#*old man voice* what are kids calling em these days?

[apollyonsdarksecrets]

Cold nights, red Flannel

Joel Miller X Afab!Fem!Reader

Summary: when the power goes out in your building Joel is more than happy to let you have his bed, but when his already sore back flares up in the middle of the night he’s given no choice but to share with you. Things play out differently than expected when he wakes up in the morning tangled up with you in between the sheets.

Warnings: SMUT (MDI) 18+ only, slow burn, dead child, dead people and the fire pit, cussing, age gap (reader is in their thirties), alcohol, Joel gets a ✨massage✨ thigh riding, teasing Joel, Dom!Joel, fingering, multiple orgasms, over stimulation, Joel is… big, slight breeding kink, raw p in v (wrap it before you tap it), dirty talk.

Joel Miller Master List

Word Count: you’ve read my other stories right? This is long, buckle up butter cup.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The worst jobs earn the most money, it was something you were quick to pick up on, and if you wanted to live the best, you had to do the worst.

The burn pit was busier than usual, truck after truck with what seemed like no end in sight. Everything from your hands to your feet ached, clothes covered in the grey ash irritating your lungs, and the smell was unforgiving. You’ve already added your second bandanna, the lack of clean air nearly suffocating.

“You’re slowin’ down.” The man beside you notes, Texan accent laces his words as he crosses his arms over his chest, voice gruff from being here as long as you have.

“Coming from the man who has taken a water break every thirty minutes.” You snip back, lighthearted in your accusation, looking over to find your ‘coworker’, Joel Miller, tilting his head, brown eyes glaring under salt and pepper eyebrows. He points to the truck behind you, silently telling you to get moving.

You smile even though he can’t see it and turn on your heel, heading for the last body, but your cheeky attitude slips away. You swallow thickly, eyes scanning over the hooded and bound body. They are small in stature, an old cartoon character printed on the back of their white, clean shirt. They look so out of place on the blood and mud stained truck bed.

Only a child.

Joel is quick to notice your sudden hesitation, his own small smile falling as he follows your gaze.

“I’ll get ‘em.”

“No, it’s fine.” You stomp down your emotions, scooping the kid up, to light and frail, and walk them over to the fire. You whisper a prayer, like you’ve done with every child before and toss him over the wall. Soot blows up into the air, orange and red embers dancing among the cloud and you’re forced to pry your gaze away as the flame swallows their body.

“Last one!” A driver yells, the screeching of the reverse alarm cutting through the air. Relief washes over you, closing your eyes momentarily, the day was almost done.

“Son of a bitch.” You turn then, Joel’s looking at the truck in disbelief and when your attention lands on the man in the bed your jaw physically drops open.

The man before you is a literal beast, his height alone impressive but the muscle on him makes you thankful you never ran into him when he was alive.

Had to of been some kind of enforcer.

“Hey, yo, can we like get a horse or something? This guys fucking huge!” You call out to the truck driver who only sneers before disappearing back into the cab.

“It’s fine, I’ve got it.” Joel shushes you, steeping up and dragging the guy by his thighs closer to the edge of the bed, huffing and grunting looking for the best leverage point.

You laugh slightly, steeping back. “Sure, whatever you say cowboy, he’s all yours.” You cross your arms, excited to see how this pans out as Joel tries to position the hulk. To your surprise he’s able to lift the guy onto his shoulder with a strained groan. “Oooo okay, you’ve been working out.” You let out a sharp whistle, his eyes glancing to yours as he stumbles for the fire, giving you a playful wink.

The banter is cut short with his next step though when he cries out in pain, nearly crumbling under the weight as something in his back spasms. You rush forward, grabbing onto the body, helping carry him the rest of the way and over the wall.

“Fuck!” Joel barks, face pinched as he hunches over, hand pressing into his back.

“What happened?”

“My back… I’m fine. “ He grits out between clenched teeth, sucking in a few breaths before trying to straighten up.

Someone blows a whistle, signaling the end of the day and people start to rush past you both for the pay out line, ignoring Joel’s insistent cussing.

You offer your shoulder for him to lean on but he waves away your concern, telling you he just needs a minute to collect himself before you both make your way to get your ration cards.

Instead of signing up for another shift you decide to give yourself the next two days off, hoping to sleep as much as you can before hitting the next work period hard. You walk off to the side, waiting patiently for Joel out of habit as he goes down the list, rubbing at his spine.

Being this far from the fire you realize how cold it is, the setting sun the only indication that it’s about to get colder, and you know spring is still a few months away.

You glance to Joel as he haggles with the enforcer, probably over the shortened pay. Over the last five years you and Joel have worked together on numerous jobs, and he’s never shy to insist the right pay for the services you both provide. Though at first never coordinated, you both realized how effortlessly you worked with the other, always fast and to the point with whatever resources given, both searching for the most money.

You recall noticing him when you arrived at your first job at this QZ, his hair a little less grey back then but eyes just as intense. It wasn’t until your fifth job did you say something to him after catching him watching you for the first hour of your shift at the pit.

With whatever confidence you had, you’d walked right up to him, hands on your hips and chin tilted up with a sarcastic smile. “Does my stalker have a name?”

The notion had been so wildly outlandish that after he stared at you for a minute, mouth open and eyebrows raise, he barked out a laugh. A true belly laugh that had everyone turning their heads in shock and confusion.

It was the talk of the job.

Some new girl got the old grump to laugh.

From that moment on Joel decided to stick close by, your fiery attitude attracting him just as much as your smarts. He taught you how to play the system, which officers were more lenient than others, and when he grew to trust you he began taking you on contraband runs. You picked up on the trade quickly, surprising him when you started going out on your own and Joel knew he’d chosen well.

Joel now limps over, pulling you from your thoughts. “Ya know I have this stuff that can help with that.” You state, turning and walking with him towards your apartments.

“Got some icy hot, I’ll be fine.”

“20 year old icyhot? Yeah that most definitely will do the trick.” Your sarcasm isn’t lost on him as he glares done at you. You raise your hands in surrender, walking the rest of the way in silence as the street bustles with life around you.

Parting ways at your building you watch for a moment as Joel limps along, shaking his head back and forth, a clear sign he’s talking to himself. You snort, grabbing for the door handle only to have it ripped away, your next door neighbor nearly knocking into you as she storms from the building.

“Woah, Joanne, maybe next time you can just run me over and we will call it a day.” You snap, glaring as she turns at the sound of your voice, she’s the buildings ‘manager’, a lose term for someone who takes your money and doesn’t fix a damn thing unless it involves her apartment directly.

Not much has changed since the end of the world.

“The entire building is out! I’m trying to get someone to fix it!” Her wrinkled face is red with anger, greying hair disheveled like she’d been pulling at the roots all day.

“Wait what?”

She rolls her eyes, exasperation clipping her words. “There was construction going on next door and they clipped a line or something. No lights, no heat, no fucking water to the entire building.” She turns on her heel, not bothering for what you have to say next and stomps down the road.

You throw your hands up in frustration, groaning at the sky, mentally cursing whatever was out there when a thought comes to mind. You bite your lip, weighing out your options before you are rushing down the street in search of Joel.

Luck seems to finally be on your side as you round the street corner, finding him leaning against a light post, talking to a man you recognize but can’t place with a name.

Jogging over the shaggy haired man’s eyes flicker to you, his posture becoming rigid before he quickly dismissing himself. Joel turns, expecting an officer or worse, and his expression softens as you slow to a stop beside him. “Heya Sunshine.”

When Joel decided to take you in, he made it very clear to others that ran around in the same under ground circles that you were not to be fucked with, being one of the few in his inner circle gave you a type of immunity not so sparingly given out.

“Hey… shit… my power is out.”

“Did ya forget to pay?” He’s mocking you only slightly, concern still underlining his tone.

“No, it’s the whole building, Joanne said someone must have cut a wire or something… I was wondering if maybe… we’ll I’m still covered in all this…” You hesitate, hoping he will fill in the gap as you gesture to yourself but he only stares. Joel always made you use your words. “I was wondering if I could borrow your shower, I’ll be super quick, I swear.”

Joel nods, looking down the road towards his building. “Yeah, shouldn’t be a problem, give me about an hour to soak my back first and then you can come over.” You’re washed with relief, throwing your arms around his neck in a tight hug, catching him by surprise.

“Thank you, thank you so much!” Before he can reply you’re sprinting down the street and around the corner, he stares after you blinking slowly before looking around, a blush staining his cheeks.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Having only been to Joel's apartment a handful of times, it took you longer than you would of liked to admit to find his door, and there may have been the help of an elderly man along the way.

This time though, as the door opens, Joel is on the other side. His greying hair slicked back and still damp, he’s dressed in a long sleeve shirt with matching black sweats. “Well, don’t you clean up nice.” You make a point to look him over as you step into his apartment, breathing in the warm air.

Joel only snorts. “Yeah, sure. Bathrooms that way, should still be plenty of hot water, I rigged my heater a few months back.”

You smile at that, “What a naughty boy you are, Joel Miller.” You wink following his direction, closing yourself in the bathroom.

Joel leans against his front door for a moment, appreciating this side of you that is rare to see, as much back and forth as you two give each other at work you personality blossoms when it’s just you and him. And damn was it flirtatious. Some way or another you’ve kept a spark of life through the last 20 years that has Joel hooked like an addict, even if he could never bring himself to say so.

In the bathroom you’re pulling out your bath products, setting them next to his and the contrast of them makes you laugh a little. Pinks and purples next to dull grays and blues. You have the fleeting thought to look for something special just for Joel on your next run as you twist the shower nob. The pipes groan before sputtering to life, you wait until the waters just a little to hot before undressing and stepping in. You hiss involuntarily, skin blushing under the heat before you relax.

This was the hottest shower you’d had in years and you might just have to start lying about your power being out to get more of this. You allow yourself to relax for a moment longer before you begin to wash away the day.

*~*~*~*~*~*

You emerge thirty minutes later, steam following behind you, you’re dressed in your better winter clothes, but even that’s a stretch. Your sweater hangs on your frame, three sizes to big and moth eaten, your sweatpants in much the same condition.

Joel glances up at you from his rickety table, two mix match glasses and a bottle in front of him. “Is one of those for me?” He simply pours you a shot, sliding the glass across the table as you take your seat, curling your legs up under yourself. You lift the amber liquid in cheers, Joel mimicking your actions as you down the shot. It burns your taste buds, dropping into your stomach like a lead weight.

Coughing you turn the glass over, face scrunched in disgust making Joel laugh as he pours himself another. “Can’t handle your liquor?”

“Was never much of a drinker before all of this, haven’t acquired the taste just yet.” You manage to wheeze out, rubbing at your chest where it still burns. “Thank you again, it would have really sucked to of gone to bed still covered in that shit.”

Joel stands, chair scrapping across the floorboards. “Don’t mention it. Seriously. Don’t need the whole building knowing I’m giving out free showers.” He gathers the glasses and takes them to the small sink, before opening his fridge, “How do you plan on staying warm tonight?”

“Um, probably throw on a extra layer and pray I wake up with all my toes.” You drum a rhythm on the table, watching him as he pulls a container from the fridge, grabbing two forks and walking over to you.

You attentions stays on the container as he drags his chair closer, setting it on the table. Inside is beef and rice and your stomach grumbles at the sight of it. Your eyes jump to Joel and he give you a smile, handing you a fork. “Eat.”

You know not to look a gifted horse in the mouth, splitting the container down the middle and enjoying the cold food as much as you enjoy the comfortable silence.

Joel suddenly lifts his head, sniffing the air before turning his gaze on you, stopping you mid bite to stare back.

“What?”

“Do I smell… cookies?”

Your face lights up with a grin. “Oh yeah, I was baking in the bathroom.” He doesn’t look amused and it adds to your enjoyment. “Sugar cookies, specifically. You have your contraband, and I have mine.”

Contraband consisting of feminine products you’ve scored over the last few years, keeping nearly 70 other women fairly stocked and your pockets lined.

“Where ya hiding them? Under this?” He plucks at your shirt, distaste written across his face making you laugh, a sound Joel likes a little to much.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Miller.” You raise your eyebrows suggestively earning an eye-roll, his foot nudging your chair.

He slides you the rest of his food as he stands. “You can sleep here for tonight, I’ll take the couch.” He’s talking over his shoulder as he walks into his joined bedroom, leaving you to shovel the rest of the food into your mouth.

“Wait… your back, you should really sleep in your own bed Joel.” You can hear drawers opening and closing before a soft grunt of satisfaction as Joel finds whatever it is he is looking for. “I really don’t want to inconvenience you any further.”

“It ain’t an inconvenience, and my backs fine, the icy hot did the trick, just like I said it would.” He comes back into view carrying a very large red button down flannel, tossing to you. It’s thick, the fabric soft to the touch and smells clean with an underlying musk that’s unmistakably Joel. “That’ll keep you warm, a lot better than what you’ve got on now.”

“Really? Are you-.”

“Don’t argue with me. I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to. Okay?”

A light blush tints your cheeks, glancing up at him through your lashes with a sweet smile that has his stomach tightening. “Thank you Joel.”

“You’re welcome.” He rejoins you at the table, watching you pick at a loose thread on the shirt.

Maybe it’s the fact you don’t know much about Joel, or maybe it’s the fact that this is the very first time you’ve been alone with him, no one else in the room, no traders. Curiosity sparks and it’s a hard flame to put out.

“Do you… are there things you miss about before?”

He glanced at you, your eyes still trained on the garment. “What do you mean?”

“Well like… I use to do kickboxing, I miss that a lot… I miss going on coffee dates with my girlfriends… things like that.” You shrug, refusing to meet his gaze incase he thought this was silly, ridiculous even. You were never good at small talk.

Joel is silent for a moment longer, biting at his lip. “I miss football with my brother.”

You smile. “Tommy right? My daddy loved football, he wasn’t going anywhere on Sunday night.” You laugh softly, resting your chin on your knee. “I miss mall Chinese food, they always loaded up so much on those plates and I could never finish it.”

“That was about the only thing I liked at the mall, we didn’t go there much though. I miss my guitar, I don’t even know if I could play it now if I remembered any songs…” Joel chuckles, “I loved the SNL show, tv in general I loved to stay up at night with…” His voice fades off, fist clenched slightly out of your peripherals and though you don’t know much you know at some point during the start of everything he had lost a child.

Clearing your throat you jump to change topics. “Do you like wine?” You lock eyes with him then, his expression a little more retreated.

“I haven’t found one I’m a huge fan of, but I never turn down a glass.”

Your smile does that thing to his stomach again and he can’t stop his gaze falling to your lips for the briefest of seconds. “Well good, there’s this lady I trade with in my building and she makes wine. I’ll have to bring you a bottle one night.”

The corner of his mouth twitches up, “trying to wine and dine me, Sunshine?” A blush creeps up your cheeks turning your smile sheepish.

“Maybe, only if you pay for dinner.”

Joel scoffs, the ease returning to his features as he tilts his head to the side. Your heart hammers a little faster under his gaze. “What a cheap date you are.” He mumbles softly, resting his elbows on the table leaning his head against interlocked hands.

“The cheapest.” You breath back, mirroring his posture. He smiles warmly butterfly’s erupting under your skin giving you that giddy school girl feeling that takes your breath away and turns your brain too mush..

“I’ll look forward to it then.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

You’d only been asleep a few hours when your name reaches your ears, startling you awake. You sit up mattress squeaking under your weight as you peer into the darkness.

“J-Joel?”

His sleep riddled voice bounces back to you. “I need help.” Instantly your scrambling out of bed, flipping on a light as you round the wall to find Joel looking up at you from where he lay on the couch, red faced and defeated.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t get up… I gotta take a piss.” Joel hasn’t felt this level of embarrassment since throwing his back out working with his brother and had to be carried down to the hospital. The feeling only digging deeper as he watches your face fall padding over to him, extending your hands.

“I told you to sleep in your own bed, Joel.” You abolish gently, pulling him to his feet. His grip tightens on your arms, hissing as his back straightens out, taking the moment to get his bearings before he releases you, grumbling something under his breath and limping to the restroom.

You sigh, going to your duffle bag and rummaging through its contents before you finally come across a small bottle of chamomile and lavender.

Joel comes out a few minutes later, eyes trained on the floor. “Sorry.”

“Hey it’s okay, I tore my shoulder apart when I was in highschool and could hardly use it for a year. Had to have people help me all the time.” You try to sympathize with his situation, your expression soft and warm as his eyes find yours. “But, luck for you, I think you only pulled a muscle. And I have something to help with that.” You lift the little bottle shaking its contents.

Joel eyes it suspiciously, crossing his arms over his chest, “I ain’t taken that.”

You scoff, grabbing his bicep, pulling him towards his bed. “You don’t take it, now lay down and lift up your shirt.”

Joel turns on you, looking horrified like you’ve grown two heads all of a sudden. “Excuse me?”

“Just trust me.” You pull him again, squeezing his arm, Joel hesitates, glancing from the bed then down at himself. “I use to be a message therapist. I’ve seen a thousand naked backs, yours isn’t going to be any different.” You encourage, smiling at him as he glances your way.

Sighing Joel relents, kneels onto the bed, pulling his shirt over his head and laying down, folding his arms under his head.

Okay.

Maybe you were wrong.

Joel’s back is defined, scars littering in various stages of time, some more purple compared to others. Shaking your head you swallow your sudden nerves, kneeling beside him. You open the bottle, the smell instantly filling the room and dump it into the palm of your hand, the oil slipping between your fingers, soaking your sweats and you curse silently, setting the bottle onto the night stand.

“Tell me where it hurts the most.” You instruct, rubbing your hands together to warm the oil before placing them on Joel’s lower back, his hips twitching slightly at the sudden contact.

“A little to the right.” His skin is warm and he hums softly under your touch, shifting his shoulders and head, wishing he could see your face. “There.” You set to work, finding the knot in his muscle and kneading the area, digging your thumbs and palms into his flesh.

Joel groans, long and drawn out and a thrill works it’s way down your spine at the sound, “To much?” Your voice is softer than you initially intended it to be, much to sensual sounding.

It’s just a back rub. Nothing more, be more professional.

He shakes his head, his body relaxing fully. “You weren’t lying.” He’s muffled slightly by the pillow but you can hear his smile.

“Yeah I went to school and everything. It’s like riding a bike, you just never forget.”

“Get an A from me darlin’.” Your heart swells with his praise, staying quiet as you continue messaging his back, traveling up to his shoulders and back down to his hips, the silence interrupted occasionally by a soft grunt or groan coming from Joel.

It’s only when he goes quiet, his breath turning even and deep do you stop, whispering his name. When he doesn’t reply you ease away and into the restroom, washing your hands and shedding your oil soaked pants.

Joel’s soft snores are all that can be heard as you stand at the foot of the bed, chewing on your lower lip trying to decide what to do from here. The couch is now free, but there is only one blanket, which is now trapped under Joel. There are enough pillows to maybe set one between you both, make a little barrier of sorts…

Would Joel be mad if he woke up in the same bed as you? You shift your weight from one foot to the other, mind racing with every possible reason as to why he would be mad, before you finally take a deep breath and tiptoe to the other side.

Without giving yourself time to talk yourself out of it you climb under the covers, setting a pillow in between you, praying that Joel won’t be upset in the morning as you drift off.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Joel wakes up slowly, conciseness coming to him little by little with the early morning sun lighting the room. He’s warm, body heavy and mind sluggish from what has possibly been his best sleep in years. Selfishly he wants to hold onto it a little longer, screw whatever he thought he needed to get done today and bury himself back into his dreamless sleep.

It’s only when he shifts, his chin bumping something firm, does he feel the weight on him. Blinking slowly he lifts his head, looking down to find himself tangled up with you. Your head is resting on his shoulder, leg slung over his hip while his own is slotted between your thighs, and you’ve seemed to have lost your pants; Joel being granted a perfect view of your black panties that hide little to the imagination.

And all of the sudden he’s overly aware of you, of how soft your waist is under his callused palm, of how you still smell of sugar cookies and lavender, of the little puffs of air leaving you full lips ghosting across his neck. Then there is how his flannel has morphed to your curves, twisted around your body showing the pudge of your stomach and his blood is rushing somewhere… South.

All he can think about is how damn good you look wearing only his clothing. Joel’s heart rate picks up, his fingers drifting to your hair on their own, carding themselves through the soft strands, “Sunshine.”

You hum in your sleep, grip tightening around him as you nuzzle closer, lips brushing the column of his throat making him hold his breath as you settle again.

I’m going to hell.

It’s all he can think, his body so readily responding to you and you’re not even aware of it. You’re in your thirty’s for fucks sakes he shouldn’t even be considering this… but…

Tentatively, his grip tightens on your hair, pulling your head back so he can finally see your face. You look so peaceful, your features soft and delicate in your sleep he almost hates to ruin it. Almost.

“Honey … sweet girl wake up.” Joel’s voice is firmer, cutting into your sleep, rousing you with a small grumble.

“What…” You voice is horse, rolling your head to the side as you yawn, sleep holding on tight.

“It’s just me.” He can’t stop himself, seeing the length of your neck exposed like that, he leans down, gently kissing the delicate skin and you gasp, body tensing slightly. “Just me.” His thigh shifts up, pressing between your own and he can feel the heat radiating off of you through his sweatpants and it makes him feral.

“W-Ah… what are you doing?” You whimper, eyes pinching shut, fingers digging into his ribs as he finds that soft spot just under your ear earning another small gasp.

“Repaying you… For last night.” His grip on your hair disappears, finding your hip and rolling you onto your back. Your eyes snap open, breath trapped in your throat at the intense look of lust etched into Joel’s face. Now that you can fully see him your stomach tightens, need zipping down your spine as your eyes drink him in.

Just like his back his chest is defined, shoulders broad with a light dusting of hair that runs down to his stomach, and just past the waistband of his sweats where you can clearly see the outline of his…

You swallow audible, causing Joel to snort. Your eyes dart back to his and you swear you can feel your body melting with the fire in his gaze. He dips his face closer, bumping his nose against yours and smiles as you nervously squirm, thighs clenching around his where it still rests pressed against your mound.

“This okay?” As he speaks his lips just barely touch your own and you already feel your thoughts emptying out one by one as you nod slowly, eyes never leaving his own. “Tell me, need to hear your sweet voice.”

“Th-this is okay.”

With that he’s on you, restraint snapping as he finally kisses you, rough and hungry and desperate. Teeth, tongue and spit, forcing a moan from your throat with the intensity of it all, that Joel is all too happy to swallow up. His thigh presses in closer, your hips bucking involuntarily, dragging a moan from low in his chest.

Your hands slide up to his shoulders, gripping anything you can find for leverage as he sinks you into the mattress, drowning you in the covers, the pillows, and him.

Arousal consumes you, sparking in your stomach and traveling through your veins making you light headed, having not felt this type of high in many, many years. You grind yourself up against his thigh, your slick wetting your panties and soon creating a darker spot on his sweats.

You moan as he pulls away, attacking your neck again and pulling at your shirt, trying to expose whatever skin he can. “J-Joel… m… what’s.. what’s gotten into you?” Your losing your breath, the hand he isn’t propping himself up with traveling over your body, down your thigh, up your side, fingers sliding along the other side of your throat making goosebumps raise the hairs on your skin.

“Just want you, been wanting you since I laid eyes on you.” He admits, your face flushing with heat. “D’ya know how many times I’ve fucked my hand thinking about you? All laid out and pretty on my cock.” A filthy moan leaves your lips, grinding against his thigh to relieve the ache building between your legs.

Joel sits back, both hands finding your hips, encouraging your movements. “That’s right sweet girl, just like that.” You whine into the air, hands dropping to the bed gripping the sheets. He stares down at you, lust darkening his brown eyes as you grind against him. “Make all those pretty sounds for me, it’s just us.”

You nod, chasing after your building pleasure, breathy moans falling from your lips. Joel ruts against the back of your thigh, hands bruising your hips in the most delicious way. “J-Joel… need more… please…” Your clit throbs painfully, the angle you’re at restricting you from rubbing it how you want against his thigh.

“So greedy, go ahead play with yourself baby, wanna see you cum on my thigh before I fuck you, senseless.” Your fingers find your clit and rub harsh circles through the damp fabric of your panties, flying to that familiar peak, teetering right on the edge as you moan his name, hips frantic, but you need more, you want more.

Joel coos softly, enjoying your struggle. The pinched look, the wobble of your lips, as you search for that last little something. “I know you can do it baby, cum for me. Show me how good you can be and soak my thigh.” His words are your tipping point, sending you spiraling into that void of dark bliss as your orgasm rips through you.

The noises that leave your delicate throat consume Joel, and he’s whispering soft praises that you don’t hear, watching your legs tremble and hand still. “There it is, did so good for me baby.” You go limp underneath him, chest heaving with each shuddering breath, eyes shut and mind to far gone.

“Let me get this off of you.” He takes his time, slowing down to let you ride your bliss, undoing each button of the flannel. “Sit up.” You hardly have to, just lifting your shoulders and head before he throws the flannel across the room and you’re sunk back into the pillows.

Your panties and his sweats follow shortly after. His lips back on you, kissing between your breasts his beard scratching your skin in the most delirious way. “Joel…”

But his fingers are finding your slick heat, a groan reverberating through his chest and into yours. “So fucking wet, you liked that baby? Like getting yourself off on my thigh?” Warm embarrassment fills your belly, reigniting that fire. You nod slowly, keeping your eyes shut to avoid his intense gaze. “You getting shy on me now? Just a second ago you were fucking my leg.” He smiles against your skin watching the red tinting your cheeks grow darker, turning your away from him.

“J-Joel don’t… Don’t be mean.”

“Not bein’ mean.” Two thick fingers are suddenly sinking into you, a shrill cry retching itself from your throat. “Just given ya what ya want.” Your brain turns to mush with each pump of his fingers, hands scrambling to find any perches, a set of nails digging into his shoulder, the other tugging at the sheets. “Fuck… you’re so tight, gotta get you ready for me.”

His thumb finds your clit, working the bundle of nerves making moans echo through the room. Those thick fingers press against that gummy spot inside you that makes your hips stutter, your moans a little louder and he smiles in triumph, teeth nipping your breast watching the skin bloom with red marks. “S’that the spot?”

“Mmhmm…” it takes everything you have just to hum out an answer, mouth hanging open, thighs trembling as you’re brought back to orgasm, again. Climbing that mountain, no running it, to your tipping point.

“Can feel you squeezing my fingers baby, you gonna cum again so soon?” Joel doesn’t need your reply, even if you could give him one, your hips rocking to meet the rhythm he’s set. He doesn’t ease up, watching you come undone below him with a few more expert swipes of his thumb across your throbbing clit.

You make him feel young again, his body thrumming with pure, carnal lust. Something he hasn’t felt in years as he draws his slick coated fingers to his mouth, tasting you for what, hopefully, will be the first time of many. “Mmm… So sweet baby, I could spend hours just eating you.”

You whine pathetically, shaking your head back and forth, hair clinging to your face with sweat. “C-can’t…” Joel shakes his head, laughing darkly before tapping your cheek with the pads of his fingers.

“Look at me, Sunshine.” The timber in his voice makes you obey instinctively, finding his steady gaze. He grips your chin, fingers pressing into your cheeks making your lips pout comically. “I know you’ve got one more in ya, I need to feel your cunt squeeze my cock. Think you can do that for me? Hmm?”

Joel shifts closer as he speaks, settling himself between your shaking thighs. His cock brushes against your puffy lips drawing a small whine from the back of your throat. You nod, Joel letting go of your checks as arousal washes through you once more, almost painfully so, as he rocks forward, the underside of his cock slipping easily through your damp folds, coating himself in your cream.

He hunkers over you, forcing your legs wider and rests on one elbow as he guides his cock to your opening, nudging in. “Relax darlin’, don’t wanna hurt you.”

Before you can even comprehend what is being said Joel thrusts forward, sinking in a few inches with a grovel moan. Your toes curl, eyes squeezing shut with a whine, the stretch hurting in a way you never want to stop.

“F-fuck Joel… s-so big.” A hand slips into his hair, tugging harshly causing him to gasp, a wicked smile pulling at his lips.

“You haven’t seen nothin yet, little girl.” He pins you to the mattress with his weight, thrusting until he’s fully seated inside you, heavy balls pressed to your ass. Your pussy squeezes him tightly, pain mixing with the pleasure intoxicatingly. He’s big, bigger than any man you’d been with in years, and as he pulls out only to thrust back in, the head of his cock kisses your cervix.

“Oooooh fuuuck!” You cling to his shoulders, his neck, his back, legs locking around his middle; anywhere to pull him closer as his pace evens out, fucking into you roughly. The old bed squeaks, headboard tapping the wall and above it all are the sounds leaving your lips to mix with his.

“Feel so good baby… been dreaming about this pussy.” Joel huffs out between thrusts, pressing his forehead to yours. The farther he slips into his arousal the thicker his accent gets, words dripping onto your nerves like honey.

“Wanted you to… so long Joel .” You pant, rocking your hips to match what he’s giving you. That glorious pressure building again in your body, cunt fluttering around his cock. “Don’t stop… oh fuck please don’t stop.” You can feel every ridge and vein rubbing along your walls in just the right way, his mushroom head bullying that sweet spot making your eyes roll.

“Not gonna stop, baby. Not gonna stop.” Joel groans, one hand gripping your waist to steady himself as he bullies his cock into you.

Your fingers slip between your bodies, finding your clit with a soft moan, rubbing tight circles. “I’m… im gonna cum…” you whine against his lips, noses bumping, breathing each others air.

“Come on then… cum on my cock baby, let me feel it.” Joel knows he won’t last much longer his thrust starting to turn sloppy. “Fuck… wanna fuck you full of me, watch it drip out. You’d like that wouldn’t you? Let everyone know who fucked you so good huh?” You thighs squeeze his hips in response to far gone to acknowledge him as you topple over the edge, crying his name as the pleasure blinds you momentarily.

Joel cusses burying his face in the side of your neck, your cunt sucking him in . “Fuck baby, fuck baby, fuck!” He pulls back, cock twitching and jets of cum landing on your stomach and abused lips. He fists himself, grunting against your shoulder as he comes down, body relaxing and dopamine flowing through him.

“J-Joel…” You breath, feeling his weight more and more.

“M’ Sorry…” He whispers, rolling himself onto his back, your stiff legs dropping to the mattress. You’re both panting wildly, chests heaving and sweat coating your skin.

You blink at the ceiling slowly, the neurons in your brain starting to fire again. “Well…” A small laugh bubbles out of you, Joel lazily looking over at you confused. “I’ve never been woken up like that before.”

Joel scoffs loudly and your giggle turns into a full laugh, lifting your head to look down at yourself. “Do I at least get a rag?”

“Better, ya can come get in the shower with me.” Joel groans as he sits up, giving you his hand. “Gonna need another one of those messages after that.”

#smut #apollyonsdarksecrets #joel miller #the last of us smut #the last of us #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #Joel Miller breeding

[laylarevengers]

dancing with our hands tied. manjiro sano x fem! reader. bonten timeline. established relationship (marriage). established biological son. changes like emma, shinichiro, izana are around alongside most ‘dead’ characters in this arc. overall fluff!

“hey, don’t do that. you’ll get hurt.” manjiro mumbled, stretching his arms and pushing his son back from the table he was gladly going to walk into. it was weird, having two people that he loves this dearly, that is. y/n and his son. every time he watched the three-year-old kid play around in his office, ruin papers and invade executives meetings with his barely audible words; it made manjiro’s heart flutter. fuck, he loved that kid to hell and back.

he wanted to leave. get away and ensure that this kid won’t be tied to him, have him have a normal life without any fear, but he couldn’t. he couldn’t leave. he left y/n once and it was the worst time of his life, what will happen when he leaves her and his son again? the light of his life? the only ones that make him laugh that boyish smile he used to have in his toman days.

“dad!” a whiney voice snapped manjiro and out of his thoughts. he sat one of the meeting rooms with the executives, all waiting for some snobby people to have a dumb finance meeting with, all with the child running around the room. y/n had work, manjiro does not trust babysitters, and the executives are here so he had no choice but to have him attend with him.

‘teach them young,’ manjiro chuckled when he remembered y/n’s words at the decision to take the kid. little fingers pointed at the haitani brothers, “ran, candy!” mikey’s full attention was on the broken, mumbled words spoken. he hummed, “yeah? ran toke your candy?” he couldn’t help but smile at the desperate nods from the little boy and how he crossed his arms with a small pout, glaring at ran and rindou who couldn’t control their laughter anymore.

it was crazy, manjiro thought, how much of a carbon copy of him this kid was. the same silky black hair that y/n insisted on letting grow, similar to how mikey had it in his toman days. the same big, black eyes but unlike his own, the boy’s was full of light and sparkles whenever he looked at his dad. he stood there, small and arms-crossed, wearing the cardigan auntie emma had crocheted him with the sweatpants and snickers that he bought with uncle izana and uncle shinichiro after motorcycle rides.

manjiro bent down and picked the little boy, sitting him on his lap. small arms immediately wrapped themselves around mikey’s neck, “did ran and rin make you sad?” manjiro mumbled, patting the boys back. he heard a small sniff then a muttered, “yes.” it was times like these where the executives saw the real manjiro. when he was around his son or his wife, soft and gentle and happy.

manjiro turned boy around, “sanzu is right there. go tell ‘em.” he pointed at the pink haired man who just walked into the room. ran and rindou groaned in fake fear as the little boy smiled widely and rubbed the tears away with his sleeve. he quickly got off mikey’s lap and ran towards sanzu who almost immediately put the cigarette he had in hand when he heard the small call of his name, “san-zoo! ran-rin, candy!”

mikey watched as the boy jumped in anticipation in front of sanzu. “oh, yeah? you want me to take care of them?” sanzu bent down so he was face to face with the boy. “yes! can we, dad?!” manjiro noted how clearer his words were becoming now, he had to tell y/n later tonight. he nodded, giving the boy permission which immediately made him burst into laughter and giggles as he ran towards the haitanis with screams and hit them with small fists to which they pretended to get hurt by with fake groans and cries of pain.

manjiro audibly laughed. “the assholes are here,” koko told him. mikey hummed, “hey. no cursing.” god, he’s such a dad. manjiro called the boy by his nickname which immediately caught his attention. it was always like that. the boy admired his dad so much. “come on. you gonna sit with dad as he listen to some assholes?” koko could only roll his eyes. the boy ran excitedly towards his dad, climbing onto his lap while refusing any help with the task until he sat completely and placed his small hands on the table with a small serious face.

the bonten executives all let out small chuckles as manjiro ruffled the boy’s hair, “good job. ‘always making dad proud.” the boy rested his back onto mikey’s chest and holding his wrist with a small shy smile.

manjiro sighed heavily as he locked the front door after coming in. he toke off his shoes, making sure the boy sleeping in his arms would not be disturbed. he glanced at the shoe wardrobe they have by the door and could not find y/n’s shoes placed outside the wardrobe indicating she came come. weird. it’s really late.

he continued into the penthouse until he reached the living room closest to the master bedroom where he placed the small boy on the sofa, slowly taking off his white sneakers. “jiro,” mikey turned around and saw her. he could not help but smile, “hey.” he replied lowly as she made her way towards both her boys, placing a small kiss on each of their forehead.

she was still in her work clothes, mikey noticed. they both sat on the floor, leaning on the couch where their boy laid, heavily sleeping. “how was today?” she asked with a whisper, brushing strands of black hair away from the small face of the sleeping boy. mikey shrugged, “practically spent all day in the meeting. we got cupcakes after we were done. that’s it really.” y/n looked up at manjiro with a small smile, “cupcakes?”

he lowered his eyes from hers. ‘kinda want cupcakes… anyway, where is ___’s white sneakers?’ words uttered by y/n this morning as all three of them got ready. manjiro always did that; made sure neither of his two stars went to bed without having anything they wanted. he has money, he’s not using it and he loves seeing the small giggles and laughter erupted after he gets things as small as cupcakes or a lollipop.

“he asked to come to work with me again,” manjiro said. y/n smiled, “yeah? are you going to take with you?” her fingers stopped playing with long black hair and turned to play with much shorter black hair. “i’ll take him with me when it’s boring days like these.” y/n understands he means when he doesn’t have to use guns and get chased by the authorities. she was a worrier, especially when it came to her little boy, but she doesn’t trust anyone more than she does manjiro sano.

“you’re thinking.” she mumbled, eyes not wandering away from mikey’s face. he remained looking in front of him, tangling his fingers with hers, “‘saw a normal company, business man with his little daughter at the bakery. made me think. fuck, i’m a mess.” he chuckled, his un-intertwined hand coming to push his hair back from his face. y/n cupped his face with her free hand, “well, you’re the mess that i want. that we both want.”

“y/n, people will talk. put us in our place. threaten. they will—“

“manjiro sano. you think i don’t know? i knew no one in the world could take it, but…”

“but you,” mikey finished her sentence immediately. silence fell again before y/n spoke up once more, “you know we won’t be able to do anything without you. ‘need you, jiro, both of us do. always will do.” before manjiro could muster up a reply, a small yawn caught their attention. “mama..!” tired excitement erupted from the boy as he stretched his arms towards y/n. “hi, baby. had fun with dad?”

“always!”

manjiro’s eyes widened slightly at the boy’s reply. y/n’s small chuckled alongside the tired giggles of his son made him feel warm. tracing everything, they were making him a better man. giving up alcohol and cigarettes, rarely forcing anger out and using rationality because his little boy could always be around and looking at dad.

“i love you,” manjiro suddenly said to the both of them. “love dad!” the boy replied without hesitation, hugging both his parents. y/n rested her head on manjiro’s shoulders, “i love you more.” she whispered softly, helping their boy comfortably lay on the both of them and drift back to sleep.

they will wake up with the worst back pain, but manjiro wanted it that way if it meant having this. having them. because he knows he needs them more than they will ever need him and he was way more than okay with that.

#manjiro sano #manjiro sano x reader #mikey x reader #sano manjiro #sano mikey manjiro #the invincible mikey #mikey tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers sano manjiro #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev x reader #tokyorev x reader #bonten mikey #bonten x reader

[geminibsworld]

porn!star William bonney gets a new scene partner.

tags: no minors, smut, pure porn, fluff (lil bit), angst, daddy kink bc y not maybe some innocence obvi but ya

it's the summer of 1980, porn was the ultimate career that anyone could get settled in. especially, if you're hot. Paris, adjusted her white tank pulling it down hoping to impress someone. she sat in a kind of dingy office, many men and women were around her. Paris had never done anything like this before, in fact she was a virgin. but loads of other girls make money this way, and she's interested in trying something new.

"Paris Smith?" her name was called, she stood up and walked confidently towards the door. in she walked into a tan room, a woman and a man sat in there.

she noticed a camera behind them, as she sat on the couch nervous. she picked at her nails, staring at them, they were talking about her.

"alright, sweetheart," the man spoke, he looked young. he was beautiful, blue eyes, long wavy hair, and the prettiest pink plump lips.

"lemme see your tits, baby," his voice interrupted, she took off her shirt. the man and the girl both looked at each other. his face, with a smirk.

"those are real right?" the woman asked, writing something down. Paris nodded her head before speaking.

"yes ma'am, I've had no work done," Paris smiled, quickly. the man nodded slowly.

"got some nice legs," he mumbled," take em off for me. real slow." his eyes pouring into hers. the woman was writing stuff down, watching you through her glasses at the top while the man never took his eyes off of her.

she turned around unbuttoned her shorts, before bending over and pulling them down, slowly. she turned her head to look at them, the man was admiring her almost. he thought she was gorgeous, how'd she get here? her tan skin dark against the white panties she had on, a pink bow sat on top of her panties, they were high cut. he shook his head looking down at the paper.

-tan

-young

-blonde

he only had three notes about this girl. he nodded at the woman next to him. she nodded, a tight lip smile.

"we'll call you,"

☆

she huffed on her cigarette, anxiously waiting for the call. it's been three days, she wanted to know what was going on. something, anything. the phone rang, she ran towards the kitchen grabbing the yellow phone off the wall her hair flying.

"hello?" she asked, hopeful but nervous.

"Hi, is this Paris smith?" a woman asked, sounding cheerful.

"yes, ma'am. can I ask who this is?" Paris asked, chewing the inside of her cheek.

"yes this is, Karen. we met the other day," she started, "I wanted to contact you to let you know we've made a decision. "

"oh okay," Paris gulped, she wanted this.

"we've decided to take you on! you'll be with the man you met the other day. he'll be your scene partner most of the time. they call him, billy the kid. ya know the cowboy?" she laughed, shuffling playing in the background. Paris grinned, and did a small happy dance before responding.

"okay, awesome, when do I start?" Paris asked, trying not to sound too happy. that man she met the other day, made her feel some type of way plus he was hot.

"hold on, sweetheart. I have to get you introduced, a solo scene or two," Karen said, chewing on a piece of gum now.

"okay," she gulped now nervous, she's never done anything like this before. she's a virgin and and she's never touched herself so she can't imagine, she was fine because sex looked easy but that's different being on her own.

"so william, aka billy, is thirty years old okay? hope you don't mind too much, he was quite fond of you," Paris blushed, she thought he was her age.

"you've had sex before right?" Karen asked, Paris looked around before nodding.

"yes maam," Paris mumbled into the phone. Karen was sitting in the same room with William, he was listening to their conversation. he smirked, he knew she was a virgin.

'liar' he mouthed at Karen, she rolled her eyes ignoring him.

"okay sweetheart, come in tomorrow at 10am and we'll talk okay,"

☆

Paris stood outside at a cheap motel, she grimaced to herself and looked around. hookers and drug deals all around her, she felt excited and it was only ten am. she double checked the paper that had the address and room number on it, she looked around before walking to the left side checking a few doors before climbing the stairs and finding the room. before she could knock, a naked girl ran out bawling her eyes, holding her clothes close to her chest. her eyes in shock as she looks inside a film crew and a bed, was really that was in there. she gulped feeling nervous, then seeing him. he smiled a welcoming smile before saying,"hope you're not taking her place yet, you ain't ready for this honey," he rasped, he wanted to see her reaction. she gulped, blinking her eyes slowly looking away. he laughed, her cheeks felt warm.

"you don't know what I'm ready for actually," Paris snapped, feeling annoyed this man is undermining her.

"ooh did I upset you?" he stood tall over her, she just now noticed he was shirtless, his chest and arms toned with a perfect size waist. her eyes searched his face before looking at his chest, again.

"no,-" before she could finish, she bumped into the bed and fell. she looked up at him, he crouched slowly not breaking eye contact.

"no, what?" he asked, brows furrowed slightly, his gaze seemed softer as he reached out to touch her hair. two fingers grabbed the ends pulling gently, then letting go.

"oh my God you're here! William leave that poor girl alone, you're not workin with her just yet," Karen walked up to her grabbing her hand and pulling her to the small bathroom.

Paris' cheeks were red, and William knew it. he smirked to him, watching her long legs take her away. she caught a quick glance, back at him. his eyes racking her body, before their eyes met and the bathroom door shutting.

"put on this white set, goes with your innocence then when you're done come out and we'll decide if you need some make up," Karen said eyeing her, "by the looks of you though, we won't need it,"

Karen shut the door behind her, leaving Paris alone. her long wavy honey locks reached her mid back, she looked at herself in the mirror feeling nervous and scared. she swallowed the feeling as her heart thumped hard in her chest. she sliding off her shorts then her tank top, sliding off panties. luckily she wore no bra, she slid the new white panties up her legs. high cut. she thought, she put the white lacy bra on. she noticed pink bows on the waist band, and in between the cups. Paris noticed how the white looked against her tan skin, she loved how it made her look. she grinned, looking at herself in the mirror. she turned around flipping her hair over her shoulder, she looked at her back and down. she looked hot, she thought.

a knock on the door, interrupted her. she opened it, Karen grinned and whistled slightly.

"you look so beautiful, doesn't she boys?" she pulled her out by her frail hand, Paris giggled as Karen spun her around. the men nodded, but William did nothing. he stared at her, before swallowing and looking away. Paris was kind of disappointed, she felt hot she wanted to know she looked hot.

"alright, let's see what you got. just touch yourself, and look at the camera okay? look pretty, and have fun." Karen led Paris to the bed, different sheets lay on the bed with different blankets. a white silk sheet, Paris crawled on the bed sitting on her calves. she watched as William stood farthest away, still sneaking glances.

"will is gonna watch, since he'll be your partner for the most part, and but if you want him to leave, just say so. you're the boss," Karen said, close to Paris, tapping her shoulder comfortingly.

"alright, andddd action!" Paris frozen but nodding to herself, she laid down on her chest on the bed. propping her ass up, arching her back. Paris flipped her hair to the side, before rolling over to her back. one of the cameramen picked up another camera getting a different angle, scanning down her body. she stared straight at the camera, she smirked biting her lip sliding her hand down to between her thigh whimpering touching herself ever so slightly. Paris sat up slowly, bending over her cheek laid on the pillow, her ass and pussy facing the camera, as she began rubbing herself. she was so into it, she didn't know what was going on. tom watched as she shamelessly rubbed her pussy, his cock hardened at the sight. what a star, he thought. he watched as Paris slid her panties down her legs, the other camera getting a close up as she ran her fingers between her wet folds. she moaned before sticking in one small finger gasping before doing another. William watched as his dick felt like it was about to explode. wet sounds squishing as she plunged her small fingers in and out of her, her body lay flat as she clawed at her tits. she cried out, pulling her now soaked fingers into her mouth sucking on them. she winked into the camera before their eyes met, her mischievous grin dropped and her cheeks turned before Karen handed her a robe covering her. everyone else started talking, looking at footage, or taking a smoke break.

"I can't believe I did it," Paris giggled to Karen as they smoked outside, the robe fell off of her shoulder before william walked out. he gestured for Karen to leave as paris' hair blew in the wind as she watched the palm trees blow around. the sky was Grey and the ocean wrecked the sand. Paris smiled at the view, before she noticed Karen wasn't there. william sat next to her, staring out.

"pretty ain't it?" his voice deep, Paris nodded.

"listen honey, If we're gonna work together I'm gonna need you to stop playing this nervous act. you can be innocent or whatever but we're gonna have to be cool before your pretty self sits on my cock," he sighed, looking over at her. she snapped her head towards him, he shrugged.

"I'm just sayin, honey," Paris was upset. how could be such an asshole? she thought, or well she thought she was thinking.

"I'm not the asshole, I'm being realistic. it may be porn but I try to enjoy it and you should too." william snapped, Paris scoffed. William looked over at Paris with a look of disgust.

"then why the hell was that girl crying when I got here?" Paris crossed her arms over her chest, Williams eyes went down to her perfect tits before laughing.

"because of an orgasm, I gave her. fucked her, stretched her, tasted her, she came everytime. the last time she started crying her eyes out saying,' I can't, no more,' " he rolled her eyes, shrugging, "one day soon that'll be you,"

"you won't be able to make me cum," she spat at him, brows furrowed as she puts out her cigarette smashing it into the metal fence.

"and for the record, I'm doing this for money. not for pleasure," she said, bitterly. William sucked in a breath before stepping over to her, towering over her small frame. she stood stall, not faltering. he smirked down at her, his hands gently reaching for the belt around her robe before pulling it open. the robe exposed her perfect body, she gasped trying to close it before william held it wide open only towards him though.

"I'll show you pleasure, babygirl," his voice rough and deep, "and you'll still get that money, maybe even more. I'll show ya how it's done," his eyes racked her body, over and over. taking in every detail.

he closed her robe back up, her mouth agape at him. he grinned, before saying, "baby, close your mouth before I close it for you," he laughed in her face, turning to walk away before saying,"you're a real star, by the way,"

☆

"I can't believe him! of course, he's just a cocky asshole," Paris groaned into her bed, her roommate laughed.

"emphasis on cock, girl you're lucky. I've seen a couple of his films, and he is good. you can tell it's real," her friend, Rachel, grinned mischievous. Paris sighed, sitting up. maybe she should watch something of his so she knows what to expect?

"do you still have those films?" Rachel smirked, giggling.

"yes girl! they're hot as hell, here I'll get em," Paris sat up, her shorts wedging slightly and her big tshirt falling off her shoulder. Paris laid on her stomach waiting for Rachel, she thought about William. he was so hot, but twelve years older. Paris is freshly eighteen, it's a bit weird, but at least it's legal. she couldn't help but laugh out loud at her thoughts as Rachel entered.

"alright girl, I got billy the man and cowboy, which one?" Paris thought about it, cowboy seemed good to her but so did billy the man.

"you pick, you've seen em," she shrugged, Rachel nodded putting in a vhs. the screen went blue before turning black, then it opened to a scene.

william was in a bar, he was dressed as a cowboy. tight blue button up, with tight brown pants with cowboy boots, and a hat. Paris watched as he threw back a shot before the bar tender asked, "what else you'll be having?" it was a woman, she wore her dress low with heavy make up and big hair.

"you," suddenly William grabbed the woman and picked up the woman, as she placed kisses on his neck. he carried her over to a booth as he laid her down on her stomach, he yanked up her dressed before crouching down. he spread her cheeks open, before spitting on her pussy. he then quite literally devouring her, his tongue swirling around her clit, sucking on it, back to swirling his tongue up and down she pressed herself down on him. he spanked her, hard.

"mhm, no," he mumbled into her, pulling away. her moans and whimpers stop, as he pulls himself out of his pants.

"he's huge, rachel," Paris gaped, Rachel laughed clapping her hands. Paris watched as he fucked the shit out of that woman, she was screaming and clawing at him before he grabs her wrists planting them above her head. he leaned down to the woman's ear, whispering.

"such a fucking slut, you like that?" he plunged into her from the back, her screams loud as william moans.

"fuck, suck me now," he breathed, pulling out her hole clenching one last time.

Paris couldn't help but think about the aching feeling between her thighs. she was soaking, so wet than she'd ever been. surely, soaking through her shorts. she crossed her legs, rubbing her thighs against her heat. she couldn't help but wish that was her. the woman swallowed his largely endowed member almost all the way, she watched as William through his head back in pleasure. eyes screwing shut, as he came into her mouth. he pulled out of her mouth, a string of cum following.

then it ended, Paris knew she was fucked. she was so horny, she told her roommate she was going to bed before turning on the other film and touching herself. she came several times that evening, she washed her sheets and took a shower.

☆

she was at a party hosted by the industry, she walked in a tight short black dress, and some heels. music bumped, people were doing coke, smoking weed, or just simply having a good time. Paris sat in the corner, before she noticed a man coming up to her.

"hey, I'm jessie," his southern accent smooth, she nodded and shook his hand that he put out almost instantly.

"paris," she nodded, she sipped her champagne looking around for anyone or anything.

"I love your new tape, you're gonna be a star," Jessie said, closer to her. Paris gulped, extremely anxious.

"yeah, she is a star." Paris knew that voice, it was him. she watched as Jessie nodded before walking away, Paris scoffed grabbing another glass downing it.

"woah, slow down, baby," william laughed, she glared at him. of course, he came over to be an asshole.

"why did you come over here?" Paris quipped at him, he shrugged grabbing a glass of champagne and sipping on it. his blue green eyes racking her up and down. he wanted to tease her.

"oh no reason, you look good tonight. not as innocent of course. white is more your color," he smirked, stepping closer. Paris looked up at him, smirking. two can play at that game she thought.

"yeah, well, billy the man, you look good as a cowboy," her pink lips etched into a grin, his knees felt weak. he arched up one eyebrow.

"why do you think I said you look good in white?" he asked her, his fingers gently touching her brushing her hair out of the way. his fingers touched her colar bone, chills appeared on her skin. she looked down, before gulping and replying.

"I've seen why they call you billy the man, and let's just say, I touched myself to you and creamed everywhere," she smirked at him, his dick hardened, as her panties filled. she cleared her throat, stepping back from william. the rock music played, lowly. the party had died down, they both didn't even notice, william, grabbed Paris pulling her away.

"where are we going?" Paris asked, nervously william ignored her. pulling her into a broom closet. he pushes her upgainst the wall, she gasps. her back to the wall as William stood over her. looking down, his eyes much darker.

"to show me, what'ya got," he leans down and kisses her, his lips enveloping her into him. her hands unsure where to go, slowly going up his chest, william impatiently places her hands up in his long wavy hair. his hands racking up her body, pushing up her dress, his toned arms picking up her from under her thighs shoving her deeper into the wall. she moaned into him as he started sucking on her neck, licking, and kissing. she cried out, he placed a hand over her mouth.

"shhh, be quiet, honey," he grinded, into her. she soaked against his crotch. surely leaving a wet spot on his pants, william didn't care. he wanted to feel her.

he grinded his hardened self into her, she threw her head back in pleasure whimpering into his ear, he moaned quietly. no girl ever made me feel like this and he wasn't even inside of her.

"fuck, baby, so wet for me." he rubbed her clit, her juices coating his fingers, he rubbed with his two fingers, in circles wanting her to cum.

"fuck, will- " he stopped her placing a hand over her mouth, "daddy, I want you to call me daddy,"

Paris suddenly feel like she couldn't control herself anymore. her eyes rolled in the back of her head, as she shook and clenched around nothing. he pulled her hand out of her panties, pulling his fingers into his mouth sucking her juices off holding eye contact.

"that was easy," he mumbled into her ear, amusement in his voice. he sat her down, before looking down at his pants, a wet spot right on his crotch. he didn't care, he honestly wanted to inhale the scent. Paris sat there unsure of what to do, clearing her throat. he planted a wet kiss to the side of her head. she shook her head.

"what about you?" she asked,quietly. he smirked, laughing.

"what about me? you want my dick in your mouth that bad?" he asked, scanning over her body again walking slowly towards her. her back hit the wall, again. she looked up at him, nodding.

"well, I came. do you not need to?" she asked, almost innocently. Williams cock was hard, too hard. he did need to cum, but he'll save it for their scene together.

"nah, I'm good,thank you though," he smiled quickly opening the door, he stopped. Paris peaked around seeing, Karen. fuck, they both thought.

Karen had her arms crossed, with a annoyed look on her face. it was obvious things happened between the two, no doubt.

"seriously? can't keep your dick in your pants for five fucking minutes?" Karen spat, then looking at Paris before sighing.

"come on, let's get you home. will, you and I will have to talk."

☆

"save it for the cameras," Karen crossed her arms, "seriously. you don't need feelings getting involved,"

William scoffed, rolling his eyes before puffing on his cigarette. Karen stared at him disappointment, and slightly disgust.

"she's fine, we were just having a bit of fun," he didn't make eye contact with her, Karen groaned at him.

"she's young, will! she's practically a child who just so happens to be of legal age. you all have different mindsets, she's eighteen and you are a literal grown man. she is your scene partner, not your own flesh light." Williams nostrils flared, smashing his cigarette into the railing.

"oh my god, all you ever do is complain! she's young and? I was helping her out, is all. she threw herself at me, and yeah. I was into it, " william seethed stepping towards Karen, her back pressed against the railing, the salty air blowing.

"but, maybe I started it and I wanted it, wanted more." Karen pushed him back, glaring hard at him.

"save it for the fucking cameras or else," Karen walked away, her tight bun becoming unraveled slightly, her cotton blue suit feeling tighter than normal.

☆

Paris was mad at William, she could've lost her job. she got $75 for her solo scene which is the most they give out at the time, she was satisfied with herself. she was cleaning the apartment, music played as she danced around the apartment. the phone rang, she ran into the kitchen grabbing it.

"hello?" she asked, it was quite till she heard him .

"hey honey, I need you today," william spoke, she rolled her eyes.

"for work?" she asked, william chuckled.

"yes, doll. Karen told me to call for her," Paris felt unsure, what if he was just tricking her.

"can I talk to karen?" she asked, almost embarrassed.

he scoffed before replying, "you don't trust me honey,?"

before she got to reply, she heard Karen's voice. she felt better knowing she was talking to karen about work rather than him.

"hey sweetheart I'm sorry it's so short notice but I need you to be here within the hour, come to this address okay?" Paris nodded writing down the address, nervousness bubbling in her. she was finally going to fuck billy the man. Paris felt like her heart was going go explode out of her chest in the back of the taxi. her nails pressing into her palms as hard as she could, her jaw was clenched and she stared out of the window. she passed palm tree after palm tree, looking out at the beach. the taxi came to a stop, they were at the beach entrance. her eye brows furrowed.

"we're here," the driver spoke, gruffly eyeing her from the rear view mirror. she handed him a twenty, before stepping out. the taxi pulled off fast, her sundress moving around her thighs. she walked down to the entrance, her flip flops covered in the hot sand. she couldn't help but smile at the salty air. the sun was beating down on her, she kept walking till she spotted Karen of course yelling at William.

"where is she!? the hour is almost up!" Karen looked so anxious and stressed, Paris sped up her walking speed.

"we have to start shooting, william, and if she's not here I'll have to call someone else," Karen frantically, swung her hands around as William turned out. his brows furrowed from the sun, he smirked at Paris. her dress was see through in the sun.

"hey good lookin," he called to Paris, karen screamed excitedly.

"you're here! fuck, go put on this suit okay? there's a small out house over there, we have to start shooting, like now! now go!" she shoved a red one piece bathing suit in paris' hands. it looked like the baywatch suits, Paris had always dreamed about being one of those girls. Paris nodded walking off, taking a quick glance at William. he was shirtless with short swim shorts on, his tan skin glistening, his broad shoulders, toned arms and chest. Paris quickly turned around meeting Williams eyes. he winked back at her, she could feel her cheeks heat up as she scurried off towards the outhouse. she pulled open the curtains, slipping her dress down her shoulders to over her hips to down at her feet. she slipped off her panties, sliding on suit. it fit her like a glove, and gave her breasts a push up look. the red suit extremely high cut, with her whole ass out. she couldn't help but feel extremely exposed, no one was at the beach where they were at but still. she felt nervous.

she picked up her panties and dress, walking out. she held her clothes in front of her, knowing her ass was out she wanted to feel covered a bit more. she walked over to the rest of the crew, william was the first to notice her but didn't say anything.

"you ready sweetheart? alright, so you're a life guard and william is.. a beach goer," Karen said, hesitantly.

"wait, isn't a cowboy like his thing?" Paris, asked her brows furrowing in confusion.

"baby, I'm all kinds of things," he laughed, Karen shook her head as Paris still looked confused.

"we wanted to try a different scene, see how yall both do," Karen smiled, rubbing paris' arm before loudly yelling, "let's get this show on the road people,"

Paris wanted to scream, or drown herself in the ocean. she could not believe this was happening, she stood in the water with her toes in the sand as William laid down on a towel. she was supposed to approach him, and start the scene. she was so nervous, but yet so excited.

"and, action!" a voice called out, two cameras from a far and another cameraman behind her scanning her face and body. she walked towards william was, he laid there with his eyes closed hands on his stomach. the cameraman followed closely behind her making sure to catch an angle of her ass and in between her legs. she cleared her throat at William, he peaked an eye at her open.

"sir, no sleeping on the beach," she said, standing a top of him. his blue eyes opened, a playful grin on his face. he chuckled at Paris, he sat up on his elbows.

"oh yeah? what are you gonna do about it, life guard?" he asked, a playful smirk on his lips.

Paris gulped, before responding.

"I could write you up?" Paris suggested, william laughed standing up.

"or we could forget it ever happened," he suggested, lowly. she looked up at him as his fingers traced her thighs, right up by her hip bones. she shuddered, william leaned down to her ear.

"I can't wait to finally feel you," he said, too low for anyone to hear but him and her. she gasped before william placed a wet hungry kiss to her parted lips, his tongue slipped in as she remembered what he liked. she kissed him back with the same energy, slipping her fingers in his waves. her tongue traced his tongue as his hands roamed her body, kneading her ass flesh to her back, to finally her tits. his thumb softly rubbing her hardened nipple, she let out a little whimper as william leaned down to her ear licking her ear lobe then his tongue tracing down to a spot below her ear. she moaned tugging on his hair. his left hand slowly went down her body, rubbing her. she threw her head back, moaning. william licked down her chest pulling her straps down, exposing her tan breasts her pink nipples hard against the salty cool air. she sucked in her breath, as william took a nipple into his mouth. she whimpered, this time she felt herself pooling in the suit. she looked at william with pleading eyes , his eyes met hers as he wrapped his arms around her pulling her onto the towel down with him.

Paris was so horny and william was full on teasing her, he had barely touched her as she was a moaning wet mess. william laid down on his back, pulling Paris on top of him. he groaned as she straddled him, she moaned feeling him against her.

"forgot about that write up huh?" he asked, his voice low a smirking playing at his mouth. she grinded against him, as billy looked up at her. he bit his lip, before pulling her lips to him again.

"mhm, slide your suit over baby," he said against her mouth, her hand slid down pulling her suit over. Williams hand played with her clit, rubbing in circles with his thumb while his other hand pulled himself out.

"you're gonna ride me baby, wanna see them pretty tits bounce," he said, she nodded. preparing herself as she placed herself on top of his tip, she was soaked no doubt but william was huge. her roommate said he looked about 9 or 10 inches. she gulped at the thought, she slid down him slowly. William groaned, loudly.

"s-shit, so fuckin tight," he mumbled, his eyes closing. Paris was in pain, but soon as she took him all in and adjusted he hit this spot. he felt her clench around him, he couldnt help but smile.

"so easy," he mumbled, as he wrapped his arms around Paris lifting his hips up taking over. his arms wrapped around her waist as her plowed into her, she screamed as william hit her g spot over and over.

"fuck, baby, you feel too fuckin good," he moaned into her neck, she threw her head back lost in euphoria. her juices coated his cock, dripping. William had lost himself in her, listening to her moans and whimpers. he quickly flipped them both over so he was top, pulling her legs above her head, he grabbed both her wrists pulling them above her head.

"want daddy to keep fucking you, honey?" he asked, pulling out teasing between her wet swollen folds. Paris felt like her body was on fire, she felt tired from cumming so much but she wanted to show she could do it.

"yes daddy, please, keep fucking me. I need to feel all of you," she moaned, william groaned before shoving all of himself into her at once. she cried out, her eyes closing. he let go of her wrists grabbing her jaw, her lips puckering.

"fuckin look at me while you take my dick," her eyes wide, tears brimming as william plunged into her over and over. she moaned loudly, william held her face, noticing her eyes watering.

"yeah, take it, baby. you gonna cum for daddy again?" his hand played with her clit while he fucked her. she felt all of him, she was losing her mind.

"yes daddy," his hand on her throat, applying slight pressure as he moaned into her.

"oh fuck, not gonna last much longer with you saying all that," Paris cried out, as william picked up his pace. yanking her on hips as he slammed into her, her legs wrapping around his tight waist. his large calloused hands under her back pulling her close, her head hung back mouth a gape. William moaned, as he became sloppy yet still quick. he pulled out, finishing on her naked body spread out all over. on her tits, stomach, and right above her swollen pussy.

william was out of breath, standing up before helping Paris up. Karen rushed over with a robe, before paris' legs shook so much she had to be steaded into william. Williams arms grabbed her, a laugh erupting from his lips. Paris' skin pink and sweaty, her hair a mess, her lips swollen but william thought she looked beautiful still. Karen placed the silky robe around her shoulders, Paris felt like she was going to fall over.

"wow, will, you really got her," Karen laughed, as Paris giggled quietly. william laughed, picking up the red suit. following behind the girls, william couldn't help but think about Paris. she seemed so innocent yet so sure of herself.

"how about we go and celebrate yalls first scene?" Paris drank a water bottle, slipping on her dress forgetting her panties. she didn't know where they went, she didn't know william had taken them.

#tom blyth #tom blyth smut #tom blyth x reader #billy the kid #billy the kid 2022 #tbosas

[sassycheesecake]

Uncle!Osamu who has just having a regular day at his onigiri restaurant when the entrance doorbell chimes, followed by squeals of excitement of a twin pair, one boy, one girl.

The gray-eyed man looks at the direction of the voices, happy to see his niece and nephew again after not seeing them for almost two weeks.

The girl of the twin pair has dark brown hair and your eyes, while the boy has your hair color and hazel brown eyes.

Today, both of them are wearing matching MSBY training suits, a gift from uncle Hinata and uncle Bokuto.

As uncle!Osamu engulfs the five-year-olds in a big hug, his brother walks in, a tired look adorning his usual confident, cheeky expression.

Now Atsumu Miya, Setter of the MSBY Black Jackals looks like he hasn’t slept properly in a couple months.

He looks like he's been through hell and as a father, he is more than justified to look like hell.

After all, he was a child once and along with Osamu they both always got into trouble. His mother was a single parent and how she managed two raise two boys with a job all by herself without having to give up the twins for adoption is still a mystery to Atsumu.

As Osamu looks at his brother, he notices that the Setter's hair is unruly, he has dark circles under his eyes and is looking at his children with a scolding look on his face.

"I told ya brats a million times not ta run across the street when we go see uncle Samu. If ya get hit by a car, mommy will kill me and marry yer uncle instead."

"Would that be so bad?" Osamu grins in mischief at his twin, letting go of the kids, who apologize to their father with apologetic and guilty looks.

"Shut yer trap, I am too tired ta deal with ya right now. I came ta ask for a favor." Atsumu trots over to the bar stools in front of the counter, ignoring the hushed whispers of excitement from some of the costumers.

"Don’t curse in front of yer kids, they’ll pick up that habit. What do ya want?" Osamu turns around to prepare some lunch for his niece and nephew.

"Can ya watch the kids this weekend? I have been wantin' some alone time with (Y/N) and these little shits interrupt every damn time." The blonde leans over the counter and quietly hisses at the ravenette.

"Sorry, but no." Osamu declines.

"Please, please, pweeeeeaaaaaase can ya watch ‘em this weekend? I can’t even remember the last time I had sex with (Y/N)! And my dick is about to fall off from the pent up frustration of games, takin’ care of the kids and tryin’ ta get alone time with my wife!"

Osamu huffs annoyed at his plea, he already has plans for the weekend, sleeping in, to be more precise.

"Welcome to family life. I can’t Tsumu. I already have plans." The ravenette explains, giving each of the twins a pair of grilled salmon cream cheese onigiris, your favorite and also the twins’.

"Oh yeah? What do ya have planned huh? Ya got no marriage, no kids, no responsibilities, if I remember correctly. I call bullshit." Atsumu stares at his brother with a skeptical expression, seeing that Osamu is walking to the back, he decides to follow after him into the back, telling his offspring to stay put.

"I really want ta sleep in this weekend and I have been wantin’ to ask that girl out from the book store down the street. The brunette I told ya about?" Osamu takes a few bags of rice and hands it to his brother, who takes them without hesitation.

"The only thing that’s in my memory department right now is the Paw Patrol intro theme song, along with ‘We don’t talk about Bruno’ in like 15 different languages."

To be honest, Osamu is glad that he doesn’t have kids yet.

Taking two more bags, both brothers make their way to the kitchen area, where Osamu starts up a few new batches of cooked rice.

Atsumu also puts the rice bags down, staring almost pleadingly at his brother.

"Do ya want me ta go down on my knees for ya and beg? I ain’t asking for much, just please, watch them this weekend. Just one weekend. I really need it and so does Atsumu junior."

"Please don’t talk about yer dick in my product storage, ya will ruin my food." Osamu scoffs in disgust.

"Seriously, what do I gotta do ta make ya watch 'em? Name it." Atsumu keeps trying to persuade his brother.

Osamu pretends to think and after watching his brother who looks so desperate it's almost funny, sighs in defeat and agrees to watch the little rascals this weekend.

"Fine, I'll watch 'em this weekend but ya owe me. That was ma only free weekend in a while."

"Whatever ya want bro, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, THANK YOU!" Atsumu jumps up and down in excitement like a little kid and hugs his brother while he jumps and down.

"Get off of me, ya dumb idiot. I'll said I'll watch 'em for a weekend, not adopt them." Osamu shoves his brother off and straightens out his cooking uniform.

Atsumu literally glows in excitement and happiness and immediately calls his wife, walking back out to check on his children.

As Osamu watches him leave, he sighs deeply.

What have I gotten myself into?

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyū!! #hq x reader #hq fluff #inarizaki #atsumu miya #atsumu miya x reader #miya osamu #msby black jackal #miya atsumu #hq osamu #osamu miya #haikyuu miya atsumu #atsumu #atsumu x reader #haikyuu atsumu #hq atsumu #msby atsumu #atsumu x you

[cripple-punk-dad]

Once again feeling emotions about God, Forgive These Bastards: Songs From The Forgotten Life Of Henry Turner by The Taxpayers. I listened to the whole album not really knowing the background or the story behind the title. I just loved the music and the artist's voices. But then I found the explanation by the main vocalist on the album, Rob Taxpayer, and:

"The first time I met Henry Turner I feared for my life. I remember the exact date – February 18th, 2007 – because the day before, a close friend of mine had unsuccessfully attempted to commit suicide in his studio apartment and I’d spent the entire night at the hospital. It was one of those terrible and typical Pacific Northwest winter nights where the rain seemed relentless and the gloom was contagious, and as I waited at a sheltered bus stop on Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard for the # 6 to arrive, a man approached me for a cigarette.

I shook my head and gave him a half-smile.

“Sorry. I quit a few years back.”

I stuck my head back into the newspaper I was reading, and he took a few steps closer.

“How about a buck and a quarter then? All I need is a dollar and a quarter and I’ll have enough for bus fair.”

I shrugged and fumbled around in my pocket.

“I’m using an expired bus transfer myself, but I might have a few extra dimes. It ain’t much, but if it helps, it’s yours.”

I passed him the change, and when he grabbed it, he ducked down to my level and looked me straight in the eyes.

“Look at me. Does it look like a few extra dimes would help? You think a few extra dimes would do any good to anybody? Take a look at me. I got a rotten heart and a bad shoulder and I ain’t slept a good night’s sleep in the past ten years, and you wanna know the kicker? I get fuckers like you tossing me their condescending extra dimes.”

He was tall and intimidating, with wild gray hair and deep wrinkle lines all across his face, and his eyes would occasionally roll up into his head, quiver, and then refocus. His thick, wet coat and his tangled beard had bits of crumpled leaves stuck to them, and he carried himself with the strange confidence of an angry and confused lion.

“And the best part about all of this is that I know you’re cheating me. And you know what I did to the last bastard that cheated me? “

He paused for a few silent, terrifying seconds.

“I bit his ear off.”

I almost pissed my pants. My brain was telling me, “get up and run”, but my body was frozen in fear, and I sat there shaking in excruciating silence. Sure, maybe he was harmless, but something about the look in his eyes terrified me. I could see the bus approaching from about a quarter of a mile away. I did the math. From that distance, it would be another minute or so before the bus arrived, saving me from certain death. I could try to fight back. But while he was an old man, he was an enormous old man, and anyways, you just can’t fight a crazy person. I could run. That was it. I was going to have to get up and run before he sunk his teeth into me, or pulled out a knife, or worse.

Suddenly, he burst into laughter. Not a maniacal laughter, but a booming, good-natured laughter, and his angry eyes became kind and warm. His snarl turned into a crooked smile, and he slapped me on the back like an old friend.

“Aw, I’m just fucking with you, kid. Ain’t much for laughs around here. You’ll have to forgive me.”

He held out his massive hand for me to shake.

“Henry Turner. Friends call me Hank. How ya doin'?”

I was still petrified. Was this some sort of a trick? Was he going to grab my hand and then snap it off like a tree branch? He looked me over and laughed again, reached into his coat pocket, and pulled out a bus pass.

“Here. This one ain’t expired. Go on, take it, I got a whole stack of ‘em.”

And with that, the bus pulled up to our stop in the rain, the doors opened with a loud mechanical sigh, and Henry held out both his arms, outstretched, in the direction of the doors.

“After you, kid.”

I didn’t realize it at the time, but he was a semi-celebrity around town, although most people wrote him off as just another one of the crazy folks that told rambling, drunken tales – amusing for a few minutes, but best largely avoided. It was true, he had his demons, but he also had a magical brilliant quality to him, and whenever I ran into him around town, I’d end up spending a few hours with him, if for no other reason than to listen to his unbelievable stories. It didn’t really matter whether they were true or not, it was the way he told them, with absolute clarity and confidence, no matter how crazy they sounded. Some of it even checked out. He’d often talk about his years playing baseball with Georgia Tech, and the famous play-off game where he pitched a two-hitter in 1979. When I got home, I went on the internet and looked up the Georgia Tech roster from 1979, and there he was. Henry Turner. I’ll be damned.

The years went by. I’d leave town for months at a time, but when I came home I could always expect to run into Henry for the latest news and a ridiculous tale. Businesses closed and new ones opened, houses changed ownership, new faces arrived and old ones disappeared, but he was like an ancient marble pillar – unaffected by the changes around him. Or so it seemed. In the winter of 2010, three years after we first met, I ran into Henry on one of the downtown park blocks. He was disheveled and had these crazy eyes, and when he recognized me, he touched me on the shoulder and said something to the effect of, “Gonna go away for a while. You’ll hold onto something for me, yeah?”. He reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a huge stack of unused bus passes, thrust them into my hands, and walked away. It was the last time I would see him.

Henry Turner died on March 25th, 2010, a product of years of substance abuse and tough living. If a funeral was held I wasn’t aware of it. The news of his death hit me harder than expected, and it sparked an obsession: I began compulsively writing down every outlandish and unbelievable story he’d ever told me, as a sort of tribute. My band started working on an album of songs pertaining to Henry’s life. My nights were spent researching everything I could find about the Turner family. I would rant on and on to complete strangers about the whole ordeal. Then slowly, it began to subside. Life went back to normal. Though I never quite forgot about it, my utter entrancement with the Turners faded.

What follows is an amalgamation of the stories Henry told me, as best as I can remember them. I hope I did him justice. There are some embellishments and I took quite a few liberties, but like all good narrators, Henry knew that any story worth telling should be grand, significant, and a little bit false. It’s important to note that Henry was no hero, and I’m not trying to romanticize or defend him – as you’ll find out, he was a murderer, an abusive husband, an unapologetic addict, and a crook who was haunted by his most awful moments. But he was also at times a tender, loving father, a brave adventurer, and an amazing pitcher, who was surprisingly candid and an absolute charm to listen to. No person can be summed up by their worst actions. And despite his insistence that “forgiveness ain’t an inherent human quality”, that’s what this whole thing’s been about for me: the capacity to forgive someone’s most wretched moments.

Ultimately, I think that when Henry was at his best, he was something simple: a kind, strange friend" -Rob Taxpayer, from The Taxpayer's Bandcamp page

Look at me look me in the eyes: "No person can be summed up by their worst actions" I'm broken I'm dead I'm deceased. The last track on the album is an interview with somebody who knew Henry as a child. It's about remembering someone that nobody else thinks about it's about preserving the memory of the jerks and the assholes and the addicts because everyone deserves to be remembered and to have songs sung about them and have their stories told in whatever way they can be told.

#the taxpayers #diy punk #punk music #tw suicide mention #punk community

[paintbrushnebula]

Here's a buncha my personal Gwen Stacy Headcanons that no one asked for but I'm giving anyway :3 I wrote a Butt Ton and I hope y'all like really 'em 🐧

Gwen was a very tough, reckless kid growing up. She tripped and fell a LOT because she liked doing stunts and parkouring on literally everything, but she'd never cry. George was always scared of Gwen getting hurt from her stunts but he was impressed (if a little freaked) by how she'd get right back up afterward like it was nothing. Gwen was just a very naturally durable child. She'd always have at least one band-aid on her somewhere.

(My sister wrote this one): As a result of her absolutely Tasmanian devil type recklessness, George would cut her hair SUPER short as a child, like pixie hair type short to avoid having to always wash out the bugs and dirt and leaves and wood chips and literally anything she grabs and just goes "Savin this for later yo" in her hair. (She still stuck stuff in her hair and honestly liked the short hair better cuz she could run faster, but ey it reduced the expenses on baby shampoo SIGNIFICANTLY) n she wasn't allowed to grow her scruffy little spike head hair long again till she was like 8 poor georgie was struggling for ideas he's just a guy HES JUST A GUY MAN !!!!!

Gwen begged George for a penguin as a pet when she was 5 but was told that penguins can't be pets. She played club penguin almost every day until middle school. She starts playing it again after they defeat the Spot. Margo plays it with her all the time. Gwen was absolutely appalled when she discovered that Club Penguin is discontinued in Miles' universe.

Yeah she's 100% patching things up with Glory, Em Jay, and Betty after Beyond the Spiderverse. The Mary Janes become a successful niche band very quickly now that Gwen is fully committed and she even performs as lead vocalist every now and then. Gwen eventually starts writing and singing songs of her own for their shows. She also starts spending more time with them outside the band.

Gwen and Peter's favorite childhood activity was making home videos. Peter's videos emulate Bill Nye the Science Guy; he'd showcase all these experiments/prepared presentations and ramble on about them pretending he's this world renowned scientist. Gwen's videos are her doing crazy stunts on her skateboard, or inspecting exotic bugs/lizards with her bare heckin' hands and talking to them in funny voices. They'd each film the other's videos. They stopped making them when they reached middle school; life just got harder for the both of them due to increased bullying, Gwen becoming Spider-Woman, and Peter's mental health getting worse. Gwen still has their old video camera with all their videos still intact, but since Peter's death, she hasn't been able to bring herself to watch them again.

She loves saying "yell heah"/"yell hes"/"what the yell"/"aw yellll nahhh" a lot

Big fan of action/neo-noir/crime thriller movies: John Wick, Sicario, Baby Driver, Nightcrawler, Pulp Fiction, Batman, etc. Just any piece of fiction with Misunderstood Action Person who's always On The Run, hunted by the law but just trying to get by, struggling to survive in an unjust system. Toootallllyyy doesn't hit close to home for her.

PC gamer? Yell hes.

She's a surprisingly talented voice artist/impressionist with impressive range. She already figured out how to perfectly mimic Hobie's cockney British accent after like a week. She never forgets a voice and can do quickly do impressions of lots of famous fictional characters. She'll come up with all these funny voices to make Miles laugh or prank call people. She LOVES prank calling people.

Part of George's motivation for letting Gwen take up ballet was so that she could learn proper balance/coordination so she'd be more careful when performing all her stunts. I think that Gwen used to be naturally clumsy until ballet taught her proper agility. He thought that if she was gonna be a little daredevil, then she could at least be able to catch herself before her face is slamming into the pavement.

Gwen is a big nickname-giver. She calls Miles "Bambi" (he looks like a baby deer to her), Margo is "Mars Bar", Peni is "Panini", and Pav is "Pavlova." She mostly nicknames people after food really.

She's not really a candy person but she is definitely a junk food person. M&Ms, Cool Ranch Doritos, Pringles, soft drinks (favors coke), Reese's, Cheez-its (her favorite), Oreos, and your typical fast foods.

After the Spot fiasco is over and she and Miles are months into their relationship, Gwen starts putting on a bit of weight. Not that much, but her form fills out enough to be noticeable. I like the idea that she becomes so happy with herself post-Beyond that she indulges herself a little, yknow? She takes an immediate liking to Rio's food and Rio is always giving her extra leftovers to take home or packs her something to eat during Spider-missions. She doesn't become aware of the extra weight until Miles' clothes start fitting her a little tighter than she remembers (he's very skinny after all). She's very happy with her new shape and chooses not to lose it (mostly because she refuses to have to eat less which honestly same)

Going back to the home video headcanon; Peter actually recorded one last video the night before the prom. In the video, he presents the vial containing the lizard serum to the viewer and explains his plan to drink the serum so he can get revenge on everyone who bullied him at the school. The way Peter enthusiastically presents his plan in the video is eerily similar to the old science videos he recorded as a child. At the end of the video, he rambles about how excited he is to become "special like her," but he doesn't elaborate further; anyone who isn't Gwen won't know who he's talking about. Since Gwen hasn't opened that video camera to this day, she has no idea the video exists (I don't know if she ever sees it).

I'll post the next part of that 'Gwen Stacy is Sick' comic tomorrow I promise XD

#brushneb says stuff #atsv #gwen stacy #spiderverse #across the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #spider gwen #spiderverse headcanon #atsv gwen #earth 65 #george stacy #the mary janes

[raysources]

𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐊  𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄  𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒     —     a collection of one - liners taken from the soundtrack of the 2015 broadway musical, school of rock.   slightly edited for clarity.   change pronouns as necessary.  

just wait and see!

let 'em laugh.

i know my time is comin'.

no one'll call me a loser again!

try to walk as if you're going somewhere.

the pressure's on for you and me.

don't, and it will mean i go ballistic.

good luck, have fun!

just like the good old days!

you've always been a dreamer.

give up your dreams.

your dreams are lame and weak.

we ought to cut the bull and just get real.

give up your dreams, and get a freakin' job.

join the grown - up world like us.

quickly, don't let anybody see you!

how come you never told me you could play music?

you ever play electric guitar?

let's waste that time together, shall we?

you're in the band!

don't forget to emote!

i only play classical.

that's good. for my grandma. who's, uh, dead.

i still don't have a job.

is that something you could swing?

i'm putting you in charge of the whole damn thing!

i pledge allegiance to the band.

if you're in raise your hand!

you never let me get in a word.

no matter what it is that i do, it's like i just can't seem to get through.

i've got so much to say.

still, you never listen.

can't you see i'm hurting?

i promise, one day i'll make you hear.

i'm not the kid you want me to be.

you just don't wanna see the real me.

you just keep shutting me out.

i'm not gonna beg you — you'll never see a tear.

the legend of the rent was way past due.

how can you kick me out of what is mine?

you're not hardcore unless you live hardcore.

what it all can mean is quite confounding.

the children all like him more than us.

who knows what he does but god, it works!

maybe we too could do some good.

there's been one solution since the world began : don't just sit and take it, stick it to the man!

get all of your aggression out.

stick it to the man!

go off the script, do what you like.

they hate it, they can take a hike.

why live your life to someone else's plan?

crank the amps to 17!

don't just sit and take it, stick it to the man!

show 'em what rebellion means!

why march to someone else's caravan?

there's no way you can stop the school of rock!

i'm in charge!

go punk, or start packing.

it's time to play!

come on, this isn't hard!

make sure he remembers, or i'm breaking both your necks.

we don't have time to waste while you try to find some taste!

i can still remember how the music used to be.

where do last year's one - hit - wonders go to?

what happened to the girl i was?

guess the songs kept playing, but i didn't stop to hear.

where's the joy i used to know, way back when?

sorry for the outburst.

let's keep this our secret, who'd believe it anyway?

thanks for the reminder that there's music in me yet.

if you flip the record and start over, does it sound the way it did before?

he can barely read!

i promise you, i can read!

we're gonna sue!

his ass belongs in jail!

i'm a loser, okay?

i used you.

worst of all, i wasted your time.

i thought nobody could, but you, you understood.

you raised my voice up, taught me not to fear.

i've learned who i am because you're here.

school won't be the same without you here.

now that i've found you, you can't just disappear.

you've taught me so much since you've been here.

two and two make five!

rock got no reason, rock got no rhyme.

i've been biting my tongue too many times.

today's assignment : kick some ass!

#rp meme #rp prompts #sentence starters #lyric starters #school of rock rp #mine : prompts. #mine.

[frostandflamesfanfic]

Santa Who? (Dad!Steve Harrington x Reader)

Santa Who? (Rated G)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader (gender neutral)

Word Count: 2.1k+

Warnings: None, just Christmas cuteness and toddler hijinks! Dad Steve is back, everyone!

Summary: Amy and Emery Harrington are three years old and cannot wait for Christmas! When your husband tries to keep up a tradition, they begin to question who this mysterious man in a red suit is. Can Uncle Dustin save the day?

“Now Dasher, now Dancer, now Prancer and Vixen!” your husband read out dramatically, glancing up excitedly at the two little girls sat comfortably on either of your legs. Only one had managed to stay awake the entire way through, whereas the other was watching him read with rapt attention. It was officially the Christmas season and Steve was beyond excited to be able to continue his tradition of reading the beloved holiday poem to your twins.  

“On Comet, on Cupid, on Donner and Blitzen!
 To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall!
 Now dash away, dash away, dash away all!” You couldn’t help but giggle at Steve’s attempt to deepen his voice similar to that of the man in red. He gave a jolly laugh which woke Amy up before continuing with the story in his normal voice. “And I heard him exclaim as he flew out of sight, ‘Merry Christmas to all! And to all, a good night!’”

As he closed the hardcover book and moved to set it on the side table, little Emery Harrington reached over to tug on his shirtsleeve. “What dat ‘bout, Daddy?” 

Steve smiled down at his little princess. “It’s about Christmas, babe,” he explained gently. “When Saint Nick comes to visit.”

He was met with an adorable head tilt. “Daint….Nick?”

You pecked the soft tufts of light brown copper locks upon her head. “Santa, squirt,” you tried to help. “Remember Santa?”

To your surprise, both girls shook their heads in your lap. 

“You never taught your children about Santa?!” Dustin’s voice cracked in disbelief from his position on the floor. It was your brother’s last Christmas in Hawkins before he would be moving to New York for college next summer. You had made the terrible decision to offer for him to stay with you and your family for a few days during the break. “You really are a disgrace to the Henderson name. I mean, honestly….”

“Hey!” Steve reached around your waist and pulled you closer toward his lap protectively. “It’s Harrington now, you little shiiiiiitake mushroom.” He smiled sheepishly at the eye roll you gave in response to his terrible cover-up of a swear in front of the kids. “Besides, we told them about Santa last year. I think they were just too young to remember.”

“Sure, Steve.” Dustin sighed and straightened his back as he stood up, eyes now locked onto yours. “I have to make a call.” 

He was already halfway to the receiver before you even gave a nod, the phone cord soon stretched under the guest bedroom door. 

“Sure, go ahead,” you remarked under your breath. “Use our phone. What’s mine is yours, dear brother. Not that you even care.”

Steve laughed at your remark, reaching over to pull Em into his lap. “You should have known this was going to happen if you invited him over for the break,” he said, bouncing the dark haired three-year-old up and down for her amusement. 

“Yeah, I know, but-“

“Who Fanta?” Em interrupted you with an innocent pout. 

Your husband glanced down at her small frame in his hold. She almost looked like a miniature grown-up, big brown eyes serious, stare evident. “Santa?” Steve asked her. 

She nodded. “Yesh. Who dat?”

“Well, you kind of know who he is, babe,” he explained. “Remember we got yours and Amy’s picture taken at the mall the other day?” A fond smile lit up both of your faces at the memory. It had been a literal fight with the devil to get the girls in their holiday outfits and to the mall before close. You had told Steve you were going to just take the day off of work to get them prepped, but he had insisted upon helping after work — a mistake that caused a total race to the finish at seven o’clock on the dot. The girls were nearly asleep by the time you got them situated with the kind man in red, but to the two of you, it was a well-earned victory that left you driving home with ten copies of images in your bags. 

“Well, Santa knows the names of every little girl and boy in the world and brings presents to the ones who are especially good,” your husband continued to explain. “And on Christmas Eve, he visits everyone’s houses with his reindeer and leaves presents for the good kids and coal for the naughty ones.”

Amy whimpered in your lap and pressed her face against your stomach. Concerned, you frowned and stroked a hand through her short hair. “Whatsa matter, bean?” you cooed. 

“Dun want Fanna!!” The light haired angel sobbed into your shirt. 

Sharing a confused glance with Steve, you lifted Amy up in your arms to gently wipe at her tear-streaked face. “What’s wrong with Santa, bean, hm?” 

Amy only continued to sob, small hands grabbing onto your shirt. 

“Babe, you have nothing to worry about,” Steve tried to console her next. He reached over to run three of his fingers up and down her small back. You felt her shiver against you and give a small shake of her head. “You’ve been such a good girl this year. Santa’s not going to give you coal.” 

This only made Amy howl more. 

What happened? Your gaze silently questioned Steve. Your husband merely gave a shrug in response. Your guess was clearly as good as his. 

“I think it’s time for a bit of a nap, don’t you?” he proposed softly. “Then we can have dinner and watch a movie.” 

⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ 

Aside from the earlier confusion, the rest of the evening went on as most did within the Harrington house. You and Steve worked together to make dinner. Actually, that was a lie. Steve mostly made dinner. You sat at the kitchen counter, eyes locked onto the way a smile wormed its way across his face and how his body swayed to the faint melody of whatever Christmas Carol he had been humming. It had taken the two of you a while, but before long, a warm home cooked meal was ready to be eaten at the kitchen table. 

Dustin sat between Amy and Em, at the former’s request. It wasn’t surprising. Uncle Dustin was her idol and everything he did was interesting to her. Amy herself seemed much better after her nap. She had apparently forgotten about the whole Santa conversation and was quick to lose herself in the mashed potatoes on her plate. Much to your chagrin, she discovered how her spoon could be used as the perfect catapult (something you felt sure you could blame Dustin for teaching her at some point). Fortunately, said brother appeared the target of the projectiles, so perhaps he already had his just desserts moment. 

“Amy, bean, don’t play with your food,” you pleaded as you reached over to wipe her hands free of the starchy side dish. The next task you busied yourself with was cleaning up the spoon, which you planned on using to help feed her, should her escapades get out of hand. 

“My paddews!!” Amy howled sadly. She reached her arms out toward you as you wiped at the utensil before ultimately deciding to swap it for a new one. 

“….your what?” Steve couldn’t hide his smile at her antics. 

“Her paddles, obviously,” Dustin came to his faithful niece’s aid. He looked far too proud in your opinion, aside from the glob of potatoes still stuck in his curly hair. “Her paddles to guide her on her latest curiosity journey.”

You sighed, and were about to chide your brother for providing the spark for too much curiosity, when there was a knock on the door. Confused, you turned to Steve with a knit brow and frown. “Were you expecting anyone else?” 

Your husband shook his head. “No,” he replied. “Could be carolers, though. It’s around that time.” 

The knock sounded again — three short ones to be exact, separated with a brief pause each time. It continued two more times before a quick double tap. When the cycle repeated, you could almost make out the familiar beat of jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way….

“Maybe the girls should answer it!” Dustin supplied suddenly. “I think it might be a good idea to start teaching them some independence during this wonderful time we call the holiday season, don’t you?”

Steve narrowed his eyes at your brother in suspicion. “What are you up to, Henderson?”

“Me? Oh, uh, nothing! Nothing at all! Can’t an uncle want to teach his nieces some life skills during Christmas?!”

When the knocking repeated its rhythm for a third time, you heard the low mumble of laughter coming from outside. “Ho Ho Ho,” a deep voice let out. “Is this the Harrington residence?” 

You blinked and looked from the door in the hallway over to your brother, who merely smirked and gave a small shrug. “I told you. I had to make a call.” 

Without another word, you and Steve got up from the table and picked up a daughter each. As you neared the front door, you could see the shadow of a very familiar looking hat. Turning the doorknob and opening the door, you were surprised. Sporting a belly as jiggly as a bowl full of jelly and nose as red as a cherry was the man in red himself: Santa Claus. You felt your heart swell as you glanced up at his sparkling eyes and incredibly bushy white beard. 

Jim Hopper gave you a small wink as he leaned down to smile at both of your girls. “Well, hello here, Amelia and Emery,” he said in an overly deep voice. “Merry Christmas. Do you know who I am?”

Em could hardly keep herself from flying out of Steve’s arms. “FANTA!” she exclaimed. “FANTA CLAWS!” 

Amy, on the other hand, was as frozen as an icicle in your hold. She blinked at the man before her in fear. Your heart broke to see her lower lip quiver in what you could only assume was an indication of an upcoming tantrum — something you rarely experienced with your typically quiet child. 

As though he could sense the impending doom, “Santa” turned his attention over to Amy. “I heard from my elves at the North Pole that you two were some of the first kids on the nice list this year,” he said in a jolly tone. “That’s pretty impressive, so I thought I might drop by and give you a little something special early.” 

With a wink, he turned behind him to brandish a red and gold embroidered sack. You let out a small snort at his antics, wiggling his white-gloved fingers before reaching dramatically into the bag to pull out a small mailbox outfitted in red and green paper. Along the side of the box in gold lettering was written, For Santa’s Eyes Only. With a smile, he held it out to you and Amy. “No one else has one quite like this,” he exaggerated his whisper. “You and your sister are the only ones that’ll be able to have direct contact with us up in the North Pole. You can be my little helpers, okay? Can I count on you two?” 

Em grinned. “YESH!” she shouted in excitement. 

“Santa” returned her grin in a similar fashion. “Why thank you, Miss Emery,” he replied, turning to face you and Amy. “Now, what about you, Miss Amelia?”

Almost in deep thought, Amy hesitated before waving her hand in a “come hither” motion. With a confused smile, “Santa” obeyed and leaned his ear closer to hear her whispers. After a moment, he grinned and gave a jolly laugh. “Oh, I think we can definitely manage that,” he replied with a smile. “You two take care of that special mailbox for me, alright? I have to head back to the North Pole to help the elves get ready for Christmas. I heard Rudolph may have gotten loose in the kitchen again.”

After saying your goodbyes and sending a silent thanks to Hopper, your little family made your way back inside. Em was far too excited and eager to tell Dustin about their latest visitor, jumping around the mailbox you had set on the living room coffee table as she shared the story. Even Amy was in far better spirits. Later that night, she asked for your help to write her first original letter to Santa, thanking him for stopping by and keeping their little secret. 

When you asked Dustin what she meant by that the next day, he only smiled and gave you a wink. “Never trust an uncle and his nieces around a cookie jar, my dear sibling,” he responded rather dramatically, “for it only leads to temptation.”

==================

Author's Note: Dad Steve is back everyone and he brought his adorable little munchkins alongside him. You all seemed to love Amy and Emery so much with my thanksgiving fic, Recipe for Family, I just had to bring them back. They are absolutely adorable and I would be lying if I said I didn't squeal several times whilst writing this fic!

If you want to see more dad!Steve fics on my blog or during Stevemas, make sure to leave a comment or reblog! These two interactions really help me understand what you all like to see from me -- plus it gives me the motivation to keep writing/posting. I'm not sure if it's Tumblr eating my posts or if I'm just picking the wrong times, but it would really make my day to see how many people are enjoying my first Tumblr event! If you have any suggestions for future fics, send me an ask or DM and I would love to chat with you about it. Who knows...maybe it'll end up on the fic schedule ;)

Until next time, my little sparks <3

Taglist: @bakerstreethound

(Want to join the taglist? Let me know! :) )

#frostandflamesfanfic #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x reader #dad!steve harrington #christmas fluff #domestic fluff #steve x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve stranger things #steve harrington imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #joe keery imagines #joe keery #twelve days of stevemas #ficmas 2022

[sugar-omi]

what are your general thoughts on step 3 baxter bc i was replaying OL1 and i trying hard not to cackle at the fact baxter is 19 years old in like 2016. bc all i can hear is halsey, p!atd, arctic monkeys when i look at him; it's giving tumblr, hot topic, that specific period of alt fashion. like he looks like a k-pop idol, but has a weirdly deep voice and overly formal way of speaking. like that is a rich sheltered gayboy emo nerd, not a suave daddy dom. his ass is grass and mc is gonna mow it. i'm saying i find his whole aesthetic ridiculous even tho i do have a soft spot for his fear of emotional vulnerability.

LMAOOO NO I READ THE HALSEY, P!ATD, N ARCTIC MONKEYS AND YOU LITERALLY DESCRIBED MY MUSIC TASTE IN 2016-18 PLS JUST ADD MCR AND I AM IN RUINS.....

OMG STOP "HIS ASS IS GRASS AND MC IS GONNA MOW IT" PLS I LOVE YOU YOUR /WORDS/ IM ACTUALLY CRYING

honestly the only reason i don't clown him is bc I think him being older is 🥵🫣 but yeah I had to laugh when they called me Pepe le pew and Victorian emo man

I was literally getting ready to go out the one day after playing the dlc, and was trying not to fuck up my eyeliner from laughing bc pepe le pew is abnormally funny n idek what or who that is

HONESTLY I WAS SO GRATEFUL WHEN HE CHANGED CLOTHES

I COULD GET BEHIND THE SHIRT BUT THOSE PANTS.....

take em off

OH NO WHAT DO YOU THINK HIS UNDERWEAR LOOKED LIKE.... ik in step 4 he had fall leaves on his butt but what abt step 3.... im afraid 😟

okay I totally almost forgot your question, thank god I read things like 5 times before I'm sure I'm not missing smth but general thoughts....

well first thoughts was "who tf is this flirting w my man🤨"

now it's "who let this vampire out the house" bc baxter is so pale... pls I feel like if I put a firefly on him he'd burn like?!)!&*!^!??

final thought: "are you still looking to be sandwiched" bc poly cove/baxter/mc sounds PERFECT for all my issues (will never recover from the dialogue being different if you have cove at fond or crush when you start dating baxter.....)

also I'd like to eat him, did I say that alrdy? well I'd like to shrink him n nibble on him

OH MY GOD THATS OFF TRACK OK STEP 3 BAXTER THO. ID LIKE TO GRAB HIS FACE N YELL AT HIM

knowing he's going to break my heart...... pls... 5 moments wasn't enough imma need reimbursement for this heartache

I wanna sneak into his condo and lay in bed w him and make him laugh until he falls asleep n then I wanna wake him up w breakfast and then I wanna go on a lil stargazing date n walk along the edge of the water, the water only touching his feet when the wave goes up shore

n I wanna find all his lil freckles and moles n count them n be all close n tell him he's pretty like the moon and I wanna put on some song idk the lyrics to bc it's some Spanish love song or smth and make him dance w me even tho the most I can do is spin I a circle and circle literally one hip

and I wanna take him on a long drive w his dumb metal music blasting n make him yell it out w me and I wanna feed him his dumb fries w pie or whatever it was and I wanna make him lay in the grass w me and I wanna go build a dumb sandcastle and get him a silly lil toy that's prbly meant for kids n giggle abt it for a stupid amount of time and when we get home laugh abt it some more and i wanna play my dumb instrument and sing him a dumb song n AKAJHAGA I JUST WANT A FUCKJNG COMING OF AGE MOVIE W HIM I AM JAGADFALAH LOSING MY SHIT

okay.

I'm normal 🧍 ... I like this man a Regular amount

#olba #baxter ward

[bnuuybee-writes]

hi!! we have a fictive of muichiro in our system, and we were just wondering if you'd be able or willing to write an agere drabble with cg mitsuri and little mui? if not that's totally fine!! you can add in any of the hashira too, if you'd like <3 - 🌸💫

Little Daydreamer (regressor muichiro tokito hcs)

author's note: omg hi !!! i would love to! unfortunately, I don't exactly have the spoons for a whole drabble, but I can do some cg hashira & agere muichiro, with a focus on cg mitsuri! i love doing agere content, esp since i'm a regressor myself! some of the habits, i'm going to be drawing from my own experience, but i do feel like they'd fit muichiro too!!!

nicknames: gogo - gyomei; mitsi - mitsuri; nemi - sanemi; yuyu - giyuu; banban - obanai; shibu - shinobu; tenten - tengen; goku - rengoku

cws: vent regression; trauma; flashbacks; tooth-rotting fluff; some of em are trauma cgs if you squint; mentions of their pasts

Little Muichiro is normally an easy child. One might say he's an angel or even a little spacey boy.

But, the times where Muichiro play regresses are rare and far between.

Normally, it's something that upsets the Mist Hashira to the point where he needs that sense of protection.

Whether it be a particularly rough mission, a reminder of his past, or even someone slamming their hand down on a table (coughsanemicough) Muichiro will shrink back.

The signs are subtle, and sometimes he'd go a whole day without being noticed that he slipped... Unless he's around Mitsuri.

Mitsuri Kanroji

He's always trusted the Love Hashira with his regressed self. She just had this maternal factor to her that made him feel safe.

So when Mitsuri notices Muichiro's brow slightly furrowed or him biting softly on his lip, she springs into action.

"Hi there little one. Do you wanna come with Mama Mitsu? Wanna talk about it?" She would ask, kneeling down to Muichiro's height and holding out her hand.

Muichiro, being a nonverbal little, would obviously not want to talk about it, just give vague details. When he does speak, it's in a hushed voice in Mitsuri's ear.

"Scawy... Dun' like... Wan' baba..."

Mitsuri immediately understands and takes Muichiro by the hand, taking him to a secluded, calming area and giving him a child's cup and a small wood pacifier with the nib made out of natural rubber.

When the other Hashira took notice, they didn't know what to do, though Mitsuri advised them to just treat him like a child.

So, they did... With varying degrees of success.

(other hashira cgs under the cut !!!)

Gyomei Himejima

Poor guy didn't know what to do when Muichiro started crying after he fell over and scraped his knee

He's blind, not like he could see the wound. So, obviously, he calls Shinobu over.

While she tends to the wound, Gyomei then thinks of something to help Muichiro stop wailing.

He then remembers a song his mother sang to him whenever the Rock Hashira was crying as a child. So, he gently takes Muichiro into his arms and sings.

The soft rumble of his chest and soothing breath lulls Muichiro into a nap, the little one curling into the burly man's chest.

When I tell you this man started sobbing.

And when Muichiro gives Gyomei the nickname gogo, he melts and happily accepts the title.

Sanemi Shinazugawa

Sanemi immediately grows protective of Muichiro

He's the oldest of five kids, he doesn't want to see someone he considers another little brother to get hurt

So when the Wind Hashira sees the child upset, he immediately springs into action, wiping the little one's tears away with a gentle hand.

"Ey, ey, none'a that, li'l one. C'mon, what's wrong? Wha'cha need, kiddo?"

He hates seeing Muichiro cry. Not because he doesn't like when kids cry or display emotion...

It reminds him of the times where his father got to his siblings before he can.

"Nemi... Wan up... Wan nemi..." The two year old would mumble, making grabby hands for the white-haired male.

So, of course, Sanemi would oblige. And he will carry Muichiro until he wants to be let down or Sanemi has to do something.

Also, whenever Sanemi is about to cuss, he stops and replaces it with a censored word. Or tell Muichiro to "use earmuffs", aka cover his ears.

"I've only had little Muichiro for about two minutes. But if anything were to happen to him, I will take out everyone in this room and then myself."

Protective big brother

Giyuu Tomioka

Is this how Tsutako felt...?

As he shushes the crying child, patting his back and rocking him while sitting on the floor, Giyuu's mind trails back to his late sister.

She's always been something of a mother to him, since theirs was absent and Giyuu never knew her due to her dying during his birth.

He remembers how Tsutako calmed him when he was near-inconsolable like how Muichiro is now.

Whenever Giyuu woke up from nightmares, his sister will hold his head to her chest, against her heart, and sing...

So Giyuu does that. His voice is soft as he presses Muichiro's head against his heart, the soft beating and swaying rhythm calming the wailing toddler.

"As long as I'm here, no one can hurt you... Don't wanna lie here, but you can learn to... If I can change the way that you see yourself... You wouldn't wonder why, dear, they don't deserve you..."

The crying would subside into small sniffles and coughs from ragged breathing. Giyuu would sigh with relief, thankful that trick still works.

He then gets Muichiro some dango to cheer up, eating it with the small Hashira in his lap.

Obanai Iguro

He's afraid he's going to hurt the kid.

Muichiro is volatile as it is, and he doesn't want to upset the child further.

Mitsuri said that if he's just patient, he'll be okay.

But he feels it wearing a bit thin when Muichiro starts fussing and he doesn't know what to do. and Mitsuri's out on a mission.

So, Obanai just sits there, paralyzed and not knowing what to do as Muichiro fusses.

And then... He just scoops the kiddo up and holds him.

"Hey, uh... I dunno what's goin' on with you... But I'ma try 'nd be here, 'kay? Y'at least deserve that much..."

He remembers those nights in that damn clan... Well, it was more of a cult than a clan. In that wood cage, isolated and prone to the elements.

He remembers wishing for someone to hold him. To give him that warmth in the frigid loneliness.

So, he wants to be that for the volatile Muichiro. He wants to be that warmth.

He wants to be the person he never got as a kid... So, he stays by Muichiro when the other Hashira are busy and can't take up babysitting at the moment.

After all... Being called "banban!!" isn't too bad...

Shinobu Kocho

Besides Mitsuri, Muichiro also trusts Shinobu with his regression.

Mitsuri was the first one to inform Shinobu of Muichiro's littlespace when he was sick once and vent regressed.

Shinobu, being good with kids, immediately knew what to do.

While in the Butterfly Mansion recovering, Muichiro would be practically doted on by Shinobu, Kanao and Aoi.

The attention was a bit much when the three crowded him, causing him to fuss. So, for a couple days, it was just Shinobu tending to him.

When she tried giving him medicine and he refused, she then approached it differently.

"Sweetie, I know the medicine is icky, but you have to take it if you want to play with Mitsi again... Tell you what - You can take it in a cup and drink water after... Or I can mix it with some tea so it's not as icky."

Muichiro contemplates the question before uttering "tea...", sniffling from a runny nose.

Afterwards, Shinobu tells him how brave he is for taking a big step through bigger emotions. He hugs her, clinging to her robes and calls her "Shibu..."

The name makes her melt almost instantly.

After he feels better, he plays with Kanao and Aoi in the courtyard, laughing and jovial again while Mitsuri comes to pick him up.

Tengen Uzui

Tengen is considered the fun uncle.

That being said, he isn't as laid back as Rengoku is.

He gives the kid structure, something he never had growing up in a shinobi clan.

And if Muichiro accidentally messes with something, it's gently explained to him.

"Hey there, li'l guy. If you do that, then you'll get super hurt, 'nd we don't want that, huh?"

Muichiro would nod and feel guilty before Tengen hugs him and explains no, kid, 'm not mad, just worried about you.

The wives adore Muichiro.

Hinatsuru helps him calm down and practices deep breathing with him when his emotions get really high.

Makio play-chases him around the house, making Muichiro laugh.

And whenever Muichiro cries, he cries with Suma. The two let out their emotions together, hugging each other and being the support for the other.

Life at Tenten's house is fun for Muichiro, and he knows no matter what that he's safe and loved there.

Kyojuro Rengoku

Ohhhhhh my goodness.

If this man isn't the embodiment of chaos now, then put him on babysitting duty for Muichiro.

There's a reason there has to be two adults present when Rengoku has Muichiro under his care.

Rengoku is the type of caregiver who will do things the actual caregiver tells them not to with a sly "don't tell cg" and a laugh.

When he starts trying to get onto Muichiro about something he shouldn't be doing, he immediately stops and wants in on it, too.

"Up, bupbupbup, what'd we say 'bout candy before dinner?... Actually... 'Ey lemme have some'a that, looks good-"

When he carries Muichiro, he carries him over his shoulder like a sack of rice, so when someone calls for him he just-

"Hey, Rengoku-san!"

*spins around rlly fast, making Muichiro give those baby belly giggles* "Yeah?"

This doesn't mean he isn't serious during the tougher times. He will become fiercely protective over an injured/crying Muichiro.

"Whoever decided to put their hands on my sunshine, please come outside so I can peacefully break your legs :)"

'Goku is a very playful and protective bubba, 'nd no one can tell me otherwise.

#°bun squeaks° #demon slayer #kny #knyagere #demon slayer agere #fandom agere #mitsuri kanroji #gyomei himejima #sanemi shinazugawa #giyuu tomioka #obanai iguro #shinobu kocho #tengen uzui #kyojuro rengoku #muichiro tokito #this was adorable to write omg-

[charleslee-valentine]

Should have read that detour sign

Word Count: ~2,000

Warnings: Suicidal ideation, suicide attempt, murder-suicide, graphic depictions and descriptions of domestic abuse, period typical attitudes towards women, child neglect, very dark themes.

This fic was beta read by nov!

__________________

Drayton mentions his woes, casual as he can manage, while hanging the linens over the clothesline.

“Babies are sick again, Mama.”

She’d just bothered showing her face to the world after another bender last night. Normally he’d be making as much noise in the house as he could to get the bitch up and help him some. But those babies are in there resting and recovering today, so he took to doin’ the laundry outside. It could’ve been a nice day to lay the babies in the grass and let ‘em crawl and explore on their bellies, if not for their fevers.

Even with Drayton taking extra special care of those kids, Mama don’t seem all that concerned. Her dull stare is almost scathing, “You do what I told you?”

Right. All her bullshit ‘stop whining’ remedies that didn’t do nothing. He scoffs, “A salt water bath ain’t gonna fix this’n.”

Back talkin’ ain’t a good enough answer for her, “But did you try it, Drayton?”

Something about not being listened to lights the fuse at the end of his temper. Against his better judgement, he snaps at her, “Of fucking ‘course I did! Past three days I tried it! And it ain’t helped!”

“Watch your language.” Mama scolds automatically.

His next response sort of just tumbles out of his big mouth just as quick, “Right. ‘Cause that’s what’s important right now.”

That earns him a thwack. Mama’s long, ringed fingers crack against the back of his skull hard enough his eyes go fuzzy.

“Drayton Sawyer hold your tongue, damn it!”

No tears. No whining. He swallows it down. He’s grown now, damn it. Raising up two little boys like they’s his own. Can’t teach them the cowardice he’s always had in his bruised heart.

Mama hasn’t even named the boys yet. Seven weeks old and they got no names, just in case’n they don’t get better. But what the hell would she know about better, if she don’t ever even hold ‘em?

Drayton’s voice is tense and tight, but he don’t let it waver.

“Mama. Have you checked on them once today?”

His insistence finally gets her somewhat interested. Probably not worried though. She at least backs off just a little from her anger, “They alright?”

“I told you already they aren’t.” Drayton sort of mumbles so it isn’t immediately registered that he’s still pissed. No sense in getting himself hit any more.

Mama at least looks guilty. It’s just for the smallest second, that her deep brown eyes flit towards the house, clearly thinking about the little boys inside. About how to help ‘em.

Doesn’t last long. ‘Cause then she’s looking to Drayton, expecting him to fix her mess like always.

She declares, like she’s all proud of it, “You’ll find a way to take care of it.”

Drayton feels the bitter scowl on his own face even though he don’t wanna show it. Might as well lean into it. Calm like, he takes a few steps towards the door, calling over his shoulder at Mama, “Alright, maybe I’ll ask grandpa.”

The very same grandpa that drank himself into a catatonia now, used to be one mean sonuva bitch. Drayton could mess up once as a kid and fists would start flying. If it weren’t Mama and her claws, it’ve been grandpa and his hatred. His evil. His steel toed boots and warped knuckles.

That man would never even hold the boys, not in the state he’s in, half out his mind in a rocking chair all the day long. But the threat, and what it means, is enough.

Mama grabs him by the arm and digs those nails in. Drayton lets her pull him, never having any intention of actually bothering the old asshole.

“Don’t you dare.” She spits.

“What, it ain’t right to hit on your kids now?” Drayton acts like he don’t know exactly what he’s doing.

But it backfires.

Mama is fierce. Vicious. Boy had to learn it from somewhere, after all.

“Not those babies. They don’t deserve it.”

So he did. She hated him from the start. Even before he grew up ugly and mean and half-an-idiot, she didn’t want nothing to do with him. To this day he’s nothing more than her damn maid. It’s do it or face the consequences, and get nothin’ at all in return.

Frustration boils until it’s more akin to rage, the kind he can’t just push under the surface.

“Why’s that, mama? They too fragile? Too sick? Maybe they should see a goddamn doctor then!”

His ribs are certainly fragile after being broke so many times. Every day his back hurts. Hands shake. Something ain’t right anymore in Drayton’s body because of being beat so bad all his life.

He gets another slap right across the face, hard enough to turn his head full. Mama’s tidy nails catch his skin and leave a cut rifht under his eye. One singular tear of his blood rolls down and drips to the collar of his shirt.

Can’t have that now, can’t go leavin’ the evidence in plain sight. Drayton uses his sleeve to wipe it away. Blood and motor oil don’t look too differently. Nobody’ll know a thing. If they do, well, that Drayton Sawyer has always been no good. Probably deserved it.

Oh but just you ask Mama, and that ain’t her fault.

She seethes, “I know how to raise my children.”

The next thing Drayton thinks doesn’t even need to be said for it to sit heavy in the air. His face must show his skepticism.

Mama don’t like that. Somehow she can read his mind and know exactly what he’s thinkin’ of. She scolds him for it, “Don’t you give me that look, Drayton! I have to provide, don’t I?”

“Walking the streets and providing are two very different things, woman.”

Drayton don’t usually talk about mama’s type of business. The oldest profession, one unfit for a mother who had no right to ever leave behind her own dying babies.

Never home, and when she does coming back random hours of the night, doin’ all kinds of drugs and remedies to flush her system of the random men who touched her. Clearly all her pseudoscience bullshit didn’t work none though, or the boys wouldn’t be on the brink of death. The disease she gave them was through her tainted blood. Venereal.

Mama’s only pretty sure the twins and Drayton got the same daddy. Not one of her vile clients, just an old fling who never stepped the hell up but she crawled back to anyhow.

Drayton hates them all. Hates mama, hates the men who buy her, hates their daddy for not sticking around to help none, hates grandpa for watching it all go down from behind the bars of his self-built mind prison. Hates God for not dealing him a better hand.

Every goddamn day he works to keep his two brothers alive, just because it’s right. And deep down, he thinks he hates them too.

Mama don’t appreciate that not one bit. She refuses to even acknowledge it, “If I could just get some damn help-“

That’s more than enough for Drayton. He’s done with goin’ on like this. Can’t take another minute of not being appreciated for working himself bloody and broken and still taking care of those kids in between.

If his slaving away don’t mean nothing, then he’ll just go.

He leaves Mama on the porch, storming inside. Oughta pack a bag and leave right now, a baby under each arm.

“Where are you going?” Mama’s thick voice shrieks at him, and the tiniest hint of panic there drives him to keep going.

He wants her to be afraid.

Turning on heel, he yells back at her, “To tend to your bastard children, since you’re so unbothered with it god damn all!”

The noise ain’t good for the twins. Slamming doors and booming arguments and all. Drayton certainly ain’t calming down any time soon, and Mama won’t leave once a fight’s started. Leaves only one thing.

Nothing more than a light blanket around each baby, Drayton leaves. Didn’t have time to make a plan and execute it. All the way down to his truck he leaves.

From the stoop, Mama screams at him, “Get your ass back here!”

But Drayton ain’t gonna listen this time. Won’t or can’t, actually that’s not really clear. Fact is, he just needs out.

Babies are in the back on their little blankets, cuddled up to each other for heat between them, even though it’s goddamn 80 something degrees out they’re cold, and Drayton just drives.

Don’t know where he’s going and don’t care.

Every now and again, he’ll check all the mirrors, make sure hell ain’t coming for him. One call to the state from Mama and he’d be done for. But it ain’t him she should be worried about when grandpa still ain’t dead yet.

They try to ruin him and take the babies back, well he’s got his own fair share of family secrets. Things a hell of a lot worse than getting the kids away from their monster whore of a mother on a rampage.

Then again, might not matter in the end.

He’d rather be dead than lose the only family he had the chance to care for instead of them hating him first.

Going 70 miles an hour on a curved stretch of road, Drayton considers it. Death, that is.

Could save them all three a whole world of heartbreak if they just went out together now. It’d be quick. Just take his hands off the wheel for one second and then-

A tanker flashes its lights and blares the horn when his truck crossed the centerline. Whatever evil took over Drayton’s Sawyer’s impulse to survive is gone and blinded, in the exact same moment the babies start wailing their little heads off.

Drayton slams on the brakes before they get so far off the road they’d crash. Crossed into the wrong lane, sure, but they’re safe on the opposite shoulder now.

The loud noise spooked the babes though. Only sound now is their crying, but even that is muffled in Draytons ears under the sound of his own heart racing.

One look back at those sick little boys, and all Drayton can feel is shame. He’d almost killed them. All three of them.

On purpose.

Looking back at them there, bare-chested, covered in rashes, sobbing so hard they’re pink in their little faces, Drayton wishes he could strike himself down for what he almost did. Except, striking down is what he wanted. Death was the end goal. He’d failed to go through with it, for one, but his biggest failure was as an older brother.

Something’s gotta change. Living this life will be a worse punishment than ending it. Carrying on and raising up those kids, guiltily remembering all his life what he’d almost done, that would be much worse than whatever death was like.

Still, subject him to hellfire for even thinking it, but he’d still end the suffering now if he were strong enough. Pull the pin and let it all burn up now, instead of waiting for hell to do it first.

They’ll always be miserable. It comes with being a godforsaken Sawyer.

Drayton lets the babies wail.

Shaking hands and ghosts of impulses won’t change their pain. Their fear. The twins’ll have to learn to soothe themselves eventually anyhow.

Still as a spectre, Drayton starts the car back, and he drives. The only acknowledgment of the dreadful children’s screams an occasional, violent twitch of his hand, when he fails to block it out and almost snaps.

In his head, he thinks it could be worse. They could be wrapped in tangled metal, instead of their warm blankets and each other's frail little arms.

But he doesn’t say a word, and as he brings them home, takes them inside. He just lays them in their little cot and walks away. Mama is gone again already, no doubt drinking away the argument from earlier. If she won’t bother, why should he? His age, he should be moving out. Settling down. Making something of himself.

Instead Drayton feels like a monster. A hateful beast.

Like his grandpa. Like his mother. Like a Sawyer.

No sense in quitting tradition now, he supposes.

#my writing #please read the warnings up top and view at your own discretion #tw suicidal ideation #tw sui ideation #tw abuse #drayton sawyer #nubbins sawyer #chop top sawyer #bobby sawyer #tcm fanfic #draytons in his early 20s here!

[lokitu]

Fast Food Rep, part 6

- Story written by DeltaC -

vi.

John: Argh these don’t fit either! Steve, remind me to take our clothing to another dry cleaners. This is the 5th pair of slacks they shrink on me.

**Damn it, how many good clothes have they ruined?! Christ it has to do the cleaners right? There is no way I am bigger than the clothes I use for dirty bulking.**

Steve: Oh come on I like our current cleaners. They always have some yummy donuts for me.

John: Well tell your donut connection to stop shrinking my clothes!

Steve: Here try these on grumpy pants.

John: Huh I don’t remember owning these. Where did you get them?

Steve: How do they fit?

John: They fit like a glove. A little short in the inseam but not too shabby. I guess I still had an extra pair of clothes from my bulking phase. Oh man these are wonderful! Nice and snug in the bum just how I like ‘em. You know how much your Papi loves his form fitting jeans to show off his powerful hams.

Steve: Ummmm yeah bulking phase…

John: What is Steve? What aren’t you telling me?

Steve: What do you meeeeeaaaan?

John: Steve, your voice cracks whenever you aren’t telling me something.

Steve: What? No! You’re crazy John! That’s crazy! Stop being dumb.

John: Huh, okay, we’ll do this the hard way. Here comes the tickle monster.

Steve: DON’T YOU DARE!!!

John: YOU know the tickle monster just loves to tickle those crazy hot tits of yours baby! And rub that gorgeous thick overhang you call a belly. Ooh and how he loves to blow raspberries on your thick thighs.

Steve: Quit it!

John: Run run run…well that wouldn’t work here now will it. Waddle waddle waddle away as fast as you can here comes the tickle monster!

Steve: BAHAHAHAHAHA OH GOD STOP! HAHAHAHA!

John: It doesn’t have to be this way Stevie! Damn look at your rolls jiggling. I fucking love your bouncing tits baby. I still can’t believe you actually hit 450 lbs this morning.

Steve: HAHAHA please sssssstop I can’t breathe.

John: Spill the beans baby.

Steve: th…th…they’re my old jeans…wheezee…from when I hit 350.

John: WHAT!!!

Steve: Huff puff huff. Oh god I think I’m crying. Phew okay breath is coming back…John where are you? Oh boy, from the sounds of those heavy steps he is either at the full length mirror or stress eating my ice cream again.

John: Crap crap crap. This can’t be happening. How am I wearing Steve’s fat hand-me-downs? Oh god, my thighs are rubbing together and my belly is bouncing too. I got to take stock. Where’s the scale?! No, mirror first I got to see the damage. It probably isn’t that bad. No way I’m 350 lbs of lard. What keeps hitting the top of my belly…are you kidding me? My pecs are slapping against my belly? Steve, where is the scale?

Steve: It’s by the full length mirror. Don’t freak out! Bring back the ice cream when you are done.

John: Sure! Mmm ice cream does sound good. Fuck focus John.  

***Fifteen minutes later.

Steve: What does a fatboy have to do around here to get some ice cream? John, where did you disappear off too? C’mon I want my ice cream.

I get it would take John a few minutes to waddle to and from the kitchen. Heh John waddle is coming along and is a bit of a turn on these days; to think he would run along the wet sandy beach. Welp, I better go see where he waddled off to. Ugh, waddling is such a chore. Okay, so he is not in his office. Not in the living room. Not in the kitchen. Oh great, all the ice cream is gone. Looks like I got up for nothing. What was he asking for again? Oh right, the scale. Oh crap not the scale!

John? Oh, ohh damn. Are you okay John? How much ice cream have you eaten…unmmm never mind. Is there still any ice cream left?

John: How did I get so huge? I thought I was doing a good job fattening you up and eating healthy myself. I pushed so much on you Steve every last meal jammed packed with calories just for you. How did this happen? Look at me! I’m a huge whale!!! I can’t even see my toes over this behemoth of a belly I got going. I cannot even see my cock unless I use this mirror and lift up my belly. And look and my prime chest it’s demolished. I got juicy tities now.

Steve: Okay whatever you do, set the ice cream down gently and we won’t have a problem.

John: hmmmm  

Steve: I’m kidding. John, you look absolutely wonderful. You are still the man I fell in love with. Granted there is more of you to love—a hell of a lot more! And I love every added soft square inch of you. John, I have fallen in love with you all over again. You may not know it, but you have grown much more loving and attentive, if that was even possible, as I have truly become a whale.Yes, you are obese, but nowhere near whale sized—given time I do hope you do get beached. John you are a fat hottie with a booty that just won’t quit. Muah.

Now share some of that ice cream before you polish it off fat man.

John: Oh Steve, coke and give me some sugar!

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[run-me-through-but-not-like-that]

Could you do an Izzy Hands/Reader where the Izzy gets up in the readers face to give them orders bc they won’t listen and the reader bites back with a sarcastic remark and they both kinda pause, realizing at the same exact time that they like each other and both their first thoughts are somewhat along: “Ew what the hell-“

i love your writing!:)

This isn't Happening:

It was just another normal day on the Revenge for the crew, a part of the day they had come to expect, no longer surprised by. The crew not so subtly gathering around to listen into whatever argument you and Izzy had gotten into now.

The two of you were always bickering, always at each other's throats. The crew had started making bets on how long the arguments would last and who would stab the other first.

They were pretty sure the two of you had started out on opposite sides of the deck, pretty much anyway, but now the two of you were only a couple of feet away from each other. Standing toe to toe, still snarling like rabid animals.

"Oh fuck you, you have no idea what you're talking about. You're all fucking idiots," Izzy seethed, throwing insults at you and the crew, even though the crew had been improving impressively fast. It was never enough for him.

"We'll we're really sorry for not being the mighty Blackbeard or his ass-kissing first mate," you scoffed, glare not faltering for a moment. He had been a long time since he had manage to intimidate you, his threats were empty now.

"What the fuck did you just call me?" his voice lowered dangerously, something flashing behind his eyes that sent a small thrill down your spine. You had to admit that you enjoyed messing with him.

"Oh, I think you heard me just fine. Or are you going deaf, old man? One too many cannon battles? Might be time to retire soon," you knew that you were just pushing and pushing, purposely making him angrier.

"I'll retire when you and the rest of this so-called-crew get your heads out of your arses and act like real fucking pirates," Izzy flashed his teeth in a grimace, a strand of hair falling out of place.

"I'll show you a real fucking pirate," you snarled, inching closer.

This close, you could see every fine detail on each other's faces, could make out every little micro expression. This close, it was impossible to miss the way Izzy's gaze dropped to your mouth. Impossible it ignore the way you repeated the glanced.

His lips pink and wet, the threat of teeth behind them. Fucking hell, they were practically begging you to kiss them. And damn, you wanted too. The realisation was sudden, knocking you off balance.

The realisation seemed to hit both of you at the same time, faces scrunching up in sync with each other.

“Fuck,” Izzy spat, flinching backwards like you struck him.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” you were shaking your head at yourself, in disbelief and disgust.

“Fuck you."

“In your dreams, Iggy."

“…fuck!” you both exclaimed simultaneously before stomping off in opposite directions.

Any of the crew that were in the way parted, watching with interest.

“Did…they just have a moment?” Black Pete asked, leaning towards Lucius.

“More like a revelation, I think. And not one that either of them were happy about…” Lucius leaned right back, resting against his shoulder.

"It was kinda hot," Black Pete hummed, a smirk growing on his face.

"Yeah, in a kind of...dysfunctional way. Still hot, though," Lucius agreed. "Now, if you excuse me, I'm going to go stir the pot a little," he planted a kiss to Pete's cheek before standing up and stretching.

"Go get 'em, babe!" Pete cheered, watching his boyfriend cross the deck to cause some trouble.

-

It didn't take long for Lucius to find you in the galley. You didn't seem to have any real reason to be there, other than enjoying the empty space as you paced back and forth muttering to yourself.

"Hey there," Lucius interrupted your...muttering session?

You paused, clearly haven't heard him come in, and turned to him. "Hey, Luce," you aimed for casual but you already knew he was up to something from the look on his face.

"Quite the show you put on up there," he smirked, far too knowingly for your liking.

"Sure. The asshole doesn't know when to drop it," you huffed, hoping Lucius would know when to drop it. He always had an eye for this kind of thing, and you just knew he must have sensed something was off.

"Right, that's the problem," Lucius rolled his eyes, "totally not because you got all hot under the collar for the first mate."

"What are you talking about?" you questioned slowly, as if warning him to take the hint, to back down now.

"Oh, please. Izzy...getting all up on your face, doing that thing where he just can't look away from your mouth, getting all snarky. Spoiler alert, babe. He wants you," Lucius informed you with a little wiggle of his eyebrows.

"Lucius, you better be getting to the point," you warned.

"Are you gonna...?" he was wiggling his eyebrow again with a suggestive look in his eye.

"Fuck no," your face twisted in offence. "Izzy? He's the worst. Why would I-"

"Uh, because I couldn't tell which one of you was going to pounce first?" Lucius laughed, he couldn't believe you were still denying it after that little display. You and Izzy had always been weird about each other, everything a little too intense for it to be pure dislike for each other. "You have it bad for each other, deal with it," he shrugged.

"Lucius, I am this close to using one of Roach's precious knives on you," you held you hand up, the pad of your thumb and forefinger nearly touching, grazing each other.

"He'd kill you for touching them," he called your bluff.

"It'd be worth it," you smirked, a glint in your eye that made the scribe wonder just how much of a bluff it was.

"Damn, you and Dizzy really are right for each other, huh?" Lucius teased. Even if you had the urge, he knew you wouldn't draw blood from him.

"Lucius," you warn lowly, picking up Roach's cleaver from the counter, twirling it between your fingers.

"I'm going!" Lucius threw his hands up in surrender, laughing as he fled.

On his way out, he nearly knocked Roach over. Meaning the cook already wasn't in the best of moods when he eyed his prized possession in you hand. "Hey, what the fuck are you doing with my baby?" he questioned accusingly, striding over to you.

"Didn't use it, I swear! Was just threatening Luce," you promised, holding the blade out to him, not wanting to keep it away from the cook.

"Damn right you didn't use it. Give it here," Roach snatched it from your hand before ordering, "scram."

"Yes, boss," you nodded, giving him a placating smile before leaving the galley.

-

"-and we'll be reaching port in two days if there are no sudden weather changes. Buttons says the winds should stay relatively consistent," Izzy finished his report to the captains, itching to leave the cabin, though perhaps not itching to risk seeing you again. Not after that embarrassing production, he never had been the best at keeping his cards close to his chest.

Edward used to say he wore every feeling he ever had on his face, all in his eyes, just like Jack used to call him a sentimental bastard. Maybe they weren't too far off.

"Sounds good, Iz," Edward nodded, only half paying attention. There was nothing in the report that required his attention, everything had been taken care of.

"Roach will be glad to reach a port, he's already complaining about lack of rations," Stede commented, a smile on his face. Too happy about being near to a port.

"Because you made him make another cake," Izzy glared at him, he had already given the lecture about wasting rations.

"Ah, the reasons don't matter," Stede shrugged it off.

"So...is that business all dealt with?" Edward asked, perking up slightly.

"Yes, captain. I'll have a list made for all supplies needed-" Izzy began, only to be interrupted.

"Yeah, yeah, that's real good, Iz," Edward nodded, gesturing toward one of the chairs across from the couch that the captains say on, "hey, c'mon, sit down. I wanna talk to you about something."

"Is it urgent, boss?" Izzy asked. Something told him this wasn't going to be a conversation he enjoyed.

"Extremely," Edward insisted.

"And I have to sit for this?" Izzy would prefer to stand closer to the door.

"I'd prefer it," Edward told him, as if he was really giving him a choice. "C'mon, Iz. We can't talk anymore? Like the old days," now he was practically whining, and Izzy could never deny him anything, could he?

"Fine, whatever," Izzy sighed, dropping down onto the chair.

"Heard about your little...altercation up on deck," Edward was clearly amused, but Izzy knew better than to take that at face value.

"Right," Izzy nodded, voice stoic. "It won't happen again," he assured them.

"Yep, Stede told me all about it," Edward grinned. Once again, Izzy was glaring at Bonnet, feeling like a child being scolded. Stede just smiled nervously in response. "You got into an argument, said some mean shit about the crew," his captain tutted.

"Like I said, won't happen again," Izzy reiterated.

"Eh, don't worry about that. Heard they gave as good as they got," Edward shrugged, making Izzy roll his eyes. "Oh yeah, Stede told me all the details. Thought I might have to do something about it...until he mentioned how you got all up in each other's faces," he continued, his playful grin morphing into a smirk.

"Ed, what are you talking about?" Izzy prompted, growing tired of the topic.

"Oh come on, Iz!" Edward lean forward, elbows on his knees. "I know you, how you get. When somebody's getting you all frustrated, you get all up in their face. Stede said he thought about intervening but he couldn't figure out if you were going to kiss or kill each other," he was clearly enjoying this too much.

"I mean, if it's the former, do as you please. I have no involvement in the relationships of the crew, though perhaps no foreplay up on the deck without the consent of the rest of the crew, I'm sure you understand." Izzy officially wanted to wring out Bonnet's neck.

"Fucking hell, it wasn't-" he began to protest.

"But if it's the latter, I'd really prefer it if you didn't kill a valued member of the crew," Stede finished before gesturing for Izzy to speak.

"Fuck this. I'm leaving," Izzy stood abruptly, not wanting to hear another word. Didn't need to sit their while they amused themselves with his predicament. A predicament that he didn't even fully understand.

"Iz, man, come on!" Edward was on his feet, laughing as he pleaded for the other man to stay. "I say, go for it! I'm happy for you mate!" but Izzy was still heading for the door, not looking back. "Where are you going?" Edward asked, practically pouting.

"To throw myself over the railing," Izzy muttered, leaving the cabin and slamming the door shut behind him.

-

You had found yourself a sound little hiding spot in the Ballroom of the Revenge. It wasn't a secret room or anything, of course, but it wasn't a room that the crew thought about often or tended to visit.

And it was the crew that you were avoiding. You loved them, really you did, they had become your family, but you just couldn't put up with the comments or questions anymore. It was all well meaning harmless fun, of course, but you really did not need to talk about the whole Izzy thing right now. You didn't even want to think about it.

You let out a sigh of defeat when the door opened. You had been caught, you knew it was only a matter of time. Though your defeat quickly turned to confused frustration when Izzy stepped into the room, hurriedly closing the door behind him and let out a breath of relief.

"Fuck off, get your own hiding spot," you huffed, aware you were practically sulking as you slumped back against the wall.

"I'm not hiding," Izzy scoffed, as if you weren't doing the exact same thing.

"Sure you're not," you rolled your eyes.

Izzy looked between you and the door, weighing his options and sighing. He made a point of taking a spot on the other side of the room, sitting on the floor just like you were.

"Who are you hiding from?" Izzy asked, a reluctant attempt at conversation.

"The crew," you answered. You wouldn't be surprised if his answer was the same, but still you asked. "You?"

"The captains."

That caught your interest but it was still too easy to poke at him. "Hey, you just referred to Stede as one of your captains. Wasn't so hard, was it?" you couldn't help but taunt him, just a little.

"This does not make us friends," Izzy's expression hardened into a familiar grimace.

"Well, duh, obviously," you readily agreed, rolling your eyes at him once more for good measure.

The two of you sat in silence then, cherishing the peace and quiet. Thankfully, the cannonballs had been neatly stored away rather than being allowed to wreak havoc. You may have been stuck in a tiny room with Izzy Hands, but at least you didn't have to avoid rouge cannonballs.

Eventually, you just had to ask. "What are the captains bothering you about? Nothing we should worry about, right?"

"None of your concern," Izzy dismissed, earning a displeased huff from you. Glancing over at you, he let out a sigh, before answering, "it's personal. The ship is fine." If you didn't know any better, you'd think it was an attempt to reassure you.

"Ooo, personal," you whistled lowly.

"Why are you hiding from your ridiculous crew?" Izzy asked.

"It's personal," you retorted smugly.

Izzy rolled his eyes, making no further attempts at small talk. The two of you fell into silence again.

You should have brought something with you to keep yourself entertained because you were quickly growing bored. Drumming your fingers against the wooden floor.

It earnt you a glare from Izzy but you ignored him, getting a nice little beat going.

Izzy's patience was already next to non-existent, so you weren't at all surprised when he finally snapped. "Fucking stop that!"

"Fucking make me," you shot back, not even attempting to supress your smirk, knowing it would only wind him up further.

"Why do you always have to be such a pain in the ass?"

"Why do you always have to be so uptight?"

"Because nobody fucking listens!"

"Well, maybe if you weren't such an asshole about everything people would listen to you."

Izzy pushed up to his feet and stomped over you, at least pleased to hear that the gentle drumming had stopped. He stood over you, scowling, but you just continued to smirk up at him.

"What are you going to do about it, Hands?" you cocked an eyebrow, knowing there was nothing he could do, Stede and Edward wouldn't like it. "Things work differently here," you reminded him, holding his gaze as you stood.

"That so?"

You leaned back against the wall casually, arms folded over your chest. "You can't just throw your weight around until people do what you say. Nobody here is scared of you anymore, so threats don't work. Act like a normal fucking person and life will be a little smoother."

Izzy pushed forward, teeth baring to respond, only for the door to swing open. You both jumped and turned to the sudden intrusion.

"Iz!" Edward grinned in the doorway, Lucius smirking by his side. "Told you they had to be around here somewhere," he nudged Lucius' shoulder and you wondered when those two got so friendly.

"And I told you they'd likely be together," Lucius bragged.

"Edward," Izzy warned.

"Alright, alright, just letting you know we'll be coming into port soon, thought you'd want to make sure we don't wreck," Edward teased, only laughing when Izzy growled under his breath. "But we'll leave you to it. Please, carry on."

They were both laughing as Edward dragged the scribe off, the door slamming shut again.

"Fucking idiots," you both muttered, both pulling a face when you realised you had agreed on something simultaneously.

"Show your captain some respect," Izzy spun around to face you again, glowering.

"Oh fuck you," you laughed, not even pissed off with him anymore, more amused than anything.

"You're a goddamn nightmare," Izzy grumbled before striding over to the door.

"Takes one to know one!" you called out playfully.

Izzy opened the door before looking back over his shoulder at you. "Find a better hiding place, I doubt they're going to drop this whole thing anytime soon," Izzy advised.

"...I'll find one of Stede's secret compartments," you promised, a silent agreement being shared between the two of you.

Izzy nodded before leaving, pulling the door shut behind him.

You ran your hand over your face, stuck between the urge to grin and complain. It looked like the two of you were going to be spending a lot more time together, even if it was to actively avoid confronting whatever the hell was going on between you.

#israel hands x reader #izzy hands x reader #izzy hands #ofmd izzy #ofmd x reader #ofmd #our flag means death

[that-one-anxious-mango]

I’ll Bite Em’

Summary: You’re not having a good day, but Austin comes to the rescue after you give him a bit of panic. 

Contents: Tad bit of Angst. With Fluff.  Mentions of childhood trauma Use of Pet names. Loyal Doggo. Concerned Partner. Emotional and vulnerable reader. Implied future smut.  

Austin Butler x Black! Reader

A/N: HI! And welcome to the Days of Our Love series. I was inspired to start this series by none other than @cevansbrat0007​ after throughly enjoying her growing pains series (which is bomb go check it out.) I really liked her style of piecing together one-shots to create one big story universe! It’s super dope! SO I thought I’d give it a try! Hope you like it!

PS This is very first publishing on here. Would love feedback :)

                                               __ _____ __

Today just wasn't your day.

And what did you do on days like these? You put on an old comfy sweater and go sit on your bathroom floor to cry.

That's exactly what you were doing now and had been doing since you'd arrived back to your shared loft about two hours ago.

Although some may think it was probably a peculiar place to come and drown your sorrows, it wasn't for you. Infact, even as a youth and teen growing up whenever you needed a place to just be and let it out, you opted for your bathroom. And maybe that was part in partial to you never having a door on your room as a kid.

Parentals weren't big on privacy.

So the habit just stuck.

And now here you were. Back against the door of your bathroom trying to let out all the days frustrations and quickly clean up your face before Austin got home.

It wasn't that you didn't feel enough comfortable around your boyfriend, or you couldn't cry around him. It was that you didn't really feel comfortable crying around anybody. So, you just wouldn't want him to think you were pushing him away or have him feel offended because you didn't want him to see you like this. It was just a you..thing. Plus, with everything going on with press interviews and preimeres. Why burden the man.

Hell, you'd already practically gave Magnus a heart attack at the way you sobbed when you'd first entered the home and seen the excited pup who was expecting an equally excited human to greet him. Instead, as soon as you had shut front door to the outside world you had broken down against the wall for a bit. Magnus had immediately gone into action jumping your legs and producing tiny barks and whines that you figured translated into, ' Oh my gosh who am I gonna bite ' and ' You dumb human lean down here so I can love! '.

And through hiccupped breaths you'd managed to keep telling the concerned creature that you were fine as he followed you through the house and up the stairs to the bedroom whining all the while listening to your sniffles as you changed out of your clothes.

You then had to practically pry him off your ankles from trying to follow you into the bathroom.

So now he laid faithfully on the other side of the door huffing and whining for to just open the damn door and let his wet kisses and puppy breath fix all your problems.

But you'd be fine.

You just had to finish having your moment and be out before Austin got home at six thirty.

You used your phone to check the time.

5:12

Perfect.

You sighed closing your eyes and leaning you head back in peace.

The peace then lasted all of twenty-five seconds before you heard the chime of the home security system followed your man's voice calling out through the place.

Well, I’ll be damned.

" Hey baby it's me. Baz decided last minute that he wanted to rewrite one of the scenes that was supposed to be shot today. So, it got pushed back and I got to come home early to my best girl and hound." You heard him announce. Right now, he was probably walking into the living room expecting to see you in some type of lounge wear binging an afternoon show with Magnus ideally sitting on your thigh.

And you were right.

As soon as Austin hadn't heard you immediately respond back, he figured you were head deep into a show and didn't hear a word he'd said. It'd had happened a few times.

Setting his keys and belongings on the kitchen island chair he chuckled to himself thinking about what you could possibly be watching today. But instead, he was taken aback to see the empty dark room.

No you. No Magnus either.

Weird. He thought.

But brushed off the thought when he then figured that you may be in your office with your headphones in going over some type of new screen play with a comatose Magnus at your feet.

Making his way there he popped open the door and felt slightly uneasy seeing all the lights off in the seemingly untouched space.

Alright what's going on? He thought.

He knew you had to be home since your car had been in the garage when he'd pulled in. And plus, he couldn't remember you texting him earlier of any plans to be out you had.

Raking his brain in building worry as he climbed the stairs, he called out again,   " Sugar mama! Baby, You up here? "

You could hear the slight octave drop in his voice that was laced with slight concern making your eyes begin to water.  This is exactly what didn't want. To make him upset.

The closer his footsteps got the tighter your chest felt.

Entering into the room Austin could feel a small bit of relief wash through his body at seeing your belongings spread on the bed and side table.

So where were you?

And then he popped in his head.

Bathroom.

His baby was probably in the shower on second set of your world tour singing to your hearts content while you got clean.

And Austin couldn't wait to be your personal background singer. A small smile returning to his face as he turned the corner of the bedroom to be met with a dreary looking Magnus posted by the door.

His lips set into a line bending down to rub the dog's head in greeting, " Hey bubs? What ya' sitting out here looking so sad for? Huh? You sad because Mama is in the bathroom? " He inquired earning a low whine.

He couldn't help but be affected by the hound's little pout, " Don't worry. I'm gonna go in and we'll both be out in a little bit. Maybe then we can see if we can convince Mama to go on an evening walk with us. How that sound? " He watched the dogs head slightly lift at the mention of a walk.

Grinning Austin patted Magnus's head once more before standing up to knock on the door making you hold in the whimper that wanted to escape your hoarse throat as you hugged your body tighter.

" Y/N. Sweetheart it's just me. " He informed reaching to turn the doorknob, only for a sense of shock to waft in him upon seeing it wouldn't budge. It was locked.

You never locked doors. Ever.

Even when you took time to tend to not so appealing humanly functions, usually at the sound of Austin's feet on the floor you'd just let him know the spot was occupied and you'd soon be out.

So, all this put together with the fact that he didn't hear the faint hum of water cascading at all made his stomach drop and him begin to more aggressively shake the knob.

" Y/N baby you in there? You, okay? Why's the door locked, Sweetheart? C'mon and open it for me." He spoke managing to let a little bit of panic slip out in his tone.

Taking a deep breath, you composed yourself to reply while trying to hide any sort of out of the ordinary sound in your voice, " Y-yeah baby I'm fine, " you rang back clearing your throat, " I'm just in here cleaning myself up a bit. That's all babe. I'm fine." You finished slowly raising up from the floor to go to the sink to wash the dried tears away and make your eyes as less red and puffy as possible.

Uh Uh. That's not right. Was Austin's immediate thought.

Even though you'd covered up most of the emotion in your talk, Austin could still pick out the parts that slipped making him all the more anxious for you to open the door.

He most definitely needed to see you. Now.

" Okay.  But I hear you sound fine every day, and this doesn't sound it. Come and open the door, darling. Would you please. I need to see your face, Y/N. And I think our little guy down here does too." He looked down at Magnus who'd begun to softly paw at the bottom door opening. " Hes out here getting antsier than a bat about to take a driver's test. And I understand the feeling."

From the sink where you were dabbing your eyes you could see the little paws poking underneath the door. And then a tiny huffing nose.

Awe. Your little guy was such a sweetie pie. Always wanting to comfort and love upon you and Austin all the time. He was definitely your cuddle bug. You loved him to death.

Too bad you needed him to beat it. Along with his sweet owner.

" Here I come babe. Just one second." You continued dabbing at your puffy under eyes. Your eyes themselves had slightly dimmed in color but not much. They still looked as if someone had poured faint cherry paint in them.

"Alright. Cause I wanna see those pretty brown eyes baby. Bad." He said thinking about you.

Fuck. Fuckity. Fuck. FUCK.

He's gonna know something’s wrong.

Then your mind shifted.

He already knows.

And you knew that already deep down in your gut.

You could hear his heavy sigh on the other side of the door where he was leaned up against it. Still trying to hold on to the sliver of patience he could hold waiting for you to open it up so he could settle the thumping sensation in his chest. He hadn't really ever seen you like this. Upset before? Sure. Upset like this? Never.

Taking a last look, you wanted to cry then all over again looking at your appearance.

You looked nuts.

You had a scarf over your box braids. One of Austin's long sweaters hung on your body, and you had mix matched poka dot fuzzy socks on. And your eyes looked like someone had squeezed lemons in them. Great! Taking the sleeve of the sweater you brush back a stray tear that left your face as you reached to face the man on the other side.

You settled on doing a countdown to five.

One.

Fuck I don't think I can do this.

Two

I'm pretty sure that I'm gonna hurl.

Three

SHIT SHIT SHIT

Four

He's gonna look so upset I can't take it.

Five

Last chance to abort!

You silenced your thoughts turning the lock and hearing the click signaling it unlocked, you didn't even get a chance to pull the handle before the door was thrusted open revealing your boyfriend leaned against the doorframe with panic written all over his face slightly disheveled.

You could see his body was stiff while his eyes raked your body for any sign of hurt or trouble. But once his eyes finally came back up to your face that was turned away from him staring off to the side. The ache of wanting to be closer thickened in Austin to let his hand find its way to side gently pulling you into his warm chest.

Accepting you wrapped your arms around his midriff proceeding to smush your face into his chest. It felt good to feel his warm body against yours. He snaked his other arms around your waist placing them tightly there as if it was his way of ensuring you weren't going to run off and hide again.  

Even though he wanted to ask you a full report of who? what? when? And where?

He could sense you didn't need that right now.

Rather, he held you as close as he could and began backing yourselves up together all the way to the bed. Turning he slowly lowered himself down on the bed bringing you down against him until you both lie still tangled up with each other in safe silence.

He knew one of your favorite things do was just to just lay up like this and just talk. It was one of the ways he figured out to get you to open up earlier in your relationship when you were just starting out. And it didn't matter where either. Bed, Floor, Hammock.                                                                                  

     Hell, you guys had laid for hours on the ground of Austin's backyard at his old condo looking up at the black sky sprinkled with stars while you both talked about dreams and such. That was also the night he'd asked you to be his girlfriend.

That night quickly became one of the best one's of his entire life.

That's why it troubled him so to see you like this.

Taking his hand to your back, he used his fingertips to lightly draw circles against you as he pieces together what he was going to say next. Meanwhile you were too busy enjoying being enveloped in his warmth and the melodic thump of his heart.

It was serene.

You could hear the muffled sound in his chest of speech as he started to talk, " Now, " He began, " I don't exactly know what happened today. But I figured tonight I won't pry or make you bring up things that you've been carrying with you all day. You've had enough of that. Hopefully we'll be able to talk about whatever it is over some breakfast tomorrow. " He rubbed your back sensing how more relaxed your body was since he'd started doing it.

" With that being said though, I do want to say that since we've been together, I have noticed that when it comes to things bothering you. You aren't always exactly forthright or quick to tell me, and you sometimes hesitate to come and talk to me. And I don't know if it's because you think I'm too busy, or not interested, which I seriously hope not, or even if you feel scared to come and tell me things. Which I definitely hope isn't true." He listed making you sigh.

A tad bit.

" But with you, God, and that pudgy dog in the corner as my witnesses" He teased earning a small giggle from you which satisfied him, " I want you to know that you are without a shadow of a doubt. THEE. Most important thing in my life. Meaning that no matter where I am or who I'm with you should feel comfortable enough to pick up a phone and call me at the slightest feeling of uncertainty or trouble. Not text, baby. Call. " He emphasized by slightly moving to gently squeeze your shoulder.

“I never wanna see you have to get so worked up to the point to where you feel like you need to lock yourself away from me and everything else. I don’t particularly like that baby.” 

" Because everyone around me knows how important you are to me, and I need you to know too! These arms are always ready to be your safe place and I wanna always here for every little thing no matterwhat or where I am." He stated.

Shifting upward a little bit Austin moved so he'd be able to softly cup your chin making you look up to stare into his cobalt eyes that contrasted your carob ones. You could tell that what he was about to say next was important, " I love you, Y/N Y/L/N. That's not changing. And I ain't going nowhere no time soon so I don't care how long it'll take until you fully understand that all of these things I've said to you, I mean it. But trust that one day you won't hesitate, okay?

You nodded not taking your eyes off his. You could feel prickles of water stinging your waterline. What a man.

" Uh Uh, baby. I need to hear your pretty voice say it." The sternness in his voice involuntarily sent a chill down your body.

" Yes, I understand." You spoke making his cheeks break out into a grin.

" Good because the next person you come and tell me is bothering my girl. I'll bite 'em'" He goofed playfully nipping at your exposed cheek. You laughed along with his huskier baritone at the antics.

" Now that we've got this settled. How about we take our hound dog out for a little walk to the Totem to get us a little treat. " He offered brushing his thumb over your burning cheek.

You swore every time he touched you, it was like a match being dragged on your skin. But in the best possible way.

" I'd like that." You agreed.

" Mhmm. And then maybe when we get back, I might have a treat of my own to give you." You proposed pushing you finger to run along his bottom lip.

" I'd like that." He echoed leaning down to capture your lips against his sending you into a fit of giggles once you felt his hands tickle your sides.

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler x black! reader #dayofourloves #TheMangoWrites #austin butler x black reader

[thepaintedlady00]

Nightshade

Chapter 19 | Chapter 21

Chapter 20: Interlude - The Saint

TW: some fluff, our idiots are reflecting on their big feelings, Lena remembers the important thing she was supposed to be doing last chapter, angst, shouting, lots of blame getting passed around and everyone's sayin shit they don't mean, cruel words, grief, flashbacks, heartwarming advice, and reassurance, big hugs and make ups. I'm SO sorry that this chapter (and next) are so late! Life just got absolutely insane and I had to restructure and rewrite a ton of this chapter so it kept getting put off. But, she's here! I'm still not 100% happy with it, but I'm not gonna let my perfectionism rob y'all of a chapter for another month! Chapter 21 should be following tomorrow or the day after if life decided to let me breathe for five minutes! Thank y'all so much for your patience! Enjoy!

Jack Harrow was a man of many talents. He could throw a punch that would send his opponent to the floor like they'd been hit by a goddamn bus. He could take a hit too, straight to the face like it was nothing. He was an artist at cutting hair and taking care of stray animals as well as stray kids. He was a decent singer with a surprisingly smooth voice - a fact you'd never know about him if you'd only heard the slew of curses he knew. And Jack was quite the cook, in his mind at least.

Jack Harrow was a man of many talents. He was a fighter, a barman, a son, a lover, a father, and then he was dead.

It didn't hurt in the end, and it was quick enough that he hadn't caused too much hassle for those around him. He'd felt it coming, that quiet cold that seemed to numb him, and so he'd watched his beautiful daughter dote on him one last time, talking at length about how his boys would be there soon with a movie for him to watch. Ghostbusters. His favorite. Jack waited until Ozzy came - he'd wanted to wait for his boy too, but deep down, he knew there wasn't time for that - so, giving the man he loved one last kiss before the cold really hit him, Jack accepted his fate.

He forced his stiff fingers to uncurl around his jacket, holding it out to his baby with a smile. "Keep an eye on this for me?" She started to protest. "Just for a bit."

She slid it on, a smile on her lips as he nodded at her. "Badasses get the jacket."

"That they do." He was going to miss that smile. "Hey, badass, mind running to the cafeteria and grabbing me some gruel?"

"Course," she answered, pressing a kiss to his head. "Be right back."

The cold had numbered his limbs by the time she'd vanished. Jack could hardly even feel Ozzy's hand in his anymore. With all that strength, he squeezed Oz's hand and looked up at him with tearful eyes and wheezing breaths. His love instantly started trying to fix it. "What do you need? I can… I… I'll call in one of the nurses."

"Ain't nothin' they can do now." Jack smiled. "I love you, Oz. I've always loved you."

The man shushed him, hands shifting from holding his to pressing the call button on his bed. "Don't. Don't you dare start talking like that."

Jack just continued. "Tell the boys… Tell them… Tell all of them I love ‘em. Keep 'em safe for me, especially our girl."

"Jack-"

He squeezed harder. "You'll tell them, won't you?"

All Ozzy could do was nod, sniffling as he fought the tears in his eyes. "Nurse! NURSE!"

Death is different for everyone. It's one of the few cosmic laws that never bends but always greets you with warmth. As Jack Harrow closed his eyes, letting the cold take him entirely, the last thing he felt was the love of his life touching him. As Jack died, the sound of the hospital machines faded, replaced by the sounds of the alley between The Ring and Ozzy's Pub. 

He could smell the old leather and the cigarettes and the booze, but more importantly, Jack could feel the warmth of Ozzy tucked beneath his arm. They sat together in their little alley - their little pocket between two opposing worlds - and they just existed. Together. Like it was always meant to be.

Jack Harrow was a man of many talents. And, in the grand scheme of things, one could say he was quite good at dying.

*

I always loved the early morning. The soft glow of the rising sun over the city made everything shine. It made everything and everyone look so clean and happy. New York City was chaotic, loud, and demanding, but somehow, those mornings always felt peaceful.

The faint smell of the food trucks by my apartment was usually what woke me each morning. It was almost always hot dogs or a bagel cart or two, but today, it was Chinese food. Today it was the distant sounds of the city - sounds that were familiar but also new - and the very abrupt lick to the underside of my foot by a scratchy cat tongue.

Fleeing the wet tongue, I curled into the solid warmth that was wrapped around me. I opened my eyes, blinking until the haze cleared from my vision, revealing the soft face and gentle ocean eyes staring down at me. Jake.

Even as my head throbbed, the memories of last night swirling through my mind and bringing me a feeling of bliss, I smiled. My eyes drifted closed again, savoring the feeling of his arms around me, his hands caressing my skin, the softness of his bed, and the light smell of his cologne. When I opened my eyes again, he was smiling too - that thin one, the tiniest hint of genuine joy that he almost never let me, or anyone, see. "Hi." 

Jake laughed, a low, still tired sound that made my heart skip a beat. "Hi." He lifted his hand, brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear, and his smile widened, not smug, proud, or teasing… Real as he repeated the word. "Hi."

I couldn't help but giggle. The blissful feeling quickly shifted into an odd but good feeling. As I moved my hand to cup his cheek, idly tapping my fingers against his skin, I realized what it was. I was happy. I was happy with Jake. Closing my eyes again, letting myself lean into that feeling, holding onto it for as long as I could, I pressed my lips to his.

We'd shared a lot of kisses. Lustful and heated, harsh and demanding, soft and meaningful. This one was one I hadn't expected. It was a kiss that held a touch of sleep and dreams, a gentle, patient, and simple thing. This was a lover's kiss, an embrace in soft blankets, and surrounded by that sunrise glow that I loved so much. When it was over, and I was met with his adoring gaze, all I could do was whisper that simple word again. "Hi."

"How's your head feeling?" He asked, seeming to shake himself of whatever vulnerable, tired thoughts he'd been thinking. The usual flirtatious gleam returned to his eyes as he lifted his fingers to my temple, pressing lightly. "Figured you'd have one hell of a hangover."

"It's not that bad," I assured him. In this light, I could see the slight flush on his cheeks. In this light, it was very hard to remind myself that this was my friend Jake and not my lover. "Sorry about that, by the way."

He chuckled, shrugging his shoulders or trying to as best he could while lying on his side. "Don't worry about it, princess. You're a pretty fun drunk."

Rolling my eyes, I scoffed at him. "You're just saying that 'cause I basically threw myself at you."

"That did give me quite the ego boost," he admitted with a grin. "But, it was a good night."

With my cheek pressed against his pillow and the feel of his arms around me, I smiled. "It was a really good night."

I could see the way he instantly wanted to respond with something witty and smug, but Jake forced the sides of his mouth down and nodded. "So… I… What now?"

"You seem flustered." Grinning ear to ear, I sat up in exaggerated shock. With a fake gasp, I looked down at him. "Am I your first?"

Jake laughed, carefully sitting up and unintentionally - or very intentionally - pulling me into his chest. "Don't let it go to your head, princess."

"So I am your first. That's cute of you."

"I've had plenty of women spend the night," he finally replied. "I'm just not used to them staying for breakfast the next day."

Bumping our noses together, I used the swell of pride and elation to fuel my teasing. "What makes you think I'm staying for breakfast?"

His brows rose as his hands settled on my hips. "You're still here, aren't you?"

"Oh, come on, pretty boy! You gotta ask me properly."

Normally, Jake would have resisted a little, but today, he just nodded. "Lena, would you like to stay for breakfast?"

I hummed, pretending to think it over when really I just liked hearing him ask me to stay. "I'd love to."

For a second - one incredibly long and intimate second - it seemed like Jake was going to kiss me. A kiss that we both knew would unravel whatever tiny thread of self-control both of us still possessed on the ever-growing desire to lose ourselves in each other. His hands squeezed my hips, and then he carefully pushed me back and slid off his bed. "I, uh, don't know what I have that's edible."

Ignoring the slight burn of disappointment that filled my chest, I inched closer to the edge of the bed. Whisky emerged from the pile of blankets and slid into my lap, purring as I scratched his chin. "Got stuff for shitty eggs?"

"Careful, my version of shitty eggs is actually shitty."

"If I can survive Patrick's attempt at eggs, I'm sure I can survive yours," I assured him, carefully moving Whisky off my lap to stand up. Jake's gaze instantly drifted, eyes lazily rolling down my body. My heart stammered, and my face felt hot. Stupid, I told myself. He'd seen me naked before, and here I was, getting flustered by his eyes. With a soft clearing of my throat, I gestured towards the bathroom. "I'm gonna get dressed."

Jake nodded, scratching the back of his head and turning to his kitchen. "You can shower if you need to. What's mine is yours."

The words sent a shiver up my spine. What's mine is yours. It was platonic. It was him being a good friend. No matter what I told myself, the weight of what I felt… Of what I knew, he felt too, made it impossible to keep those words from meaning too much. "Thanks."

The bathroom provided me with a moment of privacy - a moment I used to stare at myself in the mirror, or rather stare at the new marks that littered my skin. I carefully touched each hickey and faded bite mark, my mind remembering how they all got there.

It had been a long time since I'd seen my neck constantly covered in love bites. One-night stands usually didn't leave any lasting marks, and Sam had always been too gentle to bite. Jake was different, though. He touched me like he was desperate… Starved. He was rough, but in a way that made me feel completely and utterly wanted. The energy Jake brought to intimate moments was electric, addictive, and attentive. I never knew what to expect with him, yet I always knew I would enjoy myself.

I always knew I was safe.

There, in Jake's bathroom, staring at myself in his mirror, I let myself fall. I wanted to be with him. Not just in some wild night of impulsive pleasure… But in everything else. I wanted to sleep in his bed with him. I wanted to eat whatever shitty breakfast he cooked up in the morning. I wanted to play with the cat. I wanted to hold his hand and kiss him without sneaking off. I wanted Jake. Every part of him.

With a deep breath, I let that fuzzy feeling consume me. I put my pants and shoes on, stuffing my shirt in Jake's dirty laundry hamper in favor of wearing his t-shirt for a little longer. Then I combed my fingers through my unruly hair and pointed at myself in that mirror. "You're gonna talk to him. You're gonna be honest, and you're gonna talk to him!"

Once I emerged from the bathroom, now filled with a determined fuzzy feeling, I made my way to the kitchen, where Jake was still shirtless, rummaging through his cupboards. Adorable, I thought with a happy smile. Now or never… My fingers tingled as the slightly nervous but still good feeling really started to take root in my chest.  Jake smiled at me before he turned and opened his fridge. "I don't think I've got any eggs. Or… Well, anything really."

"I'm sure a man of your talents can figure something out." I caught his smirk before I ducked my head back down and nervously fished my phone out of my bag, a last-ditch effort to prolong the conversation we both knew was well overdue. "We could always go out somewhere too. I'm not picky."

The first thing I noticed as I turned my phone back on was the insane amount of missed calls and messages. What the fuck? The second thing I noticed was the time and the date.

9:10. November 20th.

My heart stopped, and all the good fuzzy feelings drained from my body. All that nervous excitement about breakfast… About the conversation I'd planned to have with Jake… All of it was replaced by a deep, dark guilt. No… I tried to deny it. That can't be… it… With trembling fingers, I opened the messages.

Hey, we just got here. You and Oz running late? Peter.

Bring a think of that whisky dad liked. Patrick.

Are you on your way?

Lee, where are you?

It's been an hour. Are you and Ozzy alright?

Missed call.

Missed call.

Lena, answer your phone.

Missed call.

Lena?

Missed call.

Lena.

Lena.

Lena.

"Lena?"

"Oh god," I mumbled as my eyes stung. My hands locked around the damn phone. How the fuck did I forget? Why… Why wasn't I there?

Jake closed his fridge door, making me jump and look up at him in shock. His eyebrows furrowed, those blue eyes dancing over my face with concern. "Hey, you okay?"

And then it all came crashing down. The reason I'd forgotten about the family visit… The reason I'd forgotten to keep an eye on the time… The reason I'd forgotten the anniversary of my father's death. Jake. I'd been with Jake. I'd gotten so lost in him and that feeling of safety, warmth, and fun.

"I forgot," I whimpered. Seeing the confusion play on his face, I reached forward grabbed my bag, and turned to leave. "I… forgot."

"What?" He asked, head tilting as he moved closer. "Lena, wait!"

My feet didn't stop, not as Jake called out after me as I hurried down the stairs and out the front door, not as the harsh wave of passing bodies swept me into the crowd of people, and not when the tears started to spill down my cheeks.

Crying silently in a crowded place was a talent, one I'd mastered years ago, but it never felt any better than it did to cry loudly in silence. In both scenarios, you're alone. In both scenarios, your only choice is to keep walking forward. The tears weren't even the worst part. The guilt that now consumed my chest was smothering… Forcing my body into an old state of panicked breathlessness.

I'd forgotten about the anniversary of my dad's death… I'd forgotten about everything else. Everything except Jake and that fuzzy, warm, stupid feeling that I got whenever I was with him. Last night, a night that was supposed to be solemn and focused on the life my father led, was instead made all about me. 

It was a good night. I closed my eyes for a moment, hints of those feelings simmering inside me as I continued to walk. It was such a good night. Too good of a night. The sounds of the city faded away, replaced by the faint but steady noise of a flatlined heart.

Dad's leather jacket cocooned around me as I carried the small tray of food up from the cafeteria. The smell of his strong cologne made the sterile hospital less frightening and made me feel safe. Dad was here. Nothing bad was gonna happen.

Ozzy stood outside the door, a cold, void look on his face as he stared into the distance. I knew what that look meant… I'd looked that way before. But, there, with that leather jacket and that idiotic sense of hope, I refused to acknowledge it. Oz pulled himself out of it as I neared, moving to stop me with a gentle hand. "They ask you to wait outside?"

"Lena… He…" A sob tore through Ozzy's throat as he shook his head. "He's gone."

A forced laugh filled my lungs as I shook my head, ignoring the way I instantly knew he was telling the truth. Ignoring the way I knew in my bones, my dad was dead. "No. No, he's fine. I was just with him."

Oz's face tightened with pain. "Oh, my girl…"

"I was just with him," I repeated as my hands went numb and tears started to fill my eyes. "I…"

I brushed past him and walked forward to the door, where everything faded at the sight of my father lying on the hospital bed. His eyes were closed, chest exposed, and covered with those paddles as the doctors shouted at each other. My hands went numb, the tray falling from my grip as the sight of that flat green line forced my brain to acknowledge what had happened.

My dad was dead. "No." I bit out, desperate fear and bitter anger digging up more memories… Forcing me to relive another loss. "Dad…" I could feel phantom blood on my hands and hear echoes of the gunshot. I could see lifeless eyes looking up at me. "Get up."

Ozzy's arms wound around me as my quiet words turned into desperate and harsh sobs. "I've got you, my girl."

"Dad, please get up!" I screamed, pounding on the door the doctors had closed. "Get up!"

I still need you, I wanted to tell him. We all need you. 

There on the hospital floor, Ozzy held me tight as I fell apart. That day, I walked out of the hospital with nothing left of my dad… Just that leather jacket.

I knew my feet would carry me home. But what I didn't know was just what to expect when I got there. The Ring was closed, the lights off, and no one moved around the gym as I went to the back door and entered. It was quiet. The kind of quiet that made every part of me want to run away.

When I opened the apartment door, Patrick was the first one I noticed. He held a hammer, using it to fix one of the cabinet doors, as he glared at me. Peter stood up from his seat, his entire face draining of worry as he gave me a quick hug. "Where the hell were you? We were scared shitless thinking you were in trouble."

I swallowed the lump in my throat, dropping my bag onto the edge of the table. "I'm sorry. I… I just lost track of the time and…"

Patrick's face remained cold and hardened as he set his tools down and turned. "Where were you?"

Peter recognized that look. He recognized that feeling of static fire that filled the air between us. He'd felt it a hundred times by now… Felt it right before Patrick and I fought. "Pat…"

"No." His voice sent my hair standing on end. Every fiber of my being instantly reminded of that fucking penthouse… Of the way, Patrick was bigger than me… Stronger than me… Of the way, in moments like this, he reminded me of Tony. "Where were you, Lena?"

My heart pounded, the voice saying the words twisted. Half my brother and half him. Anger curled inside me. The ugliest… Deepest anger. "What does it fucking matter?"

Patrick's hand slammed down onto the table. "What was so goddamn important that you forgot about our dad?"

"It's none of your fucking business!"

"Like hell it isn't!" Peter was on his feet now, standing between us, eyes closed and tears pouring down his cheeks. "FUCKING TELL ME!"

"I DON'T OWE YOU A GODDAMN THING!" I screamed.

Patrick's eyes were wide. They were filled with his own traumatic past… With his own anger that was just as ugly and deep as mine. "You're so fucking selfish." Stop. "Nothing fucking matters to you." Shut up. "Not me. Not Oz. Not Pete. Not even our fucking dad."

All my anger boiled over, and my mouth opened, speaking the words I knew would strike deepest. "He isn't even your dad! You aren't even part of the family!"

Patrick didn't skip a beat in returning the sentiment. "I'm more part of this family than you are. You were hardly even here, and when you were, everyone couldn't stand you!"

Peter shoved us both back. "Stop! Both of you!"

"We all would've been better off if you'd never come back."

My heart stopped. My vision blurred as Tony's words echoed in my mind. "All you offer anyone is problems, stress… Trouble. They're all better off without you. And you know it."

Tears were shimmering in both our eyes as the reality of what we'd said dawned on us. I could see regret in Patrick's eyes… I could see that he hadn't meant the words he said… Just as he could see I hadn't meant mine. But we said nothing. Stuck in our hurt and our pride. Peter's voice was nothing but a dull background noise as I grabbed my bag and left the apartment, slamming the door behind me.

Hands trembling and my breath trapped in my chest, I walked, now unsure of where my feet would take me. I couldn't go home. I couldn't go to Jake. I was alone. And maybe I deserved to be.

I wandered the streets for what felt like hours before I finally stopped in front of the rundown hotel. Sliding through the hole in the fence and carefully maneuvered around the glass to stand at the bar. The smooth wood felt cold beneath my fingers as they sought out the neatly carved initials at the edge. J.H. Good ol Jack Harrow. The man… The father I'd forgotten about on the one day set aside to remember him properly.

Maybe it was stupid to be so distraught over one day, but the ache remained all the same. No matter what I told myself, I still felt horrible. Guilty. Selfish. Years of self-loathing and years of being told I was nothing but a selfish waste of space caught up with me. 

My dad had been the first to make me believe I was something. He was the first person that loved me, even when I was at my lowest. And I'd forgotten him. Deep down, I knew he wouldn't be mad at me for it. But that knowledge only seemed to make me feel worse.

Howard called and texted a few times as my shift start came and went, but all I could do was stare at the phone. The silence was one filled with ghosts, and I was content to sit there and wallow in the memory of them all. But, glass crunched beneath someone's shoe, forcing me to turn.

Mr. Hiragana bowed slowly, eyes taking in the damaged space for a moment before he came to stand beside me. "Apologies, I did not intend to startle you."

"It's alright," I told him. "I… What are you doing here?"

"I came with some inspectors to get a better idea of what needed to be done to turn this place into a restaurant worthy of your name." He smiled, head turning slightly to the three other people now roaming about the rubble. "I intended to call you, but it seems that is no longer necessary."

Moving to leave, I answered, "I can go if you need the place to yourself."

Mr. Hiragana chuckled and shook his head. "That is hardly necessary. Besides, it's been a long time since we've sat at a bar together and spoke."

I laughed halfheartedly. "It has been a while."

"You seem troubled," he said quietly. "Is there anything I can do?"

Shaking my head, I blinked back tears. "No. I… This is my own mistake. One I'll have to fix myself."

"Mistakes are often the stones that lead to better paths." He smiled, leaning in as if it were some secret. "That is why we must make so many in our short lives."

"What if the mistake is a really big one?"

"Then the end destination will surely be a beautiful one." He looked at the bar, eyes scanning the surrounding area with a humble nod. "This is the place your father chose, is it not?"

My fingers curled around the chain link fence as I stared between the metal at the grand building in front of me. Even with the missing windows and broken glass, I couldn't look away from the gorgeous place as it shimmered in the sunlight. "It's beautiful."

"This dump?" Dad replied, earning a swift elbow from Ozzy. "I mean… Yeah… Beautiful."

Turning, I looked up at him. "Are they gonna make it into something new?"

Dad shrugged, looking at the abandoned hotel. "They'll probably tear it down and build a parking lot."

"What?"

Oz shook his head. "He doesn't know that for sure, dear."

"Why are you so invested in some trash hotel anyway?"

Looking back, I shrugged. "I dunno. I just… Like it."

Dad bent down, scooping me up and lifting me over the fence. "Let's go check it out then!"

"Dad!"

"Jack!"

As I landed on my feet now on the opposite side of the fence, I looked up at the two older men as my dad saddled the fence, ready to join me. He extended a hand to Ozzy and winked. "Oh, come on, Oz. It'll be fun!"

Ozzy shook his head but climbed over with us. "You two are troublemakers!"

The building was full of old posters and sleeping bags from whoever had been squatting here, but all I saw was the chandelier and the crown molding. Potential. "Wow! Can you imagine what it looked like before?"

"That's boring," Dad insisted. "What do you see it as in your head?"

"A restaurant," I answered with a smile. "My restaurant."

Ozzy gave Dad a look before he bent over and asked, "Do you really enjoy that sort of thing?"

"What sort of thing?"

"The cookin' your aunt always has you doin'." Dad patted my head. "That whole restaurant she's stuffed you in."

I thought for a moment, reflecting on the conflicting feelings of Aunt Maddie's harshness and the actual cooking. "I like to cook. It's simple. I… I don't have to think about anything else."

With a nod, Dad smiled again. "A restaurant then. Yours. What you gonna call it?"

"Nishikigoi."

Ozzy laughed. "In English, dear."

"It's the word for koi fish." I scratched my head. "At least, I think it is. That's what the big fish said last time."

"Should I be worried about all this fish talk?" Dad asked, hoisting me up. "You're not gonna turn into some seabass, are ya?"

Giggling, I shook my head. "Not in this life."

Dad nodded to the elevator doors, urging Oxygen to follow us. "Come on, let's see if these work."

"Jack, no!" Ozzy hollered.

I nodded, sadly staring at the initials. "Yeah, it is."

"It is a very good place. Full of positive energy. I will take great joy in seeing you and your colleagues bring out its full potential." Mr. Hiragana bowed his head, settling a hand over my dad's initials in the wood. "He would as well."

"I miss him." Tears finally rolled down my cheeks. "I miss him so much, and yet… I find myself forgetting him. His smile. His voice. The way he laughed."

The old man frowned. "Death takes the spirit. Time takes the body. But memory is something we hold inside us through even the darkest of times." His hand took hold of mine. "A love that deep never leaves us, not even in death. It is impossible for you to have forgotten him."

"How?"

"You carry him with you. His smile is your smile. His voice is your voice. His laugh is your laugh. Your father left you with everything you would ever need to remember him by."

I wiped the tears from my eyes and cleared my throat, bowing my head to him. "Thank you, my friend."

"It is always an honor to offer you my advice, little fish."

"Well, since we're both here, why don't I show you around?"

He smiled, taking my arm and walking with me as I led him through the old hotel. Mr. Hiragana listened to all the ideas I'd saved up for what we could do with it all. For an hour, the crushing weight of the guilt and the pain lessened. With the input of the man I'd met so long ago at a bar in Tokyo, it felt like my dad was standing beside me, arm draped over my shoulder, making his usual witty remarks.

Once I'd talked his ear off and the inspectors had finished, I bowed my head and bid Mr. Hiragana farewell. Back on the other side of the fence, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and finally checked the messages that had been steadily buzzing the last hour. My heart nearly stopped at the sight of four missed calls from Peter. One from Patrick and one from Jake. It all came back in a large wave that doused all Mr. Hiragana's words of wisdom.

Please answer the phone, Lee.

You know he didn't mean it.

Just… Be safe. Call someone, please?

Peter's messages made my throat clench. Guilt and pain and that stupid bitter sting of anger still sitting in my chest.

The next message was from Jake. It was short and simple and surprisingly not dripping with frustration or anger, which only made the guilt burn hotter. Hey, I just wanted to check-in. Sorry about earlier, if I said something or… You know. Call me if you need anything.

I leaned against the chain link fence in front of the hotel, pressing my hand to my still-aching head and desperately trying not to cry. The phone buzzed in my hand.

You sick or something? Scott.

Pull yourself together, I told myself quickly, replying to the cook's message. Or something. It's been a day.

Sounds shitty. Wanna talk about it or something?

Nope. I texted back quickly. I ran into Mr. Hiragana and his inspectors, though.

How'd that go?

Good. He approved all the plans and is contacting his guys to get it started.

Before he could reply, I shoved the phone in my pocket and started walking. Among the crowds of people and their constant idle noise, I could think clearly. My feet carried me, familiar with every path and, deep down, knowing exactly where to go even when I didn't. I wanted to go home. Wanted to curl up in that old, lumpy bed and disappear. But Patrick's voice still harshly rang in the back of my mind. 

I wiped the wetness from my eyes, scolding myself for nearly crying once again, and shook my head. Home wasn't an option right now. So, I kept walking. Walking and listening and avoiding… All the things I used to be so good at.

The orange hues of the setting sun painted Nana's diner in a golden glow. The tiny little building looked almost heaven-sent as I made my way across the street and through the front door. It was busy tonight. Tables full of bodies happily conversing and enjoying their meals as the old Arabic woman looked up over the counter and sadly smiled at me.

Nana opened her arms wide and swept me up into her embrace, kissing my head and lovingly smoothing her hands over my hair. "Oh, Habibi, how are you feeling?"

"I'm okay," I answered, though I knew she'd hear the crack in my voice.

Pulling me back, she stroked my cheeks and swept me into a seat. "Sit, beautiful girl. Abdul and I will make you dinner."

As I sat in the noise of Nana's diner, I watched the people that came and went. Families, friends, lovers… There was no shortage of deep forged bonds staring back at me tonight. A great joke that made it impossible for me to forget what I'd missed and the angry words Patrick and I had exchanged. Nana served my food, setting the various plates down around me. "Have you seen Ozzy?"

She shook her head, then suddenly asked, "How was your night? I know it's a difficult day for all of you, but hopefully, your visit made it better."

I clenched my jaw, tears stinging in my eyes. Salt in the wound. I knew Nana didn't mean to remind me of my monumental fuck up. I knew she asked because she cared, but what was I supposed to say? It was amazing. I spent the whole night with Jake and completely forgot that it was the anniversary of Dad's death, so missed the family visit to his grave, and now everyone hates me. So I just shrugged. "It was okay."

Nana saw through me in an instant and gently set a hand on my head. "What is that brain of yours thinking?"

A hundred lies came to mind, each one just as likely to shift her focus as the last, but I said none of them. I was tired. So tired. "Am I a monster Nana?"

"What?" The old woman questioned, dropping to her knees in front of me. Her hand cupped my cheek as she shook her head. "You are no such thing! Not my silly, thoughtful, bright, good Lena!"

"What if all that's just a lie… A facade to hide what I really am?" Years built in my eyes as I averted my gaze. "What if no one really knows me?"

Nana's grip was gentle but firm as she forced me to look at her. "You listen to me. You are our Lena. My Lena. I have known you since you were in diapers. I have known you through your best and your worst. And I have loved you every moment." She smiled, that kind and gentle smile that warmed my heart a little. "You are no monster. No matter what that pesky brain of yours says."

All I could do was nod into her hands and sink into her warm, spiced embrace. The vicious thoughts - thoughts that Patrick's words had been true… That my mother had been right about me - quieted as Nana whispered her prayer into my hair. After a while, Abdul brought me plates of food, but I wasn't hungry. 

While I played with my food, the diner door opened, and Ozzy quietly walked inside. Nana let out a relieved breath and nodded in my direction. "You talk some sense into her, Oswald."

"Course I will." 

"Make sure she eats!"

He made his way to me, smiling sadly as he sat down. "You weren't at the grave last night."

"Rumor is you weren't either," I retorted with much more bite than intended.

He nodded, looking at his hands. "I wasn't."

After a moment of quiet between us, I asked, "Did you forget?"

His answer had the potential to ease my guilt. It didn't, though. Ozzy shook his head. "I remembered. Too much. Opened that damn box of loss and couldn't bring myself to do anything." He looked back up at me, eyes watery as he waited for my own truth to be spoken aloud.

"I forgot," I whispered. "I… I got distracted, and I…" Pressing my eyes shut as tight as I could, I scoffed at myself. "I had a good night."

Ozzy nodded, standing up and glancing over his shoulder at Nana. "I think it's time we both make amends. Take a bite of that food, or she'll be giving us both a good smack with her magazines." I did as he asked. "Good, now come on, dear."

Gathering my things, I followed him. "Where are we going?"

"To visit with the one person that can absolve us of our guilt."

The cab ride was quiet but not the kind I'd expected. I didn't feel at peace, and I didn't feel guilty. Instead, I was filled with an alarming sense of nothingness. I was filled with a dreaded sensation that had haunted me after I left the hospital. 

The graveyard was even more quiet. It was the revenant kind, though, the kind that made every step on dried leaves echo in the now chilly night air and dance among the dead. Both of us stopped in front of the worn tombstone, lined with fresh flowers and a few soggy cards. Patrick and Peter's gifts, no doubt. Ozzy sat down first, and I followed.

The ground was slightly wet, but neither of us cared as we looked at the name carved into the stone. There were so many things I wanted to say now that I was here, but it felt like each word was stuck in my throat. Ozzy didn't seem to have the same problem. He sighed, reaching out to touch the stone. "Hey, you big oaf. It's been a while." I could hear the sorrow in his voice. "Sorry I'm late. Don't worry, Patrick already gave me hell for it. Boy was downright hostile to me, and maybe I deserved it… The point is, I'm sorry. I just missed you so much that the thought of having to face the facts again was too much for me yesterday. I'm here now, though, and that's what matters."

Silence retook the graveyard. It was my turn to speak, and yet I had nothing. Ozzy's warm hand settled on my knee as I swallowed, separately trying to free the words in my throat. "He would've understood, you know."

"I know."

"Your dad loved you. More than anything. And there is nothing you could have done, now or then, to change that."

Shaking my head, I sobbed. "I forgot about him."

Ozzy's hand squeezed. "You didn't forget him, Lena. That's not possible, and we both know it."

"I-"

"You had a good night. You did things that made you happy… That made you forget about the pain and the sadness that his death stained that day with." With a chuckle, Ozzy shook his head. "You're allowed to live your life, love. He would've preferred it that way."

Looking into his misty eyes, I sniffled. "I know but… Why do I still feel so horrible?"

"Because death is hard." He closed his eyes and sighed. "It's angry and bitter and hard. Remembering or forgetting, it feels the same. So, feel it. Feel the pain and the anger. Feel the joy and the love. Feel it and then try to let it go. Try to let him go. That's all we can do while we exist in this world without him."

"Were you able to do that?" I asked. "Let him go?"

Oz shook his head. "No. I think in order to really do that, I need to find something to fill the home he left behind. And that… It's a very big hole." Turning to look at me, he smiled. "But you found something to do that. Or… Someone I should say."

Jake. "What makes you say that?"

"You let yourself let go. You let yourself feel and forget."

"I never really realized it back then, but I was really lucky," I finally said, tears still streaming down my cheeks. "Most people grow up with just one awesome dad… Sometimes, not even that. But I…" Looking up at him with a smile, I held his hand tighter. "I got two really good, really amazing dads."

He pulled me into a bone-crushing hug, and the two of us cried together. My fingers curled into his jacket as I whispered to him, "I love you, Dad."

"I love you too, my dear girl." When he finally pulled away, wiping his nose, he stood, nodding to the tombstone. "I'll give the two of you a moment."

Once the sound of his footsteps faded, I sighed, watching my breath rise in the cold air. "Hey, old man. It's been a while... Too long." I stared at his name engraved in the stone, trying to picture his face instead. "I'm sorry I didn't come yesterday, I was... Things got..." I looked down at my jeans, picking at a loose string of fabric. The same jeans I'd been wearing yesterday. "So, there's this boy. He's a complete idiot and just the biggest asshole you'd ever meet. Seriously, he gives Patrick a run for his money sometimes." I laughed to myself, imagining that look he'd give me, telling me to keep going. "But, he makes me feel a lot of things. Good things. He... He makes me feel like I'm normal. Like I'm just me and that... That's beautiful. That I'm beautiful."

My chilled fingers brushed some dirt off his headstone. "He makes me forget, too. Sometimes when I'm with him, it feels like time doesn't exist." I glanced over my shoulder at Ozzy, who stood on the path waiting. "Is that how you felt with Oz? That warm, safe, forgetting? Is it normal to be so... Captivated by someone?"

With a sigh, I settled into my seat in the damp grass. This would be the moment he told me something very profound, something only he could come up with. But, now, all that I could hear was the wind in the trees. Next would come the incessant prying. Dad would want every detail, so, like it was some cosmic secret, I whispered, "His name's Jake, and I think you would've really liked him."

Once I'd finished and pressed my hand to his grave, I felt the weight lift off me. Gone. Truly gone this time. "Bye, Dad. I love you."

Ozzy placed his arm around my shoulder and kissed my head. "Ready to go?"

My eyes cast to the opposite side of the graveyard. "Actually… Would you mind if we visited someone else?"

"Of course not, my dear," he answered, turning down the path toward the person he knew I spoke of.

Clumps of hair swirled along the floor as the door opened. Rada froze in the doorway and looked at the scene with wide eyes. "Lisus."

With blurred vision, I turned my head and looked at her. "I cut it off… oh, oh god, I cut it all off!" My fingers dug into my scalp as the weightlessness of my impulsive rebellion faded, replaced now by terror. "They love my long hair. Tony… He hates short hair! They're going to be so mad I made myself look uglier!"

The maid's lips thinned as she tossed her supplies on the counter and quickly made her way to my side. I flinched as she raised her hand to my cheek, gently attempting to wipe away some of the smudges of charcoal. "How long has it been since you slept Lyubov?"

"I can't sleep," I replied quietly. "They said I needed to finish my pieces for the gala… I'm not good enough… They-"

"None of this," she interrupted, helping me to my feet and leading me up the stairs to the washroom. "Let us get you cleaned up and fix that beautiful hair, hmm?

Rada bathed me, using a soft sponge to clean the paint and charcoal off my face and hands and washing my butchered hair. She quietly assessed the damage and helped wrap me in a warm robe. She lovingly brushed through my hair, finding a pair of scissors and carefully, meticulously cutting to even it out. After a moment, she said, "Repeat after me. Ya krasivaya."

"Ya krasivaya." My voice was shaking from the effort it took to keep my tears at bay.

Rada nodded, smiling at me through the mirror. "Good. Now, ya sil'nyy."

"Ya sil'nyy." 

"Ya lyubim."

"Ta lyubim."

"Mne uzhe dostatochno."

"Mne uzhe dostatochno."

Smiling at me, she smoothed her hands over the now even, short bob. "There, beautiful as always."

"He's going to hate it…" I swallowed a lump in my throat. "I'm so stupid…"

Clicking her tongue, she shushed me. "Do you hate it?"

I looked in the mirror, examining the short, black hair. "I… I miss the red."

She wiped the tears from my eyes and kissed my head. "Then we'll let the red grow back out. You go rest now, Lyubov."

Shaking my head, I tried to protest. "I have to-"

"I will clean up the mess," Rada interrupted, shaking her brush at me. "And then I will pick out your pieces for your show."

"Rada-"

"My Lena," she whispered, taking hold of my face. "My sweet girl… Rest. Let Rada handle everything else."

As she turned to leave, I asked, "What did the words mean?"

Shaking her head, she clicked her tongue. "You'll understand them soon."

I am beautiful.

I am strong.

I am loved.

I am already enough.

With a deep breath, I looked down at the modest stone that marked her grave.  I pressed a kiss to the tombstone. "Ya lyublyu tebya, mama."

*

Home felt far better than it ever had as I entered the gym through the alley door. I let my fingers trail along the pictures on the wall and headed upstairs to the apartment, finally ready to face Patrick and make amends to both my brothers. When I opened the apartment door, all the noise on the other side died. Patrick stood, holding the garbage can, while Peter sat at the table next to Dom. And Jake stood off to the side, half leaning against my bedroom door. 

I wondered why they were here as I dropped my bag on the ground by the door. "I-"

Patrick practically threw the garbage can back into the corner as he twisted around the table and slammed into me. His arms held me tightly to him as if it were the most important thing he could ever do. "You know I didn't mean any of it, right?" He asked, his voice nearly turning into sobs. "I didn't mean it."

I buried my head into his neck. "I know. I didn't mean it either."

Patrick held me tighter. "I know."

We didn't move for a few minutes, both of us breathing heavy sighs of relief at the unspoken but heard apologies. My big brother pulled away first, taking my head in his large hands and blinking away tears. "I love you, little sister."

With a sniffling laugh, I replied, "I love you too, big brother."

Dom made his way past us, wordlessly offering me a pat on the head. Peter hugged me, kissing my head softly. "Don't disappear like that again. Please."

"I won't."

Eventually the two of them followed Dom downstairs to lock the doors, leaving Jake and I alone in the apartment. "Hi," I mumbled, slightly afraid he'd be pissed at me.

Jake breathed a sound of relief? "Hi."

"I'm sorry about earlier…" I started, cursing my eyes as they once again filled with tears. "I shouldn't have run out on you I-"

"Stop," he said, not harshly or loudly… Definite and soft. "You…" His jaw clenched for a second, a far-off look threatening to fill his eyes. "You have nothing to apologize for."

He didn't hate me. I wanted to sob. "They told you then?"

For a moment, he looked scared, and worried as he stumbled on his words for a second. "What?"

"My brothers. I'm guessing they told you about yesterday? About it being the anniversary of our dad's death."

"That's why you were… I'm sorry. I didn't know."

I shook my head, quickly shushing him. "It's not your fault. I could have canceled."

"Why didn't you?" He asked, the vulnerability from this morning sinking into his voice.

Shrugging I smiled at him. "I wanted to be with you."

Without another word, Jake stepped forward and wrapped his arms around me. This hug felt heavier… Deeper than the others. Jake held me so tightly that for a moment, I wondered if he was trying to consume me or mold us into one being. His hands cradled my head and back so gently, like I was a freshly plucked flower. It was odd and yet comforting.

Normally, I hated deep hugs. They felt too much like sorrow and pity and everything I didn't want to feel. But Jake's hug was different. It was soft and warm. Safe. I found myself melting into his arms, curling into him - seeking out that feeling that he just radiated.

"I missed you today," I found myself admitting against his skin.

Jake chuckled. "I missed you too, princess."

I pulled my head back, staring into his eyes. "You can stay here tonight if you want to."

"It is getting late," he replied, a tiny hint of teasing.

Laughing, I nodded. "I'd hate for you to get your ass kicked trying to get home."

He smirked. "We both know how easy it is for me to get my ass kicked."

"Come on," I said, gently pulling him into my bedroom.

We undressed in comfortable silence, both our eyes lingering on the other person's body in an odd, almost reverent way. As Jake climbed into the bed, situating himself under the yellow covers, leaving plenty of room for me to join him, I tossed our clothes in my chair and quickly ran a brush through my hair. The lumpy mattress felt better than ever as I sank into Jake’s side, instantly curling into him.

His hands gently massaged my shoulders as he inhaled my hair and looked down at me. I could see something, a feeling or a question, swimming in his eyes. “What’s on your mind?”

“I just… I didn’t make you feel… obligated to stay last night, did I?”

I sat up slightly, touching his cheek and shaking my head. “No! I stayed because I wanted to stay, Jake.”

Nodding, he swallowed. “You just seemed unsure before all the fun.”

“I mean… I guess was a bit… Nervous,” I admitted sheepishly.

His mood lightened as he chuckled. "Nervous about seeing me? I'm flattered."

"Not about that, jackass. Just… I…" With a sigh, I closed my eyes and shook my head, curling into him more. "I was just nervous that you were expecting it to be different."

Jake's fingers idly combed through my hair as he hummed, throat vibrating against my forehead. "I didn't really have any expectations."

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I asked the question that could be a horrible thing to bring up. "Why did you tell Simone we were going on a date then?"

He pulled back, brows furrowed and confusion clear on his face. "I didn't tell Simone we were doing anything yesterday. Why would you think that?"

"I swung by the restaurant before meeting you. She told me I looked cute and not to be nervous because you were good at this sort of thing. Then she assured me she could keep our date a secret."

Jake's genuine confusion only grew. "I…" He paused and shook his head. "I'll talk to her about it. Sorry if that made you feel-"

Covering his mouth with my fingers, I smiled at him. "I didn't feel obligated to do anything. I wanted to. I just… I'm not very good at this."

His laugh vibrated through my fingers as he gently pulled them off his lips. "It's hard to imagine anything you're not good at."

"I assure you, I'm horrible at a lot of things."

"Name one."

"This," I answered smugly, relaxing my head back on his pillow.

Jake rolled his eyes, arms tightening around me. "You seem pretty good at it to me."

Our breaths mingled together, noses brushing ever so slightly. "Well, you're biased, so what you think doesn't count."

A soft silence filled the apartment. The hum of all that had happened… All that we both had come to feel and realize over the past few weeks slowly building. I could feel the question building up in my chest, burning… Pleading for me to let it out. It was only a matter of time before I blurted it all out. Jake just happened to beat me to it. "So… What… What is this?"

I felt all the air leave my lungs as I stared back at those eyes. This was a chance for us to both acknowledge whatever it was we were… What we wanted. It was a chance I wanted to take more than anything, but the words that stumbled out were not what I'd planned. "I thought you hated labels."

God dammit. Jake smirked and shrugged his shoulder. "Normally, I do. But, this isn't normal… Is it?"

"No, it's not."

"We don't have to have this conversation right now," he said, tiredly. "Raincheck?"

“Raincheck.”

That talk could happen tomorrow. But now, all I wanted was to get lost in the moment. Peaceful and safe and tired.  "Jake?" I quietly asked, determined to rid myself of that one last question that was still tugging lightly at the back of my mind.

"Yeah, princess?"

"If my brothers didn't tell you about dad… Why were you already here when I got back?"

He was quiet for a moment, so quiet I almost thought he’d fallen asleep already, but then his chest dipped heavily. "I was worried about you, so I showed up to ask if they'd seen you. Then you walked in."

I giggled, my heart practically doing summersaults in my chest at the soft admittance of his worry for me. "I do have amazing timing, don't I?"

Jake pressed his lips to my head, a simple, intimate act that made my eyes close and everything inside me still. “Yeah. You really do."

#fic: nightshade #sweetbitter fanfiction #sweetbitter jake #jake sweetbitter #sweetbitter #sweet bitter #sweetbitter ocs #sweetbitter fandom #sweetbitter fic #jake x lena #jake x oc #sweetbitter jake and oc #sweetbitter jake x oc #sweetbitter lena #sweetbitter jake x lena #sweetbitter jake and lena

[gracegrove]

Wounding Care

tw cursing, racism and use of a slur, past parent-child abuse, aging parent, dementia

It's present day, Neil is in his 80s. Billy is in his 50s.

Billy pulled into a slot at the Daylily Skilled Nursing facility and killed the engine. Picking at his lower lip he remained in the car, blankly staring out the windshield. God, he wished he had a cigarette right now, but he'd kicked the habit years ago. Eyeing the time on his watch, he sighed and pulled the keys from the ignition, opening the door. There was no getting around it. Going now was no better than going later.

Walking in, Billy smiled and signed in at the front desk. "Hello again Mr. Hargrove." The employee behind the desk greeted, "How've you been?" "It's Billy, remember?" he gently chided them as he rolled the title uncomfortably off his shoulders. "I'm fine. Where's the old man?" Billy asked, setting down the pen. The greeter checked their watch, "He might be in the day room. I think Cynthia was playing a few rounds of Gin Rummy with him not too long ago." Billy gave the desk a small pat and thanked them before heading off.

Walking into the large day room, Billy looked around. There were a handful of visitors. Children and grandbabies visiting. Residents were sitting with one another and having small conversations or playing cards or dominoes games. But he wasn't there. Billy sighed and shoved his hands in his jeans pockets and continued off down the hallways toward the resident's rooms. 133... 135... 136. The sound of the television could be heard from the hallway and a rough voice calling out after it.

Coming to rest in the doorway, Billy breathed in, watching the scene before him. At the edge of his recliner, the old man shook his fist at the LED screened TV on the wall. "How the hell could you miss that pass! Are you blind?" The game on-screen was old, one even Billy couldn't remember, and his father had games on all the time. "Who's playing?" Billy asked with a casual, but sound wrap of his knuckles on the open door. The man looked over at Billy suspiciously before answering. "Raiders... Bengals. '74." As Billy entered further into the room, the man's expression softened. "Oh, it's you. Well c'mon..." He impatiently waved a hand at Billy, "Sit down before you miss it. Stabler's really handing it to 'em."

Billy sunk down into the overstuffed armchair next to this man. His eyes wandered over that wrinkled face, the peppered mustache waggling back and forth, the brightness still in his eyes. Neil Hargrove. Billy sat and stared. Wondered to himself how he could ever get this close to this man. How things had changed so drastically over the years between them. How really everything had changed. "What's the matter?" Neil asked in concern, catching his eyes. Billy looked away reflexively, "Nothing."

Neil looked past Billy's shoulder at the hallway, voices catching his attention. A teen boy was passing by, his grandmother on his arm as they happily chatted and disappeared from view. Neil sighed, his shoulders drooping as he sunk back into his recliner, a sour expression creeping onto his lips. "What's wrong?" Billy asked, noticing the change. Neil shrugged, "I dunno, I guess I was hoping my son would visit." His eyes flitted to the doorway, "Don't know why. He never visits. Too damn busy." A stone sank in Billy's gut as he turned his gaze back on the television.

Neil smiled fondly, patting Billy's hand, "You're a good friend Frank. No one else comes to see me. Just you."

Billy swallowed thickly, it was happening again. Neil leaned over in his chair, "Tell me, how's the wife? Your kids causing you any trouble? Hey!" He snapped his fingers happily, "Wanna smoke?" Neil reached a hand into the breast pocket of his shirt, confusion overtaking his expression as he withdrew an empty hand. He quickly patted down the sides of his chair and checked the end table before his eyes fixated on someone out in the hall.

"You see that!" He pointed feverishly. "What?" Billy asked, turning his head. Neil pointed an accusing finger at the nurse in the hall as she pulled a cigarette carton from her pocket and walked away. "You see!" He nearly cried, "That woman is always stealing from me! You can't trust anybody!" He shook his head with vigor, as he clasped Billy's hand, "I don't like the type of people that hang around here..." Billy sighed, looking at his father's hand, "They're just trying to help you." Neil snatched his hand back and crossed his arms angrily. "Yeah... help themselves."

The pair fell silent, letting the din from the football game fill the space. A knock on the door grabbed Billy's attention. "Billy?" There was a nurse at the door. "Do you have a moment to talk?" Billy looked at his father's sullen expression before nodding and rising from his chair. "I'll be right back," he promised.

Leaving the room, Billy followed them to the nurse's station at the end of the hall. "Billy how are you doing lately?" they started. He hated this question. It was all fluff and filler. Like anyone here gave a shit. "Fine. What's going on?" Billy cut to the chase. The nurse pulled a file off the desk and flipped it open, "We're renewing client treatment plans as a part of the annual continuation of care contracts, and as you are your father's legal guardian..." The nurse let the sentence hang in the air as they handed Billy the paperwork to look over.

"Does anything need to even change?" Billy asked, flipping between one page and the other. None of this hardly ever made much sense to him. He just needed everything to work. The nurse opened an iPad and logged into the patient portal. "Well, your father has been doing quite well since he joined us here last year following his stroke." They scrolled through some information, "However, over the past few months, there have been noted symptoms of vascular dementia. You've seen this too yes?"

Billy absentmindedly chewed on his thumb, eyes glancing back down the hall. There had been signs. Increasing frequencies of forgetfulness. Even more frequent outbursts (than typical) of anger. And losing memories... not remembering. Forgetting who Billy was. Forgetting that Max existed. And Susan. They had been to the neurologist, and it wasn't looking good.

"So what're you gonna change?" Billy asked quietly.

A loud crash at the opposite end of the hall put a pause on the conversation. Billy felt a sick sensation twist through him in recognition as he turned on his heel and ran toward the commotion.

At the opposite end of the hallway, in front of an exit door, Neil was being held back by a group of staff. "Get your hands off me you damn wetbacks! You can't keep me here!" He yelled. "I demand to speak to your supervisor! Si, comprende?!" He was attempting to push through them and reach the door as Billy arrived.

"Hey... hey. It's ok. Just take a breath." Billy coaxed, stepping up and trying to calm him down. Neil was fuming as he looked Billy in the eyes. "You!" He jabbed a finger at him. "You're behind this? I should've known. Billy." Neil spoke his name with distaste. "Always ruining things!"

Billy looked at his father shocked. "You know who I am?" Neil scoffed, "Course I do!" he looked around at the nursing staff, and then smacked Billy square in the chest with a semi-closed fist. Billy winced instinctively, but the blow didn't hold even a fraction of the power that it used to.

Neil's temper was rising. "You did this to me! You had me hauled in here!" Billy was taken aback, hurt. "I didn't do anything to you!" he swore in anguish. "I wanna go home. You're taking me home. Do you understand me?" Neil demanded. "Yeah..." Billy was breathing heavily, his heart racing. The face staring at him was aged, but Billy felt like he was 14 again. It was taking everything he had to keep his grasp on reality.

"But, do you know where home is?" Billy posed feebly. Neil grit his teeth, his face reddening, "Don't be stupid! California!" "We're in Columbus...," Billy corrected half-heartedly. Neil stepped in close to Billy, his nostrils flaring, "Don't tell me where I am!" The man ground out low. Billy tensed.

The situation was quickly falling out of control, and Billy could feel it slipping through his fingers like fine grains of sand in an hourglass turned backwards.

"Look... Lets, let's just go home. Ok?" Billy pleaded with his father. Neil shoved him, "You are such a disappointment!" The words were biting. Each syllable ripped off the bone by sharp jagged teeth and spat back at Billy with as much force as ever. "Always have been, always will be. Worthless!"

He shoved Billy again, harder. "You're trying to put me away? Hurt me?" He questioned with malice. "I haven't seen you for years! And now you show up? Huh?" Neil continued to shove, forcing Billy with all the weight his aged body could muster. "This is how you repay me?!" Neil yelled as he brought a resounding open palm across Billy's face. "Huh? Answer me, boy!"

Neil grabbed Billy by the shirt, the staff panicking and swarming around the elderly man. Billy was finding it hard to breathe. He needed to get a grip on himself. It was awful, but it couldn't get much worse. "C-can you take..." Billy huffed, "Take him back to his room. Please."

"Come back here!" Neil screamed, as a pair of large nurses forcibly helped him back to his room. "Billy?! Billy!" His raucous voice rang in the hall.

Billy faltered, his feet tripping, until his back finally hit solid mass, sinking down the nearby wall. He finally caved. A great shattering sob wracking his body, as he collapsed to the ground. The nurses had left. The spectacle was over. The storm had passed.

Great rolling tears fell from Billy's eyes, as he attempted to calm himself, only causing the river to run deeper. It wasn't going to stop until nothing was left. Billy startled at a hand suddenly on his shoulder, a young nurse standing over him with a plastic cup of water in her hand. She withdrew with a regretful look on her face. "Shit, I'm sorry... I uh, thought you could use a glass of water." Billy wiped his hand flat along his face, hoping to stifle the torrent. He nodded weakly and reached for the cup. "Thanks," he croaked.

"Is there anything else I can get you?" the nurse asked kindly. Billy took a small sip, recentering. "Can you get me a Coke?"

When Billy felt composed, he headed back down the hallway, a heavy feeling nestling under his ribcage. Neil was seated at the small dining room table in the kitchenette area, a game of Pyramid underway with his favorite deck of playing cards.

Billy cracked the chilly can of Vanilla Coca-cola and placed it on the tabletop. His father eyeballed it in wonder, reaching out and grasping it, "my favorite!" He smiled fondly, taking a nostalgic slurp. "How'd you know?" Billy sighed, resting his hands on the back of the empty chair opposite his old man. "Lucky guess I suppose." Neil's eyes crinkled in pleasure as he raised up the can for a long drink, sighing in satisfaction as he let the can down. Billy scooted the chair out and sat down, his face serious. "Do you know where you are right now?" Neil took another slug, looking casually around the room, "Some poor bastard's... But, uh... no."

Billy took a deep calming breath, "do you remember anything about today?" Neil took his finishing drink and put the can back on the table. "Yah. Course!" he interjected, offended. "I went to work. Swung by the Deli for lunch..." Neil listed. His gaze became unfocused as he thought. "I, uh... I was looking for my wife." He looked at Billy a moment, before continuing. "She wasn't home. So, I uh... went to find her." He shrugged, "she's been staying out a lot lately." He finished the thought aloud, suspicion thick in his voice. Neil leaned back in his chair, returning to his card game.

Billy looked down, tears pricking at already reddened eyes. "You okay?" Neil asked, watching Billy carefully. Billy huffed out a small laugh, "where was this when I was a kid?" Neil leaned forward over the table. "What? You gotta speak up if you wanna be heard. Y'know you remind me of my boy?" Neil observed. "Sweet. But... soft. I tried to toughen him up." Neil emphasized his point with a clenched fist.

Billy sniffed harshly, giving his head a subtle shake, "who am I?" Neil looked at Billy perplexed. "What kinda question is that? How the hell should I know?" Billy scoffed. "Dammit, this is frustrating. I have you for 5 minutes, only to lose you again."

"Who am I?" Billy asked again. "Say my name." He begged. "Frank!" Neil provided. "That's your friend." Billy corrected, hope beginning to slip from sight. "Neil." The man guessed. "That's you." Billy pressed in frustration. "I'm Neil?" Neil asked in amazement. "Yeah," Billy replied sadly.

"Dad... Say my name."

Neil looked at Billy, struggling, searching the younger man's face for an answer. Any answer. "I... I don't. I don't know." Neil responded.

"I'm Billy. I'm your son," his voice was cracking. Billy wiped at his eyes, renewed tears threatening his resolve.

"Sorry to interrupt," a knock came at the door. "Mr. Hargrove, I have your dinner. Would you like me to set it aside for you?" the staff member asked from the doorway with a tray in their hands. Billy waved them in, "Come in, he'll have it now." Helping Neil clean up his playing cards, Billy set down the tray and thanked the employee, before returning to his seat.

Picking up the dull knife, Neil cut into his meal, but after cutting a few pieces he pulled back with a wince. Gingerly, he rubbed the length of his arm. Billy watched curiously, "Your arm hurt?" "Yeah," Neil acknowledged, he reached out with the opposite arm to pick up his fork and spear a piece of chicken. "Ever since I broke it..." Billy's eyebrows furrowed, "when did you break your arm?" He had never known this. Neil chewed thoughtfully, popping another bite of food in his mouth. "You were there, 'member?" He dabbed at his mouth with the napkin from the tray. "There were those girls... we wanted to impress. Man, those girls..." He chuckled, his frame rattling. "So you pitched and I swung, and that ball flew for miles!" Neil swallowed and coughed. "Until it hit Ma's sitting room window. And there was Dad..." Neil exhaled, his cheeks puffing. "Boy was he pissed. Remember that?" Neil skewered another piece of food. "He was a shade of red I'd never seen before." Neil paused in thought, "man, he was pissed."

"He broke your arm?" Billy asked in surprise. Neil shrugged, picking up the Coke can to see if there was any left inside it. "Eh, what're you gonna do?" He set the can down, pointing his fork at Billy, "He'd have broke yours too if he'd have seen you. Good thing you ran. Smart."

"Stupid broken arm... ruined my chances of playing ball. I could've been great." Neil complained, rubbing the old injury.

"Why did you let him hurt you?" Billy questioned in astonishment. Neil looked at him, incredulously, "What? We were like 12? What choice did I have?"

"Di-did he do it to you often?" Billy stumbled over the question as it caught in his throat. Neil waved him off with his fork, "Come on. You don't wanna relive that stuff." The word pierced him. Lighting his insides and setting ablaze a furnace he tried so hard to keep dampened.

"I relive it every day. Every day." Billy confessed.

Neil looked up at him like he was crazy. Billy gripped the table's edge until his knuckles turned white. "I tried for so long to forget about everything that you did to me. Don't you remember?" Neil shook his head. "No... that was Dad. Not me." Neil corrected him, shaking his head. Billy slammed his palm flat on the tabletop, Neil jolting in his seat. Neil stared at him.

"You are my dad!" Billy grieved.

The pair stared at each other intensely, the room falling away into insignificance around them. "You beat the crap outta me!" Billy pressed, tears escaping his eyes. Neil looked away with sudden discomfort as he set down his utensils. "No." Billy shook his head angrily. "Look at me. You look at me!" He demanded. Neil gave him a sidelong glance. "You tell me you remember!" Billy provoked. Neil shook his head heavily in disbelief. "No. You must have me confused with someone else."

Billy slumped in his seat, exhausted, surrendering. He sniffled miserably, looking at the clock on the wall. 8:47pm. Surely, this was enough hell for one day? Right?

"It's getting late..." Billy trailed off, getting up from his chair. "I need to head home. But I'll see you again next week... Dad." Neil blinked at him strangely but said his farewell, allowing Billy to leave.

Arriving home, Billy smiled softly. There was a familiar face in the driveway.

"Tough day?" Max asked, she lifted an arm with a hefty paper takeout bag as an offering. Billy laughed softly, "nothing that sleep can't fix."

"Wanna talk?" Max inquired, heading to the front porch. Billy silently nodded and sat on the stoop beside her. "Did it happen again?" she asked. Billy stayed silent, his eyes tired and unfocused. "Why do you go?" She questioned. "I'm his son. I have to." Billy answered as if it were obvious.

"It's not fair, y'know?" Billy finally spoke, looking at her. "He doesn't remember anything... anything that he did to me. To us."

"But I remember. I remember every curse, every smack, every bruise. Every scar." He fell silent again, his knee beginning to bounce.

Max put a comforting hand on his knee in reply. "Everything. I remember... all of it." Billy continued.

"You want a confession... or an apology." Max reflected. "But you can't have that with the way his memory is."

"I look at him now, and he's old. And he's sick. ...And I feel nothing. And it scares me Max... what does that say about me as a person?" Billy asked with desperation in his voice. "You're supposed to love your parents."

He rested his head in his hands, "I go because... because I need to feel something." Billy began to cry. "It looks like you do feel something," Max observed, gently wiping a tear from his chin.

"It's crazy y'know?" Billy hiccuped. "I've learned more about him now he's sick, than the entire time when he wasn't."

"Turns out the apple didn't fall far from the tree... a long line of bad apples. Y'know?" Billy smiled bitterly, as Max scooted in closer, wrapping an arm around her brother. "He was a victim too. You both were." She stated. "And with a little forgiveness, maybe you can move forward..." She coaxed. "Maybe." Billy sighed in defeat. "Not just for him, Billy. For you." Max reasoned.

#billy #billy hargrove #tw abuse #tw child abuse #tw childhood trauma #tw dementia #Jess writes