#anyways that was so fucking long i hope at least half of it makes sense

[katsumox]

"the roomate."

~1k words. jason todd x reader.

there's so much sexual tension here it should be illegal. anyway..

“Fuck you, Jason. Literally fuck you,” you shout, stomping into the shared apartment.

It was the third argument this week. It's been two months since you moved in, and the two of you have been arguing ever since. You found Jason's apparent severe dislike for you confusing, as you'd been nothing if not outright kind to him. At the very least, you've been an amicable and considerate roommate.

Time after time, Jason Todd found ways to get under your skin in the apartment you shared with him, Roy, and Kori. Though you were a new addition to the trio, you meshed extremely well with everyone, except Jason, of course. The two redheads were quick to tell you that Jason didn’t get along with many, but he didn’t mean any harm. Nevertheless, The four of you began renting a condo for the sake of cheap rent when the going got tough.

Something about you seemed to fundamentally irritate Jason. Maybe it was the fact that you didn’t have a perpetual stick up your ass, unlike him, or maybe it was because he had a natural aversion to anything happy or remotely nice. Perhaps it was the way you found reasons to smile and laugh obscenely hard at jokes his male friends say, but somehow find Jason entirely unfunny. Or perhaps it’s the fact that you don’t immediately shut down Roy’s frequent flirty jokes and offers for dates.

“Oh,” he drawls, eyes widened. “Didn’t think good girls like you cursed,” he mocks, following you into the shared living space.

You roll your eyes, kicking off your heels with a little more malice than you probably should.

“Just because you make it your life’s mission to be the meanest, most inconsiderate son of a bitch on the planet,” you snarl, stalking towards your room, “doesn’t mean I have to deal with it. Be a fucking cunt on your own time.”

“Fuck did you just say to me?”

You whip around, tired of the back and forth. “You heard exactly what the fuck I said.”

The smell of his cologne mixed with gunpowder all but invades your senses as he storms toward you.

“Fuck you,” he sneers, eyes narrowed. His hulking form towers over you, his neck craned down to see all of you as he backs you into a corner. At nearly 6’4, a literal wall of muscle and angst, he towers over you, posturing.

His near-permanent scowl hardens as you refuse to break eye contact, despite something in you begging to. Jason's always been pretty. If not for his attitude, you'd find him incredibly attractive. In fact, you think, mentally frowning, you find him attractive despite his cold demeanor. Maybe even because of it.

The rough timbre of Jason’s voice wakes you from your silent stupor.

“Tell me to leave,” he murmurs, pressing himself closer to you, lips just barely ghosting your own. He pulls back, realizing the desperation in his voice in tandem with his proximity to you is maddening.

“Tell me to get the fuck out," he says, breathless. "To stop touching you,” his hand now lightly squeezing your jaw, keeping you in place. Keeping you from avoiding confrontation.

His focus flickers between your lips and your eyes, taking labored breaths.

You part your lips, as whatever thought you began to formulate dies as you realize the proximity of Jason’s lips to yours. You take a shallow breath again. You could count every one of his dark, long eyelashes from here, you think. Every one of his sun spots and freckles, and scars.

“Tell me not to. Tell me now,” he rasps, blueish-green eyes half-hidden by low eyelids. Something unspoken passes between the two of you, neither of you saying anything, yet saying everything all at once. You take a breath, hoping your words won't fail you for a second time.

"…Fuck it."

Suddenly you both are on each other, kissing, clawing, and caressing all the same.

A groan rumbles in Jason's chest as you paw at him. You've been enveloped by him in all his entirety; his smell, his taste, his sounds. You press at his chest, a solid wall of muscle, hoping to push him blindly, to where you think the couch is. The man smirks at your initiative, taking the hint.

He taps your ass twice, but you're too distracted by the taste of him on your lips.

"Be good f'me, doll. Lemme lift you,"

You hum, more concerned with the mountain of a man in front of you. He lifts you with ease, sitting you on his lap as he resumes his mission to make you break. Your nails scrape down his chest deliciously, drawing out another low, needy noise from the man. Jason takes note of how freely you let your hands roam, ghosting over places that haven't been touched in a long time.

"Eager, aren't we, sweetheart?"

"Shut up," you say at full volume, caught off guard by the nickname and forgetting where you are.

"Shut me up, then," Jason quips, pulling you up toward his face for another dizzying kiss. His kisses move from the corner of your mouth down your jaw. Featherlight touches follow him down to your collarbone, where he lightly nibbles at you.

You let out a strangled, needy noise, one far too loud and embarrassing for the time and place the two of you find yourselves in.

"Shh, shhh. 'S okay, baby," Jason coos, a devilish smile creeping up on his swollen lips. "Wouldn't want the others to hear you, would we?"

You hum and shake your head, dazed, as the man deftly rubs circles into your hip with his fingers.

"Guess we should take this to a more private place, hm, pretty girl?"

You nod emphatically, chasing his lips as he moves you off of him.

"So," he pauses, catching his breath. His black hair is tousled, his lips pink and swollen, and his pupils blown wide.

"Your room or mine?"

#jason todd fic #jason todd x reader #jason peter todd #enemies to lovers #dc x reader #batboys #batboys x you #batboys x reader #batboys x y/n #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x y/n #red hood x you #red hood x fem!reader #dcau #dcu #dc comics #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd #...occaisonal novelist. #my writing !🏛️🧁

[roses-for-rosalyn]

Hey sweetheart, I have this idea about cop!Ellie and cop!reader I've never shared bc I'm so shy to ask, but if you are open to write about it here it is.(sorry if something doesn't make sense inglish is not my first lenguage)

Well Ellie and reader are work partners and they don't really like each other because Ellie is kinda mean?(she is the director btw) but there's a tension between them anyways. So they have a night shift together and on the way in the car the reader begins to flirt, like touching ellie's thigh, and she stops in a field and fucks the reader brains out<33

-💌

This took forever but I hope I did your idea justice!

a/n: sorry I haven’t written anything in so long, life is crazy

Ellie x reader

Wc: 3k (roughly)

Minors dni 🔞 (I will jump through your screen and poke you in the eyes I stg)

CWs: police officer! Ellie and reader, play girl Ellie, fem reader, cop stuff idk, enemies to lovers (ish?), thigh riding, overstim, oral (r! receiving), fingering (r! receiving), multiple orgasms

—

As a small town cop things rarely became dangerous, so on the rare occasion things did go awry no one was really prepared. You got a call about a car speeding through town at about 90 miles an hour. It quickly becomes a chase with Williams at the wheel. Before she even starts catching up to the car you both begin bickering on what roads to take to catch up and who can read the license plate better. The world becomes a blur as the car picks up speed, the roaring of the engine and the sound of the sirens make it hard to hear anything.

You attempt to shout over the noise, “Williams we might be able to catch them if we take-”

“Shutthefuckup I know what I’m doing!” She yells back even louder, more irritated because you dared tell her what to do. She didn’t even let you finish and she missed the turn that would have taken you ahead of the car to block their path.

“Williams we’re gonna lose ‘em.” You couldn’t convince her, you’re not sure anyone could have. The car takes a sudden turn and she misses it, she quickly reverses and turns down the dirt road only for the car to disappear from sight. She tries to make a few turns but it’s useless, these roads went in every direction with thick woods surrounding them. Even townies got lost in there.

She slows the car down eventually coming to a stop in the middle of the road and quietly mutters “Fuck.” under her breath.

“Maybe you should have listened to the directional advice from someone who was fucking born here instead of trying to do everything yourself.” You can’t help but notice you scolded her like a primary school teacher, but she makes it so hard when she acts like this.

“Please I don’t need a fucking ‘I told you so’ talk right now.” She huffs.

“I hope you know this is completely your fault, I can’t fucking believe-”

“I swear to god if you keep talking I’m going to kick you out of this goddamn car.” She turns and looks at you straight in the eye, challenging you. Her tone is eerily calm. You narrow your gaze but say nothing, turning to look straight ahead. And with that she drives you both back to the station, defeated with only half of the criminal's license plate.

- -

Patrol partners are supposed to be friends- Or at least friend-ly. That’s what anyone would assume, you have to spend every day together, not getting along would just result in various inconvenient miscommunications and misunderstandings.

Yeah, well you weren’t that lucky. Your patrol partner is Ellie Williams aka “Williams” according to her various male coworkers. Her female coworkers tended to lean more towards nicknames like “whore” or “slut” considering she hooked up with a couple of them and then acted like she barely knew them at work the next day and did it all over again. She had to start finding hookups outside the station last month because all her go-tos had refused her unless she wanted something serious. On top of that the few that she got with turned the rest of the girls against her, all she had left was you and all the guys at the station- and you didn’t really count since you were forced to be with her. This meant recently she was particularly irritable considering she couldn’t find a lot- if any- women to relieve any of her tension, so patrolling with her for the past 30 days has been hell.

On a more positive note it made gossiping with your coworkers over coffee the best part of your day. They would talk about their hookups which would inevitably lead back to shit talking Williams- which you would enthusiastically participate in considering how she treated you on the job. However they all agreed that they tolerated it for as long as they did because the sex was good. And you believed them because they had to put up with some crazy bullshit from her. A tiny part of you yearned for them to explain just how good it was, but you’d never ever give in to that curiosity.

Williams- on the rare occasion she would say anything- was mean, she would make snide comments all the time no matter what task you were taking on. She had some sort of superiority complex because she was- admittedly- very good at her job. She had transferred from some big city to your small town station and she had much more experience. She was incredibly skilled at taking people down when she needed to. However, compared to her old job, barely anything happens here. When something did happen she would insist on taking over the task almost every single time, the only thing she couldn’t trump you in was de-escalation. She was terrible at communication and that was most of the job. Calls would mostly be noise complaints or welfare checks, so you took the lead for those and it drove her crazy. She couldn’t stand being inferior to anyone, especially on the job. So you were squabbling constantly.

And for some reason tonight she was in a particularly bad mood. You’re stationed on the side of the road, keeping watch for anyone disobeying any road safety laws and Williams is silent. Not particularly unusual, but her body language was odd, she was weirdly tense. She sat fidgeting with her hands, picking at her cuticles, occasionally glancing up if she heard a car. Nothing in you wanted to show you cared at all for her, because you didn’t, but at this point you were so bored you didn’t care if you started one of your usual squabbles.

“Something wrong Williams?” You tentatively ask.

“ ‘m fine, just tired.” she says, still not glancing up.

“You seem offly tense for a tired person.” You try to push her a bit.

She finally looks up at you, her expression remaining neutral “Considering your observations, you really think now’s a good time to test me sweetheart?” God you hated when she called you that, she refused to refer to you by your last name, always resorting to some condescending nickname.

You roll your eyes, just as you were about to respond a staticky voice interrupts, asking for anyone available for a call about a noise complaint about two minutes away. Ellie picks up the walkie and calls in saying she could take it and starts the car.

You drive there in silence and to no one’s surprise it’s Mrs. Taylor. She frequently calls at night whenever she hears her teenage neighbors so much as talk loud enough for her to hear. And every time she would make you both walk over to them and ask them to quiet down.

This time though when you got out of the car you could hear muffled music coming from the neighbor’s all the way from Mrs. Taylor’s lawn. You walk up to her door, Williams following silently, and knock gently a couple of times. You hear soft shuffling, a lock clicking and then the door opens revealing the grumpy old woman’s tired face. She’s wearing a long dusty pink robe, striped pajama pants and ratty slippers, clearly she had been recently woken up by the noise.

“Hello Mrs. Taylor.” You smile politely.

“Hello dear.” She smiles back at you, but falters for a moment when she spots your partner, refusing to acknowledge her presence. She used to babysit all the kids in the neighborhood, you were always her favorite. She treated everyone else like they were some sort of pest, especially outsiders.

“Neighbors bothering you again?” You already knew the answer, but you felt the need to be polite.

“I can’t sleep with all that ruckus, rotten children they are. Too bad too, they used to be the sweetest when they were little.” She shook her head.

“Alright we’ll get it all sorted out, you can go back to bed.” You nod your head.

The old woman smiles before reaching forward and pinching your cheek while saying “You’re so good to me dear. Come over for dinner some time so I can make it up to you.”

“Just doing my job ma'am.” You reassure her.

“Well, goodnight. Call me tomorrow morning and we’ll sort something out.” She begins shuffling backwards, and grabs the door handle.

“Good night Mrs. Taylor.” You wave at her and she closes the door.

“God you’re unbelievable.” Ellie scoffs from behind you.

“What?” you turn around to face her.

“Would it kill you to be nice to me like that once in a while?” For the life of you you could not figure out where this was coming from.

“You have to earn it.” You retort, while beginning to walk to the neighbors house. Ellie just huffs and jogs a bit to catch up to you, god forbid you get ahead of her in any way.

You make your way to the house, the bass rattling your teeth by the time you're on the front stoop. Ellie takes her usual spot behind you and you knock loudly, bashing your fist against the door. Hopefully someone hears so you don’t have to make a scene, they weren’t bad kids. Sure enough the music turns off and the door opens slowly revealing a set of scared, round eyes.

“Hey Kelly.” You knew her well from the past complaints, she was pretty polite especially for a teenager. The poor girl was practically shaking. “You probably know why we’re here.” She nods slowly. “Ok, so just do us a favor and turn your music down so we don’t get another call from Mrs. Taylor alright?” you say gently, knowing when you’re in uniform everything about you was intimidating enough without you having to yell.

“Th-that’s it?” She asks, her whole body shaking with adrenaline at this point.

“Yup, just make sure this doesn’t happen again. Shouldn’t have the volume that high anyway, it’s bad for your hearing.” You smile, “Probably don’t want to go deaf by the time you’re 20.”

Kelly just nods again “O-ok thank you. We’ll keep it down, promise.”

“Alright have a good night, stay out of trouble.” You turn away and Ellie does the same.

The walk back to the car is silent except for the steady hum of cicadas. You’re about to put your seatbelt on when Ellie says “So what do I have to do?”

You pause your movements, “What?”

“What do I have to do to earn it?” When you still look confused she elaborates “You being nice to me. What do I have to do to earn that?”

“I don’t know. With the way you treat me it’s almost like you enjoy me being mean to you.” You let out a dry laugh.

She slowly leans towards you, “Oh, I do.” She says, her tone changing completely, her voice becomes raspy and deep, almost like a whisper and a smirk tugs at her lips. “I love making you mad, but something tells me you’re even more delightful when you’re all sweet like that.”

“Williams what-” She leans even closer, inches away from your face and suddenly you forgot everything that wasn’t Ellie. You couldn’t utter a word if you tried.

“Tell me.” Her eyes flicker from yours to your lips. “What.” Her lips are so close you can almost feel her words. “To do.” You let out a sigh and give in, abandoning all logic you press your lips against hers. She stiffens but then her hands automatically move to cup your jaw so she can deepen the kiss. Her tongue swipes across your lips, inviting them to open. You can’t really move, unable to completely process what’s happening. She’s so warm and soft and everything you didn’t expect.

She starts making her way down to your neck, exploring your reactions as she kisses and sucks at the sensitive skin. A small whimper escapes from your lips, and Ellie is sure she’s never heard something more intoxicating.

“Williams-” She finds a particular spot behind your ear that causes you to let out a quiet moan, making you forget how to speak for a moment.

“W-we can’t do this here, you know that.” She stops and moves her head to meet your gaze.

“You’re right, we should probably find someplace where we don’t run the risk of teenagers or Mrs. Taylor finding us.” That wasn’t what you meant but it was probably the first time she had ever agreed with you the entire time you’ve been partners.

--

She pulls off the road into a field and as soon as she parks she immediately starts where she left off. Somehow she knew exactly how to reduce you to a whimpering mess in mere moments. In between kisses she whispers “Take off your belt.” Her tone was so sure and dominant it sent a wave of arousal straight to your center. You do as she says, you forgot you had put on your utility belt for the call, but she clearly took note. You try not to move too much as she continues marking up your skin. She stops again, “Now get in the back.” She doesn’t wait for your response before taking her own utility belt off, leaving it in the front seat and opening her door. It was a little more work in a patrol car considering there were bars separating the front and backseat, but at this point neither of you cared much.

Ellie is first to sit down in the back and shut the door behind her, you do the same and crawl over to straddle her lap. “You feelin a little eager, sweetheart?” She looks at you with that obnoxious smirk on her face, but this time it didn’t annoy you as much as it usually did. You kiss the grin off her face before moving to her neck, listening to her little sighs and moans as you press your lips to her soft skin. The noises she’s making send arousal straight to your aching center and you begin to grind down on her lap, desperate for some kind of relief. She starts taking off your belt with trembling, eager fingers and throws it off to the side. You reach for hers as she untucks your shirt and begins unbuttoning it as quickly as she could, leaving you in your tank top. Your lips meet hers and the kisses grow hungrier by the second, each of you becoming more and more eager to undress the other.

As you begin to unfasten Ellie’s shirt she sighs in frustration, “Jesus christ all these fucking layers are driving me crazy.”

You laugh and say in between kisses, “Gotta make you work for it Williams.” With that she rips off your tank top, and immediately begins groping your breasts over your bra. You moan into her mouth and begin to grind down onto her even harder. Ellie notices and spreads her legs a bit, moving your leg in between hers so you were straddling her thigh. Relief rushes through you as you lower down onto her muscular thigh and begin moving your hips back and forth. She reaches behind you to unclasp your bra leaving your top half bare for her. She can’t resist breaking the kiss to move her focus to your chest, taking your nipple in her mouth with a satisfied hum. A soft whine escapes your lips as her warm tongue circles your sensitive nipples. Her hands have a steady hold on your hips, encouraging you to move against her thigh, harder and faster. Yours have found a home in her hair, tugging harder and harder as your pleasure builds on itself causing Ellie to groan as arousal begins to pool in her boxers.

“Get up.” Ellie commands in a hoarse whisper that sends butterflies straight to your cunt. You climb off her and lean against the car door. The sight of you in the dim moonlight, topless with spread legs and unzipped pants, a fucked out expression on your face almost has Ellie coming right then and there. She unties your shoes and gently removes them, before grabbing the hem of your pants and tugging them down in one swift motion. She crawls between your legs and wraps her arms around each of your thighs, gently kissing a path to your dripping cunt. A wet spot had formed on your panties causing your face to become hot from embarrassment, but Ellie seemed to have a different reaction “God you’re so beautiful, it’s driving me crazy.” She begins teasing you over the fabric of your underwear, running her fingers up and down your slit. A whimper escapes your lips as a silent plea for more, but she continues teasing. She finally pulls the fabric of your underwear to the side and takes a moment before gently blowing on your soaked folds.

“Please-” you manage to whimper as the cool air from Ellie’s lips hits your warm center sending a pleasurable shock through you. You would expect for her to make you beg for it, but she immediately obliged, licking a line from your dripping entrance to your clit. You gasp and grip on to her hair, searching for anything to hold on to as pleasure overwhelms every one of your senses. Ellie groans at the feeling as she begins gently licking at your clit, teasing you. The sound sends vibrations through your lower body and you moan at the feeling, now losing any control you had over the volume of your voice. She begins moving her tongue in circles over your sensitive bud as she teases your entrance with a slender finger. You let out the loudest moan yet, encouraging Ellie to plunge her finger further inside you. It slides in easily, arousal practically coating your thighs at this point. Suddenly she hits the spot causing a desperate whiny “Oh fuck,” To escape from your swollen lips as you clench lightly around her finger. She adds a second, the feeling of her two fingers causes a satisfying amount of pressure to fill your cunt. She hits a spot that you swear sends white light through your closed eyes and keeps hitting it with every rough, slow thrust of her fingers. Your hips begin to move, trying to get her to fuck you harder but she only pins your down by your waist with her free hand forcing you to endure her painful pace. “Ellie,” you whine, “please- I-“ you cut yourself off with a moan.

“What do you need sweetheart?” She pauses briefly to look at your fucked out expression and your arousal has dropped all the down her chin. The very sight almost does you in.

“Please,” you beg her in hopes she’ll spare you the humiliation of asking her.

“Mm mm,” she lightly shakes her head “words baby.” That was a much better nickname, the way she said baby made your cunt flutter around her fingers

“P-please-” you sigh before finishing “-fuck me harder pleasee.” You think that’s probably the most pathetic you’ll ever sound but Ellie obeys. She sucks your puffy clit into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the hypersensitive nub before moving her fingers faster. She picks up speed until you can’t think about anything but Ellie’s mouth and fingers. The pace was practically inhuman, you tilt your head back as a silent scream rips it’s way through you before you moan “fffuuckk,” in a high pitched tone. She continues moving her hands rapidly in and out of you curling them at just the right angle. You begin to flutter around her fingers and she knew you were close.

“Almost there baby?” All you can do in response in moan, she has you practically incapacitated. She giggled a little “Good, come for me.” As her words reached your ears your pleasure finally hit it’s peak. You begin writing against Ellie’s fingers as you roughly clench down on them. Your pleasure rips through you in overwhelming waves, moans uncontrollably leaving your lips as Ellie’s fingers continue their brutal pace. She doesn’t let up though, she keeps going as your clit grows more and more sensitive. You tug at her hair but she doesn’t move, she continues as your hips begin bucking against her arm that was pinning you down.

“Ellie it’s too much I can’t-”

“You can take one more can’t you sweetheart?” She asks sweetly as she fucks your sensitive hole with no mercy. You just nod and she continues sucking and licking at your clit, occasionally moaning which only enhanced the overwhelming pleasure. This time you were more tightly wound up and faster. It didn’t take long before you approached the edge again, the feeling twice as intense. You almost worry as it begins to build and build, just as you thought you had reached your peak it kept going. You finally topple over the edge as Ellie’s teeth lightly graze your clit, the feeling sending you into overdrive. You tugs Ellie’s hair harder than you ever had before as you make a mess all over the seats and Ellie’s mouth and fingers. She laps it all up contently, actually backing down when you pushed her away this time. She leans back into her knees and tries to catch her breath.

A smirk grows on your face as you begin leaning towards her, “it’s your turn.”

—

Idrk how I feel about this but at least I finished it 😀👍

Reblogs and notes are always appreciated and encouraged 💕‼️

Hopefully I will start updating more but I can’t really promise anything lmao

#ellie williams #the last of us 2 #ellie tlou #ellie x reader #ellie x you #ellie x fem reader #ellie smut #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x reader #ellie x y/n #cop! Ellie Williams

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 20 all chapters

gif credit to dilfgifs

WARNING: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

-You try to go as long as you can, but later that night you decide you just can’t stand it anymore. You’re pretty sure it’s been days, and you feel gross.

“Can I…use your shower?”

He turns to you with a small smile. “You mean, our shower? Yes.”

Hoping that’s the end of it, and this exchange won’t get weird, you slip out from under his arm to go into the bathroom. You check your prospects, finding expensive shampoo, conditioner, bodywash, shaving gel…but no razor. You guess you get it, kind of, but really. Then again, maybe you'd better not ask. Why send mixed signals by shaving off your body hair? It’s just an aesthetic mostly catering to the male gaze anyway…

But it bugs you.

You pop your head back out of the door. “Razor?”

He doesn’t even look up from his book.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

This annoys you for some reason. “Just so you know, I am not going to try to kill myself.” Brave words for someone in your situation, but at least at the moment, you mean them.

“I was more worried you might try to kill me.”

You open your mouth again, until he fixes you with that laser-like stare. “Just take your shower, y/n, or do I have to come in there to help you?”

The thought of his large hands on your body slick with soap sends an inconvenient spear of desire straight to your center.

“No.”

You disappear fast as a groundhog into its burrow, closing the door behind you.

“Door open!” he yells in that particular tone, and sensing the shift in his mood, you comply rather than pull his tail some more.

Well done, you, you chide yourself as you strip out of your dirty dress and your ACE bandage in the cavernous shower. He was actually in a good mood, somehow, after you tried to knock his head off with a book. And now you…what? You did something to piss him off, at least a little bit.

Learning his moods was going to take some doing.

It was the only way you were getting out of here alive.

You keep looking over your shoulder, half expecting to see him looming behind you. That man moves silent as a ghost when he feels like it.

It’s creepy. And…kind of hot, if you’re being honest, but that is not a helpful thought.

You feel a thousand times better with all the grime washed from your hair and your body. You wrap yourself in a big fluffy towel that feels like a cloud on your skin, and put off going into the bedroom by drying your hair.

There are products on the sink that you use, face lotions and hair creams, and more expensive versions of the same type that you could never afford. How did he know?

Then again, he has fucking gorgeous hair, he probably knows more about styling product than you do.   

You turn to look at his handiwork upon your bum. The bruise is a red and purple swirl nearly the size of your fist. You can actually see the neat lines of his teeth marks. “Jesus Christ.”

His eye was going to heal way before that was.

When you can’t really dawdle in the bathroom anymore, you war with the next conundrum.

Fresh clothes.

Fuck it. You march out, heading for the closet without making eye contact with the reclining leopard on the bed. You can feel his eyes on you, and fuck if it doesn’t turn you on to be watched like that. Like you are some kind of prize to be desired.

It feels utterly insane to you, to say the least. You’re not that beautiful, but he looks at you like you’re Helen of Troy.  

With your hand on the closet door John clears his throat pointedly.

You know you can’t ignore him. Risking his wrath while you’re wrapped in nothing but a bath towel is so not a good idea.

You turn to find he’s laid something out at the foot of the bed for you already.

“Wear this,” he says. It’s an order clothed in velvet. Polite, but…you sense the unyielding directive underneath.

You pad on bare feet to the foot of the bed. It’s a silky lavender nightie with lace at the bodice. Nothing too wacky. No embarrassing peep holes or extraneous straps. You are somewhat relieved.

Until you see the underwear he’s paired with them.

Your underwear, as a matter of fact.   

Those went missing a long time ago.

Speechless, you look to him, knowing you look like a fish out of water but unsure what to say.

This has been going on for way longer than you even knew, and you didn’t have a clue.

“You took these from my apartment.” You manage not to yell it.

“I didn’t want you to wear them for anyone but me.” He has the cheek to sound grouchy about it, like you did something wrong.

You feel your temper rising like the mercury in a thermometer. You know you’re going to say something stupid, but you just don’t know how to keep it in.

“How. Fucking. Dare you?”

He just sighs, like he already knows how this is going to go. “Don’t play this game with me, baby.”

You bite down on the impulse to demand he not call you baby.

“You could have just…asked me out. I would have said yes, you know?”

He actually looks away as you tell him this.

“Maybe you would have. Until you realized I’m just a bitter old man, and you would have left me.”

You blink at that. How can he be so smart, and yet so blind?

“I knew you were a bitter old man all along! But you know what? I liked you anyway. I thought you were interesting, and funny, and so fucking handsome, and I wanted to fuck you. But now…” You clench your fists, shaking with all the vitriol you know you can’t unleash on this unpredictable man.

This unpredictable killer.

He takes your fury, seemingly nonplussed. You’re not sure any of it registers at all, and it takes some of the wind out of your sails. “This isn’t love, John,” you say quietly, your throat tightening with every syllable. “Love is…having the courage to bare your heart to the sword, and take what comes. You can’t control it like this.”

He tilts his head at this, a wave of that lovely dark hair covering his face. You get the feeling like he’s hiding from you, when he does that.

Finally he asks, “Have you ever been stabbed, y/n?”

Your heart skips a beat, as you wonder if he’s threatening you. “No.”

“Well let me tell you. It fucking hurts.”

Then he reaches down the bed to pluck up the panties, sticking them in his pocket. “I guess I’ll just keep these. You’re not going to need them anyway.”

You glare daggers at him.

He offers you the slightest, smuggest, smile.

“You sonofabitch.”

“Watch that mouth, kitten. Unless you want me to fill it up with something else.”

You bare your teeth with the thought. “I fucking dare you,” you spit, snatching up the nightie to take it to the bathroom to change.

“Nuh uh,” he interjects. “Change here.”

You freeze in your tracks, understanding exactly what he’s demanding of you.

This is how it’s going to be, you tell yourself. He’s going to be sweet, and then he’s going to be insufferable, and if you’re not careful, he’ll get downright mean. Don’t be fooled by the sweet moods, because all the rest is just beneath the surface waiting.

It was so hard to remind yourself of that, when he was being good to you.

You don’t turn around. You moonlighted as a drawing model after college. You can handle this, right? He’s already seen parts of you anyway…

It’s soooooooooo much different than being in that classroom, when you undo your towel and let it fall to the floor. You can feel the weight of his gaze on your bare form. In the end, knowing it’s just your backside, that he’s already gotten way more than an eyeful of…doesn’t really help. With shaking hands you quickly you pull the nightie over your head.

You hope he feels guilty about the size of that fucking bruise, but you have a feeling he probably likes seeing his marks on you.

“Come here.” He practically purrs, and your flesh aches for the sound. Fuck.

You turn to face him, but do not move. Once again, that glorious boner is making an appearance. It’s almost flattering, how often this man has a hard-on when he’s around you. If this had been a normal relationship, you would have made it your mission to oblige him at every opportunity, just to see what the old man could take.

As it is…all you want to do is fight him, and you know you are destined to lose.

He pats his thigh, as though he expects you to sit on his lap. Without underwear. Or a bra. Or a sense of self-preservation.

You shake your head no with the glitter of moisture in the corners of your eyes. You’ve never felt so helpless in your life, and you hate it.

 He frowns at your defiance. My god, no one can do a forbidding frown, like Mr. John Wick. It lodges your heart in your throat, even while you find him magnificent.

“Are you going to make me make you?”

And there it is.

You sigh, and you feel like a piece of your soul exits your body. Good. Good, be empty. He can’t hurt an empty husk.

“I guess so.”

You close your eyes, and you wait. You wait for his rough hands, for the violence that is surely coming to you. You shake like a leaf, unable to stop. You don't know why you'd allowed yourself to hold out some hope, that maybe he really wasn't going to hurt you.

Yet, it does not come.

You open your eyes to find him still frowning at you. He hasn’t moved a muscle.

The longest three seconds of your life tick by. You count them in your thundering heartbeats, and then he scoots over on the bed. “Fine. Come lay by me then.”

You are shocked to your toes. You forget how to move. 

“Now.” He snaps his fingers, pointing to the bed beside him, and you scurry over before he loses his patience with this kinder offer. Cautiously you crawl up beside him, and when he holds up his arm you understand the cue, snuggling into his side with your head on his shoulder. 

Alright, this, you can do. 

This feels almost…normal. The way your head fits into the divot of his shoulder is just…divine, if you’re being honest, and your body shudders as you suppress a sob, hiding your face against his chest. It’s not fair, that you still want him so much, and you mourn for the promise of sweetness that was snatched from your table before you ever really got a chance to taste it.

“Shh,” he soothes, touching your hair, his big hand dwarfing the crown of your head. “I’ll try to remember to be patient with you.”

You nod against him, wanting to believe him, knowing that makes you a sad little fool.

“But my patience has its limits. Remember that, kitten.”

Oh. You weren’t going to forget.

He continues to hold you, and eventually your heart slows, the tension in your body finally relaxing.

It’s incredible, really, how you just can’t leave well enough alone.

Now that you’ve both calmed, you feel bold enough to ask, “John?”

“Yeah, baby?” His lips on the top of your head make your eyelids flutter, it’s so sweet.

“Do you…at least know that it was wrong, to break into my apartment?” You feel like the answer to this one question will help you gauge everything about his state of mind.

He is silent for a long time. Long enough to let your imagination run rampant with the things he might do to punish you for this impertinence, after he was so generous as to just let you lay down with him and snuggle.

Yet there’s no anger in his voice when he answers, “Yeah. But I’ve been breaking the law my whole life, sweetheart, and no one’s stopped me yet.”

It’s the truth, and a nice neat little warning, all wrapped up in one.

You should be scared again, but you just sigh against his chest. Maybe you’ve used up whatever hormone is responsible for adequate fear responses for the day. Or maybe…his games are working on you already, claiming your sanity inch by inch.

You lay there in his arms, and eventually you start to doze. He strokes your hair, a sweet and lulling touch that makes you curl your toes. When those featherlight fingertips find their way to the back of your neck, and the tops of your shoulders, you cannot help but squirm. In your half-asleep state, this is your kryptonite, and your leg tangles with his, your pelvis pressing against his hip. It feels like the most natural thing in the world, to crane your head towards him.

Only when you feel him shift to lean towards you for a kiss, do you realize what you are doing.

You turn your head at the last second, and his grip on you tightens from comforting to bruising in a nanosecond. “Wait—”

He has you on your back before you can blink.

 “Are we still pretending you don’t want me, kitten?”

“I…”

Suddenly his hand is between your legs, manhandling you like he owns you, raking up your thigh to swipe at your folds. He finds you soaking wet with slick, of course, and he makes a point to press your clit with his thick fingers as he withdraws. It sends an agonizing jolt of desire spreading through the cradle of your hips, the ache in your stupid little cunt nigh unbearable. You hardly recognize the keening sound that escapes your mouth.

Was that you?

It worsens ten-fold as you watch him bring his fingers to his lips, sucking them clean. “Tastes like lies to me.”

Goddammit.

“John…”

You can hardly believe it, when he slides off of the bed, leaving you cold and alone, confused and filled with desire. The pulsing ache between your legs drowns out any rational thoughts you might have had a moment ago.

“Little liars don’t get to cum. I’ll let you think about that tonight.”

You feel like you did that night in Italy, watching him walk out the door when all you really want is to feel his thick, insatiable cock teeming inside you.

Which is fucking insane, of course.

And you were thinking he might be the crazy one?

 “Same rules, sweetheart. Don’t you dare touch yourself tonight. I’ll fucking know.”

With one last baleful look over of his shoulder he touches his hand to the lock, and sweeps out of the room. He leaves you stunned on the bed, disheveled and unsure, once again, of what the fuck just happened?

#john wick #john wick fic #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick x y/n #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves #bittersweet john wick imagine #yandere john wick #yandere #i didn't think id get a chance to post tonight so BONUS i love you all!

[get-purged]

lewis hamilton x male reader [nsfw]

SO I FINALLY FUCKING FINISHED IT FUCK ME DEAD BRO

i'm so sorry it took so long, i struggle with motivation... i'm now just sick of looking at this, i'm fucking done with it man dfyhwesvyhewjcdb

word count: 3.4k

cw: nsfw, swearing, sub!lewis, dom!reader, male!reader, anal sex, soft vanilla sex i guess, regular ol' missionary, author can't title shit for shit, author also got a little lazy at the end, author ALSO got lazy with writing prep so he just didn't but oh well- but it's actually kinda sweet though??????

anyway, i hope you enjoy the fruits of my labour ;-;

(i'm also not the kinda guy who's like "fem aligned dni", simply cause i don't care. just enjoy it, whoever you are <3)

lewis hamilton. 

a man who could have any woman he wanted using his sheer status alone. a man who could seize the heart of any entranced fan with nothing more than a simple smile. a man who could make any admirer fantasise at night after dropping a subtly suggestive comment during an interview. 

not the kind of man who you’d expect to show up at your hotel room in the dead of the night with a condom, lube, and a half-baked idea.

“fuck me.” 

there'd never been a queer man on the grid before – not openly at least – and not since mike beuttler, who’d just disappeared to the list of forgotten drivers. you, on the other hand, appeared to have turned out quite the opposite. you had seemed to be the media’s hottest topic as of late. 

you weren’t lost to the obituaries. 

after you had come out, you weren’t disregarded nor overlooked. Instead, it seemed as though the entire world’s eyes were on you. you weren’t just another driver anymore; you were like a unicorn hailing from the garden of eden, and a very influential one at that. all the cameras had transitioned to your direction, and you had become all the rage as a rare representer of the queer community in motorsports. every single reporter wanted to know the finer details of your life, and this was no exception for the drivers as well. 

in particular, lewis hamilton. 

the man had been ever so curious since the day he saw you in the paddock, but not the innocent kind of curious. he couldn’t figure out why he was having such thoughts as you were a man. sure, he could admit when a guy was good-looking, but he’s never felt sexually drawn to another male before, not genuinely. maybe it was your intense driving style that he found so hot and raw, or the way you carried yourself when speaking to fellow drivers that really tickled his britches. or maybe it was simply the knowledge that you indeed liked men that gave him the confidence to accept that his thoughts were valid. 

either way, he was attracted, and he didn’t quite know why you twisted his ideals. but he did know that he wanted to find out, he wanted to get closer to you. he felt as though he had to – needed to. and as your friendship strengthened, he soon discovered that he wanted to get closer to you in a much different sense to how he originally thought. in a sense that he felt was dastardly wrong, in a sense that made him question if it was even women he really desired in the first place. 

and who were you to turn him down? it’s lewis fucking hamilton. 

as soon as you were greeted by those great big bambi eyes and that shameless request, you pulled him into your dimly lit hotel room and kicked the door closed without so much as a second thought. 

you had made out wildly and were stripped of all clothing items within mere moments, far too fast for either of you get your heads wrapped around the situation. you couldn’t care less if he didn’t have any feelings for you that were beyond carnal, it was impossible when his strong inked figure was spread out underneath you – all bare, prepped, and gorgeous – reduced to submissiveness, like a sacrificial lamb waiting to be devoured. and it was even hotter to know that he came to your door and asked for this whilst completely in his right mind. 

lewis' back was pressed to the mattress and his cock lay hard against his flat abs, and it dribbled bead after bead of precum that glistened with the faint moonlight creeping through the curtains. he felt you guide your length between his legs, the hot weight of it knocking against thigh was enough to have his mind turned to mush. 

“wait” lewis clutched your wrist, which currently gripped the base of your erect cock to line yourself up with lewis’ entrance. your heart dropped for a moment, and you quickly stopped your doings to ensure lewis’ comfort. your gaze snapped up to meet his dark chocolate eyes, searching for any sign of discontent. but you saw none. 

“yes?” your voice came out as a faint whisper as you held a thoughtful gaze. you slipped out of the grip from the familiarly foreign hand and your fingers instead travelled up the mingle of naked bodies, resting on lewis’ burning cheek. 

lewis didn’t want you to think that he’d changed his mind about wanting to experiment and embarrass you beyond reason – you've already got enough going on – and he didn’t want to deny your eager, aching cock any relief. besides, it wasn’t in his place to back out. after all, he was the one who had arrived at your hotel room unannounced, forcing you to put your late-night activities on hold in order to please him. so he simply smiled softly. 

“just... be gentle...” lewis’ voice was equally as quiet as yours, enough to make you shudder in its wake. “i’ve never done this before – lay with another man, that is...” 

you nod in response and lewis’ hand encased your hand, the one on his cheek, with his own and came in for a hot and tender kiss – for reassurance. your eyes flutter shut, and you feel your dick twitch and leak within the confines of the condom. you suddenly wish lewis didn’t want you to wear it, you wish you could feel every cell of his insides squeeze and drag deliciously against you. you had already felt it with your fingers, but you were starving for more, and the thought has you salivating. but it is what it is, you weren’t about to force lewis out of his comfort zone, especially not on his first time. 

“well, i’ve done this before...” you start as you pull back to resume the guidance of your length to lewis’ entrance, your hand leaving a lingering ghost of a touch on lewis’ cheek. “...it’s a bit uncomfortable at first, but i swear it’ll feel really really good after a moment. i promise. i'll make sure it’s amazing for you- and if you wanna stop, i'm ok with that too! Just, please, let me know if i hurt you, or if you wanna stop. i can take rejection, and-” 

“y/n?” 

“mm?” 

“you’re rambling...” 

you huff at yourself and drop your head, your hair briefly tickling lewis’ nose as you mutter your apology. lewis smiled and simply brought your face back up to his to pull you in for another kiss. 

“look... i’ve already taken your fingers and i'm fine. it's just a little more girth, right?” he said as he smiled softly at you. you really wanted to tell him that that wasn’t the case, but you also didn’t want to scare him off. you really wanted this. your thoughts wandered back to the feel of your fingers inside lewis’ virgin hole a few moments ago and you couldn’t wait to have that death grip take ahold of your cock. 

“are you sure?” you ask, solely for validation as your free hand comes up to trace along the intricate patterns of lewis’ braids. he smiles softly and nods. 

“certain.” 

you want to doubt his reassurance, but you can’t ignore your desires – nor his. you just held his gaze for a few more seconds before refocusing back on the initial task at hand. you guide your well-lubricated tip to prod at lewis’ entrance and his hole flutters around nothing in anticipation. he's already a pretty man but you can’t help but think how absolutely divine he looks like this. 

lewis let himself relax against the pillows as your tip slowly slipped into him, taking deep breaths as you pushed past the first ring of muscle of his hole. naturally, lewis gasped, which immediately made you pause thinking you’d hurt him. 

“you ok?” you asked cautiously as your gaze flickered back up to his face, watching carefully for any expressions that may indicate he’d want you to stop. but all you were greeted with was a breathy chuckle. 

“never better.” 

you let out a deep breath and just closed your eyes to focus on all the sensations happening at once. the heavy breaths from both you and lewis, the feel of his hole eagerly engulfing your tip, the firm weight of his hands resting on your chest like an anchor. you were struggling to take it slow, to control yourself and not ruthlessly fuck the ever-living hell out of lewis – the latter could sense it. but you remained strong and kept the pace deliberate. however, should this special situation occur again in the future, you hope he might let you do just that. you wished for nothing more than to take him in every position under the sun, to have him all for your own personal entertainment. it was such a tantalising concept. 

you gradually pushed yourself further into lewis, he would stifle a whimper for every centimeter his hole sucked in – it was a punishingly slow process. but he kept his head as he screwed his eyes shut and hyper focused on the way your fat cock was stretching him. he noticed it was a much different sensation to fingers – but a pleasant difference it was. he was in love with the feeling and even more in love with the fact that you were the one being intimate with him, he felt as though he’d waited his whole life for this moment. 

lewis chuckled under his breath at the sight of you completely losing your mind – much like himself. you were usually so calm and collected from how’s he’s previously observed you, he had no idea you could be absolutely picked apart at the brain like this. it only added to his unexplainable attraction towards you. 

your head was drooped down, and you groaned faintly against lewis’ collarbone. you felt yourself close already and you were only halfway sheathed inside him. you couldn’t help it, he was clenching you way too sinfully good, conceiving pleasures like that from the heavens. 

oh, how you wished to feel him without a condom on, all succulent and raw. 

“holy fuck, y/n...” lewis sighed out as his hand carded through your hair encouragingly, his other moving to wrap around the back of your torso. he drew you as close as your masses would allow you to, cuddling your chests together so compactly you weren’t sure any oxygen could squeeze through. you both breathed heavily as you finally slipped all the way into lewis. he could’ve sworn he felt you in his stomach, you were that deep, and yet he somehow still wanted you even closer. 

“o-oh... wow...” lewis’ voice cracked as you nestled yourself completely inside him, all the way to the hilt, feeling his walls clench you delightfully as your balls pressed against his firm ass. he felt his legs instinctually spread a little wider to accommodate you, an automated response that he didn’t know he had. he breathed heavily while you kissed a comforting trail along his neck, licking along his tattoos, giving him a moment to adjust to your staggering size. 

“lemme know when to move...” you whispered against the lightly sweat-sheen skin of lewis’ collarbone, which only prompted him to weakly hook his legs around your waist. 

“mmh... you can...” he mumbled out softly, barely able to keep his focus on anything but the fat cock that was wedged considerably deep inside of him. he pulled you closer and pressed his forehead to yours – you were now breathing each other’s heavy air and you could practically feel the vibrations of his tiny whimpers in your throat. 

you let out a shaky breath before you gingerly pull your hips back, savouring the electrifying buzz that jolted throughout your entire body as your throbbing cock dragged against his walls. you held your breath as you pulled out to your tip, before gently pumping back all the way into him with a lewd squelch. both of your breaths hitched as a simple thrust managed to illicit such ethereal feelings within you both. the sensations were mindboggling as you began to develop a slow rhythm, throwing lewis into a most blissful state as you made love to him. 

your chests heaved with your deep exhales as pleasure and anxiety wrestled for supremacy at the core of your conjoined bodies. the latter was soon conquered, and you became more confident as you saw his completely fucked out expression – it was all the reassurance you needed to know that he was enjoying himself. 

lewis could feel everything – every little bump and vein on your cock was making an imprint on his insides, like his body was a silicon mold that was simply made for you to use however you wished. he felt your warm breath fan across his face as you whispered encouragements to him. he felt each time your balls and thighs would make contact with his rear. he felt a haze begin to fog up his mind and prevent him from think about anything but the way you were methodically drilling into him. his arms wrapped around your torso to draw you even nearer, his nails digging into your shoulder blades to ground himself. 

“you feel too good...” you moaned out quietly, your words having quite the effect on lewis. he felt all tingly as your voice stuck to the inner walls of his skull and persistently hammered at his brain, infusing what you had said into the darkest corners of his mind. he won’t forget the sultry tone you held when you said that – not for a very long time. 

he never knew it could feel like this, being on the receiving end, but it certainly shed some clarity on his confusion and defeated the blur that censored his heart. lewis knew what he was, and he was more than ok with it. 

“y/n... don’t stop...” he whined, influenced by the pleasure bubbling at his core from you gently fucking him. 

that was all the invigoration you needed before you snaked a hand around lewis’ waist, finding purchase on the small of his back to elevate him a few inches off the mattress. the modest alteration allowed for your cock to venture deeper inside him with each thrust, and for your tip to knock his prostate, causing him cry out and arch up into you. his hands raked down your back, possibly leaving red stripes in the aftermath, and his head rolled back, leaving his tattooed neck exposed for you to kiss and leave a few love bites should he let you. 

lewis moaned loudly, a bit louder than he would’ve liked for a hotel room. typically, if it were a woman, he’d have no issues – hell he’d encourage a bit of volume. he’d want the world to know. in this case, he definitely didn’t want anyone to know he was being sodomised. god forbid it reached the media, he’d never live down the copious amounts of controversy that would spark up. 

but that wasn’t on his mind right now, nothing was, nothing except you. you had stripped away his ability to focus on anything except the pleasure sailing through his veins, the kind that liquified his brain and set his body aflame. it was one thing being inside someone and a completely different thing having someone inside you. lewis decided that he quite liked both. 

lewis' body jolted with each firm from thrust from you, your bodies meshed perfectly like yin and yang. he couldn’t stop his eyes from rolling to the back of his head when your other hand flew down to stroke his neglected cock in tandem with your solid thrusts. your thumb brushed over his swollen, oozing tip, collecting his juices on the pad of your finger. you then brought that hand up to his face, prodding your thumb past his already agape lips and smeared his taste all over his own tongue. lewis moaned again, the saltiness of it suddenly made him feel parched and filthy in only the best way. he couldn’t stop himself from lapping at your finger eagerly. 

“lewis... i-i'm close...” you keened as your thumb, much to his dismay, slipped out of his mouth, tugging at his bottom lip one last time before returning to his cock. he choked out a little giggle through his moan, his hips bucking up into your hand. 

“already?” he teased, although in no position to do so. he smirked up at you. 

“yeah...” you sigh out shamelessly, too focused on the tight coil in the pit of your stomach that threatened to snap at any moment to care about his playful tease. lewis let out a long hum. 

“me too...” he said, which made you giggle in return. 

“already?” you jest, shooting back the same mischievous look he had given you. 

“shut up.” 

the bout of banter soon eluded your minds as your thrusts became more ragged and desperate, and the necessity to cum became devastatingly unbearable in the sordid instant. lewis whined under his breath, his mouth frantically chased yours in a lip lock of spit and tongue as he clenched around you. hard. all his muscles tensed as you devoured his muffled moans, your fist gripping him like a vice. you felt his juices leaking all down your fingers, wet and glistening in the dim light provided by the moonlight seeping through the blinds. he arched up into you as you bucked into him like a wild animal in heat, chasing the high that had been evading obtainability – like it was just taunting you, dragging you around and drawing this out longer than you intended. you had no complaints whatsoever. 

lewis pulled off your lips to bury his face in your neck, his beard scratched you and his heavy breath condensed – it only further concentrated the hot and sticky sheen of sweat on your skin - but you could not give less of a shit when you were balls deep inside him and on the brink of an orgasm. 

“y/n... y/n- please” he choked out as he felt himself about to burst, saying your name over and over like a prayer. you couldn’t ignore his pleas, and you snapped your hips into him just a bit faster, the sound of skin slapping gradually magnifying. 

“cum for me, lewis...” 

your words made him feel high. adrenaline surged through his veins at the same intensity as when he was flying at 300kmh on the track, except this time the whole world wasn’t watching him, counting on him to make it past the finish line. it was just you, him, and the sins you would probably never speak of again. he'd have it no other way. 

with a loud cry of your name that he tried to muffle in the crook of your neck, lewis was tipped over the edge by a particularly hard thrust from you that made his vision tunnel and blur. hot ropes of cum uncontrollably spurt out, painting your hand and his belly white – his cum was sandwiched between your stomachs and sticking your skin – decorating the compass tattooed on his torso. just the sight of his cock twitching and trickling bodily fluids was enough to have you thrown past your limit as well. you came hard within the confines of the condom – the rubber effectively containing what would’ve been a mighty mess – as your hips stopped moving and just rested against him, his hole like a boa constrictor as it milked you for every single drop you had. 

you both panted as you stayed inside lewis for just a little while longer, not wanting to pull out from his warmth just yet – you don’t think he wanted you to pull out yet either. and you were more than ok with that. 

“woah...” was all lewis could muster as he took a beat to catch his breath. 

“woah, indeed...” you replied, too taking deep breaths to regulate yourself. 

lewis felt like he was on a cloud that was drifting away to another realm. his head was fuzzy, in a good way, and he felt weightless in your arms as you peppered kisses all over the lion tattoo on his pec, creeping up to his shoulder and neck. all was quiet as you just basked in the blissful aftermath of your obscene activities, until lewis found his voice. 

“we should do that again...” he said quietly, eagerly, pulling back so his gaze could meet yours. “...but without the condom.”

i wanna fuck the shit outta this man

might go cry rq

-leo :3

#lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton fanfic #male reader #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 smut

[milkywaydrabbles]

Number 6 stuck in the wall with adrian tepes!

I've never seen that done with him before!

A/N: wait I had so much fun writing this lmao. I don't ever really think about stuck in the wall as a trope but damn it's good. Anyways here's the drabble and I hope you like it mwuah.

CW: doggy, pet names, smut

Stuck in the wall x Adrian Tepes

"Oh fucking hell!" You groaned, trying to concentrate enough to get yourself out. You were stuck in quite the predicament—literally. Recently today, you'd learn a fun new spell that would let you move through walls —almost like your body on an anatomical level vibrated so quickly it let you pass through solids. You were having the time of your life once you learned to control it, jumping in and out of rooms throughout the castle keeping you entertained for hours. It was fun enough, with Adrian being out for the majority of the day helping the village people, it kept you busy. But you got reckless. You started going too quickly through the walls, foot catching on a rug in between walls and you came tumbling down. You braced yourself for impact except it didn't come in the form of a flat surface colliding with your face, no that would be too easy. It came in the form of whiplash as you accidentally trapped yourself within the wall, top half of your body in one room while the bottom half of your body was out in the hallway. And you were alone. "Fuck!" You groaned, trying your hardest to remember the incantation. But you were too fucking frustrated to remember anything at this point. Thank God you had least had the sense to open the door as a just in case. You hated that you needed it.

"What interesting wall decor I seem to have stumbled upon." A familiar voice teased with a hint of a chuckle. This is not how you wanted him to find you. "Adrian, please, I've embarrassed myself enough" you groaned, face heating up out of shame. "You know I'll need a story here darling" you huffed, and told him the series of unfortunate events that led up to you being stuck in the wall. "please, can you read me the spell so that I can get myself out of here?" There was silence, and at first you thought maybe he had left to go and get the book. But then it took a smidge too long. ".... Adrian?" You waited again, before you felt a hand caressing your ass. "I could" he started "but what do I get out of it?" More teasing.

"You cannot be serious right now." Was he being serious?

A light tap to your cheek. "I could help you get out. But that wouldn't be fun would it?" Oh, he was being serious.

"Adrian, honey" you tried to reason "I'll go down on you after you get me out if that's what you want." A pause. And then a hum. And then another, harder smack. "That's not what I want. I think I want you like this." You squirmed under his touch, bracing your hands on the wall as if you would be able to get out. "Adrian.." you breathed out. "Will you let me sweetheart? I promise I'll help you get out...just let me have fun yeah?" You nodded, forgetting that he couldn't see you before feeling another smack and you yelped. "Words, baby." "Y-yes, yes Adrian."

His hands started peeling back your pants and underwear, making it a point to drop them slowly. As he pushed them further down he blew on your tight cunt, hearing you gasp from the other side and seeing you rubbing your thighs together. He landed on his knees as your clothes dropped into the floor, not bothering to take them off your ankles. "Look how messy you already are" he cooed, using two fingers to spread your lips apart, seeing you clench. You whimpered, too embarrassed to speak. Adrian always got you so wet so quickly, ready to take him at any point. "Don't worry baby, I got you." And with that he dipped his tongue deep into your cunt. You cried out in pleasure, already trying to fuck back on his tongue to no avail —you really were stuck, after all. His tongue traveled from out of your pussy to tease your clit, before latching his lips on. He moaned around you, loving the way you tasted.

"Adrian!" You gasped, knees buckling from how good he was eating you. He practically made out with your cunt, slapping your ass every now and again. Two fingers teased the entrance of your hole as his tongue flicked the sensitive nub. The thickness and length of his fingers stretched you out deliciously, feeling him immediately finding that spongy part that had you seeing stars. "Will you come for me? I want to taste you" he nearly growled, and you can only imagine how wild he looked right now. It made you gush around his digits. You trembled and clenched around him, inching closer to release. "ah, ah, ah fuck don't stop. Please Adrian don't stop, pleasepleaseplease—" you sobbed, your lover not easing up his brutal pace. One more suck to your clit and you practically screamed on the other side of the wall, tumbling over the edge and riding out the intense wave of your orgasm.

He was ruthless, though, not giving you enough time to catch your breath before you felt the tip of his cock prodding at your entrance. "You tasted divine, pretty girl, but I need to feel you fully" the pet name caused a shiver throughout your entire body. "please, Adrian, I need it" you hiccuped, trying to wiggle your hips as best you could. "aww, how can I let my sweet girl down?" He taunted, pushing between your folds and not stopping until his hips pushed against your ass. You both moaned, already dizzy with pleasure. He pulled back to tease your nub for just a moment before shoving himself back in at a brutal pace. His balls heavy with cum slapping against your clit and stimulating you more. "fuck darling, you feel so good" he praised, a hand slapping harshly on your ass before squeezing and spreading your cheeks. His other hand braced on the wall, almost as if he wanted to hover over you. "Your pussy is so good"

You cried, babbling over how good he felt inside of you. His hand gripped at your hips, giving him purchase to continue to slam himself into you. A creamy ring formed around his cock, and the squishy sounds reverberated throughout the halls. You would be embarrassed how sopping wet you are if it didn't feel so fucking good. "you're so wet, such a good girl, all for me" Adrian mumbled to himself, looking at the juncture where his hips met yours. He couldn't contain himself longer, and brought his free hand around to rub at your clit. "fuck, Adrian!" You squeezed him, feeling your second orgasm build up quickly. "Come on, love, give me one more " he groaned, slamming himself to reach even deeper inside you. You didn't even have time to brace yourself before your juices covered both your thighs, trembling and shaking for the second time as you came around his dick. That was enough to throw him over the edge and you felt his hot cum spurting deep inside you, cock twitching in your pussy. Adrian fucked his cum into you with a few more thrusts before ceasing his movements. All that was heard was panting throughout the hallways, both of you spent. "Fuck, that was good" he panted, pulling out and seeing his cum ooze out of your pretty puffy pussy. "Yeah," you agreed, breathless. "Yeah it was."

You pause.

"But really Adrian get me out of here."

#adrian tepes #alucard x reader #adrian tepes x reader #castlevania #alucard #alucard tepes x reader #milk writes #castlevania (2017) #alucard (castlevania) #alucard tepes #milk kinktober

[izukuwus]

the past half hour wasn't real - Miguel O'Hara x Reader

M.list - Read on Ao3

A/N: continuing the trend of using tfb lyrics whenever I don't know how to title things. almost didn't post this one and definitely didn't edit this one but it's cheaper than acquiring a therapist <3

Summary: Miguel accidentally startles you in exactly the wrong way. Your behavior may require an explanation.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, panic attacks, past sexual assault

Word count: ~2700

You've been hurt before. Past lovers and your own stupidity mostly, if we're looking at number instances alone. But that's not what I'm talking about.

It isn't something you talk about. Once, you'd gotten fed up with your own self-destructive coping mechanisms, reached out, and booked an appointment with a therapist.

The day came, and you freaked out, canceled, and told yourself you'd never try to speak about what happened again.

And really, that wasn't a problem. You dealt with it how any normal person would: you closed off. You became Only The Employee or Only The Hero and occasionally let work acquaintances talk you into 1-3 dates with a guy who you would inevitably break it off with because you have numbed yourself out to that shit. Once or twice, you managed relationships longer. Those, too, fell apart.

Granted, at first, you tried not to. You tried to be daring and open and honest with partners. You tried to tell them: you had been hurt before. You might be a little cagey from time to time, you might have limits that don't make sense, but it is only because you have been hurt and you will spend the rest of your life navigating it.

That didn't work.

It didn't work because instead they saw you as cracked and damaged, or else extraordinarily fragile, and they would never touch you until, eventually, they moved on, and you would return to being Only the Employee and Only the Hero.

That was until you met Miguel and the others.

Hundreds and hundreds of people—all just like each other and, to a lesser degree, just like you. Spider-mutated heroes from different dimensions, working together to keep the multiverse in one coherent-incoherent piece. And Miguel, at the center of it all, Atlas holding up the world on his shoulders.

Miguel, who re-invigorated your life and, whether he realized it or not, yanked you violently out of depression.

Miguel, who, by taking you back through that portal with him and the others, allowed you to realize that while you were frequently Only The Hero, you were not The Only Hero.

Miguel, who called you in to help with an anomaly and found you emotionally rotting in your suit and didn't force you to drag yourself out anyway.

Miguel, who quietly sent a pair of Spiders to your dimension for a little bit so you could ride the waves of the anniversary of the day That Man Hurt You until they finally left you crashed on the shore long enough to stand again.

It was little wonder that you fell head over heels for him. It was rare that he let others see the humanity in him long enough to be registered, but he let you see enough that there was never any hope for you to begin with.

And that, my friend, is exactly the fucking problem.

Because you have been hurt before.

Maybe you did careen into a relationship of sorts with him—you're pretty sure you're exclusive, at least, given how little capacity either of you seem to have for entertaining the idea where even one person is concerned, and you spend time together and he lets you see himself a way that no one else ever sees him: human, tender, kind. Of course there is kindness in his actions day-to-day, but it's always masked, beneath his unmasked, flat tone and the seemingly cold logic present.

You know he has not been completely vulnerable with you. This is okay, because it's not as if you've been vulnerable with him.

You have pushed yourself through, because you love him. You have let him kiss you, because you love him. You have given him affection until he breaks because he needed it and you love him.

You have not had sex with him.

And oh, you've tried. You've told yourself a million times—he is not Him, he is nothing like Him, he would never hurt you the way He hurt you. These are all true statements. Factually, there is not a single shred of doubt to be had in these points.

Except trauma does not care about what is true now. It is determined to remind you, again and again, that You Have Been Hurt Before. You, conversely, are determined to tell capital-T Trauma to suck your fucking dick about it and fuck off so you can live a normal, well-adjusted life as a superhero dating an alternate-dimension superhero.

So you push yourself. You do not initiate, but you don't run away, because for once in your life you have enough love to stay, and anyways if you ran, he would chase you, and you wouldn't be able to keep it together.

It is late, and there has been a lull in anomalies to contend with lately, and you have just spent a wonderful day with Miguel. You don't track time like normal people do, so you can't say how long you've been together, just that it's been a long enough time that it's not really unfounded when you both crash at your apartment and you invite him to spend the night.

You have unspoken boundaries that he has effortlessly sensed and not once attempted to cross, so tonight, you don't expect him to walk up behind you sitting on the edge of your bed and wrap tender arms around your waist or press a sweet kiss to the back of your neck.

To be fair, he does not expect you to freeze.

He does not expect you to jolt away, to shove him with all your force, for whimpering pleas to pass your lips between breaths that turn to gasps, for you to settle on the floor seven feet away and grab harshly at your hair just to find some way to ground yourself.

The reactions are automatic. They have to be, because it is no longer you in your body in the room with him. It is memories, and it is fear, and if you could bring yourself to do anything beyond pulling your hair and hyperventilating, you'd be halfway out the window by now, whether it was open or not.

He's in front of you in a second, eyes searching, almost wounded, and the little part of you that's still in your head wants to apologize, to tell him it's not his fault, fucking hell this is Miguel he'll never—

But you can't. All you can think of is that night, of pleading nos, of the pain of it all and waking up and just crying for hours.

"Tell me what I did wrong, cariño, and I will never do it again. Please."

His voice is grounding. He is stricken, to see you this way. He is careful not to touch you, not to move too fast until you finally manage to worm a hand out of your hair to find something to claw at, to find a source of pain to bring you back down to Earth (667, in your case), and then he is lightning as he pulls your hands away from yourself.

"[name]. I need you to look at me and see me. Can you do that?"

You can do that.

You meet his eyes, focus as hard as you can on the place where his hands hold yours, the look in his eyes—calculating beyond the hurt. He's trying to figure you out.

He is counting, and it takes little time for you to understand that you are to follow the numbers with your breaths. You've played this game before. You try your best to match him, and he is encouraging and kind even when your attempts to just take a slow breath are interspersed with involuntary inhales and hiccups.

The pads of his thumbs, calloused and rough, smooths over the back of your hands in little circles, and when you struggle to breathe and struggle to listen, they, too, bring you back down. Each pass of his thumb feels like a confession of things you have not yet said, despite the time:

Swipe. I love you. Swipe. I love you. Swipe. I love you.

Time moves weirdly coming down from panic attacks, and so it is impossible to say how long it takes you to come back down enough to speak, how long he spends counting and rubbing his thumbs into your hands, how long you spend expending every effort just to breathe correctly.

When at last you can breathe and his counting stops, he does not let go of your hands. They are a reminder he is here. They are a reminder you are loved.

"I'm sorry" are the first words out of your mouth when you can think to say them, although the Everything took quite a bit out of you and you don't have many more words to give right now. You had been lucky so far; you stayed masked in front of everyone. Not your Spider mask, but the other mask, the one you never let down around others. No one suspected you to be Different before this, and now you're stuck wordless and feeling remarkably alone.

Except, hey, isn't Miguel just like you? Isn't that part of why you love him so?

He asks in low tones if he can carry you somewhere more comfortable than the floor. You nod, and he carries you to the couch, puts on the TV. He lets you be the one to fuck with the remote, seemingly understanding without you telling him that you do not have the words to direct him yourself right now. You put on something non-offensive and easy, and when he gets up with gentle words informing you that he's going to get something from the kitchen, you cling to him wordlessly.

A rumble of a laugh soothes you. "I'm just getting you something to drink."

You shoot him pleading eyes. Stay. Please stay.

"You need to drink water. I can carry you, if you don't want to be alone right now."

You unwind, offer him the tiniest of nods. He lifts you, again with ease, and carries you one-armed into your kitchen so he can get you a glass of water.

It is unbearable, how clingy you've become in such a short time. It is pathetic, how he sets you down with your glass of water and sits beside you and you immediately press into his side. He may have been the danger for a moment in your traitorous mind, but now, direct contact with him is the absolute safest place to be. He is an amazing sport for simply allowing it.

When at last you have it in you to drag words up to the surface, you're immediately apologizing all over again, and he is meeting each one with a gentle refusal.

"I don't need an apology from you. I just need to know what you need from me so that I never set you off that way again."

Your face falls, and you consider the sentence you need to pull out of yourself.

Honesty. That's important.

"You didn't do anything wrong. I'm sorry."

He arches a brow. He does not buy it and does not appreciate your continued apologies.

"...I haven't always been strong enough to take care of myself. Someone I trusted a lot..." The words die in your throat. Even now, after everything, you still can't bring yourself to say them.

As it turns out, you don't need to. It is rare that Miguel emotes in a way others completely understand, beyond angry and stern, but you know heartbreak when you see it. "Oh, cariño..."

“I just got scared,” you whisper finally.

He is holding you, then, gentle and firm all at once. “You should have told me.”

“I don’t want you to be afraid to touch me.”

Now that it’s out, that fear strikes you to your core.

Miguel, who would never want to hurt you.

Who now has reason to fear that he’ll hurt you no matter what he does.

“I won’t ask you to go into detail. But if we ever run into him, I can’t be held accountable for what I’ll do.”

A bitter scoff. You rest your head against his chest, let the sound of his heartbeat soothe you. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” Your arms wind around his midsection, and you gradually slide onto his lap. “Please don’t let this change how you think of me.”

“What do I have to do so that you never get the idea I might think less of you over something like this ever again?”

You shudder with the sob that rises at that, but you refuse to let yourself cry more tonight. “It isn’t that I thought you’d see me as less. It’s just… I managed to tell someone once. About what happened to me. And he pulled away. He wouldn’t touch me. Wouldn’t even look at me.”

“You’re afraid I would leave you to keep you safe.”

“Mm.” You’re glad for the position the pair of you have wound up in. You couldn’t stand to see his face right now. “I didn’t—don’t—want to lose you. I don’t want to wake up one day and realize that we never had a sex life because I let you see this part of me and you decided it was better for me.”

He is silent. That is the scariest part—he is silent.

“I know you’re always putting others above you. I know you’re trying to protect all of everyone in everything you do. I realize it’s selfish to ask you not to protect me. But it is goddamn torture to be put in a little glass case to be looked at and never loved because everyone’s afraid to hurt me, and it makes it all the worse, and I am so, so tired of letting him haunt the rest of my life. Can I please be selfish?”

“It’ll be difficult,” he replies, and your heart drops. You’re already moving to untangle yourself from him when he continues: “But if you’ll talk to me, and we discuss your boundaries, and you tell me the nanosecond something feels wrong to you…”

He isn’t leaving.

He isn’t pulling away.

You sit, frozen, on his lap, and search his face with wide eyes, but there’s no hint of deception. Not that you were ever the Expressions Reader, but still. You like to think you’re learning his, and you don’t see deception there.

“I love you,” you say, and that’s not the words you intended to say, not for the first time like this. “Please don’t ever sneak up from me behind like that again. Make noise. I don’t care what noise.”

It is his turn to be stunned, and for good reason, because you’re not sure anyone expected you to drop the “I love you” tonight. For a second, you think that will turn out to be the final nail in the coffin, but then he’s peppering your face in kisses, and you flush under the attention.

He isn’t letting you kiss him back or escape the assault, and you find yourself dissolving into laughter when he holds your face still to better aim his affections. At last, when you’re reduced to a giggling mess in his arms, he grants you reprieve so he can speak.

“I promise, that’ll never happen again. I love you, too.”

You are exhausted and drained, but sitting here with him, there is warmth, and light, and hope. Tomorrow, he will return to HQ, and you will remain in this dimension to make your rounds and keep your lights on. Someday, he will tell you about the pains he carries, and on another Someday, you may give him details about yours. But it is tonight, and tonight, you will settle into one another, murmur quietly a conversation about limits and love and how to move forward.

One thing you should know: although he is scared, he will never pull away because of this. You are safe in that.

Tags: @deeplightgarden @idonthaveanameideayet @dusstory @yohoe-hoe

#my fics #miguel o'hara x reader

[asha-mage]

DELICIOUS LEWS THERIN AND ISHY SCENE

"I know how much you hate being alive. But I don't want to do this again." WOOF

Fascinating that this was apparently a targeted strike at the different Forsaken, probably picking them off before the strike against The Pit of Doom.

INTRO RETURNS AW YEAH

A part of me was kinda hoping for a new season 2 one with the Heroes of the Horn, but Spoilers probably meant it couldn;t be. Maybe next time. (Also the Aes Sedai one slaps anyways)

I will NEVER be able to forgive them for making so many hateable men so god damn hot, Bornhold topping the list. And by 'never be able to forgive' I mean 'never be able to thank enough'. (see also: Masema)

28 feels like to small a number of damane for the Seanchan to have in Falme, but I suppose it's a rough estimate and also not including those still in 'training'

The Watches Over the Waves have always been one of those loose threads that never really got touched on. Glad their getting a glancing shot here.

"Prophecies are just the lies of long dead witches" intereeeesting. Not a shocking take for the Whitecloaks to have.

AW YEAH THE MOST UNCOMFORTABLE ROAD TRIP EVER

Dang Lanfear cold blooded still.

Perrin and Avi! Aw yeah again!

......Interesting. What is that mist I wonder?

I continue to be so happy they nailed the Aiel so right.

Man Lanfear and Ishamael really sound like they ARE trying to seduce Rand to be their third.

FUCK that's clever (re: The Whitecloak smoke trick)

Their changing the framing of the Egwene rescue a bit, but their keeping Nynaeve's half of it pretty the same, so I'm hoping it will play out like in the books. Still one of my favorite scenes in the series.

Of course Ishamael steps out of that room and IMMEDIATELY knows that Lanfear is trying to play him

Mat! And Padan Fain! Surprised we aren't getting more of a reaction to Padan Fain is A Darkfriend from Mat, but that is a reveal that's pretty old to the audience at this point.

Moiraine and Lan! Platonic marriage re-established!

I like that they gave this speech to Loial re: heroes of a new age. It's very fitting for his character.

Offff. At least it's white cloaks so Egwene isn't going to have nearly as much guilt for slaughtering them.

FUCK

RANDA AL'THOR YOU ARE THE FUNnIEST PERSON ON THE PLANET

on the one hand i've always loved the Turak vs Rand duel, on the other....yeah probably does not have the sword trainining needed to do that this time round.

By Turak! At least you got to take Suroth down a peg this time!

Glad they kept the ritual suicide of the So'jhin re: Turak's death. It's one of those moments for hitting home just how fucked the Seanchan culture is.

.....Interesting choice to cut Ingtar's confession, especially after making a point to show the Shienar falcon early in the season. By Ingtar!

Oh hey Domon! You took Moiraine's advice I see.

'Take them to the deepest part of the ocean and dump them' Pffffffft. Peak Lanfear

MAY MAKING A NAGINTA WITH THE DAGGER IS SO A?UAHGAUSDUGHASUDGHASDGAUHSDGASUHFADSUHFASDFUH?ASDFASDFASDFAS

[It was at this point that I lost all coherence and stopped being able to liveblog effectively so here are some of my assorted post credits thoughts]

MOIRAINE AND LAN KILLING IT ONCE MORE

I have conflicted feelings about Egwene actually killing Renna, related mostly to the scene from the books being so important to the under laying themes of justice and fate, but I also can't deny that with it's shifted framing, it makes complete sense for the characters, and it heightens the ongoing theme of 'The Forsaken where to Lews what the EF5 where to Rand'.

I also have conflicted feelings about Nynaeve not being the one to heal Rand's wound, but I understand the logic of the choice, even if I don't agree with it.

On the other hand it is BRILLIANT AND INCREDIBLY SMART CHOICE to have Bornhold Senior be the one to kill Hopper, and Perrin to kill him in revenge. It's going to make the Two Rivers stuff A Lot More. It will also make Perrin's conviction to give himself up to the Whitecloaks make a lot more sense.

MAT BEING A HERO OF THE HORN IS INTERESTING BECAUSE MAT SPECIFICALLY WASN'T IN THE BOOKS- HE REFUSED REPEATEDLY THROUGH MANY LIVES. This lends credence to the 'future turning of the wheel' credence of the show which I've always favored anyways.

The scene where all these pivotal character moments are happening while Mat blows the horn, all these different arcs turning on their head, is SO FUCKING BRILLIANT

ALSO CONGRATS ON THE PROMOTION TO HERO OF THE HORN UNO

They don't specifically name drop any heroes in the scene, and I'll have to go back with X Ray to see if any are named, but THEIR SURE IS A BLONDE ARCHER LADY IN THAT SHOW SO FOR NOW HIGH BIRGITTE

ALSO HIGH ARTUR HAWKWING I ASSUME on the one hand it feels weird for your line to be directed at Mat instead of Rand. On the other your part in this scene originally was really just to drive home beyond any shadow of doubt, any ability of Rand to deny it to himself for a reason beyond stubbornness, that he was the Dragon. Rand's already accepted that here so you're not strictly speaking necessary for that, but still.

The shot where everyone is standing united against Ishamael is SO FUCKING GOOD.

Also by Ishamael! We'll see you in a few seasons in your newer, hotter, twinkier body!

(I don't envy the actor that has to live up to Fares Fares, it's going to be no easy task).

ALSO ENTER: THE OTHER FORSAKEN, dun dun dun!

Moggy fucking with Lanfear is so fucking good. FEED IT TO ME SLOWLY WITH GRAPES

GIRL SET HER TRAP AND WAITED FOR LANFEAR TO WALK INTO IT JUST SO SHE COULD GET THE UPPER HAND AND GLOAT IN AN OVERWHELMINGLY LESBIAN WAY WHAT AN ICON

Oh man I am going to rewatch and binge this entire season like FORTY TIMES.

#WoT #WoT on PRime #Wheel of Time #Wheel of Time On Prime #WoT Book Spoilers #ACOS Spoilers #*deep breath* #rand al'thor #ishamael #perrin aybara #loial #Mat cauthon #Egwene al'vere #moiraine damodred #nynaeve al'meara #lan mandragoran #elayne trakand #lanfear #turak aladon #Ingtar #Padan Fain #Suroth Sabelle Meldarath #Renna emain #still surprised she eventually got a last name in World Of #dain bornhald #masema dagar #this probably as good as it's gonna get for right now #more thoughts to come as I managed to form them out of the mass of BRAIN JUICE #WoT S2 e8 #almost forgot that one

[lucimarinee]

Pushover | dbf!Joel x f!Reader

Pairing: dbf!Joel x f!Reader

Summary: God knows you were born either with a spine made out of bubble wrap, or just spineless entirely, it's honestly kind of sad. It bothers you, of course, how everyone else seems to know that too. Quiet, pliable and unconfrontational, you were raised to occupy the least amount of space possible, and be out of the way most, if not all, of the time, and that's not really the recipe for an assertive, self-assured woman, now, is it? No, it's not, and you are painfully aware of that. And you become even more aware of that when you go back to Texas to visit your estranged dad, on your summer break from a college course you don't really want to pursue, to spend what was supposed to be a time of relaxation surrounded by people that seem to think it's funny to push your buttons, it annoys you to no end. But no one seems to get on your nerves more than that asshole your father calls his "best friend", Joel Miller, one of those old school kinds of men who have an irreverent attitude, a bite to their sense of humor, perceptive eyes, an unwavering voice to declare his will, and a penchant for provoking you.

Warnings: NO OUTBREAK, age gap (Joel is in his late-forties/early-fifties, reader is in her early twenties), praise kink, annoyance as foreplay /hj, fingering.

Word Count: 14,756

a/n: this was posted on ao3 first, you can find it here, but I thought that I should use my Tumblr too. This one-shot has a funny story, that being I woke up in the dead of night to write it because I "dreamed about it" when I was half asleep, I like to joke that I was possessed, I didn't stop writing until it was posted. Anyway, my first Tumblr post in this style, I hope you enjoy it :).

__________________________________________________________

You had a feeling the day was going to go badly, or at least less than ideal, but it's getting a bit too much, now.

It was just a combination of small things piling up on you.

It started in your plane, you had just boarded, barely even sat down, and a woman approached you with an attitude that reeked of veiled aggressiveness, asking you if "you'd be so kind to change seats" with her, so she could sit next to her husband. Unsure if it was the pressure of her gaze on you, or just the fact you're not very good at saying "no" , you obliged, moving from your nice window seat at the front of the plane — that you chose and paid for specifically —, to a middle seat further back.

No big deal, you thought, it was just a couple wanting to sit together, sure, they should have planned their trip better and booked their seats properly, like you did, but it would be, at the very least, unpolite if you said no. What reason did you have to deny her request, after all? "No, ma'am, I paid for this seat, I'd like to stay here" ? Sounds selfish, and you're not selfish.

Of course, the change to an uncomfortable seat, squished between two strangers, made the trip a lot longer, but eventually you landed, and it was all over. Until you heard there was a mishap with the luggage, so your baggage would be delayed, making you have to wait for God knows how long for the airline to get their shit together. Still, you sighed and nodded, there was no need to complain and go on a tirade about costumer's rights, gross neglect and incompetence on the part of the company, there were people doing that already, so you didn't have to join the misery party, you just had to wait.

You were tired, hungry, sore, and just wanted to rest, let this day be over. You just got back home — well, "home" — for summer break.

Coming back to Texas on any circumstance was a fucking chore, and it didn't help you felt obligated to, either. You were just fine out of state, as fine as you can be while pursuing a degree you didn't want, putting effort and energy on a thing your heart wasn't set on, but at least you were some place else , some place other than Austin, where you could let yourself be a little more. You were planning on going on a trip to somewhere nice, you had been saving a bit of money from your internship and side gigs with the intent of treating yourself — for once —, but your father had other plans.

He got in touch with you a few months ago, going on a rant about how you don't call or get in touch at all anymore, how you've been growing distant ever since you moved out to study, forgetting that you had a father that did everything for you, gave everything to you, that it was an ungrateful look, and how it didn't suit you.

It was his own special way of saying he missed you, and wanted you to visit.

Easy to say, you thought it was best to smooth out the situation and appease him by promising to come back on summer break, basically ruining your own plans because daddy sent you a strong worded text.

What a joke, you don't want to be there.

Another sigh leaves you, this one slightly more exasperated than the last. You hate that weather, you can feel that awful hot, humid air even when surrounded by the airport's heavy-duty air conditioning, the uncovered skin of your arms feels chilly, but it's like an uncomfortable, stuffy bubble of hot air hugs you without your permission, the phantom feeling of it makes you feel like a kid again, and you don't like it.

Some more minutes pass by, you sit down on a chair with a cold backrest after having filled a form at the airline's desk and leave it at that, swallowing back your annoyance and hoping for the best, and the best case scenario was just that your bag was misplaced in another flight, and would be hopefully arriving soon, worst case scenario, they lost the damn thing, and then — just then — it would be time to get openly upset.

But you hope it won't come to that.

"Hey." a gravely voice calls loud and clear beside you, "I thought I recognized ya."

You turn to look, and have to make a physical effort not to groan and keep yourself from making a face. God fucking damn it, it's Joel fucking Miller. He looks just like you remember him from, you don't know, a couple of years ago, from the last time you dropped by on vacation, the same rugged appearance, rough around the edges, with that same annoying, rustic charm, a bit different, though.

His hair was a bit longer, the few gray hairs you remember had grown into proper gray locks, sprinkling his head here and there, same with the beard, fuller, grayer, but somehow softer looking. But that was it for the differences, he still had the same direct and piercing eyes, like he had an aim that never missed its target, and, much to your chagrin, that same infuriating grin that you never quite understood what it meant, despite him always having it on his lips every time you were around.

"Hi." you say, getting up from your seat just out of politeness, you weren't on a hug or even a handshake basis, so you just stood there, awkwardly, stuffing your hands in your pockets like you had no idea what to do with them, "What are you doing here?"

"Nice to see you, too, doll." he huffed a little chuckle, and had it been any other person, you would have blushed a few shades redder than his flannel shirt and apologized for your lack of respect, but it was just Joel, he seemed to enjoy being aggravating like that with you, "It's been a while hasn't it? What? Couple o' years?"

Fair enough, you muster a small diplomatic smile and nod, he's right, it had been a hot minute, but if it were up to you, it would have been even longer. Joel wore a pair of jeans and a flannel that you swear you've seen him wear before, it rings so familiar in your head, like the world's most irritating alarm clock, he's a physical, walking reminder that you're back in Texas, because he's always around you whenever you're there, courtesy of your father.

The two of them are friends, and have been for the longest time, ever since you were a tween, not that you can understand why, exactly, and for once it wasn't Joel's fault, it was your father's. It just didn't make sense that your father had friends, let alone in someone like Joel, you couldn't understand for the life of you what they had in common, and how the fuck did they meet and bond. Maybe you just didn't think of your father as someone pleasant enough to befriend or keep company, in fact, you sure don't, that's why you've been avoiding coming back for as long as you did.

But he's older, so is your dad, and maybe that's why the two of them clicked, and started doing whatever they do when they're together, you're sure they must have gone out to a bar and done things old men do.

"Yeah, it really has, huh?" you say back, looking to the side, as if it was embarrassing to even make eye contact for longer than a few seconds, "It's good to see you, though, Mr. Miller."

"Mm, don't you start with the mister thing." he raised an eyebrow, still looking at you, it made your neck burn, you weren't sure why, maybe just out of awkwardness, you never really knew how to act around him, especially not alone, and he always had such an intense stare, "Makes me sound old."

"Okay then, Mr. Miller." you can't help a little, shy grin, the kind that doesn't last for long.

He looked a bit amused, if anything, not in the same way he had back when you were in high school, it wasn't so much as the cockiness that seemed to radiate off him, he just seemed genuinely impressed with you, like he figured your insistence on being respectful to your elders was your own little way of standing up for yourself, and he didn't seem to want to fight that.

"As for your question," he continues, ignoring your teasing, "I spoke to your old man earlier, he said you'd be arriving today, but that something came up at his work, and he wouldn't be able to come and pick you up, so I offered myself to fetch ya, seemed rude to let you get a taxi or something after coming home after so long, figured I'd come to give ya a proper Texan welcome."

Oh.

He must have noticed your change in expression, your polite smile faltered to give place to a confused, if not hurt, grimace, his face mimicked yours in an involuntary display of empathy, you see his strong brows knitting together like he's trying to read you and figure out what was wrong, and how to fix it.

"Oh, I..." you hesitate, you're thinking lots of things, all of a sudden, but you've always struggled to put your feelings and thoughts into words, "Sorry, I... I'm just a bit surprised. He didn't tell me anything about being held back."

You feel stupid, hadn't Joel come up to the airport and found you, you'd have been waiting for your father to show up until you realized he wouldn't come. You pick up your phone from your back pocket to check if maybe you missed a text or a phone call, but no, there was nothing, the last thing you heard from your dad was him reacting to your text telling him your flight was taking off, and at what time it was supposed to arrive, with a thumbs up.

Nothing more.

You just sigh, yet again, you had an inkling feeling this vacation wasn't going to go smoothly, but this was just the cherry on top. Joel is quiet, letting you have a moment of peace to process, but he's staring, again, he doesn't even try to hide it, his eyes, a nice shade of brown, not unlike caramel, are softer than the rough exterior he keeps up, he seems sympathetic.

"It must've slipped his mind," Joel says with a shrug of his shoulder, not dismissive, just trying to soften the situation, make you feel less bad about it, not that you really cared at that point, this was just another instance of him not showing up in twenty-something years, "You know how he can be sometimes, hardworking fella, just focused on his job and doesn't think of anything else."

He's not wrong, but you'd still think a simple text wouldn't have hurt to send. You want to be angry, at the very least a bit miffed, but you can't muster that, instead, it's just resignation and frustration that makes you feel heavy and tired, it's hard to be mad, for some reason. You never had much practice.

"Thanks, I appreciate it." you force yourself to say, even if it sounds halfhearted and a little defeated.

"You don't sound very thrilled." he snorts a little, it sounds playful, he's not being rude, just lightheartedly ribbing you.

"Sorry, I just, uhm..." you swallow and bite down a sigh, you know exactly what's going on, he doesn't need to know, "It's fine."

You weren't about to get emotional over being slighted by your own dad in front of Joel, even if you're pretty sure he was fully aware of the dynamic between the two of you.

"Well, I'm here." the man declared, his voice always had this very firm tone of finality, you figure it's probably impossible to argue with Joel, "And I'm gonna get you home all the same, ya can talk to him then. Ready to go? Didn't bring any bags?"

It takes you an embarrassing long second to figure out what he's doing, hands on his hips, looking at and around your figure for any luggage, when he doesn't see it, he quirks a brow.

"Oh, no, I did, it's just..." you start, and you can see very clearly how he takes a long, deep breath, letting his arms go slack on his sides, and you hate when he does that, because he always does it when you let it show that something is wrong, but this time you didn't even get to explain, he must know you quite well at this point, or you just do this a lot, "There was a problem with the luggage transport, it's all been delayed, so I'm waiting on that."

His posture shifts while you speak, Joel crosses his arms in front of his chest, making him look like a solid brick wall, a strong and unyielding presence in front of you, his muscles flex and push against the fabric of the sleeves, and you don't understand why, but your neck starts burning again.

"Shit, you gotta be kiddin' me." his jaw tightens and he closes his eyes, a hand moves up to rub his temple, the wrinkles that formed on his forehead when he grimaced almost seemed to highlight the greying of his hair, he's got a very rugged look to him, but it fits, you can't say it's a bad look, "Well, alright. Have you spoken to anyone 'bout this?"

"Yeah, I filled a form at the desk just a moment ago, they told me to wait." you explain.

"'Kay, but what did they say 'bout compensation? Did they offer you anything? They owe you that, y'know that, right?" Joel goes on, almost talking over you, the man seems to be taking this issue personally, too.

"Yeah, I know that."

His brows shoot up when you don't follow that with anything else, and suddenly, all his indignation seems to turn to you, "You didn't say a thing, did ya?"

You stand there, guilty as charged, pursing your lips in a thin line, because you have nothing to say in your defense, you did mention something about compensation to the guy working at the desk, but he brushed you off with some bullshit about company policy and technicalities, and you just took it like a loser, so you guess that doesn't count.

"Fuckin' Christ, alright." Joel groans, his hand flies from his temple to his forehead, where he rubs the wrinkles in frustration, it makes you feel awful, it's always like this, especially with him, he never really tried to hide that he thinks you don't have a backbone, "I'm gonna go take care o' this. Don't you go anywhere."

"What— no, Joel, wait! " you reach out for his arm, your palm touches hard, solid muscle under the flannel sleeve, and your skin feels like it's being singed even with the protection of the fabric, "Don't make it a big deal, please, they say it must be arriving soon, it's fine—"

"Hey." he interrupts your plea with his own gruff voice, but not unkindly, in fact, you're a little shocked to see how his face is so relaxed, not a trace of anger or annoyance in his features, only calmness, "I got this."

The hand on his sleeve goes slack, but your heart starts beating like crazy once he resumes his march to the airline desk you had pointed to earlier, you trail behind him like a desperate, lost puppy, your nerves firing as you try to figure out a way to avoid a conflict or any amount of confrontation, especially on your behalf, there was no need to make a fuss over you.

It's so easy to feel small next to Joel Miller, he's a whole head, and then some, taller than you, not only is he broad, his gait and demeanor are those of a man who can take whatever the world throws at him and still be standing at the end of the day, it's kind of surprising the attendant didn't burst out laughing when you just stood next to him like an anxious shortstack, while the man comfortably leaned over the counter and spoke in his raspy voice.

He had some things to say about the matter, the two men seem to engage in some back and forth you were barely listening to, Joel would speak in his booming voice and point vaguely at you, his tone was always so resolute and determined, his words were never minced, and he always knew what to say, in a usual day, you'd judge him for being too confrontational, even abrasive, but maybe it was the combination of having him standing up for you without a moment's hesitation and the way his biceps bulged whenever he made an angry gesture or placed his hands on the desk and leaned in, that made that hot bubble of air around you feel even hotter.

"Sir, the last flight just arrived, it's likely that your luggage is on the way, you're free to check—" the man behind the desk says, and you loudly breathe out in relief.

"See, Joel, it's here, let's just grab it and go." you blurt out like your life depends on it, touching his arm again, a physical plea, trying to convince him, you can't tell if it's just your mind playing tricks on you, but the touch actually makes him pause.

"This ain't done." Joel points a finger at the workers, but his body is already turning in your direction, even if his gaze doesn't immediately follow, "But it can wait. Come on, doll, let's see if we can get ya out of this place."

It's embarrassing, it really is, it makes your heart jump to your throat, you feel the burn from earlier crawl all the way to your ears, you want to sink through the ground and disappear. There was no need for this, it was ridiculous and overkill, and it was happening all for your sake.

You don't take another good luck at him until he seats himself behind the wheel of his truck, after finally loading your long awaited suitcase in the back. You're sulking on the passenger's seat, head resting on your palm, elbow on the door, staring out the window, just waiting for him to start the damn thing and drop you off, you're just so, so done with this whole airport saga, it was complete shit, from beginning to end.

While he drives, Joel looks over at you, once, twice, maybe thrice, each time just a beat longer than the last, from your peripheral vision, you catch his jaw tightening up a bit, he seems to be contemplating something, the man knows you're moody, and it isn't like you're hiding your displeased pout, but he also knows that, if he doesn't say anything, you won't either.

"It will get sorted out." he tells you, after a moment of consideration. The man leans back comfortably as a long breath leaves him, not unlike the stress sighs you're always letting out as well, he keeps just one hand low on the wheel, and he's tapping a finger to the rhythm of the music, you have to wonder how much of that he can actually hear.

"It's fine." you say, it's your mantra. It's a half lie, "Those things happen."

"Those things aren't supposed to happen, doll." he makes a point of stressing his words, a low and firm sound coming from deep inside his chest, you see his profile from the side, and you can see him pressing his lips together, the man is probably annoyed at the way you're trying to blow it all off, he doesn't like to see people walk all over you, and he doesn't like that you let them, "There's a reason why there are policies and laws and shit like that, for this exact reason."

The way you just raise your palms in the air in a clear sign of resignation tells him that's a discussion you really don't want to have, you almost expect him to push you further, like he's always done, to probe and poke at you, and lecture you on the importance of standing up for yourself like you are a child, but by then Joel already knows he's preaching to a deaf choir, so he gives it a rest.

"I'm just sayin'..." he trails off, clearing his throat.

Your gaze focus on the scenery passing you by, trees and buildings going by so fast it almost looks like they're flying, the man next to you was always a fast driver, you remember that much from a few other times he took it upon himself to be your chauffeur throughout your life, usually when your father couldn't find the time or patience to do so.

"Thanks, anyway, I mean, for... yeah, thanks." you decide to say, still not looking at him.

You can hear him grin, that's how infuriating it is, "Don't mention it."

You just scoff, a hint of a smile making the corner of your mouth twitch upwards, that was so characteristic of him, so Joel Miller, and so stupid, "Don't act like you did nothing. That was..." you roll your eyes, but you don't notice you're shaking your head, he does, though, and that only serves to amuse him even further, "Something else, man. Thanks for... making that guy shit his pants, I guess."

You snort at your own little joke, he doesn't follow, but doesn't seem displeased, either.

The landscape is so familiar, and his presence is so familiar too, the drive is long and quiet, the kind that gives you space to breathe, but never enough to let your thoughts take a more unpleasant turn.

You try not to think about the way Joel always takes care of you, in his own little way.

"How is dad?" the question falls from your mouth.

Joel turns his head to you with a certain look in his eyes, it's quite meaningful, actually, a whole conversation happens with just the two of you making eye contact, it's silent and intense, you almost feel compelled to avert your eyes and stare at the road in front of you.

He looks like he's holding back a comment.

"Same as usual. Busy, focused." his voice is dry, no emotion to it, it's hard to tell whether he's pleased by this or not, "But we keep in touch."

It's odd that Joel seems to know more about your father's well-being than you do, but he has the decency to not say anything else about the matter, if he didn't already know from his friendship with your dad, your question made it very clear that you two don't talk much, if at all, which made this whole thing even more stupid, because you still went out of your way, postponing and cancelling plans, to accommodate a father that only seemed to get in touch with you to make you feel bad about being a "bad daughter".

"Sarah is excited to see you again," Joel added, trying to change the topic, or let you know that at least one person was actually happy with the prospect of seeing you, "When I told her I was coming to pick you up, she got real hyped about it."

That brings a smile to your face.

Sarah, Joel's daughter, was just a few months older than you, that was something else your dad and Joel had in common, besides being divorced, grumpy men in their fifties, now that you think about it. Growing up, the Millers lived close to your house, close enough for Sarah to become your playmate, you'd drop by with your father to play with her, while the adults did their own thing, and vice versa.

The memory of their house is very vivid, even after not having thought about it for the longest time, you still remember the nice hardwood floors, the narrow staircase, and how on every wall — especially in Sarah's room — there were plenty of pictures of her and her dad, on her soccer practices, after championships, or just pictures they took together for the sake of it, always very happy photos, very lively. Your room never had pictures like that.

Sarah was confident, lively and funny, pretty much everything you weren't, and still aren't, she was always more extroverted than you, carrying your whole friendship almost entirely by herself, you just tagged along, ever the dedicated follower, never the leader, it never bothered her, but it bothered you.

You were never quite able to pinpoint what exactly you felt whenever you looked at the pictures on her walls, or witnessed her and Joel interacting in a lighthearted, playful manner, or even just watched her be, but now, as an adult, you can.

It was bitterness.

You were always a very bitter child, the way she could just smile, joke, talk back at Joel, make fun of him, the way he never failed to be warm, receptive, affectionate, a perfect example of a single father raising a lovely kid on his own, the juxtaposition with your home life, which was, well, less than that, was too much sometimes, the unfairness of it all, the stark, blinding contrast that always made you feel inadequate.

Inadequate, bitter, envious .

Eventually you just stopped showing up to hang out, and you two drifted apart quietly, not unlike you and your father.

You discreetly turn your eyes to the man beside you, watching him silently drive, so relaxed, so confident, his posture said it all. Joel rested a hand on top of the wheel, and his other hand on the seat beside him, not even realizing he's drumming his fingers along the tune, not even knowing his hand was right next to your leg, if he did, would he move it, or just let it stay?

His hands looked very large and firm, his fingers were thick and strong, the back of his hand had some prominent veins that moved with every subtle motion of his arm, and you found yourself wondering about the rest of his body. You're no longer a little girl, but still, there are certain things that are better left unthought about.

"How are things goin' for ya, by the way?" he asks, voice suddenly softer, "In college, and all."

"It's fine."

There he goes again, that same long, deep breath he took at the airport, that same long, deep breath he took every time he clocked you shrugging things off, trying to put no importance into them, the look he gives you along with is loud as words, he knows you too well for you to pull that card on him.

"Don't bullshit me." he deadpans.

You're about to fire back a comment about how it's not a bullshitty thing, college really was fine, you were doing well, passing all your classes, and the courses themselves were fine, nothing to complain about, not even your colleagues or professors, you have nothing bad to say about them, or at least, that's what you like to believe, the same way you like to believe you're doing great on your own, and you like to pretend there's nothing you need or want for.

"I'm not!" you protest, he doesn't buy it, you can tell by his doubtful smirk, "I'm really not, okay? Everything is going well, my classes are good, and so are my grades, the city is pretty nice, and... and... I guess, people are fine too?"

"So what's wrong, then?"

It takes a moment for you to reply.

"I don't really want to be a lawyer, okay?" your voice is low, even shy, you can feel your face getting warmer, it's such a relief to finally tell someone this, and, if not a relief, it feels good to not have it stuck in the back of your head all the time, "I never really did. I'm just... kind of going along with it, dad wants it, and at the end of the day, I don't really mind it."

Joel considers your words carefully.

"You do know," he starts, "That to be a lawyer you'll actually have to stand up to people, for once?"

There it was, the Joel Miller you knew and didn't really like, always prodding, always trying to provoke you, always trying to rile you up, always trying to force you out of your comfort zone, to get a reaction, or at least get you to feel something.

"Oh, fuck off."

You're the one to roll your eyes, you're the one to let out an exaggerated groan, because, sure, that's how things would go with him, every time you decided to let him in and let him have a little look into your world, the world inside your head, the real, raw feelings that lay beneath the surface, and you should know that better than anyone, it's just in his nature, it's not even mean spirited, he's just an asshole.

"Nah, I'm being completely fuckin' serious right now," he says, a hint of a chuckle on his voice, but he really wasn't laughing, and, much like a father who knows exactly what he's talking about, he explains himself, "You'd be swallowed whole in a courtroom, doll, and you know that too."

He has a point, unfortunately.

"I guess. That's the kind of person I am, I suppose."

Joel shakes his head.

"Don't be stupid."

You raise a hand to him, to tell him not to patronize you.

He seems like he wants to keep going, to keep yapping about how your spine has the consistency of wet spaghetti, about how you should grow a pair already and stop acting so fucking scared all the time, that you're always hiding, you're always keeping your mouth shut, that it's not the way, but he bites his tongue and decides against it, opting for a less aggravating follow up, "What would ya like to do, then? If not law."

"I don't know. I like to paint. But I know I'm not good enough."

"Says who? Yourself?" he sounds sarcastic, and that gets you even more flustered and frustrated.

"Yes, I do, because it's true," you explain, you've told this to many other people, so many times, and none of them understood, Joel isn't going to be an exception, "And it doesn't pay really well as a career, like, at all."

"Well, now you just sound like your father."

Your cheeks flush, you can feel your entire face burning now, he has no idea how much of a dickhead he's being. You're starting to regret having told him anything about it.

"Fuck off."

You say it again, in a quiet, unintimidating way. He laughs.

"If you talked to people like you're talkin' to me right now, you'd be an okay lawyer, you know that, right?" his smile is cocky, it's so stupid, but so characteristic of him, to get under your skin like this, he was the only one that could, "Not good, but okay."

"Whatever, Joel. Shut up."

It's hard not to look at the way his neck and shoulders tense when he laughs, you catch yourself looking more than you should, he has the nerve to let his hand move towards you and he pats the top of your knee, he pats your leg twice, slowly and softly.

You surprise yourself with how your stomach seems to shrink and turn at his touch.

His fingers are firm, and you feel the strength on them, you try to ignore the tingly feeling that runs up and down your leg, like some weird, unexplainable electrical charge, and how it seems to only spread from his hand. You pretend the contact isn't affecting you, it's an easy thing to do.

He lets his hand linger there, resting on your knee for a while, and you don't fucking move a muscle, and, for once, it's a deliberate choice, you're not letting him keep his hand there, you want him to keep it there, too afraid that if you move, say something, or even breathe weird, he might just take it away from you, and you'd never forgive yourself for that.

But he interprets your stillness, and your silence — and the fact you stopped breathing for a hot second, as discomfort, and Joel promptly moves his hand from your leg, placing it back on the steering wheel, like he should, he knew you enough to know you wouldn't speak up on your discomfort, but didn't know you well enough now to know why exactly you were letting him touch you like that in the first place, but the answer is very simple:

You liked it .

And it disappoints you that he withdrew it, even though that was probably for the best.

"If you ask me," the man cleared his throat, taking it upon himself to clear the air, you couldn't say he wasn't considerate when he wanted to, "Which I know ya didn't, but that ain't gonna stop me, ya should talk to your dad about this."

You give a halfhearted laugh, not really looking at him.

"What's so funny?" Joel asks.

"It won't do anyone no good, Joel," you declare, your resigned, dejected tone seems to upset him, or maybe it's the way you sound so comfortable with that tone that upsets him, "I'm almost in my senior year, anyway, a lot of money was invested in this, and besides, he wouldn't get it."

You have nothing more to say about the topic.

Joel seems like he has plenty to say, though, like he always did, "I don't think so. In my own experience, ain't a man in this world that loves a girl more than her own father, doll."

It was meant to sound like some profound advice, like Joel always did, but to you, it felt like a blow straight to your stomach.

His experience was nothing like yours, he was nothing like your dad, far from it.

But that was a good thing.

Joel parks in front of your childhood home not much later, it's been at most two, maybe three years since you were here the last time, the sight of that house shouldn't be making you feel so uncomfortable and anxious, but it did.

He gets off the car first, while you stay stuck in your uncomfortable stupor, you only come back to reality when Joel opens your door for you, a nice, chivalrous smile — as chivalrous Joel Miller can be — on his lips, making way for you.

"Welcome home, doll."

It's so hard not to blush when he says stuff like this.

Joel carries your bags inside, even though you tell him that you can take care of them yourself. He tells you not to worry. You follow him quietly, the only sounds filling the hallway are his heavy footsteps, the clanking of keys against the wooden door, and the loud tick-tocking of the old grandfather clock, you used to be kind of scared of that clock as a little girl, it made such an intimidating, imposing noise.

The house was empty, that's what you first assumed, at least, judging by how dark and neat everything was, smelling strongly of furniture polish, not a thing out of place, it felt like it was just you and Joel, in your childhood home, you tried not to let your mind wander to what would happen if it were really just you and him.

He carried your bags so easily, he must be so strong. You know he works in construction, that's why his hands look so rough, and probably feel rough, too, you didn't get to feel it on your leg thanks to the fabric of your jeans, but you're sure of it, you can almost imagine the coarseness on your skin, the warmth, he could pick you up so easily if he wanted to—

Heavy, hurried footsteps making their way down from the second floor startle you out of your thoughts, you know those steps far too well, you grew up trying to listen for them whenever the house went too silent, or when you were laying in your bed, staring at the plaster-white ceiling of your room, trying to gauge if it was safe to get out yet, or if he was in a bad mood and you should wait.

Those are your father's footsteps.

He comes down the steps in a frenzy, and his feet almost don't respond to his brain's command to stop when he finally spots you and Joel, he seemed distracted by something on his phone.

"Oh, shit— I didn't hear you enter." he says with a slightly awkward laugh, but still unabashed, it's not directed to you, however, his attention is on his friend, "Can you believe they're not going to pay me for the overtime I had to do at the office? That's ridiculous, isn't it?"

He wasn't paying attention to you, and, for a reason you don't understand, you can't help but feel relieved and happy, not like he'd actually have any energy to spare for his daughter.

Joel shook his head, a sort of smirk on his face, the way they're standing makes them look like the best of friends, and yet, something about how Joel stuffs his hands in his pockets and shifts his body slightly to your direction tells you he's unimpressed, "Hey, now." he points at you with his head, his command is clear, and you didn't think you— or your dad — would live long enough to see someone bossing him, "I brought your princess, didn't I?"

Your dad only now notices you, his face lights up, though not really in a heartwarming way, and not in a manner that you could find even remotely appealing or warm.

It was a look and reaction of a man who just remembered he forgot to pick up his child, which, in a way, he kind of did.

"There's my baby girl," he walks up to you and engulfs you in a bear hug, it's very sudden and awkward, he's squeezing you a little too tight, you never really fit in his hugs, but you hug him back nonetheless, "How was the trip?"

"It was fine." you say.

It rolls off your tongue so easily, sounds almost so beautifully rehearsed, automatic, like an answering machine, because it really is.

Joel gives you a weird look, you're not looking at him, but you can feel it burning on your nape, like he can't seem to figure out why the fuck you'd say that, when it would take at most thirty seconds to tell your father, with enough detail, what a mess it was. Your dad was a lawyer, if someone would know how to deal with an incompetent airline who almost lost your luggage, made you wait for a long time, inconvenienced you, and wouldn't budge about compensation, that someone was your dad, why wouldn't you tell him about it? Why would you opt for the almost political, statesmanlike "fine", when it's so clear by how you said it that it wasn't, in fact, "fine"?

Your dad chuckles, letting go of you, his arms move away from your shoulders and back, "I'm glad to hear that."

He says, you smile, Joel coughs.

Then it's complete silence for a second or two. No one really knows what to say, and you almost think it's your fault for answering noncommittally, but your father speaks up, before Joel does.

"It's so good to have you back, baby girl, this house has been so empty." your father says, a weird, forced chuckle at the end, Joel is starting to see where you got your awkwardness from, "I just got home from the law firm, but it was just to grab some papers, I should be heading back, but, uhm, let's have dinner later, yeah?" he was making a move for the front door, the one you closed behind you not even a few minutes ago, his eyes going back to his phone, "Joel, you and Sarah should join us, I'm sure she—"

"Now, hang on a minute," Joel cuts in, he's quick, that man never misses a beat, "You gotta go back right now? What, can't ya stay just a few more minutes? Catch up with your girl, and whatnot?"

It was very obvious — to you — what he's trying to do, Joel Miller is tactful enough to not cut a leg off just because it's bruised, but he's still a man who likes to brute force some things, and right now, he is trying to brute force you an opportunity, because Joel Miller seems to enjoy taking things upon himself that he had no business interfering in.

Your father stops in his tracks, hand frozen on the doorknob, mid-turn, he looks confused, if anything, speechless, like he couldn't think of a single possible thing to say right now, looking between his friend and you, uninterested, unfazed.

"How's... How's college?" he eventually asks, it sounds impersonal, but Joel sighs like he just won a jackpot.

He did it, he gave you a very clear opportunity, and Joel was right there beside you to support you, you could say — even if briefly, superficially — what you were thinking, what you were feeling, just to get a word out, and then maybe talk through it over dinner, with some good father-daughter quality time, a desperately needed heart-to-heart, that's what he hoped for, that was his intention behind doing that, it had to be.

"It's fine." you say, a short answer, nothing too detailed, and a complete lie.

A look of exasperation and confusion crosses Joel's eyes.

Your father, though, smiles, that same diplomatic, polite smile you always give people, and he nods, "I'm glad to hear, dear."

You three stand still where you are, you because it's routine, your father because he's confused and awkward, and Joel because he's too fucking astonished to move a fucking muscle.

"Well, we can talk more about it when I get back." your dad declared, the door lock clicked and he was about to leave, "Dinner tonight, guys."

Your dad is out the door not long after that, it closes with a slam behind him, leaving you and Joel in a cold, stale-smelling home.

For a long time, nothing is said between the two of you.

"Alright." you mutter, almost as if to yourself, taking your bag in your hand, the wheels clattering against the floor, and Joel moves behind you, following you upstairs to your room.

"Are you— You can't be serious right now," he says, trying to mask his complete bewilderment, and doing a shit job at it, " 'It's fine' ?!"

He tries to say it like you would say, a high, mocking, shaky voice, his arms open in a defeated, almost hopeless, manner.

"Joel, not now," you tell him, walking down the long hallway, and not looking back at him, "I'll be sleeping."

"What— no."

You try closing the door to your room, but it slams loudly on Joel's open palm with a lot of force, you're pretty sure you didn't close it that hard, that was his doing, you still can't help, though, to feel more worried about your door than about his hand. He pushed it wide open again, towering on your door frame, but didn't cross the threshold, you felt weirdly trapped, your bag and your body feel heavy, you set the luggage down.

Joel's expression is unlike any other you've ever seen, and the look in his eyes is so intense, full of indignation, your knees wobble a bit under his scrutiny, you hate yourself for that, you don't want him to notice that, he shouldn't be seeing you so affected.

"Y'know, I used to think you were just a very weird kid," he starts, Joel sounds legitimately, personally offended, his outrage is palpable, it's like he can't barely keep it in, but it's trying to so very hard, "Just— painfully shy, didn't know how to talk to no one, didn't really talk at all, went along with everything, and everything was fine, 'cause that's what you always said, all the fuckin' time, and I really thought it was, for the longest time."

"Joel—"

"No." his tone leaves no room for discussion, his expression hard, but when you immediately shut up, it almost seems to upset him more, "I really thought you'd grow out of the pushover phase, I even thought I could help it by urging you a little—"

"I'm not a pushover!" you frown, trying to sound strong and firm, but it was clear the words had no bite to them.

"Oh, bull-fucking-shit, doll, you're the biggest pushover I've ever met," he scoffs at you, still leaning against the frame of your bedroom door, "As a kid, you'd go along with whatever Sarah wanted to do, as a teen, I had to witness you going out with the most stupid looking boys I've ever had the displeasure of setting my eyes on, now you're a grown-ass pushover!"

"Why are you mad at me?" you ask, you're so fucking confused, you feel attacked, really, literally cornered by the man. On any other day, you'd be bawling your eyes out, but Jesus fucking Christ, you were so done with today, you have been bottling up so much shit you could feel your bile taint your mouth with its bitter taste, you were furious.

"I'm not mad at you, doll, I'm mad for you."

After he says that, there's a pause, he didn't mean to get into a yelling match with you, and he looked disheartened. Joel rubbed one of his big palms over his face, like he's suddenly feeling so much more tired than before.

He was such a caring man, and it makes your chest feel warm, even though his concern for you wasn't your idea of a nice conversation.

"I'm mad for you, because this sucks, girl," he says, sounding tired, he takes a deep breath, and then his voice gets more serious, lower, calmer, and you know he's getting his emotions in check, "Your dad is a good friend, though I'm starting to question how good of a father he is, if even he pushes you 'round like this, but c'mon, doll, you ain't a little girl anymore."

"Oh, shut up." you scoff, this time your tone has more venom behind it, your voice gets higher, but still doesn't come out as a scream, and your body is shaking from rage, "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, don't I?" he scoffs back, but on his lips a smirk appears, fuck, he's doing it again, he's playing with you, just like he always did to urge you, to get on your nerves, to see how far he could push you until you blow up, but the only reason you never blew up was because no one would be there to pick up the pieces.

"Let us see if I don't, then," Joel continues, just his head trespasses the threshold of your room, like the rest of his body is being held back by some invisible force, he wants to provoke you, but at the same time seems to have no intention of violating your space, it was a weird mix of things, you never understood him, "You're a fine, grown woman, studying something ya don't wanna study, going places ya don't wanna go, talking to people ya don't wanna talk to, hell, doll, what else is being shoved down your throat, and you just take it without a peep? Do the guys you go out with also trample all over you?"

"Just shut up." you repeat yourself, and he smirks wider, because it's working, he can see it in how tensed your posture became, he could feel it, and the worst part is that it was true, every word of it.

"What is it that you want, huh? I ain't ever heard that combination of words come out o' your mouth, ‘I want’ , even as a kid, I have no fuckin' idea of what you really want, of what you'd ask of someone, and it's starting to look like you don't either."

"Oh, my God— I want you to shut the fuck up, Joel, and close the goddamn door! How 'bout that?!" you explode, yelling, it wasn't even a particularly high or loud voice, but your outburst was unexpected, you couldn't hold back, your anger had nowhere else to go but forward, you didn't mean to yell, but you did.

It came out of your chest with so much force you could feel your face going red from embarrassment.

He blinked.

Once, twice.

You'd have thought you broke him, the look of surprise in his face, and the silence that fell upon the two of you was unnerving, but at least you made him stop talking, at least the constant, buzzing noise in the back of your mind is no longer there, it's blissfully quiet.

"Very well." he nods decidedly, and closes the door.

Joel closes the door behind him, finally stepping into your room, the heavy lock clicks, the air feels thicker, like he's somehow managed to take the whole thing up a notch, and, to be fair, he fucking did.

"That's a good start." it sounds like praise, because it is praise, a low, rumbling sound that reverberates inside your stomach and shoots directly down between your legs.

It's the kind of voice that has no business existing outside of a bedroom, you think, his southern drawl dripping on each of the words like hot, sticky honey, and you could just fucking cry from how arousing it actually was.

He walks in further in slow, careful steps, like you're some kind of wild animal, Joel's body moves towards you, eyes fixed, never breaking the staring contest you two started.

Joel Miller's presence was already overwhelming on itself, his physical height, his build, the way he looked like he could easily snap you in half, but you've seen this man care for his daughter more times than you can remember, you've seen him go out of his way for people who couldn't stand him, his family, and most importantly, you, the kid he babysat whenever your dad just had to stay late somewhere.

He wasn't scary, quite the opposite, he was magnetic, upsettingly so.

"So, doll," Joel continues, "How's it going to be?"

His eyes are intense, his presence is so, so big, you're feeling smaller by the minute, and yet he still didn't even get that close, still didn't try to touch you, he was waiting for an answer.

"What?"

"'Cause I ain't goin' to ask again, I don't like to repeat myself," he said, the tone was softer than what the words sounded like, almost reassuring, it was so different to what you're used to, his face gets closer, you could see his beard better now, and his eyes were unbearably dark, "I ain't doin' a damn thing, unless you tell me what ya want."

What a low blow, but that's how Joel Miller was, the man never played fair.

"I can't." you tell him, voice soft and weak, but there was an undertone of rage to it, the fact that you knew exactly what you wanted to say and how, and he knew that, too, it was maddening.

He has the gall to roll his eyes and click his tongue at you, like he's annoyed at having to repeat himself for a third time, you can't believe it, and his hands come to rest on his hips, his body open, so you can clearly see, read him like a fucking open book.

"I ain't going nowhere, I ain't leaving this room, unless you say something," Joel starts again, a very deep frown between his brows, you'd even dare say that he's frustrated, and then it comes again, his voice, so low, it was nothing more than a rumble, and yet the hairs of your arm and neck are raised, you shudder, "Now, how is it gonna be, sweetheart? I'm all ears."

It was a clear invitation, he wasn't asking you again, the question had an ultimatum, and it wasn't hard to tell that this is Joel's idea of giving you the push you need to break free.

A breath you didn't realize you were holding came out shakily, a lot of pent-up emotions coming up to the surface, but Joel waited, you were the one in charge, you were the one setting the pace here.

And if there was something you knew about him, it was just how stubborn he could be, growing up with that fucking asshole pushing your damn buttons all the time taught you that much, but the intent behind his attitude was never really clear— until now. He was an asshole, but he was an asshole of his word, once you took control of the wheel, there would be no going back, but you do have a choice — which was his point all along —, you can either tell him to leave, or tell him what you really want, but you have to say it like you mean it.

"I don't want you to leave." you say, your voice is low, but that's just because you don't trust what kinds of sound could escape from your mouth if you tried to talk louder.

"Okay." Joel nods at you, his smirk is a full smile now, a proud grin on his lips, but that wasn't good enough for him, not the answer he wanted to hear, and he tells you so, "You're doing good, doll, but let's be more positive, aight? I wanna hear you say what you want ."

Fuck, you're trembling, he's close, so close to you, your sense of smell is so heightened, you think, because the scent of his cologne is the only thing you can smell in that small room of yours, the deep breath you take is not even voluntary, your body is reacting on its on, the tingling, fluttering feeling you felt through your body sets and pools in your lower tummy, it's an all too familiar sensation, the arousal is undeniable.

You got all wet just with some soft words and his smell, and you know he's noticing it, it was clear, not even in a million years would Joel miss how his proximity is affecting you, his gaze is unbearable.

You'd rather not say it, but there's no other choice, your words have to come out crystal clear, otherwise he's just going to stay there and make you wait for him, that was also part of his little game, so, for fuck's sake, you take the bull by the horns, and you take another step.

"I want you to stay." Your chest heaves with your breathing, but your tone is unmistakable, he wanted to hear your voice, so there you go, saying exactly what's on your mind, your real thoughts, the ones you wouldn't dare saying aloud.

Joel looks impressed.

"Atta girl." there's a new intensity in his gaze, the smugness and pride is still there, but you've seen that kind of look before on other men, that glint of thirst, it's the most dangerous one, "Then I'll stay, darlin'. See? Wasn't it easy?"

" No. " you find it in yourself to huff, your newfound braveness is a surprise even to you, but it's hard to be anxious and self-conscious when he's moving closer to you so decidedly, "Nothing is ever easy with you."

He tilts his head to the side briefly, a small gesture of agreement, his steps are slow, but not as calculated anymore, they're shorter now, his eyes are still locked on yours, but the tension that you felt so keenly in the beginning, that air of challenge was gone, his entire focus was now solely on you.

"Guilty as charged," Joel chuckles, a hand reaching to your cheek, and the moment his thumb makes contact with your skin, you lean into the touch, it feels cold against your burning face, and it's probably the only thing keeping you from melting completely, "But doesn't it feel good, to finally let out the truth?"

His thumb moves along the softness of your cheek, he caresses the apple of it, his eyes darting down to look at your lips, his smile gets even softer, and then he says, "To finally be honest with yourself and say what you want."

His hand slides from your cheek down to the curve of your chin, and then, he cups it with a gentleness that surprised you, but then you remembered, this was no stranger, this was Joel, and the knowledge of knowing this is the same man who has watched you grow up made something hot and sticky build up in the pit of your belly, a desire so powerful that it has your brain go all mushy, your words stuck in the back of your throat, it was a pain to get them out.

" Touch me. "

Joel Miller has no right being that attractive, he shouldn't look this good, he should not have this effect on you, he had no right on having you in such an infuriating and sudden chokehold, he wasn't even trying.

You couldn't find the words to describe exactly what you’re feeling, they were all lost in a muddle of lust, it's an unbearable, mind-numbing kind of horny that had your whole body reacting so quickly to such simple actions, it was a mix of things that were starting to make you feel out of sorts.

It's not just the arousal, nor just the fact that he's here with you, so close to you that you could feel the warmth emanating from his big body, nor even just the fact that, since you're on a roll of being honest and letting loose of your inhibitions, this was your long time crush touching you, hooking his hands below your ass to lift you up as easily as he picked up your luggage from the airport.

The yelp you let out is far from the most graceful noise you ever made, your arms shoot around his neck to steady yourself, but aside from the abrupt rising, you were never at risk of falling, his arms are so solid under your thighs, more solid than the floor that was under your feet just a few seconds ago, you feel. Your core is pressed flush against his abdomen, you can feel his body warmth, and you've never been so glad to be wearing good denim pants, otherwise you would have made a mess on him just by being held.

"No need to be scared." Joel snarks, carrying you somewhere.

"A little word of warning would've been nice, though," you say back, his nose is so close to yours, and it makes your face feel warm, even the tip of his beard tickled the side of your cheek, he smelled so nice, you really are a mess.

"Oh, sorry, princess, next time, I'll do just that, just let me put you where you want first." his drawl is the last drop, his smirk is so self-assured, he knows he's dangling a treat over your head.

Joel sets you down on your room's desk, the man sets his hands firmly on top of your thighs and unceremoniously spreads them wide, making room for his body, and your eyes are just glued to the view, looking down at the show he was putting on of how your bodies seemed to be aligned to fit so perfectly together, your imagination ran wild trying to picture just how obscenely hot it would be to watch yourself get stretched out by his cock from that angle.

You set your own hand on his chest, and you don't know if it's his cologne, or if it's him, but he smells so nice, he has a musky, earthy scent of man that had you dizzy and out of focus.

"Hey, look at me." he commanded you, lifting your chin up with his fingers, "I ain't doin' anything until ya tell me, remember? How's it gonna be, darlin'?"

"Oh, you're unbelievable..." you shake your head, your words come out riding a laugh, he had you just where he wanted, the only thing stopping you was just your clothes, but he still was dead set on making you spell it all out for him.

"C'mon, doll," Joel insists, a smirk pulling the side of his mouth up, his fingers digging deeper into your thighs, you could see the shape of his dick pressing hard against the front of his pants, his other hand moving up, ghosting over your waist and chest, "It's an easy question, ya just gotta say the word, what's the holdup?"

The holdup was your pride, and maybe some remnants of shame you felt, you were never the bold kind, or the kind that openly spoke of her sexual desires and wants, that's the kind of person you never saw yourself as, even as an adult with an active sex life, so when faced with Joel, his hard-set insistence, the challenge in his dark, lust filled eyes and his soft, deep voice presented to you, the request seemed out of character.

Your words are there, but it was so difficult to bring them to light, they're at the tip of your tongue.

"We gotta practice that assertiveness, if you're really going through law school." Joel quips, and he knows exactly what he's doing, it was just the final push of well-meaning annoyance to get you talking, because how could you put up with his teasing and mocking you and not tell him to just shut the fuck up and kiss you already.

"Shut up."

He did shut up.

Joel shut the fuck up, and closed the short distance between your lips and his.

The first brush of lips was a question, barely touching yours, but it was enough to make you let out a pathetic, expectant little sigh. The second one, you met him in the middle, unwilling to let him keep toying with you like that, finding a place for your lips between his.

Joel was kissing you.

You've been waiting for that kiss for years now.

Well, maybe two, max, but that was more than enough for you.

Growing impatient with those sweet pecks, you're the first to part your lips, you brush your tongue over his bottom lip sheepishly, but with an eagerness of a person who has been denied something she wanted for such a long time, he pulls back slightly just to spite you, but Joel is far gone at this point, too. One of his hands shoots up to grab hold of your face with such despair it almost hits you, "Sorry.", he tries to murmur, but it gets lost in your mouths as soon as the apology comes out. Lord, his tongue, though.

Joel tastes like nothing else, a combination of scotch and a very distinct, personal taste that had you salivating for more. Your teeth click, a mess of lips and tongue, his beard scratching you, and it's probably the hottest fucking thing in the whole world to feel. His breath comes out harshly through his nostrils, and he lets out a guttural groan as the hand on your face goes down, exploring your neck and shoulders, keeping you still by your throat, a cheeky thumb pressing down on the hollow that your pulse ran through, just enough to feel it.

He's showing off, that much is clear to you, by the way he's so unabashed about how his tongue is in your mouth and yours is in his, the wet sounds you make echo through the room, the quiet sighs, moans and hums he's drawing out of you, it makes you feel suddenly bashful.

"Oh, don't go shy on me now, doll, c'mon." Joel pulls back, his breath fanning hot on your lips, the thumb at your neck moves down and rubs circles on your collarbones, he's got this smug smirk on his face, you've always wanted to wipe it off.

"Jesus— shut the fuck up, Joel." it comes out so much easier now that you've got a taste of him, it was all too clear to you what you really want.

He smiles, he smiles that smile you know means he's about to be a jackass, and the look on his face was pure sin.

"Keep him out o' this, princess." his low laugh rumbles through his chest, his mouth is so close to yours, he was clearly teasing you, testing your resolve, his grip on your thigh was so hard that it had a delicious sting, it had you all aflame inside and out, the tension between you so palpable, so thick you could cut it with a knife, "Ain't nothing holy 'bout what I wanna do to ya."

The next thing that came out of your mouth was just an unintelligible whimper, the way his lips and beard pressed and rubbed against the soft skin of your throat felt heavenly, it tickled just the slightest, but it wasn't enough to make you pull away. You tipped your head to the side and offered your neck to him, giving him space to do as he pleased, and Joel, like a moth to a flame, moved quickly.

His mouth was so hot, his teeth biting a mark onto the crook of your neck, making you let out a soundless, shuddery breath, a sharp, small gasp followed after a second of realization, that's gonna leave a mark, and you have no idea how to explain that to your father, hiding it just doesn't seem like a reliable option, but then you feel it, Joel's lips curling up in a smile against your flesh, that fucking bastard , he did it on purpose.

With a kiss and a long swipe of his tongue over the bite, he appeases you, the worry and surprise wear off as he licks the salt off your skin, Joel is relentless in his pursuit, he's trying to take everything off of you, your taste, your breath, your moans and sighs, he's set out on devouring you.

"God, ya look so good, darlin'. Look at you." he murmurs into your neck, his voice is strained, the drawl he puts on the pet names so obvious, and so incredibly sexy, it has a direct link to the growing dampness that has taken over the seat of your panties, his eyes move up slowly, the appreciation he's making it very obvious that he sees you as nothing less than a feast.

You could barely take it.

"Fuck." your voice comes out strangled, a newfound boldness fills your mind, the warmth in your body making you brazen. Your hands shot down to the fly of your jeans, "Stop looking at me like that, for fuck's sake—"

The sight of your hands going for your pants had a riveting effect on Joel, he went from teasing and self-satisfied to horny in an instant, and he seemed to have forgotten everything he was doing and that idiotic fucking game he was playing with you, he watched, rapt and eager as you unbuttoned and unzipped a way for him, and he's not very patient, not right now.

Joel doesn't wait for you to try and get the damn thing off your body before he pulls — better yet, yanks you — to him by your nape for another kiss, and presses his other hand on your tummy with clear intent, sliding a tantalizing trail down, until he can stuff his fingers right down your jeans and the seat of your panties.

"Wait—" you gasp, not able to fight off his iron grip on you, but it's not like you want to, "Let me get them off—"

"Ain't no need for that." Joel denies, shaking his head slightly, the hand in the back of your neck keeps you from pulling away from him, the kiss that he plants on your lips is rough, it's bruising in the best of ways, you feel it on your cheeks, but most importantly, you feel his fingertips slide easily past the waistband of your panties, just then he allows you to lean back ever so slightly, probably with the selfish motivation of being able to touch you better — as selfish as that can be.

God , you're a mess, you can feel it as his finger first touches you, sliding down your folds, just how obscenely wet it feels, the shuddering breath you let out when his digit meets your clit is just embarrassing. You have never, ever been so horny in your life.

Joel chuckles, not mockingly, he just thinks your reactions are the most adorable fucking thing, his voice is muffled when he talks into your neck, you can barely feel it as he moves to whisper in your ear, his finger tracing lazy, tight circles over your clit, "You're so fuckin' wet, sweetheart," he groans, your fingers have a vice grip on his arms, "That for me?"

Yes, yes, yes . Fucking yes, that's all because of him, and you got like that even before that motherfucker laid a finger on you, but he didn't need to know that, the last thing Joel Miller needed was that big of an ego boost, or else you were gonna find yourself a real problem to deal with.

"Fuck—" you bite back a sob, but can't hold back how your body jolts as a reaction to his touch, those fucking little circles, the slickness makes his finger glide over your sensitive little nub, he's barely even applying pressure, just taking his time getting acquainted with how you like it, he's mapping your actions and reactions like he hasn’t known you for pretty much forever, his beard and teeth and lips still kissing and biting a hot trail from one side of your neck to the other, you'll be a mess once this is over, and you hope it never ends, "C'mon— Joel— I thought we were getting to the good part?"

He lets out an indignant little snort, the sound he makes as he nips at the hinge of your jaw is something you have no way to describe, he wants a fucking piece of you, he wants it all, the thought sends your heart fluttering, you had no way to know, but this was just the appetizer of the main course.

Joel hums, he hums into the space between your jaw and ear, his finger not leaving the top of your cunt, and it's starting to get really frustrating, you could feel a spark, something that could've become something, if only he put some actual work into it.

"Ya got somewhere to go?" he teases, "So impatient..."

"C'mon, Joel, please ..." your plea clearly has an effect, you can feel the low rumble in his chest, he can't stop himself, even though you could see the glint of something devious in his dark brown eyes, a cheeky finger moving lower, searching, rubbing down your pussy, Joel is taking his sweet, sweet time with it all," Please, I want you insi—"

His thick, rough digit easily pushes past the wet, tight rim of your opening, his fingertip sinks inside, just the barest of it, but it's enough for you to lose it for a second, his touch has a jolt shooting up your whole body, your nails digging into his shoulders, the surprised moan you let out makes your cheeks burn hotter than before, it's so different to be touched by someone else, it feels like he could do whatever he wanted to you, and he'd make you take it.

There's absolutely no way anyone else could touch you like he does.

No man in this world would ever be as good as him, it was that simple, it was a truth you knew well and true.

Joel was a force of nature, you could never understand it, not even if you tried.

Your breath catches in your throat, a sharp gasp follows his finger pressing further in, it's just so fucking good to have something filling you in, filling up that insane emptiness you were feeling just a second before, it slides in so easily, making squelching sounds as your wet cunt opens up around it, taking it all, as much as he can give it to you, sliding in and out, just to test how wet and pliant your cunt is for him.

"Oh, fuck... God, yes, yes , Joel, like that." the praise, the satisfaction that's coming from your words seem to do things to Joel, too. His body moves forward, trying to press closer to yours, his face buries deep into the crook of your neck, the scent of his hair, the scent of his cologne, the sweat he's breaking, his warm breath fanning out and spreading a hot, wet wave on your skin, you hug him for dear fucking life, if the desk under you gives in, you at least know you can hang onto him, your nails latch on the fabric of his red flannel, desperate.

"You're doin' so good, baby," you hear him speak against your throat, he kisses you there, right below your ear, the vibration of his deep voice is something you'll feel in your core, forever, it'll never go away, it'll follow you, it'll stay in your memory and will come back every time you think of him, of the moment you got fingerfucked by him on top of your desk, "So fuckin' good , look at you."

God, how are you going to forget about that? It was going to drive you crazy for days, months, years to come, just thinking about Joel praising you and fingering you at the same time was almost too much. You felt his fingers wrap around a fistful of your hair, his lips on yours again, just as he slides another finger in. Fuck, if he could keep doing that— if you two could keep that up for the rest of your break, Texas would never be so fucking awful anymore, you'd come back again every time, at every opportunity, just for him.

It's just too good, the friction, the growing moans and whines that spill from your mouth are swallowed by him, and they just seem to make him go on, go harder and deeper, a curl of his fingers hits something so right that a full-bodied shudder passes through you on a round trip, a sob wrenched from your throat. He smirks, and keeps hitting the spot over and over, until he has you squirming and bucking your hips up in his direction, grinding, riding his fingers like a desperate girl, so filthy.

"Fuck— please, Joel— god, right there—!" you hiccup, your mouth hangs open as you squeeze your eyes shut, for a moment the only sounds that can be heard are his breathing, the quiet muttered praises he showers you in that you can't quite make out right now, and that wet symphony of your pussy around his thick fingers, your voice seems to clog and get stuck on your throat, your tummy tightens up, like a coil, the pleasure so overwhelming.

One of your hands slams loudly on the wood under you, just holding on to him isn't enough anymore, the firmness of the desk provides you with just enough support to brace for what it felt like imminent impact.

"C'mon, doll," he urges you, he can feel you fluttering and clenching around his fingers, holding on to his knuckles, God, it's one of his favorite feelings now, no pussy ever felt like yours, and he didn't even get to see the damn fucking thing yet, just fingering you under your beat up jeans was more fun and satisfying than most sex he'd had as of recently, "Show me— c'mon, that's it," he speaks lowly, "I want you to cum for me, alright, sweetheart, cum for me."

Your voice breaks free in a mellow shriek, a gasp for air, a loud sigh of relief as it washes over you like a tidal wave.

"fuckJoelyesyesyesYESpleaseitfeelssofuckinggood—"

What comes out of your mouth is just a string of undecipherable, desperate, whiny moans, your whole body jerks forwards, and it almost feels like falling, but he's there right in front of you, strong as ever, more than anyone you've ever met, to hold on to you, kissing soothing patches on the little skin your t-shirt offers him, but he'll take it, he'll take everything he can get, he'll kiss you forever, if he can.

Joel only lets go of you — barely — back on the desk when your whole being relaxes from the sudden tension, you had gone slack in his arms, but that's not new. His hands come back out of the confines of your pants, and the wetness he found inside makes your thighs shiver, a faint silky, translucent trail connects you for a moment, before it's gone as quickly as it came.

God, your legs feel like jelly, you don't think you have it in you to walk, but it can't stop you from trying. What can stop you from trying, however, is the man in front of you.

"Nah, ah, slow down." he reprimands, pulling you back up before the tip of your toes could even touch the floor, though his tone isn't stern, and he has a grin on his face when he simply sticks his fingers, all coated in your arousal, inside your mouth, "Don't go runnin' off on me."

There's no energy left in you, or will, to fight him, he can call you a fucking pushover if he wants to, but you do as he clearly commanded, sucking his digits clean, eating your own release straight from his fingers.

He's pleased, with you, with your blatant display of compliance, of eagerness and how willing you were to be so goddamn dirty in a heartbeat. Joel is pleased with you.

"There's a good girl," Joel mumbles, his dark eyes fixed on yours, he looks like he's not able to take them off you, like if he blinks, he'll miss something really, really good, "Just perfect, darlin’, you’re perfect."

The words sound like a lull, his thumb moves to trace the line of your bottom lip, your eyes flutter close, and the weight of your own exhaustion presses on you. A soft smile curls his lips, it's warm and sincere, you feel like melting in a puddle at the sight, it was hard not to give into it.

"Hey..." he calls out for you, pulling you a bit closer, just so he can brush your nose with his.

You blink, a little lost, you could get so lost in him.

"Fuck, did I knock you out?" he chuckles, lovingly pulling you against him, you rest your chin on his shoulder, and let him do what he wants with your hair, run his clean hand through your locks, he's kissing the shell of your ear again.

"Maybe." Joel can hear the smile on your voice as you say it, you take in a deep breath, almost as if you didn't get enough air throughout all this, "This was... insane."

"Is that a compliment?" his laugh, so clear, and his breath tickling the side of your neck has a warmth spread on your chest.

"Absolutely." you nod, your arms come to lock around his frame, almost like a hug. It's funny, that's probably the first time you ever hugged him, "Don't get too used to it, if you don't start changing up your attitude a bit."

His response is an annoyed grunt meant only halfheartedly, you almost think it's a threat of a laugh, actually, "I'll take what I can get, then."

Joel pushes you away a little, just so he can get a good look at you, his eyes roam your current less than regal state with an almost worried glint to them, trying to gauge if you're okay, or if there was something else you needed. He's always been very attentive to details, after all, his eyes linger a bit on your hair, a little longer than what you think it should.

"So," he starts, not knowing if he should bring this up, but, well, the thought had already crossed his mind, so he just let the question come out, "Was it worth it? Using your words?"

"It... was. I liked it a lot, honestly, you— you did great, I wasn't expecting... you know."

"Uh, yes, I was not expecting it either."

A soft laugh leaves your mouth, a smile plays on your lips.

"Oh, so it wasn't a plan of yours all along? Some machination of yours?" your tease earns you a very dragged out eye roll, it takes another laugh out of you.

"What do ya think I am? Some kind of mastermind?" he scoffs, shaking his head, and looking a little bit hurt, like you'd offended him, "You know, not everythin' that I say has some kinda double meanin'. Not everyone's like that."

"No, no, I get it," you assure, patting him in the shoulder, "Not everything you say is some secret agenda."

Joel's frown and slightly pinched expression dissolves with that, a tiny sigh leaving his lips, and he takes a few steps backwards, to give you space enough to put yourself, "Think ya can fix yourself up? Take a nice shower, put on some clothes that don't smell like fuckin' Boston?"

You cock your head to the side, and look down at yourself, then at him, "What about you, though?"

"Me?" Joel seems legitimately confused for a second, until he follows your gaze down, his hard on is still there, hard as ever, straining the denim of his pants. He looks back at you, a brow raised, arms crossed, you know that posture, some stupid fucking quip is about to come out of his mouth, "Think you can take it?"

The idea has a shiver running through you, you felt the dull ache on your inner walls, even as your breathing steadied.

"I don't think you can, not right now." he says before you can get a word in, and he grins at you, it's different that his other grins he'd always give you before, but it has the same fondness, "I'll be fine, I'm a grown man, I can handle it."

He could say that all he wanted, but you still see the discomfort, the little fidgety moves he does to find a good way to position his junk.

You could do it, though. If it came to that.

"You sure?"

"I'm sure you need a fucking shower." he claps back instantly, not giving into your offer, "I made a mess all over you."

"So crude, Jesus..." you scoff, but your feet dangle under you, completely carefree, the edge of the desk is digging on to your flesh, you think it'll bruise a bit, you can feel it in your ass, it was worth it, "You kiss your daughter with that mouth?"

"Sure, all the time." Joel grins, and takes the liberty of starting to tuck in his flannel back into the hem of his jeans, "And do even worse shit to you."

"Wow, real fucking classy." your voice is laced with sarcasm, though it lacks bite, your legs sway left to right as you watch him put himself back in order. It's such a mundane task, really, and you feel a little dumb for not realizing how you pulled and tugged at him, though he doesn't seem to mind.

Silence falls over you both as he finishes putting himself back in order, it's a comfortable kind of silence, for once, but Joel is still the first one to break it.

"If ya need me to, I'll stay a bit longer until after you shower, help you put your things in place..." he's interrupted by a buzz, Joel reaches a hand to his front pocket for his phone, an iPhone half a dozen generations old, checks the screen, and stuffs it back in, unbothered, "That kind of thing."

Your brows shoot up in curiosity, he didn't even pay whatever it was on his phone half his mind, his attention never faltered from you, his offer still hangs in the air, you want him to stay, but—

"Don't you have... things to do?" you ask, genuinely curious, "I mean, someone rang you up."

"It's just Sarah textin' me, askin' if I picked you up from the airport already, because I seem to be takin’ a long time to come back." Joel explains it to you, his gaze sweeps your desk and the floor, where the little chaos your activities had brought to it was. The laptop's screen has gone dark, so it probably died, but it's the only thing he could see out of order, "Should I tell her?"

He smiles at how you laughed, the affection in his gaze makes you feel warm inside.

"Don't you dare," you reply, jumping from the desk, your knees a little wobbly, and you fall right into his arms. Joel doesn't mind holding you, keeping you close to him, you feel like the luckiest woman in the whole state, maybe in the world, "But you should go back to her, y'know? She's your daughter."

"Yeah, I didn't forget that." he seems to not have forgotten how to be sarcastic, either, "But I know she's fine, you sure you don't want me to stay."

"It's fine." you say with a shake of your head.

Joel, like you were watching an old scene from an old movie, takes that characteristic deep breath of his, the trigger seems to be your tagline, it riles him up so much, apparently. You think it's funny.

"Fine— girl, didn't we have a whole conversation about this? I had to finger more words into your vocabulary, do I have to fuck this one out of you?" his exasperation, like his smile, is soft and tender, the scowl on his face, though, it's almost intimidating, if it wasn't because you already had him all figured out.

"You can try." your words have a double meaning, a playful note, but you meant every word. You'd let him have your body if he so much as asked for it, Joel already knows that, however.

"I mean it, it's alright."

"Do you?" he presses you further, he wants to make sure you're not just saying that for the sake of it, brushing his offer off just because it could apparently inconvenience him, you forgot, for a moment, how that man was stubborn as a fucking mule.

"I do." your tone is decided, "Besides, you two will come for dinner with my dad and I, right? He invited you."

"Yeah, he did." Joel muses, a bit lost on his thoughts, "Think ya can keep your trap shut around him for dinner about this?"

"Think you can look him in the eye during dinner after this?" is your rebuttal, Joel looks a little embarrassed, a little bashful smile pulls on his mouth, his gaze flutters down, looking for something that's not on the floor, on the walls, anything to keep himself from meeting your eyes.

"Guess I'll figure it out." his hand finds your cheek, caresses the curve of your face, he sighs, a sound of longing. Joel pulls away from you, the distance already making his body ache, it's not lost on you, you kinda feel the same way.

But it's fine, it really is. You'll see him and Sarah later today, still, this is not over, whatever this is.

The man opens the door to your room, opening it so he can leave, "I'll see you later, then, doll." he says, but then he shoots you a glance of mock sternness to you, over his shoulder, "I'll still fuck the 'fine' outta you, ya hear?"

You laugh, shaking your head.

"Alright, old man."

And before he closes the door, you catch one last glance of him, for now.

You hope he does.

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller one shot #dbf!joel #dbf!joel x reader #f!reader #pedro pascal characters #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #no outbreak!joel miller

[littlenahsstuff]

Liar

Amanda Young x Reader

Warnings: blood, gore, angst, betrayal, choking, sad with a happy ending, slow, mentions of character death, self harm, blades, anxiety, longer fic, pov shifts kinda, also it’s mainly Amanda’s pov just cuz

Summary: you find out Amanda is a serial killer the hard way, by falling into a trap she made. You survive but does your relationship?

A/n: suggestions are welcome as long as they’re nice, also not proofread

Amanda missed another one of your dates because of her job, which, you don’t know anything about. You were hoping she was just some high level agent if you were being honest. It would explain the natural muscles and bad-assery that was your girlfriend. That’s also why she keeps getting cuts and bruises you tell yourself.

You at least knew that they weren’t from self harm, they were too scattered to be from that and you can somehow tell when Amanda hides self harm scars. It’s like a sixth sense, telling when she’s in danger.

You got the feeling more than you’d like too, but it was a little different when it was caused by Amanda herself. She seems more satisfied with herself sadly.

You just want your precious girl to be happy and safe, even if it’s only been a couple of months she’s your entire world. It just kinda happened but at this point in your life Amanda was the only person you talked to other than the occasional phone call from an old friend once a year. You were just floating right now with Amanda being your rock to tie you down and you, hers.

You convinced her to go on anxiety medication. Well, she refused to get a prescription (she can’t go to the doctors after Dr. Gordon) so she kinda shares your prescription both well aware that’s not a good idea but it does seem to help her and you would do anything for her.

The downside is you aren’t taking your prescribed amount and your next appointment to try and up the dosage, so one pill does the trick for both of you when you split it in half, is months away. You yourself are falling, you can feel it. You keep telling yourself that you gotta just wait it out and take it one day at a time for Amanda.

Right now you’re driving home from work in the rainy city. Your apartment is not Amanda’s yet but what little free time she has away from work is spent there so it might as well be.

A particular bolt of lightning hits a little too close for your liking and the booming thunder after it chills you to your bone. You don’t feel so good.

You try to just focus on what’s ahead while steadying your breathing. Traffic is light on the outskirts of the city, the small complex is right on the town line in a small patch of woods next to one of the parks.

You hate outside dark, outside dark is open and anything could surround you on all sides. You run up to your floor and flick on the lights but to no avail the darkness still remains. Your stomach is tight as a knot at this point, really wishing the owner allowed candles or that you had remembered to buy more batteries for the flashlight.

You grumbled to yourself, thinking you should just go to bed early. So feeling your way through the pitch black apartment, you stumbled a total of three times and now have a stubbed toe. It was a great fucking night that’s for sure.

Your bed offered little to no relief on your aching post-work back but the exhaustion was taking over rapidly. You shuffled a little to get comfy but then heard a creak of a floorboard.

“Hello?” You called out. Nobody answers, why would they. “Mands is that you? Come on you know how scared I get babes. Not the time to do this shit,” no response and yet another creak. You were still though, it couldn’t have been the bed which never makes much sound anyways. You sat up now and try to train your eyes to the darkness, no moonlight was there to help.

You frantically open the drawer to your dresser and procure a weapon Mandy gifted you for protection, boy were you great full now. You couldn’t tell where the thing or person was so you waved it about hoping it would get them.

Your eyes started to adjust and you saw a figure in the corner, once it realized you could see it, it lunged forward at you, sticking you with what you assume was an anesthetic by the lightheaded feeling making it hard for you to push them off. Your screams were muffled with a hand, you tried to bite them but it felt like you were swimming in syrup. Eventually everything just stopped as you lulled backwards.

The figure swooped you over their shoulder and took you out of your apartment, stuffing you in the trunk of a car pulled of to the back of the building.

Amanda’s POV:

She really did feel awful that she had to cancel another date, she knew that whenever she did you just stayed at work later in hopes to distract yourself. She knew you understood but if you knew what was really happening she’s not sure the understanding would still apply.

John called her in with a special request, no details were given about this person and she wasn’t even the one to kidnap them. All she had to do was come up with a new trap. She thought it was like a test to see if her engineering skills have gotten better as well as her “moral” compass. John always was better at tinkering than her and John had found out about her previous unwinnable games so this was most likely just a checkin to see if she would deter again from the purpose.

She blames herself, if she didn’t get all trigger happy with the traps she wouldn’t be missing another date night. She triple-checked to make sure this game was beatable but not too easy, John doesn’t like it when they are too hard orrrr to easy. It was a comfortable in between but definitely still very much challenging. Whoever plays it would have to give up a lot of blood to live if they aren’t careful. It was a solo game, that’s all that was required for this one.

She really hoped that this would be done quick. So while the trap might have been beatable, the timer was set to go off probably fifteen minutes before it should. Good luck to whoever plays this, she hopes they’re pretty bad or else the guilt will eat at her for the rest of the month. Sometimes John picked stupid targets that didn’t do anything bad necessarily as much as he believes it with his “solid” ideals. Maybe after John dies she can hand everything over to mark and move far away from this hell city with you. As much as she wants to, she needs to take care of John for the time being. He’s practically her father at this point.

With the trap finally finished she hands it over to Mark who’s been oddly quiet in the corner. He had a smug expression nobody liked, he was up to something.

“Hope you didn’t make this one unbeatable,” he laughs. He never cared if they were or not before so she’s a little put off, assuming he’s just teasing her for her screw up with John.

“Yeah, yeah,” she mutters and turns around to pick up her stuff. She just wants to get home to you so bad.

“Hold up,” Mark stops her, “John wants you to watch live with him. She groans in response.

“Fine let’s get this over with,” and with that they leave.

It was the same old set up, a rusty building. She definitely didn’t like the idea of having to get a tetnus shot. She hates needles, preferring to sedate people using chloroform or with blunt force to the back of the head.

She split ways with mark, her going to the observing room where John was already.

“Hello Amanda,” he croaked smugly.

“What is with you and Mark, you guys act like you just got the president?”

“They certainly are important but no, they are not the president. I can’t wait to see your work on them, I’m sure after our talk this trap will be exemplary?” He tilts his head upwards. She awkwardly laughs, his questioning gaze makes her slightly uncomfortable.

“Should be,” she mutters.

“Well then let’s begin.” She turns on the cameras to see marks back covering the kidnapped. She yawns but when he moves away it cuts off with a choke. She really hopes her eyes are deceiving her, she still can’t see much of the face but everything else looks exactly like what you were wearing this morning. They really need better cameras but money is tight in the Jigsaw business.

“So, I didn’t ask before but what’s the name of this one?” She starts to panic, please don’t say your name, please.

“I thought you’d recognize Y/n?”

Everything shatters, she doesn’t know what you could have possibly done to deserve this so she assumes it’s her fault for going against orders.

“John please, you and I both know she doesn’t deserve this. She isn’t cruel I would know she tells me everything, I put a tracker on her all she does is go to work!” She’s pleading for your life right now.

“I know, this is for you though. Even if she has done nothing she lacks the understanding you and I have of our message. The only way to understand is through this method. If she doesn’t make it out than she’s not worth it anyways, she didn’t fight hard enough for you.” His explanation makes sense but what happens when you don’t. She already knows you’d fight for her as hard as you could, she doesn’t need proof of that. And honestly she was content on hiding this part of her life from you forever.

Oh god, you must have been so scared, your about to be terrified when you wake up. She’s torn, she could get you and risk everything, Mark would kill both of you anyways and John might let it happen too. She has to painfully wait it out.

“I can see your worried, rightfully so, this is good. I promise. We do good for the world, and I’m doing good for you.” She wants to strangle him but she just breaks down sobbing. She sees you moving on the monitor in the corner of her eye and her breath hitches; you’re awake.

Mark had left the room and made no attempt at sticking around. He probably went home like the two of you should have.

She didn’t want to watch but she needed to see how you progressed. There was a collar on you’re neck that squeeze a millimeter tighter every five minutes, which originally would have killed you in an hour but she adjusted it so it gave you forty-five minutes. It’s incredible how cruel life can be. She threatened somebody’s life more just to get to you but now she might not get to you because it’s you who might die.

There was no audio but she could see all of the panic by the way you tensed, she would hate herself forever. You were not completely an idiot, thankfully. You checked all around you immediately and then found an envelope eventually in your pocket. The next thing you found was the tape recorder taped on the underside of an old table.

She had no idea what it said or how helpful the hints would be. She always debriefed John on how to disable the traps because his favorite thing was to record those tapes, so she let him. Her stomach jolted when she remembered your device cut into your neck as well. It wouldn’t draw blood until the thirty minute mark but blood loss was an added motivator to get the player to hurry up. She could tell you wanted to throw up when you heard something specific on the tape. Most likely that you would need to mutilate yourself more to find the key hidden inside your body. She had no idea where mark put it but she did know that your entire body had to be cut so you wouldn’t be able to tell exactly where it was put in your body just by looking.

You were then most likely searching for something sharp to preform the painful process of self-mutilation. She knew that the key would be put somewhere easily accessible at least given the time limit. You found a knife behind a pipe and you stared at it.

You hesitated, now what not the time for contemplation, Y/n.

She saw you sit on the ground and feel around for any foreign objects under your skin, when you paused and then continued to feel a specific spot right over your heart she went whiter than she had been.

“I didn’t tell him to put it there,” John muttered. He wasn’t worried for you but maybe a little for Amanda’s sanity. He thought she would be handling this better, he had to remind himself that this was in her best interests. He needed to make sure you were perfect for his little girl.

She just stared blankly at the screen. It had been 25 minutes already, you had just enough time to gauge the key out but you were looking worse for wear and had to be very careful with the cutting. You now had your shirt off and we’re biting down on it as the blade sliced your skin where the cut already was. You were shaking, barely managing to get the key.

By the time you got it out it was only 2 minutes left which you used to unlock the death collar. You threw it with whatever might you had left to the other side of the room.

When the timer was finally up the collar snapped tightly together. You where bleeding everywhere, but still stood back up to greet Billy the Puppet as he wheeled in to the now open door. Again she had no idea what he was saying to you but you looked right at the camera and ran out the door. She could hear your footsteps come closer to her room.

You burst in with a newfound strength and yelled as well as you could with a sliced neck,

“Amanda are you okay, oh my god I was- are you hurt? Oh-“ you stopped and looked around her, John was still there but what really confused you was that she looked not only completely fine, but that there were monitors with the room you were just in on them.

“Before you go allow me to explain,” John spoke up, “you my dear have been chosen to help revive humanity. What that was, was a test. You passed and now appreciate life. Amanda here did not know about you, however, she did make the trap. If you join us then, you too, can spread an appreciation for life.” Your eye twitched and you looked back and forth and back and forth and then collapsed.

Amanda ran to catch you, this was from blood loss and probably you finding out she was a serial killer as well as working with the man who now not only gave her trauma but you too.

You knew how fucked up that ordeal made her, you know how badly her nightmares still are. What you didn’t know was that even though she’s mentioned feeling more alive and slightly grateful that she herself would become the thing that she feared.

“She passed. I’m gonna patch her up, she just needs time,” Amanda sniffled, tears finally poured down her face. You were still here, she would never let you go again. She dragged you out of there and back to her room where all her medical supplies were, and she started to patch you up, kissing each stitch despite it getting her bloody too.

When she was done she laid you to rest and started to come up with things to say to beg you to stay when you inevitably break up with her. She doesn’t know if she can let you go but she realizes it’s ultimately your decision. She’s already hurt you so much.

Twenty minutes go by when you awake to Amanda holding your hand. Your eyes aren’t open but you desperately wish that none of that was real. The aching and stinging pain coursing through you was a dead giveaway that this was real. You peeled your eyes open to a greatfully dim room, Amanda’s room.

“Your awake,” she states.

“Were you gonna tell me if the Jigsaw killer didn’t put me in that situation?” You asked. She didn’t want to lie anymore

“No… but I wanted to forget about it myself. I just wanted to spread the message until John- the Jigsaw Killer died. I was gonna runaway with you so we could live happily. I would never miss a date night again and yeah, you wouldn’t have known about that but I couldn’t lose you. I never wanted this at all, I just didn’t want you to leave me. I will never ever hurt you again. I technically owe John my life and in the process of repaying him he treated me like a daughter more than anyone before. I know you know I’m sick but it’s so much worse than that, I care about you both so much. I would have gotten you out of there but the man who put you in there, Mark, would have killed you anyways. I know I am a sick person, I will never pay enough for this but please don’t leave me, please! You are the only thing that makes me feel normal and sane. You can leave when your better if you must. But if you are willing, we can work together, the idea is insane but you and I are proof that it works. I want to live life again and live it with you please.”

You look at her and your eyes gloss over, you have no idea what the hell to do but as much as you hate it she’s all you’ve got too. Everything is screaming at you to just run away to the hospital and get their asses arrested. Everything.

Except your heart.

You fought to live for her, you could have waited for death rather than living through this trauma but you fought to see her again and when that puppet told you she was here you had the exact same look of horror still plastered on Amanda’s face. He’s right and you know it, you want to live more. Maybe you’re more fucked up than originally thought.

“Okay” you say

She tilts her head afraid to ask you to continue so you do for her.

“I can’t leave you, but I don’t want to be a part of this idea for awhile,” you wince, “I need time to think that over but I know that after everything I still just wanna be held by you. I’ll stay…” you pause, “I don’t forgive you right now but if you ever lie to me again I will leave faster than that stupid puppet can wheel into a room. I know you wouldn’t hurt me on purpose, but it’s going to take a bit till I can trust you again.”

She finally lets go of a breath she’s been holding in since she met you. You’re gonna stay with her even though you know everything and went through it.

You’re staying.

“Yes, now come on into the bed I’ve had an insanely long day.”

“Anything for you”, she replies, kissing you softer than ever before.

#amanda young x reader #the pig x reader #amanda young #saw #saw franchise

[zayndrivesmeinvain]

The One That Got Away - Part 3

A.N. - Part 3 is finally here! I apologize for the delayed upload but unfortunately work and life got in the way of things but I'm hoping to create a consistent posting schedule soon!

Pairing: Single Dad Harry Styles

Summary: Alena finallys gets a night out on the town with her friends, but will it go as planned or will surprises and feelings arise?

Word Count: 3.1K

*********************************************************************

Alena 

- 

“Fine, I’ll come.” my phone has been buzzing non stop. 

This weekend's one of the first weekends that I am going out in a long time. I typically use my weekends to catch up on chores or run errands since Harry typically has Aria for the weekends, but this weekend my friend’s convinced me to come out with them and have a girls weekend. We’ve all been preoccupied with life and what better way they thought to come together and go out and have some fun. 

I’m not much of a partier if I do say so myself, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t indulge in it ever - back when I was younger, the weekend parties were something I looked forward to - the drinking, the music, the friends, the games, the angst - EVERYTHING. However, that was short lived because by the time I was just at that age to drink and do things legally, I was blessed with my baby girl and responsibilities and motherhood took precedence over the weekend parties. 

“Yay! Alena’s hitting the town.” My friend Molly was on the other end of the Facetime call laying on her bed with a face mask on. 

“Ugh, I don’t even know what to wear though - I’m sure anything I have probably doesn’t fit anyways.” I was rummaging through my closet which is 90% of lounge wear, 10% of business casual clothes in which I recycle once a week to wear to work. “I don’t even own half of my wardrobe before Aria, Mol.” my voice probably sounded defeated but I am trying to stay hopeful for my friend because I know she’s looking forward to this outing of ours. 

“Lena, come on! You have to have something hot and flirty in that closet of yours - I know you do!” Molly’s a long-time friend of mine - she’s been around through the thick & thin of mine, however, our lives are the complete opposite end of the spectrum. Where I am on mommy duty 90% of the time, she is out free and living her life. She is a radiologist at our local hospital and due to her schedule, she has just enough time and energy to have a great balance of work and play. I truly believe that she is the one that keeps me young. 

“Do you think leggings and a baggy sweat-shirt are acceptable for dinner and bar and club hopping?” I flashy a cheek smile across my Facetime screen and Molly gives me the biggest eye-roll. “Lena, if you’re not at least wearing something that’s tight tonight, I am going to beat your ass sensely.” Molly makes her way to her bathroom and takes her phone with her. “Lena, stop acting like a mom for once and be free - shake your ass and show your tits off! Maybe even make-out with a guy - honestly when was even the last time you got fucked?” Molly places her phone down just in time for me to flash her my middle finger. 

“ Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t know getting fucked was supposed to be on the agenda while also picking my daughter up from school, providing for her and basically making sure she doesn’t die.” I shut my closet door and make my way to my kitchen because I’m starting to get a little hungry and a snack doesn’t sound too bad right now. 

“Lena, I love you but step out of the mom role, even for one night - you are still allowed to have your own personality and be your own person, I promise you, you going out for one night will not make Aria love you any less. Plus, who doesn’t love a sexy milf.” Molly has a way with words, that’s for sure. 

“Plus, word around town is that your baby daddy has been seeing someone. Don’t you think it’s time for maybe you to get out there a little bit and meet a few people that could even be remotely interested in you?” Molly’s words sting a little, but I’m not sure if it's because she brings up Harry seeing some or if it’s because it's the “word around town” and I feel somewhat protective of his privacy and his business because he’s the father of my child.

“Yeah, I already knew that.” I take a bite of my toast. “He asked me the other day if it’s okay to introduce Aria to her - from the sounds of it they seem to be getting serious. I’ve been talking to Anne a little bit and she tells me that he seems to be happy and gets this - he hasn’t been seeing anyone else.” 

“I’m sorry - you’re telling me that he asked for your permission to introduce Aria to his girlfriend and you agreed?” Molly seems to be severely taken back, her face  expression if not her tone says it all. 

“Yeahhh… why wouldn’t I be? He is Aria’s father and I am trusting his judgment, so if he thinks it was the right call - then it was the right call - point, blank, period.”  

Truth is, it did and still does bother me that he wants to introduce Aria to someone he is seeing. What if she likes her better than me? What if she grows attached to her? What if she starts calling her mom down the line? The thought of Aria calling someone else mom makes my stomach queasy, however, I can’t worry about the “what ifs” and just hope and pray that she isn’t mean to my baby girl. 

Harry’s and I’s relationship is complex, on the one hand I want him to be happy and find someone but on the other hand I want someone to hurt him the way he hurt me so he can truly understand what it feels like to put your absolute all into someone, just for them to take - stomp on it and give it back to you in bits and pieces and I truly believe if it weren’t for Aria, I would have stopped all communication with Harry Styles years ago.

-

The rest of my day consisted of cleaning up my house, working on organizing and cleaning out my fridge and finally deciding on outfit for later on tonight. I even had some time to get a home-work out in. I guess just subconsciously knowing that I am going to be wearing something tight tonight makes me feel as though an hour work-out is going to give me my pre-baby body back but I know it's just a ploy to make myself feel better. 

While rummaging through my closet I was able to find a tight body-con midi dress that I wore once and apparently still fits - however, when I say this dress is tight - it is tight. The last time I had worn this dress was right when I was just about 3 months pregnant with Aria and I had more than enough room in this dress to hide my little bump, but now, I am fuller in places I wasn’t before. For starters, my breast feel as though they are up to my chin at the moment and my ass has probably doubled in size since I last wore this dress, but this dress seems to be the best and if not only option I have that can be worn tonight because Molly made it very clear that I was not to dress for comfort tonight. 

- 

“Alena, holy fuck you look hot.” I have just arrived at Molly’s apartment where our other two friends are as well. Molly is dressed in a cute spaghetti strap mini dress and has paired it with sparkly pumps, my feet just hurt looking at the height of them. 

“You don’t have to exaggerate Mol, I’m still coming out with you.” a chuckle escapes my lips as I make my way into Molly's apartment. I know her reaction was genuine but I also am not privy to the fact that she’s trying to boost my confidence a bit as well. 

“Oh I know you’re still coming out - I would actually drag you out of your house if you tried pulling a fast one on me!” Mol’s slightly intoxicated but her genuine personality and sassy attitude is still peaking through which I absolutely adore her. 

My other two friends Vanessa and Maria are just right around the corner making some cocktails as I make my way further through Molly’s apartment. It’s a beautiful apartment, two beds, two baths with a spacious open floor plan and a beautiful view of the city skyline. Her apartment is decorated mostly with whites and grays with a hint of pink throughout used as her accent color which matches with her personality graciously, she's one of the girliest of girls there is. 

-

The four of us mingle for about another hour as we get a few cocktails in and catch up on life before the actual night begins. Throughout the last hour, the biggest thing I have realized is that all of our lives are so different but the biggest difference between my friends is that I am a parent and they are not. Where they worry about whether or not they will be able to get up in the morning because they stayed out all night and drank - I have to worry about whether or not my daughter has everything prepared for school the next day on top of getting myself ready for work. By no means is this a complaint, but it does make me wonder what my life would be like if I was just out on my own? What if I too didn’t have another human to be responsible for? 

-

The night was definitely still young - but the night life was out. We’ve been waiting in life to get into the first club and we’re just now getting close to the front. The night was warm but definitely had a beautiful breeze which made the wait outside to get in not so bad. My three friends and I are slightly tipsy from the few shots that we had back at Molly’s place and right as we got dropped off by the Uber we shared a blunt - you could say I was high on life right now and just riding the wave. 

My phone buzzed in my pocket and it was a text from Harry. He sent me a snapshot of Aria sleeping in her bed at his house in Anne’s arms. I replied back with a little red heart and slipped my phone back in my purse. I promised myself that tonight I was not worrying about anyone else but myself - it’s time for me to be a bit selfish for once. 

“ Hey there pretty lady, can I see your ID please?” 

I pull my I.D. to show to the bouncer and he gives me a quick nod informing me that I was able to go in. He was a tall man with a broad build and dark features, he was pretty sexy if I do say so myself. He was filled with tattoos from the neck down it seems like which is such a turn on. I hope I get to see him later on tonight. 

“ Okay ladies, let the night begin!” We interlock hands and make our way into the nightlife - I feel like a teenager all over again, just me and my girls and no worries in the world, no responsibilities, no care! 

The night club is gorgeous, it definitely one of the more popular clubs in our area, and what is even better is that all the people here seem to be around our age or even slightly a bit older, many eligible bachelors seem to be out on the town as well. 

“Let’s grab drinks!” I yell out at my friends as the music is beyond loud and has the club thumping. 

We make our way over to the bar and we spot an opening close toward the end of the bar, where it seems to be empty. We make our way over there and take a seat, waving over to the bartender signaling that we would like to order. 

She’s a petite girl, with gorgeous blue eyes and short blonde hair that hits just at her shoulders. 

“What can I get you to drink, babes?” 

“Can my friends and I get a round of tequila shots please?” she flashes me a quick smile and a nod, a minute or two later she brings the shots over to us but mentions that they were paid for. Before I can even ask who, I spot the bouncer from the door staring in my direction. 

“Ouu, looks like someone is interested in you, Lena.” 

“He probably does that to a lot of girls, I’ll thank him later.” I wanted to play it cool but the simple gesture has me melting inside a bit. 

-

The night was absolute perfection, the music was perfect and our bodies were moving - I truly haven’t had this much fun in such a long time. My feet were starting to hurt but I was not stopping anytime soon - my friends and I were truly enjoying ourselves. Molly has run off to the corner of the club with some guy that came up to her to dance - he’s a nice looking guy, dirty blonde hair and green eyes. From what I could gather, his name’s Alex and he’s in finance. He seems enough from what I can tell but I wasn’t going to become too invested in learning too much about him, because from what I can tell - this will be a quick hook-up and probably won’t proceed for much more after the night. 

Vanessa, Maria and I make our way over to the bar again for another round of drinks when I feel a hand grip my shoulder. 

“ I wanted to formally introduce myself - my name’s Tommy.” the same bouncer who asked for my I.D. as well as the one who paid for our first round of drinks came up to introduce himself. His smile was cheeky but inviting, seeing him up close again definitely has my stomach in a knot. 

“And I wanted to formally thank you for the drinks, I’m Alena.” I put my hand out for him to shake it, and his grip is stronger than I could have ever imagined. 

“ A pretty name for a pretty girl - would you like to take a seat? I have about a 30 minute break before I have to get back to my shift.” 

“I think I could spare 30 minutes of my time.” I look over to my friends and they are both giving me a nod of approval, I can not wait to tell Molly about this later. 

Tommy leads me away from the bar, to a more secluded and a bit quieter section of the club. The seats back here seem to be more for dining, but the atmosphere and aesthetic isn't much different than the main area. It looks like he had some food pre-ordered and delivered to the table back here. The table has a single lit candle on it with two drinks, an cheese burger cut in a half with a side of fries, and a side order of onion rings. 

“Do you bring all of your muses back here?” I take a seat at the booth and Tommy sits across from me. He’s even more handsome under this light. 

“No, just the pretty one that caught my eyes tonight.” His smile makes him even more likable. 

“Oh, is that so? When will she be joining us?” a chuckle escaped his lips as he was taking a sip of his drink. 

“ A girl with a sense of humor, I like it.” 

I was feeling a bit proud of myself - I don’t normally get this social with a guy after just meeting him, but I think the alcohol is still lingering in my body and I am feeling good tonight. I feel confident, sexy and empowered and no one can take that away from me. The conversations are light, mostly just fun-facts about ourselves and how we occupy our time when we aren’t here on a random Saturday night. I find out that he works as a fire-fighter and works here to fill his time and his weekends and he gets a more steady schedule. From what I can gather from our 30-minute conversation, and quick dinner, he seems like a genuine guy that I would be intrigued in getting to know, however, I am still going to be very cautious in getting to know him. We have similar interests in music and movies and we both seem to be more introverted than anything, even though he works at a nightclub. 

“Unfortunately, my break time is now just over and I have to move upstairs to the lounge for the second half of my shift, but I’d like to take you out on a proper date sometime if that's okay?” The thought of going out on a proper date makes my heart skip a beat, but he can’t know that just yet. 

“Yeah, I’d like that, Tommy.” I ask for his phone and place my number in it, and save it as “Alena” as that is my name, but it’s up to him if he would like to change it to something else later on. 

As Tommy walks me back into the main area of the club before he goes off to the second part of his shift, he looks down and leaves a kiss on my lips. It wasn’t the most romantic kiss I've ever had but it definitely left a mark. 

“I’ll see you later, pretty girl.” 

- 

When walking back into the main area of the club, I was not expecting to see who I was currently staring at. There he was, 6 foot tall stature, curly brown hair and emerald green eyes - they looked sad. However, I couldn’t focus on that because if he was here, then where is our daughter? 

“Harry, where the hell is Aria?”

Tagged List: @gurugirl @wittlecritter @kathb59 @betchyharry @styles1999 @indierockgirrl @kittenhere

@neenaanetanya

#harry styles imagines #harry styles #fanfiction #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing #harry styles writings #anon #fanfic #dadrry #dad!harry #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #the one that got away #zayndrivesmeinvain writing

[morganski-19]

I Don't Know Which Way's Home

Chapter 2: Figuring Things Out

ao3 link, Part 1

cw: implied child abuse and grief

October 1986, One week prior

Julie wakes up to a loud bang followed by some crying. Followed by some yelling about being too loud from crying. She rolls over in the bed that isn’t hers and tries to fall back asleep, but when the blankets are yanked off of her, she’s forced to face reality. 

“Get up you lazy shit,” Janice Radburn, her foster parent, mutters at her. She isn’t much of a parent, probably why she never had her own kids. But it was a fast placement and an empty bed, so she’s stuck with her. 

Molly, one of the other foster kids, is sitting quietly on her bed, just looking at Julie when she sits up. 

“What?” Julie grumbles.

“We’re supposed to be up by eight, they didn’t tell you that, but we are.”

Julie gives her an annoyed look. “It’s a Saturday.”

Molly just shrugs. “Just how it is.”

She bites the inside of her cheek, trying to bite back the words she really wants to say. Instead, she gets up, the old bed creaking with her weight loss, and heads to the bathroom. Already preparing to fight for it when she does. 

Oliver runs into her, the other foster kid. He has a fresh bandaid across his knee, but that doesn’t stop him from running around like a lunatic. He apologizes softly before running down the hall again, another thump ricocheting from his bedroom. 

The past few days have been, eventful, to say the least. If she wanted to be more realistic, fucking terrible would be the words she’d choose. She looks in the mirror, seeing the massive dark circles surrounding her still red-rimmed eyes.

A shower would be nice, scrubbing off all the weirdness of this house in the hopes that she’ll feel ok again. Crying in a place where she can do it and not be afraid of getting yelled at for being too loud. But she’ll still probably be yelled at for hogging the bathroom. She does it anyway, though, making sure to lock the door behind her. 

When the stream of water hits her, everything breaks. Half-silent sobs rip from her throat as the tears stream down her face. She hates her life, she hates this home. She hates that tomorrow she’ll have to say goodbye to her mom forever, even though she’s already long gone. 

Once she towels herself off, she slips on one of her mom’s old sweatshirts. It’s been glued to her body since that night, unable to take it off. If she closes her eyes and tries just enough, she can imagine it as her mom’s arms, her perfume still woven through the fabric. Faded from a little overuse, but still there. It mixes with the hurt to form a sense of comfort, that her mom is still there. 

Someone bangs on the door. “Get out, you prick,” Mark Radburn yells from the other side, his grumpy personality seeping through the barrier. When she opens the door, she can’t even get the whole way out before he’s bounding past her, shoving her out with the door, muttering, “Bathroom hog.”

She shakes off the side that touched him and heads downstairs. The kitchen is a mess in what she assumes to be their normal. Beer bottles litter the countertops and stubbed-out cigarettes are thrown across the floor. The milk left out on the counter and a spilled bowl of cereal in a puddle on the floor. She’ll have to clean it up, she’s sure of it.

Grabbing an apple that’s surprisingly not mushy and a granola bar, she heads for the back door. When the coast is clear, she opens it as quietly as the squeaky hinges let her, and runs. 

. . . 

Present Day, October 1986

When Steve wakes up, he almost forgets the events of the previous night has happened. That it was all some weird dream breaking up his nightmare streak. But as he walks into the hallway and sees the guestroom door he normally leaves open shut, it all comes crashing back. Realization sinks through his body as he stares at the door. 

He has a sister, a half-sister. His dick head of a dad knocked one of the many secretaries that he slept with and hid it. From him and his mom. 

Betrayal fills his body as he walks down the stairs. How could he do this to him, to his mom? To Julie? Cheating was already unforgivable in his mind, but his mom put up with it for some reason. But to have a child with someone else. That might be the final straw to break. 

He picks up the phone in his living room, letting the sleep fill his voice enough to feign sickness so he can get out of work. Keith puts up a bit of a fight but Steve wins, he always does. Robin will just hate him slightly because she’ll be left alone in the store on a Saturday with Keith who is incredibly unhelpful. 

Heading to the kitchen, he starts a pot of coffee. He’s not quite sure what Julie likes to eat, but he’s never met a kid who doesn’t like pancakes. So he grabs the mix and makes the batter, preheating the pan and plopping the batter into it when it’s ready. He makes some plain and sprinkles chocolate chips in other ones. For options. And because Robin likes them. 

Steve pours himself a cup of coffee when it stops dripping, adding in some creamer. He turns around to grab a plate to put the pancakes on when Julie walks into the room. 

“I think those are burning,” she states, suspiciously eying the stove behind him. 

“Shit,” he says when he turns around, quickly using the spatula to get them off of the pan. He takes a breath, letting out his slight frustration before pouring more batter into the pan. “There’s coffee if you want any, mugs are in that cabinet. Or there’s tea or hot chocolate in the pantry. And there’s orange juice in the fridge.”

“That’s a lot of options.”

Steve shrugs. “I know a lot of picky people.”

Julie walks over to the cabinet he pointed at, uncertainty in her movements. Not like he blames her, she’s been in this house for twelve hours and talked to him less than that. It’d be unrealistic of him to think that one conversation would be enough to make this not awkward, but he’s trying. She pours some coffee from the pot, following Steve’s direction of where the sugar and creamer are. 

“I thought you were still asleep,” Julie admits, sitting on one of the chairs at the island. “Thought a heard snoring.”

He snorts. “That would be Robin.”

They sit in silence while he makes the rest of the pancakes, successfully not burning another one. He sets the plate on the center of the island, taking the seat farthest from Julie so he doesn’t crowd her. 

Thankfully the silence is cut by Robin entering the room, still half asleep and tripping over her own feet. 

“Morning,” she mutters, immediately making her way to the coffee pot. She steals a pancake on her way, eating it with her hands. 

“There’s something called a plate, you know?” he snides as she gives him the finger. 

“This one’s burnt,” she says with a slight gag. Steve hears Julie snicker and decides to let it go. 

“I called out of work.”

Robin groans. “You’re leaving me alone with Keith, Steven. Keith. He is going to stand there and watch a movie that is not appropriate for the children coming in today while eating a bag of neverending Cheetos, getting his dust all over himself and the movies, while trying to hit on me as much as he can.”

“I told you if he’s given you a problem I’ll talk to him.”

She rolls her eyes. “And get both of us fired, no thanks.”

“Or finally annoy him enough to quit.”

Robin snorts while grabbing another pancake. “Like he’ll give up his neverending movie powers.”

The front door rattles before it slams into the wall and then shuts again. “Steve,” Eddie yells into the hallway, finding his way to the kitchen. “Oh good, you’re not dead.”

“The hell did you tell him last night?”

“That you had a migraine so we canceled movie night. I said you didn’t have to come over, dumbass.”

Eddie walks up to Steve and grabs his head. “I had to make sure that this pretty little head was ok,” he says mockingly while squishing his cheeks. “Lord knows he’s hit it enough to be concerning. Ooh, pancakes.” 

He reaches over and grabs a pancake, eating it with his hands like Robin. “You both know where the plates are.”

“Why dirty a dish when I have two perfectly good hands?” It’s at this moment when Eddie finally sees Julie sitting at the island, looking way too interested in this whole interaction. “Lawson?”

“Hey, Eddie,” Julie says, slightly confused. “How’ve you been?”

Steve can see Eddie visibly trying to connect the dots. “Pretty good considering … everything. I’m sorry, what are you doing here?”

“You know Julie?” Robin asks, eating the last pancake. 

“Yeah lived down the street from me back when I lived in the trailer. How do you two know her?”

Steve glances over at Julie and sees her tense up at the question. He would feel wrong about telling someone about this without her permission, even if it is his secret now too. She looks at him and he tries to motion with his head over to Eddie as some form of a question. But when she gives him a confused glare that makes him feel like an idiot, he gives up.

He decides it’s probably better to tell him. Eddie is someone who knows how to keep a secret, and Steve trusts him. So he can know. But he definitely needs to have a conversation with Julie about how and who they want to tell about this in the future. 

If they decide to try and become some sort of friends, maybe family, that is. 

“Can I talk to you?” Steve asks standing up and ushering Eddie out of the room. 

“What the hell man? It doesn’t have to be a whole thing, I just wanted to know why she’s here.”

Steve shuts the door to the side room behind them. “Yeah, that’s what I’m about to tell you.”

Eddie looks at him confused. “Is this something serious? I thought you just adopted another high schooler.”

“Not upside down serious, but yeah kinda.” Steve takes a breath, trying not to feel weird about the way Eddie’s looking at him right now. He doesn’t have time to feel weird about two things at once. “Full disclosure, I didn’t know who Julie was until yesterday. She came to the house and told me that her mom knew my dad. She used to be his secretary, they had an affair, and then came Julie.”

Eddie’s eyes are blown as wide as they can possibly be. “Holy shit. What the fuck? I need a second. Jesus Christ. How are you not freaking out more about this right now?”

“Who says I’m not?” 

Eddie goes to sit on one of the chairs, Steve goes to take the one next to him. “You have a sister.”

“I have a sister.” Each time he says those words it becomes more of a fact than a surprise. “I have no idea what I’m doing, or how to do it. I’m trying to stay calm about everything but,” Steve takes another deep breath, still feeling like it isn’t quite enough. “My dad was a cheater, I’ve known that for a long time but this. This is a whole new angle of shit that I don’t know how to deal with.”

“How can you? Siblings don’t just come popping up out of nowhere, especially not as old as she is.” Eddie turns to look at him, tucking one of his legs underneath him. “Wayne heard about her mom from one of our old neighbors. Is that why she knows?”

Steve shakes his head. “Her mom told her sometime before the accident. She’s been in foster care ever since.”  

“You have that look on your face,” Eddie says with a soft gaze. 

“What look?”

“The look that you get when you want to help people. You want to help her.”

Steve leans back in the chair. “I do. She looked so scared when I offered to drive her back to her foster home last night. Said she didn’t like it there.”

“I was placed in foster care once before Wayne officially took me in,” Eddie admits, playing with a loose thread on his jeans. “It wasn’t the greatest. From what I’ve heard, most of the placements are pretty good, but there are some people out there who are just in it for the money and can be giant pieces of shit. I’m not saying that she’s in one of those homes, but I’m not saying she isn’t either. What I can say, is that she’s probably missing her mom a hell of a lot right now. They were really close from what I could tell, and losing someone like that hurts, a lot.”

Steve remembers Eddie mentioning once that his mom died when he was little. He never brought it up again and neither did Steve, not wanting to linger on tough topics. But even though it was so long ago, the pain is still there in his voice, just slightly. But Steve still notices it. 

He reaches across, placing his hand on top of Eddie’s. In a comforting way, not to mean anything. But Eddie still sighs a bit at the touch and turns his hand to hold Steve’s. 

“Just be patient with her, ok. She’s a good kid. Be patient with yourself too. This might not be some big alternate dimension life-changing shit, but it’s still real. You’re allowed to let yourself feel whatever you’re feeling about this.”

“You’ve been spending too much time with Robin.”

“No, I’ve been spending too much time with you. Only way to know that you think about everyone else except for yourself. Promise me you’ll take a moment to think of yourself.”

Steve squeezes Eddie’s hand. “I’ll try.”

“Not a promise, but I’ll take it.”

He figures it’s probably been long enough that they’ve left Julie alone with Robin. Not like leaving her alone with him would be better, he still knows nothing about her. But when he reenters the kitchen, Eddie follows behind him, Robin’s not there.”

“Where’d Robin go?”

“To change,” Julie says with a shrug, picking at the last of her food. 

Robin comes barreling down the stairs with her backpack, which she throws at Eddie while heading to the sink to fill her water bottle. “The fuck was that for?” Eddie asks with a wince.

“You two took too long talking, I’m late.” She downs the rest of her coffee and places her mug in the sink. “Come on, you’re taking me to work,” she shoves Eddie towards the door, not bothering to do it again when he doesn’t move that much. 

“See ya, Julie.” Eddie heads for the door, throwing Robin’s backpack over his shoulder. Steve follows him. “She looks like you. I didn’t notice that before, but she does,” he whispers to Steve while Robin puts her shoes on.

Robin gasps. “Oh my god, she does.” She stands up and grabs her bag from Eddie. “Good luck, don’t scare her off, don’t be too awkward, and just talk to her like a normal person.”

“Thanks for the advice,” he deadpans.

“Love you, dingus. Bye.” She leaves the door open for Eddie on her way out. 

Eddie stands with his hand on the doorknob before looking back at Steve. “Not to sound pushy or anything but, are we still on for later or not?”

“I’m not sure,” Steve shrugs. “Maybe, just not what we planned it to be.”

“Munson, move your ass,” Robin yells, hanging out of the passenger side car of the door. 

“I’m coming, Jesus. Call me later ok. I don’t care if we have to cancel, you have other things going on right now.”

Steve nods. “I will, promise.”

Eddie smiles at him, making Steve’s stomach do a flip he’s still not quite used to. “That you promise to, huh? Talk to you later, Steve.”

. . . 

Julie sits at the island, not quite sure why she’s still here. She’s still not exactly sure why she came here yesterday, not even fully believing the excuse she gave Steve. Sure he had a right to know that his dad had another kid. But maybe it would have been better to do it in a letter. That way he could decide if he wanted to find her, instead of her finding him. 

It’s still weird to her, that Steve Harrington was her brother. She didn’t know much about him other than school rumors. By the time she got to high school, he had already stepped out of the popularity spotlight. She remembers hearing about the King who fell, but after seeing him in person around the people he seems to be friends with, that doesn’t look like it. 

To be honest, everything she could have possibly known about him was shattered the moment Eddie Munson walked through the door. He was in her circle, not his. They would have never interacted in school. But now that she thinks about it, she remembers seeing Steve a few times at the trailer park visiting the Mayfeilds, especially around spring break. Maybe they got to know each other then. 

A part of her wants to leave, get the burden of her off of his plate. He didn’t have to know her just because they were related, neither did she. That wasn’t her plan. The plan, no matter how little she actually thought about it, was to find him, tell him, and leave. But then he had to offer to let her stay the night. 

Normally, she wouldn’t have taken it, but it was too good to give up. There was someone else in the house so it wasn’t just the two of them, and it gave her an excuse to stay away from that hell house as long as possible. And he seemed like a good person, he was nothing but nice to her so far. But nice was sometimes a facade, so she kept her guard up. 

But if Eddie Munson was his friend, maybe Julie could afford to let her guard down a little. Just a little bit. 

Steve walks back into the kitchen after walking Robin and Eddie out. “Are you done with that?” he asks, pointing to the plate in front of her. There’s a half-eaten pancake on it, even though she only grabbed two. He doesn’t say anything about it, though.

“Oh, yeah, thanks.” She slides the plate forward and he takes it away, putting it with his own in the sink.

How is she even going to go about this, getting to know him? She hates getting to know new people. Just stating the same five facts over and over again until maybe there was a similarity between them and that’s it. Is she just going to share her favorite color and leave?

Something about her doesn’t want to. Something wants to stay and try to find some sort of connection with Steve. Whether that be acquaintances or otherwise. He’s the only family she has left, and something about that fact makes her never want to leave. 

“So,” Steve starts slowly, leaning on the island. “I’m going to be honest, I’m not exactly sure where to start.”

“Me neither,” She admits, anxiously picking at her thumb. It’s a nervous habit she’s never seemed to break, sometimes picking at it enough for them to bleed. Her mom always tried to stop her but it never worked. 

Uncomfortable silence hangs in the air for what feels like forever, but is probably just a minute, maybe two. “Eddie said you lived down the street from him,” Steve says, breaking their silence. 

“Yeah, across the street and two doors down.” She tries to think of what to say, as if it has to have any meaning behind it. But maybe if they just get talking, that’s all that matters. “We didn’t talk much, just a few times at potlucks and things. But when I first got to high school, he showed me around, drove me when I missed the bus and didn’t want to walk home.”

Steve laughs. “Yeah that sounds like him. Surprised he didn’t try to ‘bring you into his flock’ or whatever he calls them.”

“He might have, but DND isn’t really my thing. I like writing my own stories, not playing in someone else’s.”

“You like to write,” Steve asks, walking around to sit on one of the chairs, turning to face her. 

Julie nods, bringing one of her legs up so she can sit on it to face him better. “Short stories, sometimes poetry, but I’m not great at making things rhyme. It’s fun.”

“That’s cool, I’ve never been good at writing like that. Or at all.”

“What were you good at? Or are, I guess.”

Slight shock quickly covers his face, like he’s surprised that she asked him a question about himself. “I used to play basketball in high school, and I was on the swim team. I was decent at best, but I liked it. One of the kids I babysit started playing basketball last year, so I’ve been playing with him sometimes. Kinda forgot how much I liked it until then.”

“You babysit, like look over other people’s kids?” She didn’t pin him as the babysitting type. 

“Well, I say babysit but it’s not really babysitting. Like, they’re old enough to take care of themselves and everything, but we’ve been through some stuff together so I like to keep an eye on them. They’re kinda like the family I wished I had.”

The family he wishes he had, said like he barely had a family at all. She thinks back to the lack of family pictures in the house. With all of this wall space, it’s weird for them to be left blank when they could be filled. Poster families are supposed to have posters showing off how good they are. But the walls, the house, stay vacant. And the way Steve talks about these kids, it seems to have been like that for a long time. 

Giant houses are nice, but empty all they do is sit there and show off the wrong type of wealth. Loneliness almost seeps through the walls when she notices the lack of life. Nothing to give it character, the only person leaving traces behind is Steve. 

Last night she was jealous that Steve could live in such a big house when she lived in a trailer. But she’d take that over and over again if it meant she wouldn’t be alone. 

“You must love them,” Julie finally says. 

Steve smiles, it’s probably the first time she’s seen it and it wasn’t fake. “As much as they annoy the hell out of me, I do.”

“Robin seemed nice.” He seems to talk more when it’s about other people, so she changes the topic to her. “You guys seem close.”

“We are. And before you ask if we’re dating, we’re not.”

“I was questioning that a little, but I thought it would be rude to ask.”

He shrugs. “People ask me it pretty much every day. One particular person specifically. You can ask me anything though, I’m pretty much an open book.”

Before she gets the chance to think of something else, someone knocks on the front door. Steve looks both confused and annoyed before he gets up to go see who it is. She hears them talking for a minute or two before Steve walks back into the room with a sorry expression, a man in a police uniform behind him. 

“Julie, this is Chief Hopper.”

“I’m here to take you back, kid,” Hopper interrupts. 

Coldness fills Julie up as she thinks about that place. Loud noises through thin walls, insults being thrown around, two kids she doesn’t know that she has to take care of. Just so Janice and Mark can get drunk off their asses from the pay and never lift a finger for anything about them. It’s only a matter of time before things get worse, she can tell. It’s the same behavior she’s seen with every boyfriend her mom has ever had. 

“I-I don’t want to.”

Hopper steps toward her and takes off his hat, placing it on the island. “I’m sure you don’t. But they are your guardians for the time being and called you in as a missing kid, so you have to go back.”

She looks over at Steve but is met with just a silent apology. That he’s giving up. She really shouldn’t be mad but she is. He let her stay because she said she didn’t like it there, and now he’s just willing to let her go back. Without a word to try and stop it. 

Getting up from the chair, making it squeak against the floor that is probably way too fucking expensive, she heads upstairs to grab her things. Feet stomping on the stairs like they have a mind of their own. She’s not even sure where the anger she feels is directed. But she can’t help to think it’s at herself for thinking she might actually be able to have some sort of family again. 

. . . 

When Julie leaves the room, Steve is just left there defeated. He tried to say something, but Hopper said there was no way out of it. She spent the night away from her foster house and they called it in, she had to go back. 

“Can you explain to me why she’s here?” Hopper asks acusingly. 

“They’d have to have told you if you knew to find her here.”

Hopper looks at the ceiling with a deep sigh. “Just told me she’d probably be here, not why. You’re not in any trouble, I know you wouldn’t try anything. So can you just please tell me why you have a random sixteen-year-old girl in your house.”

“She’s my sister,” Steve sighs. “My dad had an affair with her mom and then he paid her to keep it quiet. Julie told me everything last night.”

“Well, shit. That’s, something.”

Steve scoffs. “Yeah. Is there really no way she can stay here, even if it’s just for the rest of the day.”

“Look kid,” Hopper sighs. “I know you like to help the kids, but this is a lot different than that. Those parents trust you to look after them because they know you, these people don’t. And I’m not so sure they ever will. The fact is that you just learned about all of this yesterday and jumped into everything headfirst. Take some time, think about it.”

“I can’t just go around and pretend that none of this happened. I want to get to know her, Hop.”

“And I never said that you couldn’t. Just no more overnight stays and make sure she gets back by curfew. Don’t make me have to come back here again.”

Julie slams the door of the guest room before she comes back downstairs. Hopper gives Steve a sympathetic look before picking his hat back up and heading to the front door, Steve following after. 

“Julie, I’m sorry, I tried-,” Steve tries to explain. 

“Just save it, I know.” She looks at him with a cold glare that only fills him with shame. “Nice meeting you, Steve.” 

Hopper opens the door, letting Julie go out first. “Good luck with that,” he says before shutting the door behind him. 

. . .

October 1986, Two Weeks Prior

When Julie wakes up, her mom’s not there. Not like that’s unusual, sometimes she works early morning shifts at the diner before heading to her secretary job. She normally tells her about that, but last night she said nothing. Or maybe she did in her rush out the door to her late-night shift. 

Why would she work a late night and an early morning though? She’s never done it before. And considering the tips are shit and the pay is worse, she wouldn’t put herself through that. So where is she?

Julie checked around the trailer again, making sure the cot was still in the living room and that no one was in the bathroom. Checks outside to see if her mom’s car was there, and around back to make sure it wasn’t there either. Not a trace of her mother to be found anywhere. 

Going back into the house, she dials the number of the diner to check if her mom’s there. One waiter answers, saying he hasn’t seen her all morning. 

Worry fills Julie, this isn’t like her mom. Not anymore. She doesn’t go out at night anymore. Promising Julie that she wouldn’t. Her mom had broken a few promises in the past, but this was not one that she would. 

At least that’s what Julie hopes. 

An hour later, her mom is still nowhere to be seen. She calls the office she works at to see if she showed up for her shift, nothing. As she’s dialing 911 to see if they can go around different bars to try and find her, she hears a car pulling up in front of her trailer. Followed by two doors slamming shut. 

Her heart is beating out of her chest as she goes to answer the door when they knock, opening to find two police officers waiting there with solemn looks on their faces. 

“Hello, miss. My name is Officer Powell and this is Officer Callahan. Are you Julie Lawson, Rebecca Lawson’s daughter.?”

“Yes,” she responds with a shaky voice. 

Powell and Callahan share a glance before turning back to her. “Could we come in, we have some unfortunate news about your mom.”

Her heart drops as she lets them in, already planning to hear the worst. 

“You might want to sit down for this,” Callahan says, pulling over one of the kitchen chairs to sit in, making himself at home. 

“Last night, police were called to a motor vehicle accident scene over on Oak Street. A driver ran off the road and hit a tree. They identified her as your mom. She was rushed to the hospital, but as of this morning, we are sorry to say she passed.”

Tears flood Julie’s eyes as she tries to blink them back, but can’t. They fall down her face as her mind races to catch up to reality. The room blurs and she can’t hear anything over the beating of her own heart. She feels as if her soul has left her body, watching her from the outside instead of in. 

“We are so sorry, Julie,” Powell continues. “We have no idea how you must be feeling right now, but if you would like to talk to a counselor about this, we can help arrange that for you.”

Julie gapes, trying to say something but nothing will come out. She shuts her mouth and swallows, trying to calm herself down enough to say something. “What, what will happen to me?” she asks with a trembling voice. 

“You’ll be placed in child protective services, they’ll try and find some family for you to stay with or find you a foster home,” Callahan explains.

“We know that this is a lot for you to take in right now. But we need you to go and pack a bag. You can come back in a few days to get the rest of your things, but you need to come with us. We’ll give you some space while you pack, take as long as you need.”

“Just not too long,” Callahan interrupts. 

“Phil,” Powell sighs, glaring at him. “Don’t listen to him, take as long as you need and meet us outside when you're ready.”

Powell stands, pulling Callahan up and ushering him out of the door. He shuts it gently behind him and Julie can hear him chastizing Callahan behind it. 

Julie leans back on the couch, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, attempting not to break just there. But she does. Tears stream down her face as her breaths become labored and shaky. Her hand comes to cover her mouth as she sobs, covering up her pain. 

Her mom is gone. The only family, the only life she’s ever known. The person who was there for her no matter what. The person who knows her better than anyone else in the entire world. Taken from her without warning. 

And now Julie is left alone. 

Part 3

Tag list(let me know if you want to be added or removed): @homoerotictangerine, @mugloversonly, @thesuninyaface, @imyelenasexual, @anaibis, @ilovecupcakesandtea, @brainsteddielyrotted, @jackiemonroe5512, @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @cinnamon-mushroomabomination, @lolawonsstuff, @writingandmushroomdragons, @stevesbipanic, @sierra-violet, @steddie-as-they-go, @dauntlessdiva, @mousedetective, @the-daydreamer-in-the-corner, @zombiethingy, @connected-dots-st-reblogger, @that-agender-from-pluto, @allyricas, @cheddartreets, @devondespresso, @crypticcorvidinacottage, @queenie-ofthe-void @chronicpainstevetruther, @cheddartreets, @theupsidedownrealestateagent, @acidbubblegummie, @sirsnacksalot, @l0st-strawberry, @helpimstuckposting, @strawberry-starss, @freddykicksasses, @italianwhore1, @i-threw-my-name-out-the-window, @rageagainsttheapathy, @nuggies4life, @ape31, @whimsicalwitchm, @chrissycunninghamfanblog, @michellegilligan, @hippielittlemetalhead, @bridget-malfoy-stilinski-hale, @jaytriesstuff, @confused-stripes, @faeb1tch42069, @marklee-blackmore, @hel-spawn, @genderless-spoon, @mamafaithful, @estrellami-1, @starryeyedpoet17, @i-amthepizzaman

#steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #julie lawson #original female character #secret sibling au #fic #steddie fic #stranger things fic #steve harrington and julie lawson are siblings #steve's dad is a raging piece of shit #cw implied child abuse #tw implied child abuse #minor character death #tw grief #cw grief

[theminecraftbee]

did anything in particular make you decide to study grief through solving counting sheep? very much enjoyed chapter 16 but augh my heart

this one’s under a cut because I ramble a LOT here!

so: SORT OF! it’s a long story!

so scs was ALWAYS gonna be about identity. even from day one, when half my original thought was “doing this from three’s perspective would be funny”, there wasn’t a world where the story wasn’t largely about identity, because this is the kind of story you can’t tell at all without it being about that. like it was maybe day two or three of waffling about this au, at least a month before I would actually commit to writing it, that I went “oh three isn’t actually really grian” (albeit in a different way than I ended up exploring it here).

the part about grief came later.

originally, the theme of grief came about because I was trying to decide WHY martyn was about and stealing watchers. that’s when I remembered a common watcher!grian trope: it’s fairly common (at least on the watcher!grian I’ve read, which to be fair is limited) for grian to have assumed the evo crowd was dead and vis versa. and I was like. aha! martyn can be attacking the watchers in vengeance for grian being dead! then I’ll be able to REALLF play with the dramatic irony if already wanted to use, where no one but the audience knew three was grian, because there’s another angle to work at that on!

cue: oh no wait this is about grief again. (see: tumblr post that I’m pretty sure is still semi-viral.)

the thing is, oftentimes “the evo crew thought grian was dead” is played for grian angst, which makes sense in grian-focused angst fics (this is not shade). but I was like. but that’d fuck up the people involved, right. like having your fun mystery game ended by someone actually getting murdered would tear basically everyone there apart, and that’s not even considering that the evo gang isn’t the WORLD’S most communicative people already. so I went… what if I made the story about that? what if, alongside being about three and identity, it was about the evo crew, grief, and how trauma can fuck up your relationships in unique and messy ways?

plus, like. this is a winter soldier fic. a staple here is “the moment steve realizes the winter soldier is bucky”, and while in three’s arc that bit is almost all about it taking the final step to establish its own independent identity, in the other’s arcs, that’s when they have to come to terms with who three used to be. and like, even in a world where three is uncomplicatedly grian, that’s a pretty big grief to have to unpack all over again. but this is a world where three is not grian, where I realized I’d have to tag mcd despite the character who died sort of also being alive, etc. at least there, grief would have to be explored.

also, for the weight of “grian and am I him” to actually hit three, three has to have an idea of how heavy grian is. like, in the original version I had pearl with the line “oh my god why are you grian” as a joke, and three responding “who is grian”. (oh, the early darlings of this au I killed.) but that doesn’t actually hit the same way, thematically, right? because it works best if once the reveal happens, we all know how much of a shadow grian casts.

in that way it comes back to the theme of identity, because identity here is therefore kind of intrinsically linked to grief. that final hurdle three has to cross to figure itself out of “can I define who I am out from under this shadow” doesn’t work unless everyone is really grieving for that shadow, yeah?

and, well, I’m me. I can’t avoid writing grief that long, it’s a theme I tend to gravitate back towards all the time. it makes sense in a fic that ended up actually being somewhat personal thematically that I’d end up back there.

it’s just one of those things. I realized martyn was there to avenge grian and then realized the story all worked so much better if it was about grief.

anyway this was a REALLY LONG RAMBLE but I hope you liked it! a glimpse into my thoughts I guess.

#answered #thegaythespian #solving counting sheep talk #this is a meta ramble I wrote at one am so SOREY IF ITS INCOHERENT AND CIRCUITOUS AT POINTS #I JUST WANTED TO BE THOROUGH…

[compacflt]

Watched Marriage Story today, for the very first time, and had a lotta thoughts about EDTS Ice and Mav, especially their divorce-era. Wondered whether they would’ve genuinely gotten a divorce, if they’d somehow been married at that point. Charlie kinda reminded me of Ice: the benign belief in his own intellectual superiority, the self-pity, the willful blindness towards the reality of his relationship, the selfishness—not in the sense that Ice wasn’t kind or warm or loving, but in the sense that he really needed things to go his way (for them to not talk about anything). Of course Mav was no Nicole, he definitely shared his half of the blame, but I could totally imagine the two of ‘em having a huge fight that devolved into: “I can’t believe I have to know you … forever!” ‘Cause they kinda did: being in the Navy, moving around in the same circles, sharing an estranged kid they were both hoping to make-up with…

ok so part one of this ask not having seen marriage story: yeah i am 100% sure if they’d codified their relationship in words they would’ve broken up. like forever. letting all that anger simmer instead of boiling over is sometimes a blessing in disguise—if you say you’re together, you’re together. if you say you’re over, you’re over. no take-backsies on something like that. whereas if you don’t talk about any of it, the boundaries are a lot less definite. a blessing in disguise. i did (for mental torture purposes, and also for a prompt fill i [sorry to whomever sent it in] didnt hate myself enough to write) brainstorm that Bad Ending—if, say, Mav HAD been reckless and decisive and told ice “get the fuck out of my house obviously this isn’t gonna work you betrayed my trust & bailed on me at the second lowest moment of my life & conspired with a dying woman who is in love with you to ruin our son’s life in the exact same way MY life was once ruined and you blame me for turning you gay but you were already gay to begin with and You Fucking Killed My Best Friend And We Never Talk About It so fuck you we’re done” and went no-contact and threw ices shit out into the street and never went back to the hangar and changed all the locks and his phone number etc. and… say ice is like decimated for a few years straight, like numbingly and crushingly depressed, & then he meets not-his-sister-sarah and tells her the truth (that now he can realize with the benefit of hindsight & grief & loss—funny how loss always makes everything real clear all of a sudden): that he was in a long term relationship with a man with whom he was raising a child & with whom he was probably in love, and she marries him anyway, and obviously she’s not maverick and she doesn’t make him as happy as he did and she knows that but at least she stops him from being actively su*cidal and at least they can be open about their relationship in public and maybe they have a kid or two, and maybe he completely shifts his strategy and relocates to Virginia and moves his AOR to the atlantic instead of the pacific so he can get as far away from San Diego and maverick and home as possible, and maybe it works, and maybe there are some days he doesn’t even think about maverick or Bradley or goose, and when people mention the 1990s he grimaces and tries to forget, and he’s not ashamed of it so much as he is hurt by the memory of his own carelessness, and maybe he cries often and very very quietly, and maybe he gets his life back on track and before he knows it he has four stars on the opposite coast from the one he’d originally planned, and of course he’s not happy, but he’s never happy, so whatever.

Until. some event he can’t get out of. A mutual friend’s change of command ceremony or retirement ceremony or funeral. first thing he sees (like always) is captain Mitchell shining in his dress blues (like always). they avoid each other all evening, why bother trying? until someone forces them together, “weren’t you two at TOPGUN together? didn’t you guys kill all those soviets together?” and on and on, yes, we were, this is very very uncomfortable, until eventually they’re alone, and maverick asks, “can i buy you a drink sir?” but he’s staring at ice’s left hand and staring and staring, and it’s been over a decade but still ice doesn’t know how to say no to him, so they leave this joint and get a drink somewhere else, and maverick says, “how long have you been married,” and ice says, “eight years next march,” and you can see maverick doing the math in his head 2016-8=2008 okay, “what’s her name,” “sarah,” maverick laughs but feels bad for laughing, ice says, “we have a couple kids,” maverick stops laughing. “shit,” maverick says. ice says, “it was very difficult for me for a very long time;” maverick says, “what did you tell her;” ice says, “the truth;” maverick waits a second to respond and then says, “and what was the truth?” ice tells him the truth which is “well that i was in a long-term relationship with another man and we were raising a kid together and most likely we were in love with each other but it didn’t work out.” maverick takes a long time to respond to that and is blinking a lot and if you put your ear to his chest you’d hear that he is struggling to breathe. he says “and she married you anyway.” “she did.” he says “and You married Her anyway.” “i did.” Ice pauses then says “it was very difficult for me for a very long time.” he pauses some more and drinks and watches disinterestedly as maverick blinks and blinks. then ice says “so uh are you…?” maverick says “ive had a couple… a couple flings… nothing. nothing like.” and ice understands. maverick says, “why didn’t you tell me?” “tell you what?” “that you. that you and i were. that you felt that way about me.” ice says, “i did. i tried. i left you voicemails & sent you postcards & tried for half a decade to get in touch with the kid. did you not get my—did you not get my voicemails or my letters?” maverick blinks and blinks and says “i did get them but i didn’t open them;” ice says “well that’s that then.” and drinks. maverick says “how long after me did you meet her;” ice says “a couple years, i was deployed for O.I.F.” maverick says, “yeah, me too.” and he almost starts crying. he says “ice I’m sorry but you’re telling me ive completely wasted the last decade of my life and i don’t know what to do. do you love her? does she make you happy?” ice says “yes” and “yes.” maverick says “does she make you as happy as you were with me?” ice doesn’t care enough anymore to be dishonest and says “no. Of course not. but she made life easier when it was very difficult for me for a very long time.” maverick says, “run away with me. fuck it. let’s try again. let’s start over. no one else understands. come on. you and me. we always come back to each other. let’s try again.” and it is very very tempting. One of those watershed moments when life goes crystal clear and you can see through it. but only for a moment. ice is so tired and too old for that kind of adventure anymore. he says, i have kids, and i have a wife, and i have the navy and my four stars to think of, and i— he can be honest about this: “i want to. you know i do.” he pauses. doesn’t think he wants maverick to touch him. that can’t possibly end well and historically has not ended well. flinches away when maverick reaches out. he says “but i can’t.” maverick says, “i miss you more than anything. i want—even still!—i—please…I can’t…” another pause. ice says, “Let me get the bill, Mav.” so ice pays mavericks tab and they go their separate ways.

and maverick goes out to the desert to fly the sr-72 darkstar and pushes it beyond its limits on purpose and he doesn’t intend to survive but it’s his stupid too-good instincts that have him popping the cockpit escape pod ejection handle, and he lives by accident, like always, and destroys several billion taxpayer dollars in an instant, and without admiral Kazansky on his six backing him up admiral Cain has everything he needs to dishonorably discharge captain mitchell from the navy, so after 33 years of service to his country and 3 air to air kills maverick is unceremoniously dishonorably discharged and they kick him out without a second thought, and the Dagger special mission command goes to someone else and Bradley gets team leader and probably fails and probably dies, and atlantic fleet commander Tom Kazansky is offered the promotion to chief of naval operations and takes it, and doesn’t live long enough to meet his grandchildren, and that’s about all i have to say about that.

Now im going to go watch marriage story to answer this ask educatedly so hold on.

ok coming back the next day post marriage story and yeah you’re right i think it would look like that

#poasting for the sake of poasting #it’s wednesday #Wednesday is my poasting day #pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky #top gun #icemav #asks #angst #idk #yes i AM currently reading Cormac mccarthys all the pretty horses could you tell? #this movie was on my list for years so thx for making me watch it #as a californian new york transplant who hates living in a shoebox this movie is my worst nightmare fr #every film/drama guy i know is like charlie #my roommate is a film director; her boyfriend is her favorite actor; i dread the day she hates everything she worked on in college because #of the fact that he’s the star of every single one

[yorshie]

Hey, Yorshie! Fun fact: I was the one who sent in the original prompt for Raph with the phrase "tell me it was a lie. tell me you're playing with me right now." You did SUCH a great job with it.

After deleting my reply to your other post, I kept thinking about it trying to remember exactly what my reply had been, and then I was like... hm. I'm gonna. I'm gonna write that, actually. So, here's a present for you Yorshie! My first ever reader-insert piece. (Obviously, feel free to delete/not post this if it's too... idk. Anything. I hope this is an okay thing to do.)

Another fun fact: the title in my gdoc is "Yorshie's Gift" lol <3

---

You would recognize the rumble of that motorcycle anywhere.

No one else had realized, yet, just how much danger you were all about to be in. The others were still hauling boxes into the back of the truck. Only you were frozen, hands hovering in the air above the box you’d been reaching for.

You needed to get everyone out of here fast. Most of these new recruits were just kids, barely out of high school. Searching for a sense of belonging, a sense of purpose, like you had when you first joined years ago. Every year there were more. Kids who had never believed they even had a chance at a future, kids who got caught up in the pretty lies and promises that the clan used to suck them in. You hated to see it happen, but there was really nothing you could do about it. You had agreed to lead this excursion, hoping at least that you could be there to ensure no one got hurt.

The rumble was getting louder.

You jerked up, hissing out an order to retreat. The others paused in their movements to look at you, surprised, and you felt a wave of frustration and terror constrict your lungs as they stared at you. 

Their hesitation would get them killed.

 “Move your ass!” You shoved the keys of the truck into the hands of the nearest member and pushed them toward the front. “Now!”

Thankfully, they started to scramble. Within seconds the truck peeled away, leaving behind at least half of the goods you had been ordered to secure. You really couldn’t fucking care less. You made sure the recruits who hadn’t been able to fit in the truck were headed toward safety, too, before starting to run.

And then you stopped.

The rumble was so loud, now, that you could almost feel the vibrations in your chest. He’d be here any second. You should run. You should run. The last words he’d spoken to you, weeks ago, echoed in your mind. 

“I’d better not see you again. If I do, my face is the last thing you’ll ever see, I can promise you that.”

You knew what you would be running from, but… what exactly were you running toward? More listless days with your mind lost in a haze of regret? More nights alone with your chest hollow and aching? Before him, you hadn’t even realized that you were just going through the motions of your life. And then you had found what you were looking for, after all this time. You had found that sense of belonging, that purpose that you had so desperately sought out when you were too young to know any better and you had turned to the foot clan. And when you’d found what you’d been looking for, it hadn’t even been something you found in the foot clan itself. You’d found it in their enemy.

Raphael.

Then you’d lost him. It was your own goddamn fault, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. The weeks since he’d found out had left you feeling untethered. Floating through the days, wondering what the fuck the point was, anyway. You hadn’t realized just how much he had changed your life, just how much he had changed you. And now, without him…

You didn’t want to run anymore.

A strange sense of finality settled over you. It’s what you deserved, anyway, wasn’t it? You were a criminal. No matter what circumstances had led you here, no matter how trapped you had felt… you were still a criminal. And you had still lied to him, for so long. 

And maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. For his face to be the last one you ever saw.

Tires squealed, pulling you from your thoughts, and then he was there. You watched him leap from his bike, sprinting down the alley straight toward you, and the adrenaline that burst through you reminded you that you should run. You were wearing your full gear, face covered by the mask that had been replaced after he’d crushed your old one in his hand. He didn’t even know it was you. You could still slip away into the shadows, you could still- 

You didn’t move. 

He was fast, faster than most people could even follow, but time seemed to slow as he approached. You could see the determination, the anger in his expression. In the tense set of his shoulders. But beneath that, there was a weary sadness. And despite the fear that was clawing its way up your throat, that sadness that you saw was what solidified your decision. 

An enormous fist, clenched around a sai, barrelled toward you, but you focused instead on Raphael’s face. The last face you’d ever see. So angry and tired and sad, and it looked like that because of you.

Yeah. You deserved this.

And the blow hit.

WWWWOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!! OMG YOUR FIRST READER INSERT AND YOU SEND IT TO ME????? *crying* LET’s GO!!!

Wow! Your pacing is very good *trying not to cry* I was totally immersed *tears start falling* and the feeling! The feel- *breaks down sobbing* omg what if raph takes off the mask at the end OR DOESNT WHICH ONE IS WORSE!!!!???

*straight up bawling at this point* im fine! It’s just. It really hit me in the angst corner. Don’t mind me I’m just. Gonna slide along the floor in a little raccoon puddle.

But IT WAS A GOOD READ. IMMA READ IT AGAIN!!

Also! If you ever write for the turtles again, please tag me. I’d love to be in your tag list and I’d love to read it.

#ask away! #gift for me #might make that a tag #but back to the crying #fuckedupcleric #straight. up. bawling. just bawling. #read again tag #oh yeah. def reading this again #quick content tags #bayverse tmnt #bayverse raphael #bayverse raph x reader #dark themes #reader in peril

[peachjagiya]

Hello hello.

I recently discovered your blog and I like it very much. I love they way you express your opinion and the way you explain things to make your point.

To be honest, I am a baby army. Started listening BTS at the beginning of this year (I KNOW, what the f was I doing before? No fucking clue ugh!). This also makes me a new Taekook stand, which can be super overwhelming. Reading you blog helps puts things into perspective but I still have a few questions and I would like to know your opinion (sorry if you’ve talked about this before!) I have a lot to catch up on in terms. And find to this, social media edits do not help. They are very biased to say the least

Anyway, on to the questions.

1. When do you think Taekook became a couple? From what I’ve seen and felt, I felt a change in 2020 in the dynamic of everything. This being the videos posted, the run bts episodes, the interviews … I might be wrong but I felt a shift then and wanted to know your opinion.

2. In terms of group dynamics, how do you think the other members feel in terms of Taekook? Like I try to put myself in their shoes and it must be hard to have a good dynamic if they have couple’s fights and things like that…

3. In terms on Fan Service, I can’t help but feel bad when Tae has to witness the constant push of FS between JK and Jimin and unable to express or do anything about it. What do you think about the maknae line’s dynamic in regards to this?

There’s so much information out here sometimes I find myself doubting that they’re actually together but then I witness some instances that brings back my faith.

Anyway, thank you so much for taking the time to answer. I appreciate it. Sorry if my questions are all over the place, my thoughts themselves are all over the place with this subject and I CANT SLEEEPPPP!

Bear with, it’s going to be a long one!

I’m baby army too. A year now. I just happen to be the kind of person who goes all in and devours content.

Social media edits are so discombobulating for new fans. I definitely found myself falling for some edits that I no longer consider. Fake subtitles, slow motion moments that aren’t actually moments, quora rumours… it’s a lot. I still have to remind myself what’s factual and what’s a rumour I read on a K-pop prediction Twitter. It’s a minefield. I’ve found tumblr quite useful because there’s a lot of people here who can put things into context and clarify and provide the perspective of army who were there at the time. I hope you look at my comments because that’s where the real sense is!

1. When do you think Taekook became a couple? From what I’ve seen and felt, I felt a change in 2020 in the dynamic of everything. This being the videos posted, the run bts episodes, the interviews … I might be wrong but I felt a shift then and wanted to know your opinion.

I wrote a timeline but my thoughts have evolved a bit. I think basically they’ve always been circling each other, always been interested but a combination of hormones and the massiveness of pursuing a relationship they’re societally or business-ly discouraged from having created a lot of shifting and drama. I think maybe early confessions, kissing, all that young love stuff might have occurred here.

I’ve been reading some really interesting thoughts and having great discussion about the various members relationship with the company and how this plays with Taekook.

The conclusion I keep coming to, based only on my reading of it, is that Tae seems to be a rebel with strong will to prioritise his heart, company be damned, but JK seems to be more inclined to follow his head despite his heart being huge and loud. His heart wins more and more though and that’s why you get this on and off vibe of the first half of their ten years.

2018 feels pivotal in that both of them hit a wall of pressure and seemed to separate off into a distinct unit. They get each other, they’re each others self-confessed safe space. They’re united even when the rest of the members aren’t getting through. I’m less convinced now that this was a getting together - maybe a resolve to work through complicated stuff together though.

I’d agree 2020 is a shift and that’s where I’d place it. I’m about to get overwrought but I’m thinking about it a bit lately: Think about like pandemic and the impact that had on the whole world. Suddenly work isn’t the most important thing, suddenly a shift in everyone’s priorities. I know a few people who, despite the scariness of it, actually found they were able to breathe and reassess. I decided to move my entire life back to my hometown and quit my job, very heart over head decision. I wonder if this enforced period of quiet let them reassess too. BTS Monuments shows Tae quiet and alone at home but a jacket that looks like JKs in the back. Maybe they saw each other without the intense workload. Time to talk, time to just be them and see how that worked. And hiatus/chapter two might just be a natural continuation of that. JK seems as goal oriented as ever but braver at prioritising himself and Tae seems to be the same and maybe for the first time their ambitions in heart and head are aligned which lets them move forward more smoothly.

2. In terms of group dynamics, how do you think the other members feel in terms of Taekook? Like I try to put myself in their shoes and it must be hard to have a good dynamic if they have couple’s fights and things like that…

I have a feeling it’s a professional minefield but personally that’s just their best friends in love. Maybe it makes their life a little harder to have a secret to hide but I don’t think they’d resent them. I bet they all have things they need to hide. From what they’ve said, I think Jimin might have been really entwined in it. He’s a natural carer, protective of them both. He’s often first on the scene when Tae is sad and he’s often implied he’s been there when Tae has been crying.

As for couple fights, I think about that post-Tokyo intense awkwardness between Tae and JK where they’re visibly annoyed with each other. That’s one time when it seemed the other guys were involved a little. They just seemed hyper aware of the awkward but kind of eyerolly. The thing about teens and early twenties is that you think everyone wants to know your drama. I’d imagine with maturity, they probably keep fights between themselves.

On an amusing side thought, I’ve seen two videos of potential times of discontent between Tae and JK where Yoongi has given the impression of being quietly in Tae’s corner. I think those two get each other in a really low key way that I find quite lovely.

3. In terms on Fan Service, I can’t help but feel bad when Tae has to witness the constant push of FS between JK and Jimin and unable to express or do anything about it. What do you think about the maknae line’s dynamic in regards to this?

I think it’s had an impact but not where you’d expect. The TikTok edits would have you believe Tae is seething in the corner but I don’t know if that’s entirely true. I have seen video of him seemingly rolling his eyes after laughing at Jimin and JK but it seemed notable because of how isolated it was? He is quite good at a poker face though, right? He bides his time and fills in the real details eventually. Again this is only my sense but I feel a little awkwardness between JK and Jimin over it now it’s happening less? Any time you’re expected to pretend anything is a massive mental drain on anyone. But equally, they’ve entered the buddy system together and I’m assuming that hasn’t been forced on them? So hopefully they just remain close and the fan service was all strictly business for them. Maybe I’m just imagining that they seem weird with each other.

There’s so much information out here sometimes I find myself doubting that they’re actually together but then I witness some instances that brings back my faith.

The universal Taekook experience. 😂 it’s natural to doubt. It feels too good to be true.

Thank you for lovely words and great questions, anon 💜

#my asks #taekook

[rawliverandgoronspice]

I can kind of see why Hyrule reads as imperialistic to you in totk, but why do they read white? Sonia is brown and rauru is a black goat. What makes the difference between them and Ganondorf so bad?

Hey, thanks for the ask!

So... I have an answer, and it's kind of in layers. So I hope it's fine if I kind of go on Journey TM where I figure out my own feelings on the topic alongside you, the person reading! It's long! Kind of meandery! Sorry!!

Also, I had written a great version of this reply to this ask that Tumblr fucking ate and I'm furious about it, so this version is slightly more annoyed as a baseline because of Tumblr and not the ask itself. But I got stubborn and decided I would rewrite the whole thing tonight. So.

Here we go.

Layer One: My Basic and Unfiltered Gut Reaction

My first, potentially unwarranted gut-level reaction would be: I kind of think it's a stretch to consider them POC-coded. Sonia gives me more tanned Ariana Grande vibes than anything else, but that's... I mean, I'm aware that there are brown people with lushious blonde hair and blue eyes out there, that race as USA-infused Internet understands it is Complicated (I'm half-brazilian, and even though I'm very very white and don't consider myself biracial but bicultural, I had people discussing my ethnicity to my face a non-zero amounts of time, including quite recently, including in my own family! so I super get that it's more complicated than what I make it out to be here). But given vibes don't count as an argument, I completely get + accept if that reading on her ethicity is therefore dismissed. She could very well be brown. Fine by me.

(so, I feel like I have to add this borderline-conspiratory reason why I'm suspicious of her skin color being considered a factor here, which can 100% be dismissed but I still want to bring it to the table: I've been to several meetings and heard about many instances where "diverse traits" are being handed over to characters with the explicit purpose of using that diversity as shields against deeper criticisms of core aspects of the storytelling instead of fixing the storytelling itself, and honestly it could very well be the case here. I really hope it's just the team thinking Sonia would be prettier with a darker skin tone, because her design is genuinely lovely and I really like it, wish she didn't die like immediately and had a character arc of her own, but. Imagine the kneeling scene with two very white ladies and everything else, etc. It might be overly paranoid of me, but I can't help but squint a little bit in this specific instance, especially since the biracial trait here is so toned-down that it's barely there and barely committed to anything. Which would also make a good argument against this suspicion too tbh! Anyway. Just wanted to bring that up so you get the whole picture of where my brain is at.)

Rauru... Okay. Here's the thing: I can't unsee The Rauru. The original one I mean (and his Skyward Sword Gaebora counterpart), aka: the White Patriarch of all times.

(this has nothing to do with anything but Link's little recoil animation here is so funny to me, like he looks so shocked and his nose is so pointy)

I do think that removing the origins of this character from his DNA for TotK is kind of overly convenient when discussing this iteration, especially when his role in this game is basically a mixture of OoT Rauru and the Unnamed King of Hyrule (and every king of Hyrule that came after). I mean, okay sure maybe the Unnamed, Unseen King of Hyrule wasn't white but... it's obviously not true, right? And while I understand this is a different iteration of that character, many characters in the series maintain their base ethnicity across different reimaginings (even Blue Pig Ganon remains a gerudo at heart post OoT, at least in the way we keep on understanding him). And beyond this, given the fact that Rauru retains this energy of a Founding Father (in the largest possible sense), I feel that, at the very least, that patriarchal energy is extremely important to his character to a core degree.

But even so, yes. Rauru is now indeed a Goat Man. Not only is he a Goat Man, but he dresses in ways that are very inspired by mesoamerican cultures; undeniably so. So that would make him at least mesoamerican-coded, right?

I mean... I guess? I guess. Sure. But. I have now to introduce the Layer 2 of my argumentation, which is that...

Layer Two: Zonai Culture is Hylian Coded

So. Pretty bold claim I know. Let me explain.

Now I certainly do not want to say that mesoamerican civilizations are not *everywhere* in the aesthetic inspiration for the zonai culture in Tears of the Kingdom; I'm sure these real life references are overflooding the moodboards, from the color palet to the symbols to the artstyle, the costumes and the buildings. It's the main way the game communicates zonai-ness to us the player. And it's great! I wish they had went even harder in that direction (I think there's even pretty dramatic differences between the zonai ruins on the surface, much more interesting imo, than what was done with the actual zonai architecture at its peak).

But now, I will ask a question that I asked myself often while playing. What is zonai culture, beyond the feathers and the indented patterns and the swirls and the dangly bits? What characterizes it? I would say that zonai civilization is primarily interested in automation, technology, mining to develop said technology, and things that float in the sky. Beyond this, and from the limited perspective the game gives us through Rauru and Mineru, we see a society ruled by a patriarch (neutral term, it is just patriarchal in nature), married to a woman who is a priestess and doesn't seem to hold an equal amount of power (she doesn't speak as much, seems content to handle the religious side of things), who values collaboration and engineering prowesses, has an army, servants, robot servants, administrates other races through, to be docile and go the game's way, collaborativeness... It's Hyrule. It's just Hyrule, except older and with a different paintjob; but at heart, the style of society upheld by Rauru is very (eerily?) similar to what we get to know in the TotK/BotW era. Actually, this version of Hyrule seems extraordinarily similar to the Hyrule we get to see in BotW pre-Calamity: replace the zonai technology with the sheikah's, and what's the difference --except that this later version of Hyrule isn't trying to pass itself off as perfect? Zelda doesn't experience any kind of culture shock. Even the language seems to be basically the same. It is Hyrule, because it is. It's the origins of the kingdom. This is the whole point of the zonais: being that familiar thing that we know and love, except more pristine and more glorious and more mysterious so we can be sad when it gets destroyed.

So is it aesthetically inspired by mesoamerican cultures? Yes. Does it evoke specific details about said culture? The way politics and religion interconnect perhaps (unless we consider Rauru coming from the gods as such, but it's nooot super specific and not really elaborated upon)? What that culture valued, or what we assume it once valued? Cultural shortcuts we tend to make with these cultures, for better or for worse? I may be extremely uncultured here, and if that's the case I apologize, but I never really saw any of the aspects highlighted as the core pillars of the zonais commonly associated with either mesoamerican ancient civilizations, or current living native decendants of these civilizations. The biggest connexion or shortcut I see is the "mysterious ancient advanced civilization", which is pretty vague and was honestly more convincing in BotW.

Then of course, it doesn't invalidate that connection. But now, as a point of comparaison, to see what happens when Zelda takes active steps in coding one of their fantasy races... Let's take a look at the gerudos, shall we?

(Urbosa appreciation break. She's just so freakin cool look at her goooo!!! okay now we can keep going.)

I have said my whole spiel about the gerudos about a bajillion times now so I will try to make it quick. My tl;dr is: gerudos were always meant to be culturally disruptive. It's their whole point in the Zelda series. I won't rehash the whole thing about the crescent moon, the orientalism etc, but I think it's important to remember that they are meant to be considered foreign in a way no other Zelda race ever is. What I mean by this is, if we return to OoT: they are the only race hostile to Hyrule enough to not only consider and carry out an invasion, but to forbid entrance to their territory if you are not one of them. They have a different (apparenly evil-looking) god and their ears are rounded when everyone else is some sort of elf, their script is different, their cultural values are different, it's a weird semi-matriarchy where the man-king's occasional patriarchy has a very different social role than the king of Hyrule even if we don't get to see all the details... Won't return on the thievery and the 90s islamophobic kick of that time period, but the gerudos were very obviously crafted to be culturally deviant to the Hylian norm; their difference so great that getting accepted by them is an actual fighting and infiltration challenge. And even though they are much friendlier in TotK/BotW, they are still, by far the most innaccessible and different race out of all the rooster of, and it's worth mentioning, fish-people, bird-people and rock-people. They are the only one with their own language, their own strict rules that oppose your freedom as a player, a series of side-quests that directly address the subject of culture clash and differences; and, even then, they still parallel the real life western fantasy about the Orient TM (even more-so in TotK I would say, which I didn't love): the locked-in harem foreign men are forbidden to enter. This core idea is so entrenched that it becomes gameplay.

When it comes to Ganondorf, the parallel remains, more present than ever: in that game he gets to embody the foreign, cruel, brutal, cunning, manipulative, uncomfortably feminine at times, envious, physically intimidating, oppressive Man of the Desert in a long tradition of Men from the Desert and the rich legacy of literature and movies that portray them. It's not new to TotK, to be very clear: but TotK did double-down on the trope at the cost of Ganondorf's specificity as a character instead of questioning the trope that birthed him the way the series had tried to do in the past (even TP wasn't that bad, doing away with a lot of the baggage altogether --for better and for worse).

So to me... saying that zonais are mesoamerican-coded, in a world where we simply do not actively interact with these cultures all that much anymore (not at all to minimize the very real oppression of their descendants and the extreme and sickening violence their ancestors were met with to be extremely clear --I'm just saying that the violence wouldn't have worldwide cultural resonance in the same way and I don't think would have much reality in Japan unless, again, I'm saying dumb things and in that case please do correct me), or the extremely mild and non-invested way Zelda handled these cultures (to me it's much more costume than coding), positively too (good!), and comparing them to the active coding of the gerudos (and especially Ganondorf) as a means to equalize them as "basically the same thing" feels... a little off to me.

But! Now we're getting to the last layer!!

(you have no idea how long I searched for this gif, I typed "Ganondorf kneeling" in the gif search, like a fool, and parsed through much, much horniness to finally find my little dude anyway layer 3!!!)

Layer Three: It Isn't What Actually Matters Now Is It (at least according to me, the person writing this post)

Honestly, I don't really care whether Rauru and Sonia are white-coded or not. They could be, they could not be, cool by me either way. I don't really care if the zonai culture is meant to stand-in for mesoamerican cultures for Real for Sure or not, and heavily doubt it was done to increase diversity (otherwise Rauru wouldn't be, like, a Goat-Man but just a brown man). I do appreciate the visual diversity of the cast of NPCs, that hylians can look like a whole number of people and it's really cool Hyrule is moving into that direction instead of being very typecast into a sort of Japanese-ish representation of western middle ages/fantasy/fairy tale thing.

But at heart, what bothers me between this whole dynamic has less to do with whom is coded as whom than the fact that this game twisted itself into knots to tell a very suspiciously clean story about its complicated world and complicated history, and I feel like it's completely fine to ask for more than the bare minimum of visual representation and question the way these characters get to interact with each other and how their real life struggles are meaningfully talked about in the worlds Nintendo spend millions crafting? Sometimes, what they do is already great! Sometimes it's half-great! Most of the time, it could be so much better --especially when some of these subjects have been talked about to death for over 25 years (sorry to beat that dead horse one more time btw)

At the end of the day, the story itself is strange for many reasons. The power dynamic between the characters is attempting to be several things at once; maybe it's not on purpose, but either way, the world TotK paints is a strange one that only holds itself together if we accept to take it at face value. Which we don't have to.

And to me, TotK felt particularly shallow in that specific department of representation due to the whole... Imperialist Vibes thing (the other ask about this is queue'd, it's coming!), which nullified a lot of these efforts for me. It's not only about who's represented, but how they are represented as well, and, very importantly, why.

#asks #tloz #totk #totk spoilers #totk critical #rauru #sonia #ganondorf #zonai #gerudo #gerudos #when will my brain return from the imprisoning war.... #(<-- it's becoming a tag for the people who want to filter my totk replies out BECAUSE understandableeee) #I vainquished my extreme frustration with having this ask being swallowed by tumblr #rewrote a worse version #sorryyyy #I feel like I needed to ride that buzz or I never would reply #and I guess at least my opinion is written Somewhere #could probably be worded better in places #oh well!!!