a mood to start writing again. This is not very good for my first work back but it’s something light. Hope it’s okay and please ignore any grammar or English mistakes!