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kpopnstarwars · 1 day

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Who's Afraid of Little Old Me?: Feyd-Rautha x Reader

A/N: ty taylor swift i attempted to base this fic on your song but then i divulged as normal

tw: 18+, smut, p in v, inkpie, oral (both recieving), sub feyd by which i mean feyd is DOMMED, spit, degradation + praise, one spank kinda, swearing, lil bit of crying, mention of evil baron activities so sa + pedophilia, tiny mention of cheating but none actually happens, lmk if there's anything else bc lbr there probably is i just forgot it

wc: 3.9k

Feyd-Rautha has gravely underestimated you.

It is true that you are not strong in terms of Harkonnen definitions, but you expected a man destined to father the Kwisatz Haderach to be able to see past that. What was that the Bene Gesserit were saying about superior genetics? You don’t see even a glimpse of that in his frosty gaze when he regards you - he looks at you as if you’re a delicate vase that may shatter in the lightest of breezes. He thinks he needs to fear breaking you.

He misses how you miss nothing.

You are not Bene Gesserit; you are merely one of their pawns, a genetic machination produced from centuries of manipulations and deceptions, but you can read a man better than the majority of their number.

The seething jealousy in the clenching off Glossu Rabban’s fists is like a monster sinking its venom laced fangs into his heart: starkly evident to you - as evident as the barely repressed, parasitic fear of inadequacy that lurks like a second beast within the first. Just the same, the gazes the Baron sends your husband do not escape you. Nor does the caged, wild look that washes over him whenever you leave his uncle’s chambers: the look of a man who inside is still a boy, relief washing over him that he has left unscathed and untouched for another time.

Even more nuanced than that, you see the vulnerability within Feyd-Rautha. He craves to be loved, the way he should have been as a child, when instead he was desired; all this at an age where the most he should have been doing was playing with carved wooden toys at his parent’s feet.

He believes no one can see the last, soft sliver of his heart that he’s fought to preserve, that wants nothing but to have someone to be vulnerable with, just because he’s buried it so deep inside of him that sometimes even he doesn’t think it’s there any more.

But you see it.

You see beneath it too, to a place that he himself is not fully aware of. A place where he hates who he has become - a wild, savage creature, bleeding from wounds that do not seem to close up, slipping in its own blood when no one can see.

It’s from here, from this place, that the urge to preserve you somehow originates. He thinks you are a flower whose petals will easily be crushed in his heavy, calloused hands, and he is wrong; in a strange way it endears you to him, that he believes that he is too rough to hold you. You do not think it is quite love - not yet, at least, it is only the third month of your marriage - but when you see him fighting to not be the beast that he is before you in an effort to spare you, something that is not just pity stirs in your heart.

You can hear him now, pacing, cursing under his breath in the antechambers. Sometimes he sleeps there, on the narrow sofa, and you’ve come to realise it is those nights when he wants you most. Aside from your wedding night, he has made no other attempts to produce an heir, and you find his restraint valiant, but stupid.

He could try as hard as he liked; he would not get anywhere close to breaking you.

Rising from your seat on the small, ornate stool at the vanity, you push open the door to the antechamber and take a step into the room. Feyd pauses his pacing with his back to you, and you can see the tension in his shoulders and the rigid way he holds his body before he turns around to face you. His pupils are dilated, his eyes dark, and you watch him regard you with something too untethered to be restraint.

‘Am I keeping you awake, wife?’

You shake your head. ‘I had not retired yet.’

You know he expects you to explain why you’ve interrupted him, but you remain quiet - your silence is as much of a tool as your words. He doesn’t speak either, but his eyes tell you enough; they do not leave your frame, hungry, torrid, and his fingers twitch as if they ache to slip you out of the simple shift you wear to sleep and touch you everywhere, to explore the curves and dips of your body.

Tilting your head, you smirk. ‘If you wish to give me your heirs, husband, I would advise another method that differs from staring one into me.’

‘You don’t know what I want,’ he growls, but his face tells other tales.

Stepping forward, you reach out to him but he backs away. Still, the sheer thirst in his eyes sears away at you, even as his actions fight against it, his fingers closing on the doorknob. His hands are steady, his shoulders too, but the tightness in his muscles betrays him as always. Usually, you’d let him go now, but tonight you wish to see how far he will let you push him before he pushes back, so you snare his forearm in your fingers, tugging at him as he turns the knob.

He doesn’t look at you. ‘Don’t test me.’

You smile, cloyingly so. ‘Why not?’

Lightly, you trace your fingers down his chest, straightening the fabric of his black shirt while you gaze thoughtfully up at him through your lashes, lips curving upwards at the indecision in his eyes. He fights it, wrestles with the burning need, but in the end, he prevails, transforming it into a streak of anger that colours his voice as he tears himself from your grasp, recoiling as if your touch ignites pain within him - and maybe it is pain, that he wants you so but fears to indulge himself.

‘Get away from me.’

Feyd-Rautha does not give you a second to do so, because he is the one haring down the dimly lit corridor, his jaw tight, nails digging into his palms. Truthfully, you have never seen him move that fast, not even in the arena, and it almost makes you laugh - the great na-Baron fleeing from his wife and his own lecherous thoughts.

Maybe you did not win this round of tug of war, but he has asked something of you - to get away from him. Over the next few weeks, you follow this to the letter, avoiding him like the plague; you do not interrupt his pacing in the antechambers, nor do you haunt the bedroom like you normally do, asking him questions that he cannot answer. Feyd-Rautha is sensitive to change and you know he will seek the reason for it.

There is a barely cloaked intensity in his eyes when he finally corners you, and under it, you detect recognition: he sees that you are not who he thought you were, and he sees that you are not so different from him - always observing, always planning, and so, mind shatteringly hungry.

You were just dropping by the bed chambers to gather some of your clothes. The night before, you’d relocated yourself to one of the guest bedrooms - you could sense Feyd’s resolve cracking, and you knew that this would break it for certain: coming into his chambers to find them empty, wifeless, your side of the bed damningly cold. Jealousy is clear in his eyes as he backs you against the vanity, filling you with a rising sense of triumph.

‘What has caused this change in your behaviour, wife?’

You raise a brow, faking confusion. ‘What change? I would argue it is your behaviour that has changed, Feyd, you who can barely stand to be in a room alone with me.’

He snarls. ‘Who were you with last night?’

‘I thought you wanted me to get away from you,’ you reply, keeping up your pretence a little longer. ‘I slept in the guest quarters. You do not reciprocate any of my advances.’

‘Advances?’ He echoes, incredulous. ‘You taunt me, wife. It’s like you want me to break you.’

Cocking your head, you regard him coolly for a moment, letting some of the sharpness of your unmasked gaze leak through, letting him see the calculation in your eyes - you see the wariness it incites in him as he realises again that you are not who he thinks you are. Wordless, you lean in close to him, bringing your face to his, hovering there.

And then you let your arm drop and make a swipe for the knife at his belt.

Fast as a viper, he catches your wrist in your fingers, but you smile, challenge in your eyes as you bring his second blade to his neck. You’d slipped it out while he was distracted with your other hand, and he blinks at the cold press of it to his skin.

‘That’s the problem, isn’t it?’ You murmur. ‘You’re not scared of me, you’re scared of breaking me. Who’s afraid of little old me, huh? No one is, Feyd.’

‘They should be,’ he whispers, and when you meet his gaze, it sets you alight.

‘Indeed,’ you reply softly, letting your lower lip brush his.

As he kisses you, his hands seizing your face and locking you to him, you hook his knife’s blade in the collar of his shirt and drag it down, slicing the fabric until it flutters to the floor. Pulling away, you take him in - the moonlight planes of his sculpted chest, the broadness of his shoulders, his roiling, keen gaze. This man whets your appetite in the darkest kinds of ways: you cannot wait to ruin him.

Absently, you trace the outline of the tent in his pants with the tip of the knife blade. A breathy noise leaves him, and he freezes as if he can feel the cold kiss of the metal against his skin; you laugh, delighted that he is so mouldable in your hands.

‘Get on your knees,’ you command, seating yourself on the end of the bed.

It’s captivating, his lack of hesitation as he follows your orders. He sits back on his heels, looking up at you, and you can tell that he’s letting you see him like this, you can tell that if he didn’t want you to have him like this, you wouldn’t, but still, you reach out, gently skimming his shoulder with your fingertips.

‘All you have to do is say, and I will stop,’ you say.

He dips his chin. ‘I do not think I’ll have to.’

You smirk, something savage and powerful and thrillingly depraved rearing its head inside you, awakened by the sight of the na-Baron kneeling at your feet. That will be his last coherent sentence tonight.

Pausing, making him wait, you lean down a little, inspecting his features, the ardour in his eyes. He looks at you as if you hold the universe in your hands, as if you hung the stars in his sky, as if you are a goddess, and he wants nothing but to worship you until he is expended.

You spit on him.

It lands on his cheek, and his eyes widen a fraction. A shudder wracks his body, and he simply stares up at you, breathing heavy, before slowly, his lips part, and he sticks out his tongue, his request evident. You grab his jaw, squeezing so that he opens up wider, and spit in his mouth - the low groan that leaves him as he swallows is fucking delectable.

His cock twitches in his pants when you pick up the knife. Tracing the blade over the shell of his ear, over his cheekbone and over his lips, you marvel at the way he holds still, awaiting what you’ll inflict on him next like a good little toy.

When the metal reaches his jaw, you nick the skin, drinking up his sharp intake of breath and the clench of his fists as the blood trickles down the column of his throat; you catch the droplet of crimson on your tongue, licking a careful stripe up his neck, grinning when you catch his lips in a kiss and he trembles at the taste of his own blood. Feyd is greedy, his tongue brushing against yours as he leans up into your touch, the way his mouth works against yours hot, fervent, pleading.

Planting a palm to his sternum, you push him back, chuckling when he strains to follow you, eyes glazed, lips swollen. You spot a streak of red and swipe your thumb over his lower lip, wiping it off before standing.

‘Get up, strip, and get on the bed,’ you bid him, pulling your own shift over your head.

Feyd scrambles to follow your orders, yanking his pants down, and you take your time to admire his muscle sheathed body; strength ripples beneath his skin, a sweet dichotomy to his weeping cock, rock hard and flushed rosy. He halts his movements, as if he’s pinned down by your appraising gaze.

‘For whom do you wait, husband?’

As he turns to get onto the bed, he’s a little too slow and you swat at his ass. A choked sound leaves him, and you laugh at the way his knees almost buckle. Feyd’s ears run red when he lies down on the mattress, and you straddle his thighs, sneering at the way he twists his fingers in the sheets, squirming beneath you.

‘Pathetic.’

You don’t give him time to respond, instead wrapping your fingers around his cock and pumping up and down fast, and he gasps at your rough touch, his back arching and his hands coming up to touch you - you wave them off you, meeting his eyes.

‘No touching,’ you intone, the hint of warning in your voice enough to render him obedient.

This time, you take his cock head in your mouth. He’s so fucking sensitive, reacting as if the sweep of your thumb down the underside of him and the slide of your tongue over him is mind shattering; it doesn’t take you long to get him teetering at the edge of his orgasm, just for you to pull away at the last moment.

His thigh jolts, weak pleas of your name leaving his lips, gripping the sheets so hard you wonder if they’ll rip. Again, you take him in your mouth, deeper, one hand dipping to play with his balls; you revel in the wretched sound that he makes when you hollow your cheeks around him, your teeth grazing up his length. You toy with him until you think he’s moments from breaking, until he’s writhing upon the sheets, face contorted in pleasure loaded with sweet, sweet agony.

‘Please let me come,’ he whimpers, voice cracking, the look in his eyes crazed, pitiful. ‘Please.’

You decide to give it to him, jerking him brutally fast until he comes; it hits him like a tidal wave - his eyes roll back in his skull, his body tensing, rigid and impossibly taut before he goes boneless, a broken cry of your name on his lips as he spills all over his stomach. A single, ecstatic tear slides down his cheek as his orgasm seizes him, snatching him up and shaking him like a ragdoll.

Lingering at his side, you wait until he’s come down from his high before getting up to retrieve a damp cloth from the bathroom, perching on the bed beside him and cleaning up his come, pressing kisses to the surprisingly soft skin of his hips. One wavering hand comes to rest in your hair, and you glance up at him, biting back a smug grin at the dazed look in his eyes.

‘Feeling okay?’

He nods.

‘Words,’ you chide.

‘Y - yes, na-Baroness. Better than okay.’

You raise a brow at that. You did not specify for him to call you anything, so this is all his doing; he fidgets beneath your gaze, and you note that he’s growing hard again, his cock stiffening between his thighs.

‘Can I…’ He begins, but trails off, thinking better of it.

‘No, little na-Baron,’ you reply coyly. ‘Tell me what you desire.’

His eyes scorch you with their yearning. ‘I want to taste you, na-Baroness.’

You smile. ‘As you wish.’

You lean back against the pillows, letting your legs fall open for him. It’s somewhat comical, the way his eyes widen as he sees your slick cunt, and he swallows harshly - you can almost sense his mouth watering. Carefully, reverently, almost, he nudges your knees over his wide shoulders, bringing his face close to your pussy, admiring you. It’s as if he’s testing himself, waiting to see how long it takes for him to break and taste you.

Lurching forward, Feyd groans, low and deep and right against your clit when he laps at your heat, quickly becoming insatiable as his tongue moves masterfully at the apex of your legs, laving over your clit and curving in and out of you. Bolts of pleasure spear through your body, fierce like crackling lightning at the eye of a storm - he is everything to you in this moment. He shatters you, breaking you and mending you anew.

As he brings you closer, your body begins to shake and your legs close around his head; you suffocate him with your thighs, and you can tell he lives for it from the way he fervently grips your ass in his large hands, kneading the flesh and moaning into your pussy.

Something pulls tight within you, deliciously so, and you cry his name in warning, fingers curling around the base of his neck to hold him still as your hips buck, rutting into his face. Dimly, you can see him grinding into the mattress as you fuck yourself on his tongue - the chafe of his nose against your clit makes you shatter, and you fall apart for him with a ragged cry, nails digging into his shoulders.

You’re still coming down from it when Feyd begins to lap at you again, dutifully cleaning you up, and you twitch with the slight overstimulation, hooking a finger under his chin to see his eyes: his gaze is loaded with the heat of a thousand suns, and yet somehow it is also bleary, drunk. A laugh escapes you, and you tug at his hand, encouraging him to lie beside you.

‘Good boy,’ you hum as he nuzzles into your touch. You can feel him achingly hard against your thigh, and you let yourself catch your breath before reaching down and wrapping your fingers around his cock. ‘Want to fuck me now, hm?’

He nods avidly. ‘Yes, na-Baroness.’

All it takes is for you to half spread your legs before he’s climbing eagerly between them, hesitating before looking up at you for permission. You dip your chin, smirking, and then he’s sinking into you, burying himself inside you.

Voice cracking, Feyd chokes out your name, and he shudders, gasping at the velvet vice of your cunt as it clenches, bearing down on him. Sharply, you rock your hips up to meet his, and this time, a soft, keening whine leaves him, and he squeezes his eyes shut, biting down hard on his lower lip.

He can barely keep himself from spilling inside you.

‘You can barely hold it, can’t you, my little na-Baron?’

His words come out jumbled, his speech scrambled, mind ground to a standstill by the all consuming heat of your cunt; he babbles out protests, saying that he can, desperate to prove he can, stammering that he wants to make you feel good.

Cruelly, you buck your hips up against his again, and a pained sound looses from his chest, but he thrusts to meet you, hips lurching forward, his arms almost buckling either side of your head. Panting, he pulls out slowly before slamming back in, unable to stifle the whimper that tears from the back of his throat when you rake your nails down his shoulder blades, claiming him, littering his shoulders and neck with bites.

‘That’s it,’ you sigh as he finds his pace. ‘Just like that, good boy.’

A strangled noise tears itself from him at your praise, and he fucks into you, frantic, almost feral. Eventually, his thrusts begin to turn sloppy, and you kiss him in order to steal his breath and taste his fervid moans of your name on your tongue as he comes deep inside you.

Pressing a palm to his lower back, you pin him there, buried snugly within your pussy as you reach down with your other hand and rub your clit hard - it takes but a moment for you to come, and he writhes at the cataclysmic feel of your walls fluttering around him, overstimulating him, his mouth falling open in a silent cry as he comes again with your cunt milking his cock.

Completely spent, Feyd goes limp, and you rub your hand over his back, smoothing circles on his skin with your lips to his forehead. The post orgasm clarity begins to hit him, and you feel him go rigid - slowly, he pulls out, his seed leaking out now that he’s not filling you, and he attempts to get up, but his legs are too weak and he collapses beside you instead, his chest heaving, his eyes still a little hazy, still fucked out, even as he fights for lucidity.

There’s something on his face that cuts at your heart - a look of expectancy, as if he’s waiting for you to get up and leave now that you’ve had your fill of him. Concerned, you reach out, and he leans away from your touch.

‘Feyd,’ you murmur. ‘It was not too much, was it?’

‘N - no,’ he replies. ‘I just…’

Sitting up slowly, you look him right in the eyes. He stares back, bewildered, but you press a finger to his lips, foregoing your own fumbling words to instead recite the pledge of allegiance of a Harkonnen soldier to their general; his eyes widen - you know you have hit home. You’d exchanged wedding vows, of course, but these have a different meaning: you see it in the respectful way it is uttered, a soldier acknowledging his superior’s presence.

You pledge to him not only your heart, but your sword - your service - too.

‘Wife,’ Feyd bites out. ‘Surely you do not mean - ’

‘I mean it,’ you cut in. ‘Every word.’

Again, you reach for him, and this time he does not flinch away, letting you tuck him close to you, his breath coming out shaky. Gently, you tip up his chin, planting a chaste kiss on his parted lips, and he returns it slowly, wondrously, no teeth or tongue, just the gentle brush of his mouth against yours: the innocence of it is bittersweet - has anyone ever kissed him this tenderly?

Carefully, you withdraw, wanting to see him, but he does not let you meet his eyes, instead hiding his face in your neck, his lips at the hollow of your throat. You grant him the privacy of not being seen when you feel wetness on your skin, his hot tears tracking down and pooling in your collarbone - his hands ball at his sides, and you pry open his fingers and lace yours with his, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. Tightly, you wrap your arms around him, holding him with a hand cupping the back of his head, cradling him to your chest.

Your voice is quiet in the still air, but it carries as if through an arena, a promise arcing through the air like a soaring arrow.

‘You no longer walk this world alone, Feyd-Rautha.’

best believe when i started writing this i did not anticipate the 2x 'good boy's 🧍

dune taglist: @callumsgirl @oh-you-mean-me @insufferablyunbearable

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offthepages · 2 days

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And so, the stars aligned pt. 4

Azriel x Archeron!Sister reader

Summary: After realizing you are his mate. Azriel races back downstairs to tell the rest of the Inner Circle. Spoiler alert- they already knew.

Warnings: Mentions of past trauma, a very small bit of violence. Let me know if theres anything I missed! a/n: This is unedited, so we aren't talking about it.

Ageless and MDNI

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

Masterlist Requests are open!!

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As the door to your room closed, Azriel found himself frozen in place. His heart was still racing. He can feel his soul reaching out to yours, calling for you to return. The one thing that he always wanted, more than anything in the whole world, was just beyond that door. Someone to call his. Someone to be his. To be someone’s. To have a place to belong. But that door was still in the way. And he could tear it off the hinges for its audacity to stand between you and him. He could rip the door open, watching as you looked at him with those big doe eyes of yours. Stammering as you'd try to hide the shock and ask him what's wrong. Only for him to cross the room. Pull you in and kiss you like his very life depended on it. As if you were air, and he was gasping for it. Your love was the tide that pulled him under, all-consuming. But he didn't feel like he was drowning, no. Never. You were his light, his dark, his everything. His salvation. You were perfect. He felt the bond and knew there was someone at the other end of it. Someone who would feel it with time.

And that thought seemed to pull Azriel out of his less-than-sober state. Whatever the mating bond had done to his head had consumed him. Made him unable to think straight, unable to use any common sense- or any sense at all. He needed to step away, needed to stop smelling your scent. His shadows pull him back, gently urging him to give you space. Part of it makes him smile, that they were so eager to protect you. Part of him looks at the shadows and glares. "Traitors." He mumbles, before going down the stairs. His heart heavy as he takes every step. You were so unaware of his feelings. You always had been, you pushed away any feelings for him in favor of Elain. He watched you do it, heard you talking in hushed whispers to Feyre and Nesta about her wellbeing. You used to join them, but then you just…stopped. That's when Elain started flirting more. It broke his heart to see you back down so easily. Azriel knew you didn’t have any friends outside the Inner Circle…and he felt you watch from the windows. How he wanted to reach his hand out to you, share his time with you the way you shared it with your sister…

His footsteps for once are not muffled, nor does he want them to be. It didn't matter who saw him now, he'd let them know he was there to protect you. So, he allows himself to walk naturally, feeling the weight of everything finally. His footsteps heavier with each step. As Azriel enters the room he notices how the party has slowly stopped talking as he enters. His brothers looked the most concerned, slowly they both stood. Az notes the way their gaze moves about his body, checking for injury. Their shoulders are tense as well as if they’re on edge about something. What he didn’t know, so he raises an eyebrow at them. "Azriel?" Rhys's voice is soft, and gentle, as if he is trying to tame a beast.

"Is everything okay?" Cassian asks next. His voice doesn't share the same gentleness that Rhys's did. But for Cassian, that was gentle. Azriel looks at him, Cassian's hazel eyes shining with concern as he steps forward with Rhys.

Azriel doesn't know where the sudden concern is coming from. He tries his hardest to will his face into one of neutrality. "Yes? Everything is fine." He assures them before trying to sidestep them. Rhys and Cassian grab onto his arms to hold him in place. Azriel is just confused. He looks back at Rhys and Cassian. "What?" His voice laced with that very confusion.

"You’re shaking," Rhys answers. "Your hands are clenched. You look ready to snap." He steps back, Cassian doing the same. Azriel looks down, slowly unclenching his hands, realizing that his siphons are swirling with power as well. Looking back up the stairs to see his shadows swirling outside your door, keeping watch for him to ensure your safety. He looks back to Rhys blinking and suddenly- he gets it. He gets why Rhys fell into Mor's arms screaming and crying that Feyre was his mate—understanding all the decisions Rhys made just to ensure her safety. Seeing why Rhys believed in her under that mountain. Understanding why Cassian fought so hard to try and save Nesta from the Cauldron. He understood how the view of the world changed in just a matter of seconds, and…how it felt knowing that they both figured it out before their mates did. How did they do it? How did they deal with the crippling fear that they might reject them? How did keep smiling? How did they keep it from consuming him? Rhys looks back at Cassian, both of them taking another tentative step toward their brother.

"Az?" Cassian's smooth voice, calming voice- he talked to hurt soldiers like that. Azriel knew that voice. Was that what he was now? A soldier on the battlefield again? Did they see him as the scrawny little kid that showed up at camp? At that thought suddenly he broke.

The tears fall quickly, and blindly Azriel reaches out to grab Rhys's shoulder. He hadn't realized the pain he'd been keeping in his heart. He claws at his shirt; wishing that he didn't have one, to begin with. Rhys pulls him in, holding him tightly. “Woah…” Rhys whispers squeezing him tighter. “Woah, we’ve got you Az. You’re okay. We’ve got you…” Cassian rubs his back- and Azriel knows that they're exchanging glances behind his back. But he doesn't care. But what he doesn't expect to hear is Mor.

"Azriel?" Her voice is soft, full of concern. And he looks up from Rhys's shoulder. Looking at Mor with a tear-stained face, his eyes growing puffier by the second as more tears rolled down. She held her arms up for him. Azriel pushed Rhys away, all but running into Mor. Falling into her arms as he cries harder. Mor's embrace is warm, her skin is soft. She was always so warm, like a sunny spring day. She smelt like vanilla and whiskey. Threading her fingers through his hair, brushing out the curls gently as she started to rock him. "Shh, shh, we’ve got you. What happened? Can you tell us what's wrong?" Her voice is so gentle, soft, and caring in a way that only Mor could manage for him. Azriel realized she was being motherly. He reached for a comfort he'd barely known. A mother's embrace, or in Mor's case; a sister's embrace. Pulling away, Mor wipes his eyes. Nodding she looked up at him with her warm, chocolatey eyes.

"She's my mate." He croaks. It felt so good to get out. It felt good to tell someone, pride surging through him. To declare that you were his. He was yours. You were one. Mor's eyes widened, looking back at Amren, Feyre, and Nesta. "She's my mate, Mor. An-and she didn't feel it, now suddenly I feel like I can't breathe. I feel like I'm drowning. I keep reaching for her but she’s not there. I-I’m panicking about her even though I knew she was right upstairs. Everything is racing. I'm in a free fall, my wings won't open and the ground is getting closer. Everything feels so-"

Nesta grabs Azriel's chin. Tilting his head up to look at her, and he expected to see an icy glare. Instead, he's met with an intense understanding. "You are not dying. You are okay. And you need to take a deep breath." She illustrates what she wants him to do by taking a deep breath herself. Azriel finds himself mimicking her actions, suddenly realizing what he had done. He wasn’t supposed to be weak. His tears were pointless, his pain didn’t matter. He stands straighter, clearing his throat. Looking down at the ground to avoid everyone else's gazes. Nesta continues, "You fucking Illyrian's love too hard." She scoffs, her tone laced with a playful amusement. Though there's also so much truth behind it. "Y/n will accept you as her mate soon enough. But you have to give her the space and opportunity to do so. But, for the record. I am very happy that she is your mate. And you better be good to her or I’ll make you suffer.”

“Nesta!” Feyre hisses, elbowing her sister as she scowls at her. But Azriel laughs, it’s short and quiet but it’s a genuine laugh. Everyone looks at him before he pulls both of them into hugs. Feyre squeaks, but holds onto him. Nesta stiffens but pats his back.

“Thank you…” He whispers, pulling away. Azriel shakes his head and sits on the armchair with a sigh. “I…don’t know what came over me.”

Rhys sits on one of the arms, clapping his brother in the back. “Love does strange things to people.”

“Especially in this family.” Amren rolls her eyes as she scans Azriel for any more signs of an emotional outburst. “But, I also know you haven’t cried in a long, long, time Azriel.” She gives the shadowsinger a pointed look.

Cassian sighs and plops next to Azriel’s other side. Ruffling his hair. “You had us worried there for a second. I thought she insulted you or something.” Cassian laughs, Azriel can’t help but smile.

“No…nothing like that.” He whispers.

Nesta goes to Cassian’s side. Immediately sliding under his arm and putting a hand on his chest as she leans into her mate's warmth. “How did it happen?” Nesta asks, her voice full of curiosity. Remembering her love of romance novels- it didn’t shock Azriel that she wanted to hear the details.

Feyre also made her way closer, sitting on the couch closer to Rhys. Tucking her legs under her as she nods excitedly. “Yes! Tell us all the details, it was my personal favorite, hearing Rhys confess.” She looks over at him and winks.

Azriel chuckles and shakes his head. “She seemed…sad.” He starts slowly, closing his eyes to recount. Picturing the way your eyes slowly faded into a blank stare. “So after she announced she was going to bed. I followed her, but I thought she knew. I ended up scaring her, and I felt this…this nagging part of my brain light up. Telling me to apologize over and over again. As if it didn’t like making that look appear on her face. So, I apologized. But, then she just started…laughing. It felt…different than all the other times. I saw this golden glow around her as if the sun had decided to come back up and only shine on her. And she put her hand on my arm-“ He smiles faintly as his fingers gently trace over the spot yours had been. “It felt…like I was seeing the sun for the first time.” His voice is softer than ever. “And she joked about her intentions with me and her laugh. It was…it was like I couldn’t breathe. She leaned into me, laughing so hard she was snorting, touching me and- and just being…happy. Being her. That was the moment. Looking down at her I knew. I wanted to hear that laugh for the rest of my days. I wanted to be the reason for that laugh. I wanted to pick her up, spin her around, and kiss her like a fish needs water…” He smiles to himself as he pictures you again.

“I’ve loved her for so long. But, but that was the moment I knew. I was going to be there for her no matter what. Her laugh is something I’d fight wars over.”

Nesta is grinning, tears brimming her eyes. “I haven’t heard her laugh like that since she met you.” And Azriel’s heart swells with pride again.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The next morning as you enter for breakfast everyone’s eyes fall onto you. Blinking at them all you raise your hand to give a shy little wave. “Uh, good morning?”

“Good morning, did you sleep well?” Feyre smiles, Nyx perched on her lap as she offers him a slice of banana. You simply nod at her as you go to take your seat.

Nyx pushes away Feyre’s hand and exclaims, “Titi! Titi!” His little warms going upwards as he bounces in his mother’s lap. You, Nesta, and Elain all exchange glances. Looking at each other in a standoff of who can get to Nyx first. You move first, quickly running around the side of the table that Nesta wasn’t on. But Nesta, the Valkyrie, is quicker. Vaulting over the table- much to Rhys’s chagrin.

“Nesta!” He huffs looking at his plate of food with her handprint in it. Elain sprints around the other side, holding her arms out.

In a split second, darkness enveloped the room. Once it dissipates Azriel stands in the corner holding Nyx up. High above his head as the toddler giggles with glee.“Hello Nyx.” He grins with a triumphant smile. Your legs suddenly feel weak as you look at him. Only Nyx got him to smile like that. You look over at your sisters who are all as gobsmacked as you.

Nesta moves in first, on a mission to get her nephew. “You are not a Titi. So I will take him, please.” She gives an overly sweet smile as she holds her arms out.

Azriel considers for a second, but Nyx is happily playing with one of his siphons on his shoulders. Gently tapping it and watching the magic flow through it. “No, I think he’s content.”

Nesta goes to argue, but Elain steps forward. “Azriel…” She bats her pretty long lashes up at him. “Can I please see him?” She also holds out her hands as she smiles at her nephew.

Nyx again doesn’t respond to her voice. Now trying to munch on the Siphon. “It seems he’s still content.” Azriel shrugs, taking a slice of banana off of Feyre’s plate to give him instead.

It was your turn now and you were determined to win. “Azzy…” Your voice makes him pause. Good, you think. You hold out your arms and bat your eyes at him too. Trying to be as pretty as Elain was. “Let me see my favorite nephew?”

Nesta scoffs, “He’s your only nephew.” You shoot her a glare and look back up at the spymaster.

“Pretty please Az?” You pout, using the little sister privilege you honed. An impenetrable puppy dog face. And much to your delight- and your sister’s annoyance- Azriel crumbles. Earning snickers from around the table, all of which he glares at. Delicately handing Nyx to you and quickly moving as far- far away from you as he can.

Nyx looks up at you and grins. “Titi!” Your eyes shine with brightness and you giggle as you kiss his cheek.

"That's right, Nyx. Titi, the best Titi of all time." You coo, wrinkling your nose at Nesta and Elain. Nesta flips you off as she sits next to Cassian with a huff. And you chuckle as he wraps a wing around her, petting her hair as he offers her a bite of toast. Which she grumpily takes. You smile and sit with Nyx, settling him on your lap as Feyre passes you his plate.

Polite, and not-so-polite conversation takes place. Laughter fills the room and you for once, feel peaceful. Looking around this room filled with so much love. It was- almost too much to bear. But it all comes crashing down as Rhys gets handed a golden envelope. Golden waves were etched into it, along with golden flowers. It caused the conversations to die down as Rhys opened it. You follow his eyes, scanning the page. Watching his eyebrow raise in amusement as he passes the paper to Feyre. "What is it?" Mor asks looking or trying to look over Rhys's shoulder. Cassian stretches as well to try and see what is going on. Feyre holds it closer to her chest as she glares lightly at him. You hold back a snicker as Azriel's shadows loom behind Feyre- also trying to peak.

"It's an invitation," Feyre says simply, nodding as she looks it over again. Suddenly you watch Azriel stiffen.

"From. Who?" He grits out. Your eyebrows knit together in concern. But he doesn't look at you, his golden gaze still focused on Feyre. You could swear that from across the room you saw his eyes get greener. Feyre looks over at him and sighs heavily.

"Tarquin and Tamlin. They're hosting a ball to try and find a wife- or their mate." Feyre explains handing the letter over to Cassian. He greedily takes it, and Nesta pulls it down so she can read it too. Their eyes widened.

"It says they're requesting all unmated females." Cassian looks up at Azriel- almost like they were having a secret conversation. You snatch the letter from Nesta so you can scan it over.

Gasping and biting your lip, you look over at Rhys and Feyre. "Does that mean I can go?" You ask giddily, barely able to keep your excitement in.

Rhys spares a glance at Azriel and then looks back at you. "Would you want too?" His voice is tight. The room falls silent as it waits for your response. But you nod quickly.

"Yes!" You nod quickly, "It's like the fairytales we've read!" She looks over at Azriel, who refuses to look at you. His plate is the only thing that has his interest. But his indifference doesn't sway you. Letting your attention turn back to Rhys and Feyre, "It would be good! Like a show of good faith to send a member of the Night Court! Besides that, I wouldn't go for Tamlin. Not after what he did to you-" You look at Feyre with a gentle smile. Rhys takes hold of her hand, his thumb gently running over her knuckles. "But, I could find my mate there! Or hell I'd even settle for a boyfriend." You try to joke to clear the awkward tension. But all it did was cause Azriel to stand abruptly and walk out. Standing back up you go to follow him, but Nesta takes your hand, shaking her head. Sitting back down as you look at the letter.

"…It would be fun," Feyre says quietly. "We could bring the whole Inner Circle. It gives Amren a reason to see Varian. And we can show Nyx to everyone. You have the shields Hellion taught you, so you can protect us. It would be fun, we should go." She nods determinedly as she looks at her husband. Their eyes glaze over as they speak to one another but you look back at the door Azriel just walked out of. His shadows lingered around as if reporting what Rhys said. He sighed heavily.

"I'll respond with all that are attending." You squeal and rush over to hug him, kissing his cheek.

"You're the best Rhys! Thank you!" And warmth comes back to the room as your sisters smile at you. Immediately bringing up how they plan to doll you up.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Rhys's study door swings open as Azriel storms in. His siphons churning with power and the only thing that gives him pause is Feyre sitting on the desk in front of a chair. Rhys flanked her left, Cassian on her right. Amren and Mor are on Rhys's side. Nesta on Cassian's. Azriel glares at Rhys, "What is this."

Feyre points to the chair. "Sit." Azriel crosses his arms in a silent refusal. Feyre raises an eyebrow.

"Azriel we are not your enemy right now." She says gingerly. Trying a gentler approach, as if he would start crying again. His fists clench as he grinds his teeth.

"You are." He says simply. "You're letting her go."

"Azriel you know damn well that we give choices in this court." Rhys snaps, Feyre putting a hand on his chest. "I don't know why you suddenly think you can control her-"

"I know I can't control her." Azriel snaps at Rhysand. Their eyes meet and Azriel grits out, "But she is a mated female. And it is a slap in my face that you consider my mating bond so unimportant that what? Get another fucking Alliance? Like how you were gonna marry Nesta off to Eris."

"Azriel." Cassian snaps, standing to his full height. "You don't get to bring up my mate just because you're pissy." Nesta pulls him back. Her blue/grey eyes meet his as she steps forward. Cassian watched her like a hawk. But Nesta didn't balk.

"I was going to marry Eris because I didn't feel worthy of the love that Cassian was giving me. And the reason Rhysand wants us to go is so that y/n can be happy. Isn't that something you want for her Azriel? You know how we grew up, but did you know that y/n used to lay in our bed and ask me to tell her stories? She'd ask me about balls, what princes were like. She's dreamed of this. Finding her true love over there. So-" Nesta jabs Azriel's chest. "Suck it up."

Azriel's jaw tightened. And then, Rhysand spoke. "You won't be going." The room fell silent.

"What."

"Lucien got the same letter, he's requested that we not bring Elain. Elain is okay with that, they want to take this as an opportunity to get to know each other. You will be here to keep them safe and chaperone for Elain's comfort. You are silent, you are friends with Elain and it will give you time to sort out whatever is going on with your attitude." Rhysand tries to keep his voice even, and clear, end all be all. Azriel waited for the hypocrisy of the moment to hit him, but when it didn't.

"No," Azriel says simply. "No make someone else do it. I am not going to sit here while you cart her around. Pick someone else."

"That's not happening. She hasn't felt the bond yet Azriel. And trust me, I know how hard it is. But I let Feyre go-"

"She's not Feyre. She can't fight. She isn't your mate, she's mine and I have her best interest-"

"You have a possessive interest." Rhys snaps. "She is allowed to make choices."

Azriel looks at Rhysand with disdain. His nose wrinkles in anger and his shadows swirl around him. Siphons flicker as his temper grows. "I didn't say she wasn't." He tries to speak calmly. He was better than this. Azriel didn't need to lose his temper, he didn't even know where this was coming from. No doubt the mating bond, everything involving you made every inch of his skin feel too tight. Like he needed your touch to cool the boiling beneath it. He had normally kept his cool in the face of adversity, he didn't question Rhysand. But when you were in the fold? He couldn't stop it. The images of you coming home with your arms linked with Tarquin or- oh god- Tamlin? The images of how thin Feyre had been when she first arrived flashed in his mind. And then- you. You being that thin, in a gaudy and ugly wedding dress. Big, puffy sleeves and begging him down the bond to save you. "But I want to go with her."

Rhys looks at everyone and sighs. "Azriel. We all decided-"

"You decided? Decided that I wasn't allowed near her?" He growls.

"You all decided what to do with me." Nesta chimes in. Azriel turns to her with a fire in his eyes.

"We decided that because we didn't want to watch you drink yourself into your immortal grave. We wanted you to heal and the only way to get you to do anything, Nesta Archeron, is through spite. Telling you that you have to do something or you must. But even still we didn't separate you from Cassian." Azriel fumed. He had never been like this with anyone. So raw, so angry. Showing his baseline of emotions. He couldn't stop it, everything felt like it was about to boil over. So he looks back to Feyre. "Please. I am begging you, to let me go."

Feyre looks over at Rhys. Rhysand shakes his head. "No. Azriel it will look bad for you to claim her-"

It was a blur. Everything happened so fast. Azriel moved before he knew what he was doing. Everything in him screamed out, at the people whom he called family locking him away once again from something he wanted so badly. And he saw his Father and stepmother. Overseeing his visits with his Mother. Not letting him stay with her no matter how hard he begged. Keeping his wings bound to his back despite the need to fly. All he felt was that red-hot anger. His blood felt like it was scalding under the surface. His skin was simmering and he wasn't sure if he was actually smoking or if it was his shadows that curled around his forearms. His voice felt like there was a vice grip around it. Why?! Why was no one listening to him! Why didn't they understand? He didn't want to control you or tell you that you couldn't do something. He just wanted to be there. All he wanted to do was make sure that you were happy. He didn't want to play babysitter again to another set of mates. He just wanted to watch you shine.

He comes back into his own body to realize that he'd punched Rhysand. His black eye starting to form. Two strong hands were on his elbows as he was forced to sit. Cassian. They were Cassian's hands. Azriel calmed and eased into the chair. Rhys puts a hand to face blinking in shock. Looking at Azriel with one good eye. The room was silent. They could have heard a pin drop miles away. Azriel tried to open his mouth to speak but nothing came out. He hangs his head in shame, waiting for Rhysand to tell him to leave.

"Cauldron boil me." Rhysand laughs and kneels in front of Azriel. "You really think that?" He whispers looking at his brother with sincerity. "That all you are is a babysitter?" Azriel blinks and looks at him with wide eyes. "You said it all. Screamed it right into my head. Made me feel it." He gives him a gentle smile. "Az, that's not what I was trying to say." Rhys sighs heavily and shakes his head. "I didn't think you could handle it. That rage? I understand it. I felt it every day Under the Mountain, and every day when Feyre was with Tamlin. I don't want you to think I don't trust you. But I know it's hard to contain. Case in point-" He points to the black eye.

Azriel swallows thickly, still unable to voice his apology. ' I'm sorry Rhysand. I understand. I don't like it, feeling so angry. The bond just- amplified all of my emotions.' Rhys nods along to what Azriel speaks into his mind.

"It gets easier. For now," He sighs and shakes his head. "It might just be the better idea to bring you along. Being near her should help."

Azriel nods. Still looking down at the ground, and then he feels gentle arms wind around him. Nesta. "Thank you for being my friend." She whispers. Another set of arms wind around him. Feyre.

"Thank you for being our eyes and ears."

Another set of arms. Mor. "Thank you for always protecting me."

More arms. Cassian. "We are your family. And we never want you to feel like you don't matter."

Two more. Rhys. "I am the biggest hypocrite."

"Really." Amren's voice cuts through. But then there is a little scuffle as someone, most likely Mor, pulls Amren into the group hug. He hears her sigh. "…Thank you for punching Rhysand." The group laughs warmly. Maybe everything was going to be alright.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Your arms squeeze Elain tightly. "I'm very excited for you!" You say warmly. "I think you'll be a happier woman when we come back." You wink at her. Elain scuffs and rolls her eyes, but her cheeks redden at the idea.

"Well, I hope you come back with so many stories that I would be jealous." She teases you as she pulls you back and makes you sit on a pink stool. Looking at your reflection in the mirror, she brushes your hair out and helps you put it half up, half down. Something pretty and yet elegant. Finishing she looks at you in the mirror. "You look beautiful."

You grin, shrugging. "Thanks, Elain." Not knowing how to respond. "Let us know how it's going?" You hold up a pinky to her, Elain rolls her eyes and links your pinkies.

"I will write the most boring and mundane letters just to shock you with the truth when you get back." She teases. You feigned hurt before you heard Rhysand call for you. You and your sister share a giddy smile and you rush down the stairs.

The whole Inner Circle stands there with various bags, the 'ball' would be taking place over a week. With dances each night, not all of which were deemed mandatory- only the first and last night were. But you were going to be staying in a newly rebuilt Spring Court. Feyre had been nervous at first, but Lucien helped ease her nerves. Assuring her that they wouldn't be near the Manor and that Tamlin had completely rebuilt. It was almost unrecognizable. But none of that mattered, you were going to be going to every ball you could, dancing the nights away, sleeping in, wearing all the beautiful dresses you could. You were ready to take this ball by storm.

Lucien looked up at Elain, bowing his head. Your sister halted, and you gave her a subtle push toward him. "You look well," Elain whispers.

"As do you." He smiles.

Leaving the two to talk. You look over at Azriel, you haven't talked to Azriel since that morning. And he wasn't at breakfast the next day. So you took this opportunity to cross the room to his side. He looks down at you, giving a small smile in greeting. You smile back, "Azriel." You speak softly, suddenly feeling bashful. You hadn't known why he suddenly stopped coming around you, but you knew that you wanted to remedy it. You wanted him closer to you, you wanted your friend back. "Are you excited?"

Azriel looks at you with a raised eyebrow, his eyes have a glint of amusement in them. "You do realize that you're asking the biggest introvert here if he's excited to go to a ball."

You pout, glaring at him. "…you can lie to me."

That gets a chuckle out of Azriel as he extends a hand to you. "Then I am thrilled to go spend this week somewhere I'm not comfortable." You elbow him as you take his hand.

"Is there anything I can do to help you feel more comfortable?" You ask, tilting your head to the side as you step outside. Azriel lets his wings expand, quickly scooping you up into his arms. The others would Winnow to the house, but Cassian, Rhys, and Azriel wanted to fly. And so, Amren uncomfortably held Nyx. The toddler playing with her necklace as Mor got ready to Winnow. Rhysand scooped up Feyre, Cassian held Nesta, and… Azriel held you. Quickly shooting up into the air, a sound between a gasp and a squeal sounded from you. Holding onto Azriel tighter, you feel him hold you tighter before he leans into your ears.

"Just stay close by in case I need you." He answers. You blink up at him before smiling and nodding.

"I'll be right by your side." You promise. ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── a/n: I personally hc that the mating bond can be really intense and amplify every emotion- even if it has nothing to do with your mate. So Azriel being so on edge, is just because that man needs a fucking hug. Anyways!! I hope y'all enjoyed!!

tag list: @sidthedollface2 @cat-or-kitten @impossibelle @brunette-barbie1220 @scatteredstardustt @sammanna @cherry-cin @tele86 @judig92 @lana08 @stained-glass-eyes0708 @oucereeng @persephonesalvatore @fightmedraco @juniperberriesaries @whatdoyxumean @harrystyke21 @tenshis-cake @5onedirection5 @bubybubsters @its-sam-allgood @natashachelsea @brieflyclassymortal l @thecraziestcrayon @cherryinsalemverse @sourapplex @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @waggel36 @bunnyred-blog1 @kookie4life @mybestfriendmademe @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @mp-littlebit @caticorn61

#acotar #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel x reader #pro nesta #nesta archeron #nesta x cassian #feyre x rhysand #feyre archeron #elain archeron #elain x lucien

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dduane · 1 day

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Of parsnips and parsnip soup

So the question of parsnips, and particularly parsnip soup, came up secondary to this quote from an interview with Terry Pratchett. (Thanks to @captainfantasticalright for the transcription.)

Terry: “You can usually bet, and I’m sure Neil Gaiman would say the same thing, that, uh, if I go into a bookstore to do a signing and someone presents me with three books, the chances are that one of them is going to be a very battered copy of Good Omens; and it will smell as if it’s been dropped in parsnip soup or something in and it’s gone fluffy and crinkly around the edges and they’ll admit that it’s the fourth copy they’ve bought”.

And when @petermorwood saw this, he immediately reblogged it and added four recipes for parsnip soup.

These kind of surprised some folks, as not everybody knew that parsnips were an actual thing: or if they were, what they looked like or were useful for.

The vegetable may well be better known on this side of the Atlantic. (And I have to confess that as a New Yorker and Manhattanite, with access to both great outdoor food markets and some of the best grocery stores in the world, I don't think that parsnips ever came up on my personal radar while I was living there.) So I thought I'd take a moment to lay out some basics for those who'd like to get to know the vegetable better.

The parsnip's Linnaean/botanical name is Pastinaca sativa, and in the culinary mode it's been around for a long time. It's native to Eurasia, and is a relative to parsley and carrots (with which it's frequently paired in the UK and Ireland). The Romans cultivated it, and it spread all over the place from there. Travelers who passed through our own neck of the woods before the introduction of the potato noted that "the Irish do feed much upon parsnips", and in the local diet it filled a lot of the niches that the potato now occupies.

You can do all kinds of things with parsnips. The Wikipedia article says, correctly, that they can be "baked, boiled, pureed, roasted, fried, grilled, or steamed". But probably the commonest food form in which parsnips turn up around here is steamed or simmered with carrots and then mashed with them: so that you can buy carrot-and-parsnip mash, ready-made, in most of our local grocery chains.

It also has to be mentioned that most Irish kids have had this stuff foisted on them at one point or another, and a lot of them hate it. (@petermorwood would be one.) I find it hard to blame anybody for this opinion, as one of the parsnip's great selling points—its spicy, almost peppery quality—gets almost completely wiped out by the carrot's more dominant flavor and sweetness.

Roasting parsnips, though, is another matter entirely. They roast really well. And parsnip soups are another story entirely, as it's possible to build a soup that will emphasize the parsnip's virtues.

So, to add to Peter's collection, here's one I made earlier—like yesterday afternoon, stopping the cooking sort of halfway and finishing it up today.

I was thinking in a vague medioregnic-food way about a soup with roasted bacon in it, but not with potatoes (as those have been disallowed from the Middle Kingdoms for reasons discussed elsewhere. Tl;dr: it's Sean Astin's fault). And finally I thought, "Okay, if we're going to roast some pork belly or back bacon, then why not save some energy and roast some parsnips too? The browned skins'll help keep them from going to mush in the soup."

So: first find your parsnips. I used four of them. You peel them with a potato peeler...

...sort of roughly quarter them, the long way...

...then chop them in half the short way, toss them in a bowl with some oil—olive oil, in this case—spread them on a baking sheet, and season them with pepper, coarse salt, and some chile flakes. (I used ancho and bird's-eye chile flakes here.)

These then went into the oven for about half an hour, and came out like this.

While that was going on, I got a block of ready-cooked Polish snack bacon out of the freezer.

On its home turf, this is the kind of thing that turns up (among other ways) sliced very thin on afternoon-snack plates, with cheeses and breads. But we like to score it and roast it to sweat some of the fat out, and then use it in soups and stews and so forth.

So I scored this chunk on most of its sides, browned it in a skillet, then shoved the skillet into the oven for twenty minutes or so. Here's the bacon after it was done.

While it was cooking, I made about a liter of soup stock from a couple of stock cubes. If you can get pork stock cubes, they'd be best for this, but beef works fine.

This then went into the pot and was brought up to just-boiling while the bacon and the parsnips were chopped into more or less bite-sized chunks. After that, the meat and veg were added to the pot and the whole business was left to simmer for a couple of hours while I went off to do some line editing.

Finally I turned it off and left it on the stove overnight (our kitchen is quite cool, it was in no bacteriological danger from being left out this way) and then finished its simmering time around lunchtime today.

And here it is. (...Or was. It was very nice.)

...Anyway, this is only one of potentially thousands of takes on parsnip soup. Recipes for more robust versions—based on mashed parsnips and more vegetables, or different meats—are all over the place.

Meanwhile, as regards how much damage this soup could do to your copy of Good Omens if you dropped yours in it, I'd rate this at about 5 damage points out of 10. ...Call it 5.5 if you factor in the chiles. Soups along the boiled-and-mashed-parsnip spectrum would probably inflict damage more in the 7.50-8.0 range. But your results may vary: so I'll leave you all to your own experimentation.

#parsnips #parsnip soup #Good Omens #Terry Pratchett #Neil Gaiman #recipes

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nohoperadio · 1 day

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That cool bee book I was talking about a while ago mostly refrains from philosophical digressions (which I think is a strength, I appreciated how the author had total confidence that just clearly presenting the facts about his subject would be enough to make a fascinating book without the need for any "...and here's why that should blow your mind" editorializing, and he's totally right), but there was one towards the end I've found myself thinking about a lot, which is: he wants people to stop using "self-consciousness" (i.e. the concept exemplified by the mirror test but used implicitly or explicitly in tons of other contexts) as a criterion for which animals can be considered sentient/morally relevant/having significant inner lives/however you want to describe it. Not, as you might expect, because he thinks it's an unreasonably high bar to meet, but because it's such a low bar that it produces no distinctions: he argues that basically any animal with any kind of developed central nervous system has to have some kind of self-consciousness almost by definition.

The example I remember best is: imagine you can see an object in your visual field getting closer to you. No matter the specifics, it's obviously always going to make a huge difference to how you evaluate this situation whether the cause of the object getting closer is a] the object is moving towards you, or b] you are moving towards the object. If a, then something might be pursuing you or falling on you or a thousand other things that are just not even worth considering in the case of b. But visually the two cases are indistinguishable; if you're going to be able to track the difference, your brain has to be putting at least some work into keeping tabs on what your own intentions are and what choices you're making as you move through the world, predicting the expected consequences of those choices, and maintaining a fairly tidy mental separation between stuff in the world that you're making happen and stuff in the world that's just happening of its own volition. Otherwise, every time you walk towards a rock you'll freak out and think the rock is rolling into you, or vice versa.

And it's not hard to see how this applies to your entire sensory world right, it applies to sounds and tactile sensations and even feelings internal to your body to some extent, if you're going to both perceive the world and take actions in the world then it's mandatory to mentally separate yourself and the world before that's going to yield even an ounce of helpful information, you just can't function successfully on the most basic level if you're processing stuff that you're doing on the same level as stuff that's happening, if you're in that state then you simply don't have a usable model of the world at all, you just have chaos.

So you can very easily eliminate a certain seductive narrative about the evolution of consciousness, which starts with very primitive animals who are mentally processing nothing but basic sensory inputs, then as you rise up the chain more complex animals are forming concepts of objects and building up a more nuanced understanding of the world, until finally you approach humans and the mind becomes so subtle and sophisticated that it gains access to this special advanced meta-level of thought where it can even understand itself! No, the self is precisely the one idea that has to be in place from the very beginning, before any of it has even the most rudimentary practical value. Self-consciousness isn't the pinnacle of the mind's evolution, it's one of the lowest, most basic foundations that everything else builds off of.

I think this is really cool stuff! I don't know enough about the relevant academic philosophy of mind debates to say how far all this does or doesn't speak to that, maybe someone will tell me the "self-consciousness" concept being attacked here is a strawman somehow, I don't know. But it's definitely impacted the way I (just a dumb guy who likes creatures) think about our small small cousins and what their lives might be like and I think it's super interesting. If you think it's interesting too then maybe you wanna buy The Mind of a Bee by Lars Chittka and read it. It's mostly not about this stuff, as I say it's light on philosophy and heavy on bee-life immersion, but if you actually read this whole post then you're probably in the market for that I feel like.

#creatures: they've got a lot going on #I think we'd better just let them get on with it #nohopereadio #uninteresting

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foreingersgod · 3 days

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could you write something about attending Caitlins game and sitting courtside and her dedicating each shot to you

All For You . CC

pairing: caitlin clark x reader

synopsis: caitlin dedicates all her shots to you <3

you’ve always attended your girlfriends games, only missing a rare few. watching her out on the court in her element made you feel so proud, you wouldn’t miss that feeling for the world. you constantly reminded her how amazing she was, on and off the court. that she was the most amazing player you’ve ever seen.

and she’d blush, hiding her face in your neck all while thanking you for coming to the game. ‘as if i’d voluntarily miss it’ you’d reply. she would tell you how much it actually meant to her, that you’d show up every time. just for her.

“i wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you” is what she’d say, pressed up against you in bed after each game, running her fingers up and down your supple skin. “i hope you know that”

you’d shake your head, telling her no. because, to you, it was all her. the endless practices, the meltdowns of frustration that motivated her to keep going. that was all her doing, you were just here to support her.

caitlin understood that, yes, she’s put in a lot of hard work. but she couldn’t figure out why you would think you didn’t play a part in all this. if you weren’t there court-side every night, if you didn’t calm her down when she was frustrated, if you didn’t clean her up and nurse her back to health when she pushed it too far? she wouldn’t have all these titles and awards nor all the praise and attention.

so she took it upon herself to make you understand how much you truly have done for her.

she pledged to herself that every shot she took from this point forward, was devoted to you. caitlin had always kept you in mind when she scored, but every shot to her was just to get ahead. in reality, she discovered, she was really shooting for you. and she needed to show you that. you needed to understand that you were always on her mind, whether that be outside of the court or not.

it was a friday night, iowa was playing against lsu, and you were getting ready to leave the apartment. caitlin had left earlier in the afternoon for practice and warmups, and you let her know you’d be rooting for her somewhere in the crowd, just like you always did.

before you could make it to your front door, hands not even on the handle, your phone vibrated. pulling the phone out of your back pocket, a text from caitlin caught your eye.

cait <3: keep your eyes on me tonight, ok? want you to see something.

your brows furrowed slightly in confusion. what was she planning?

you: i always do, what are you up to this time?

cait <3: just trust me ;)

you chuckled to yourself, she was trouble.

you quickly realized you were late after being momentarily distracted by your girlfriend. snatching your bag and shoving your phone back into its pocket, you were out the door and headed to the arena.

they were just beginning introductions for the teams as you made your way to your seat. close enough to the floor that you could be easily spotted by your girl, but enough back that you weren’t front and center. the lights to the arena dimmed, colorful lights flashing and speakers booming as they called your girlfriends name. you watched as she stood from her seat and waltzed out onto the floor. she was glowing, hearing how her fans chanted her name as she hyped up the crowd. it warmed your heart to see her this happy.

before you knew it, the game was starting up. sneakers squeaked against polished wood as the girls defended the ball against lsu. they attempted a shot, missing it as caitlin rebounded the ball. she was slick on the court, gliding right past the opponents, dribbling the ball with ease. your eyes never left her figure like you were told.

you watched as she made it across the court. an lsu player, you have to admit, was doing an incredible job guarding her. but caitlin did what she does best. taking a large step back, almost to half court, caitlin took a deep shot against her defender. the entire crowd watched as the ball flew in the air, swishing straight through the net effortlessly. everyone erupted with chanting and applause, she was remarkable.

after her shot drained into the hoop, she turned to where you sat in the audience. you watched her closely, still clapping for her. she found you in an instant, locking eyes with you. she smiled and raised her hands, forming a heart with her fingers. she held in close to her chest then pointed to you, indicating that she made the shot for you. she mouthed a quick ‘for you’ to you up in the stands before catching up to her team on the other side of the arena. a flustered smile spread across your face as you watched her.

just when you thought she couldn’t get any better as a girlfriend or an athlete in general, here she was, dedicating shots to you.

as the game progressed and as iowa held onto a massive lead, caitlin kept blowing everyone away with her incredible shots. and each time, when the ball went through the net, caitlin isolated you from the crowd to make the same heart gesture. it was like clockwork and you’ll be honest, you never got tired of it. it made your heart swell to think that she was making those shots just for you.

once the clock buzzed and the game ended, you waited for the crowd to fizzle out before making your way down to the locker room. after each game you would wait on a small bench in the hall just outside and wait for caitlin to meet you. this night was no exception. you were perched on the bench, legs bouncing with anticipation to see your girl.

minutes went by until you heard the doors open with a click. your head snapped in its direction to see caitlin meandering over to you, an exhausted smile on her face.

“baby!” you cheered, running over to her and hugging her tightly “you were amazing as always, i’m so so so proud of you, cait!”

you pulled away from the hug and looked up to take in her appearance. she always looked so beautiful to you, no matter the sweat or grime or exhaustion. she was a work of art.

“thanks, babe” she leaned down to place a sweet kiss upon your lips.

“always” you pulled her in deeper as your arms draped around the back of her neck.

“how’d you like my new signature move?” you could feel her smile as she mumbled against your lips.

“oh my god” you laughed “i loved it, cait you definitely don’t have to do that for me!”

“the hell i don’t” she teased “i say it time and time again, you’re the reason i’m where i’m at today. the least i could do is dedicate my shots to you. it’s all for you.”

you could probably cry right there. the fact that she thought so highly of you, just for being her support, made you feel so special. caitlin had to be the most selfless person you’d ever met.

“i’m so lucky to have you” you said, hands falling down to her biceps where they gave a gentle squeeze “i love you so much, cait”

“i love you too” she replied “thank you for being with me through all this, i’m the one who’s lucky”

that night, you followed tradition. caitlin pressed up against you, the warmth of her skin soaking into your bare back. sheets draped over the two of you and your legs intertwined. her fingers skimmed over your arm, making you shiver. she whispered against the shell of your ear how much she loved you and reminding you once again that she wouldn’t be here without you. and while you still believed she didn’t give herself enough credit, you couldn’t help but smile when she reminded you just how much she loves you.

#caitlin clark x reader #caitlin clark #wcbb #wcbb x reader #iowa wbb #foreingersgod

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mysteryshoptls · 2 days

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SR Jamil Viper - Luxe Couture Vignette

"If I let this opportunity pass me by"

[Fairest City – Crystal Galleria]

Jamil: So, this is the "world's most beautiful plaza", the luxury shopping arcade Crystal Galleria.

Jamil: It's no wonder that the passage is lined with high-brand shops.

Ace: Woah! I totally dig those clothes in that shop's window! I'ma check 'em out.

Jamil: Hey, Ace! Ah man, I'll go and bring him back.

[Grim, Vil, and Azul look exasperated]

Shop Staff A: Welcome～!

Ace: Woooah! There's a ton of cool-lookin' clothes and accessories! This's so awesome!

Jamil: Hey… Don't just run off on your own. Come on, we're heading back to Vil-senpai.

Ace: It's just a little peek～ I saw somethin' I liked. Like see, like this T-shirt…

Ace: …Urk, it costs 100,000 Madol [1,000 Thaumarks]! That's waaay too expensive for me!

Jamil: That price is fairly standard for a high-brand shop… Hm?

Jamil: This stitching… It's pretty shoddy. Looks like they're using pretty low-quality cotton, too.

Jamil: Strangely, this doesn't look like the sort of thing that would be sold at this price.

Ace: Huh? Aren't T-shirts all made of the same stuff?

Jamil: Sure. But high-brand T-shirts are generally made with high-quality cotton.

Jamil: Better quality cotton is soft and have a nice feel to it.

Jamil: Not only does it not wrinkle easily, but when the cotton is made into T-shirts, it keeps its shape for longer and makes for a nice silhouette.

Jamil: The design of these other shirts isn’t too terrible… But the fabric quality is just too low.

Jamil: There's no way a shop selling at this level can have a store in the Crystal Galleria.

Jamil: Which means… They must have lowered the quality of their material after opening. Did they run into some kind of business issues?

Ace: Hey! That jacket's so rough-lookin' and cool! Excuse me, I'd like to try this on!

Shop Staff B: Ohh my, I'm sorry. I'm afraid that jacket cannot be tried on here.

Jamil: …

Ace: Huh? Really?

Shop Staff B: That's right. That is a really pricey jacket. If it is somehow dirtied or damaged, it would be on the customer to compensate the loss, wouldn't you say?

Jamil: …So essentially, he has to decide to buy it or not without trying it on?

Shop Staff B: Well, I guess that's right.

Jamil: …Would I be allowed to try these slacks on?

Shop Staff A: Unfortunately, that won't be possible either. Sorry.

Jamil: Ah, right. Thought as much.

Ace: C'mon. Isn't that a stupid rule?

Middle-aged Man: Oh nice, this is a pretty nice shop. The prices seem pretty reasonable, too.

Shop Staff B: Oh, what an important looking customer! Welcome～! Is there something in particular you're looking for?

Middle-aged Man: I'm wanting a jacket, see… Think you have something that'll suit me?

Shop Staff A: Well, if that's the case, how about this one? It's one of our most popular designs.

Shop Staff B: I'm sure it will be perfect for you. Please, try it on!

Ace: Wha―!? But when I asked earlier, they said it wasn't allowed to be tried on!!

Shop Staff A: Students like you can't possibly buy something like that, so there's no reason for you to try it on, is there?

Shop Staff B: Please go home before you start to disturb our other customers. We don't have the free time to be dealing with you two.

Ace: Huh...!?

Jamil: …Not only are their products low-quality, but so are the staff's customer service.

Jamil: There's no reason to stick around in a shop like this. Let's go meet up with Vil-senpai and the others.

[Fairest City – Crystal Galleria]

Ace: Wha was that all about, treatin' us like dirt just 'cause we're students!? That was terrible service. That pissed me off so much!

Ace: First they shoo us out, then they play all buddy-buddy up to the rich-lookin' guy.

Jamil: I bet that since they've been rubbing elbows with the rich and famous while working at that high-brand store…

Jamil: They've completely started to think that they've improved their own social standing.

Jamil: Thinking about those sorts of folks and getting upset about it is a waste of time. Just shake it off.

Jamil: Only the best brands, in both name and reputation, will flourish here at the Crystal Galleria.

Jamil: I can't tell if they had a change in management since opening, or if they've suffered business losses…

Jamil: But from what I saw, I can't imagine that place continuing to be suitable for this passage.

Jamil: Even if we do nothing, I'm sure they'll have no choice but to close down eventually.

Ace: It could ruin a brand's rep if they got kicked out of the Crystal Galleria. That'd feel sooo good to see, though!

―The next day

Jamil: I really can't relax at all while at Vil-senpai's side. I'll have to relax as much as I can during my personal free time here.

Jamil: Maybe I'll check out the café at the far end of the Crystal Galleria.

Jamil: Hm? This shop looks… I guess I can check it out.

Clerk: Welcome! Please feel free to look around.

Jamil: …This place is completely different than the one yesterday. Now, where's that outfit I saw in the window…?

Jamil: Ah, here it is. I thought it looked like a pretty nice jacket from outside, but the pockets and lining give off a more casual feel.

Jamil: This isn't something I see often. The material is good and the sewing and embroidery is delicately done…

Clerk: Would you like to try it on? Come this way.

Jamil: Thank you.

Jamil: Yeah, the size is good and it fits well. I think this color also actually goes well with the clothes I brought with me, too…

Jamil: …How much is this jacket?

Clerk: That would be 50,000 Madol [500 Thaumarks].

Jamil: I see. Would you allow me to think on it?

Clerk: Of course! And please take your time to look at our other items.

Jamil: A 50,000 Madol jacket… That's a bit of a steep price for me… Hmm…

Jamil: The fabric's quality, the design, and the superb stitching make this very high quality…

Jamil: If I think of those factors, even 50,000 Madol is fairly cheap. Also…

Jamil: I've found this in the Crystal Galleria, of all places. If I let this opportunity pass me by, there won't be another chance to buy something like this.

Jamil: …Excuse me. Could I purchase the jacket I tried on earlier?

Clerk: Absolutely. I'll go fetch a new one for you. Please wait a moment.

Jamil: Sure.

Jamil: …I was able to buy a sensible jacket from a reasonable shop here in the Crystal Galleria.

Jamil: Yeah. I'm definitely satisfied with this. And I'm sure this'll be a great memory.

[Fairest City – Queen's Palace]

Shop Staff A: KYAAA! VIL-SAMAAA! YOU'RE SO BEAUTIFUL!!

Shop Staff B: SO BEAUTIFUL! I JUST HAVE TO GET A PICTURE OF THAT STUNNING FACE!

Jamil: Hm? I think I saw those two screaming fans over there yesterday...

Shop Staff A: Oh, look! Do you think those guys walking alongside Vil-sama are models too? Should we ask for an autograph?

Shop Staff B: EXCUSE ME!! PLEASE GIVE US YOUR AUTOGRAPH!!

Jamil: …Hahah! You sure you want my autograph?

Shop Staff B: Absolutely! …Wait, huh? I feel like I've seen him before…

Shop Staff A: Wait! Isn't he that customer that we turned away yesterday…!?

Jamil: I'm honored that a mere student like myself would stir your recollections.

Shop Staff A: Wh-Who would have thought he'd be so famous to walk the tapis rouge…? And he looks so good in that outfit!

Shop Staff B: If we had sold clothing to those boys yesterday, it might've been such good publicity!!

Shop Staff A: H-Hey! Once you're finished here, would you care to come visit our shop once more?

Shop Staff B: We have a collection of garments that would look fabulous on you! Please allow us to design your new look!

Jamil: I have to decline. Your shop does not have any article of clothing that would suit me.

Jamil: After all, just as you said yesterday, there is no need to try anything on.

Shop Staff A/B: U-Uhhh… So when we said that yesterday, uh…

Jamil: If that is all, perhaps you should head home now? Not only are you bothering others around you…

Jamil: But I also do not have the free time to be dealing with you, either.

Requested by @ordinaryanon.

#twisted wonderland #twst #jamil viper #ace trappola #twst jamil #twst ace #twst translation #twst tapis rouge #mention: vil

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stayconnecteed · 1 day

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🪐˓⠀˚⠀foggy glass⠀@⠀hwang hyunjin.

it wasn't something you were in the habit of doing, but it wasn't usually something you could avoid. after all, it was practically impossible to resist your boyfriend when he looked that way. it hadn't even been your fault, you had only done what he asked you to do⠀★⠀1k words

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀; general m.list⠀☆⠀join taglist .ᐟ

content: smut,, sub!hyunjin, messy blowjob, mentions of biting / neck kisses. plot,, hyunjin tries to tease you, but it ends with him shuddering under your touch in his car. credits,, mdni banner by @cafekitsune. warnings,, if any under 18 acc interacts with this fic i'll block them. note,, no proofread, i don't even know- i wrote this in a haze ajsdhjasd

It wasn't something you were in the habit of doing, but it wasn't usually something you could avoid. After all, it was practically impossible to resist your boyfriend when he looked that way, clutching the cushioned surface of his seat with one of his hands, the other tangled in your hair, visibly overwhelmed, his pillowy lips spilling soft whimpers and his eyes fluttering, longing to memorise you but unable to keep them open for too long.

It hadn't even been your fault. He had left you a breathy audio in your chat while you were still at work, full of sighs and hurried whispers in which you could only hear his sweet voice calling for you, and then a brief message inviting you to a new restaurant that had recently opened two blocks south of his dorm. He had murmured something about dressing prettily ーyou didn't know if it was a request for you or a warning about himー, and then texted at what time he'd come to pick you up.

You had only done what he asked you to do. The fact that you had waited until you were sitting in the passenger seat to apply the gloss was a completely casual act, and had nothing to do with how much you knew Hyunjin liked the look on your face when you stared at yourself in the mirror, the pad of lipstick leaving a glossy surface on your lips that made him lick his own, almost hungrily.

He had confessed it to you a few months ago, in the middle of a hot make-out session on the sofa in the rehearsal room, when you had seized the opportunity to touch your boyfriend in the way he loved the most, no one left in the building. And you could see the reflection of his blurry gaze now, in the mirror you always carried with you, your eyes fixed in the vicious way he reacted to your motions, his eyes locked on your mouth. It was addictive, and you knew what turned him on the most was the way you looked down with a sharp gaze, the way you did when you rode him.

It was also addictive the way he responded to everything you did to him without needing to say a word. You knew he wouldn't protest if you leaned into him, but you were surprised by the hungry way his lips crashed into yours as soon as he had you close enough, all tongue and teeth, as if he intended to devour you whole. You let out an airy laugh, taking his face in your hands and ignoring the way your gloss was sticking to him, savoring its strawberry taste as soon as the kiss became so chaotic that you could only think mine, mine, mine…

You felt him give you two quick taps against your hip, hinting that he wanted you in his lap, but you ignored him, peeling your lips from his with a quick bite that left him whining for more, and pressing them against his neck, sucking above his beautiful mole, sliding your tongue over his skin and your hand down his abs until it rested over the bulge in his pants. You smiled, chuckling against his mouth, palming his erection, enjoying the way he stirred under your hands, overtaken by your touch and so adorably desperate for some friction, his throat producing the most delicious sounds.

Hyunjin tried to pull you back to him, wetting his lips as if he could feel yours on his again, or perhaps with the ghost of your last kiss still in his mouth. You tangled your hand in his hair, letting him keen towards the warmth of your palm, your breath on his skin, but tugging slightly at his locks before he could touch you. You swallowed the mewl that got stuck in his throat, and also the way his hips stuttered beneath you, and you could almost see the way his eyes slammed shut as you began to undo the button of his pants, sliding the zipper down and making him sit up a little so you could bend over his cock, pulling it out of his boxers and sucking the tip between your lips.

His shaky moan interrupted a breathless “fuck”, the sudden warm wetness around him as your gave him tentative little bobs making his head go dizzy. You tighten the hand you have around the base of his shaft, his low groan making you shiver, and you pull away for a while, your gaze falling over him. He looks completely wrecked already, his hair dishevelled by his own hand, a bead of drool about to spill from the corner of his lips.

You smile, still making eye contact with him, his cheeks stained in carmine, and kitten lick the head of his cock, swirling your tongue around it, humming. Hyunjin’s hips bucked helplessly, slurring a lazy “please, please, please” with broken voice, pouty under your touch. You slowly graze his dick with your teeth, the hiss he lets out contradicting the salty taste of pre-cum you taste on your tongue.

“Ah, ah, ahー baby, your mouthー” he slurred, his thigh tense and twitching under your hand, arousal pooling in the pit of his stomach. “Soー nghー so good…”

You pull back a second time, his whimper curving your lips, and you ask, voice hoarse “Mm-hm, feels good, baby boy?”

“Ohー Oh, God, so good” choking back a loud whine, dropping his head against the car window, his cheek sticking to the wet glass, his breathing drawing wisps of smoke against the surface, the condensation blurring the pornographic view of your boyfriend on the empty street where he had parked the car. You sank back down and suck him further into your mouth, his babblings becoming nonsense as soon as they left his lips, and you felt his cock throb in your mouth as you gently grasped his balls, feeling when he came down your throat, spilling moans into the car. You never make it to the restaurant.

#﹙ ★ ﹚⠀mars⠀—⠀writes.#stray kids scenarios #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #skz smut #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin smut #sub!hyunjin

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bratzforchris · 2 days

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Inked Daisies (Chapter 2)

A series

Summary: For the past year, you've been running the flower shop that's next door to your friend, Matt's, tattoo studio. But what happens when the feelings start to get more than friendly?

Read Chapter 1 here

Pairing: Tattoo artist!Matt x floristfem!reader

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol/drinking (reader and the triplets are 22 here), characters walking in on each other showering, nsfw content (no actual sex), a few uses of y/n (sometimes it's inevitable, y'all :P)

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: Y'all are about to kill me for this cliffhanger 🤗

“You’re here!” Chris smiled, throwing open the door. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“It was yesterday, Chris,” You giggled. “Now let us in so we don’t drop your dinner.”

“Us?” the youngest triplet asked you, cocking his head to the side.

Chris opened the front door wider to reveal Matt standing behind you, clearly annoyed at the fact that he hadn’t been let into his own home yet. You were holding a box of breadsticks and drinks from your favorite local pizza place while Matt carried the four boxes of pizza. Despite your protests that you could carry the pizza, the boy had refused, saying that he could do it because it was him and his brothers that could easily slam a whole pizza each by themselves. Secretly, you just thought it was cute that Matt wanted to help you, despite his “tough guy” façade.

“You guys came together?” a look of what could have been confusion, but also something else flashed across Chris’ face.

“You’re wack if you think I’m leaving her downtown alone at night. She’s too trusting; it’s like a puppy.” Matt murmured, shoving past you and Chris and into the house.

“Uh oh, Mattitude’s out now.” whatever expression had been on your best friend’s face was gone now, leaving you with the happy, sunny Chris you had always known.

“Out now? It’s always out.” You laughed, making your way into the kitchen you were all too familiar with.

“I heard that.”

You giggled to yourself, sitting the boxes down on the island. Breathing in the familiar scent of the boys’ home, any trace of the unease you had felt at Matt’s earlier demeanor disappeared. The triplets had been your best friends since high school, and not much had changed now that you were all adults, other than the fact that your hangouts were less frequent. Just like old times, you all piled onto the couch with your plates of pizza and drinks, scrolling through Netflix for a movie to watch.

You had sandwiched yourself between Nick and Chris, while Matt sat at the other end of the couch, silently eating his pizza and scrolling through his phone. You didn’t take the silence personally, though. After the conversation at the shop about the man who was making his job more difficult, you couldn’t blame the brunette for wanting a break. Though you weren’t as close with Matt as with the other two brothers, you still cared deeply for him. If that meant him being a little more quiet in order to rest, you didn’t mind it.

You turned towards Nick, snatching the leftover crust off his plate. “The stickers are selling well.” You stated, taking a sip of your Fanta.

Being close friends with a graphic designer as a business owner definitely had its perks; for example, the small, cartoon-style flower stickers that read “One Trick Peony” had sold out within three hours of your shop being open for the past week since you’d started stocking them. Despite his busy job as one of the most reputable graphic designers in Los Angeles, Nick still found time to prioritize your business. The stickers had been just one of the hit merchandise pieces he’d supplied you with.

“Do you know what you should sell?” Chris added, poking your cheek and then smiling when you looked at him fondly. “Alcohol. Lavender martinis would sell like crazy in a flower shop.”

“I’m not getting a liquor license,” You snorted. “Besides, I don’t even think the store has enough room for a bar.”

“Who said anything about a bar? All you need is a bartender.” Chris hummed, pulling you into his lap.

It was true. Chris had become quite skilled in his ability to make drinks any and everywhere over the past year since he’d gotten his bartender certification. In your opinion, the job was perfect for him. The fast-paced, fun environment and the amount of money you could make if you were entertaining and talkative was right up the brunette’s alley. His good nature made it pretty normal for him to come home on any given Friday night with about 600 dollars in cash.

You snuggled into your best friend’s chest, breathing in his boyish scent happily. “Maybe one day we can open a flower and brunch place with a bar.” You told him.

“You guys hear that? I’m the one Y/N wants to run a business with.” Chris chuckled, sticking his tongue out at the other two triplets.

“Just wait til she figures out how you actually act,” Nick grumbled, pressing play on the movie you all had decided on. “Now be quiet.”

Before looking over at the movie, you turned your eyes towards Matt. He was still withdrawn into himself, curled into the L-shaped corner of the couch now. He had put his phone down, though, and in a feat of chance, turned to look at you at the exact same moment. Matt cocked his head like he wanted to ask you a question, but then shook his head, averting his eyes. You shrugged, figuring it still had to do with the exhaustion and stress from earlier in the day, but you couldn’t help but notice the feeling growing in your tummy at the thought that Matt had been looking at you first.

One terrible, low-budget movie later, you sat up out of Chris’ hold and looked around the living room. Nick had abandoned the movie in favor of his laptop, seemingly editing some sort of advertisement. That was just his personality. If something recreational didn’t immediately capture his attention, he was back to working his ass off. Maybe that was what made him such a successful entrepreneur, but either way, you admired him for helping people bring their dreams for their designs to fruition. Chris was scrolling through his phone, every now and then migrating into his work group chat to chuckle at the stories his fellow bartenders had to share about cutting someone off for the night. Matt, on the other, had fallen asleep, chin resting in his hand. You felt rather bad for him; January was always a stressful month for tattoo artists and piercers because people had Christmas money and gift cards, and they wanted their modifications to be healed by summer time.

“I’m gonna shower,” You told your two (awake) best friends, standing up and stretching. “Do you guys mind?”

“You know that’s like asking to shower in your own home, right?” Chris stood up behind you, tickling your sides.

“It’s…still…the polite thing to do!” You laughed, gasping for breath at the tickling.

“But yes, we don’t care. Go ahead.” Chris placed a friendly kiss on the back of your head.

It wasn’t out of the ordinary for you and your best friends to share platonic cheek kisses, cuddles, and hugs, but it didn’t make your heart any less happy. You smiled, making your way to Matt’s bathroom. You had kept shower stuff at the triplets’ home ever since the four of you had moved to LA. After all, you were at their house almost more than you were at your apartment. You trekked towards Matt’s bathroom since it was the closest to the living room. You knew he wouldn’t mind, especially because A) he was asleep and B) you’d done it before.

You warmed the water up, ridding yourself of your clothes from the day, and stepping into the steamy heaven. You didn’t bother locking the door, knowing that on the off chance Matt did wake up, Chris and Nick would inform him that you were using his bathroom. You began to wash your hair, letting the rose scent of your shampoo fill the bathroom as you massaged your scalp, washing away the worries of both a busy day at your business, and the odd encounters you’d been having with the middle triplet all evening. You were so caught up in thinking that you didn’t even hear the doorknob to the bathroom turn as Matt stepped into the bathroom.

Matt knew he shouldn’t have. You were one of his closest friends. There was no way he should be watching you showering. It was weird and wrong on so many levels, yet he couldn’t pull his eyes away from your body. You looked peaceful, head thrown back under the water and eyes closed, soft moans escaping your lips as you relaxed. The way the warm water and soap suds caressed your body and curves as they cascaded into the drain made him think about what other white substances would look like dripping down your body in the shower.

What the fuck? Why was he thinking about railing you? You two weren’t even that close and he didn’t like you like that. Still, Matt couldn’t deny the tightening in his cock at the image of you in front of him, and the image of you in his mind. He told himself that it was just because he hadn’t been laid in so long, but the brunette couldn’t help the soft groan that made its way out of his mouth.

At the sound, your eyes flew open, head turning towards the door. “Matt?” You futilely tried to cover yourself, knowing it was useless. Matt had already seen it all.

“Fuck, I…uh, fuck–Y/N, I’m sorry,” he grumbled, clearing his throat. “I was just coming to brush my teeth and Nick and Chris didn’t tell me you were…in here.”

You shut the water off quickly, grabbing the towel you’d thrown over the side of the glass door and wrapping it around your body. “Shit, I’m sorry, Matt. I should’ve locked the door.”

“It’s um, it’s fine,” Matt coughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck as his face turned red. “I’m just gonna…grab my toothbrush and use Chris’ bathroom tonight. ‘S all yours in here.”

You watched as Matt grabbed his toothbrush and toothpaste and scrambled out of the bathroom. You were still standing in the draining shower, dripping wet and shivering. Part of you couldn’t believe that one of your best male friends had seen you showering, but for some reason, another part of you wasn’t mad about it. Unbeknownst to you, though, Matt was feeling the same way in his cold shower downstairs.

tags ♡: @jake-and-johnnies-slut @chrissfavwh3re @suyqa @chrissturnswife @mbsbaby @herxysc-blog @lovingchrissposts @caffeinatedscorpio @spencereidenthusiast @crazychrisl0v3r @sturnioloxlver @whicked-hazlatwhore @blahbel668 @sturncakez @junnniiieee07 @biggesthat3r @sturniolowhore @patscorner @julesgrl @0strawberrysorbet0 @strombolilovr @matt444nixi @remussbitch @devthepoet1221 @mattyblover07 @loisnotaa @mollyquinnxoxo @graysturns @pepsicolapussy333 @ginswife @emmagirouard @athaliahxoxo @bitchydragonparadise @ilydeaky @soggyslugg169 @m00n-0n-paws @books0fever @stingerayyy2 @sunsetsturniolos @mimi-luvzyu @raysmayhem-72 @faygo-frog @oobleoob @billsslutt @aemrsy

note ♡: if you'd like to be added to my taglist, click here <3

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sweetnsour1 · 3 days

Text

10:53:01

Fluff, Bakugou x fem reader

Part 1 of 2

“You’re kidding.”

“Why would I be kidding?” His tone had shifted. You could hear his brows and eyes furrowing at the strangled laugh you had shakily exhaled.

“How did you find out?” He had to be fucking with you.

“Um, the mission briefing...like usual?”

“What?” Shit, so he wasn’t fucking with you. You blinked away tears of frustration already threatening to leak into your voice. Stupid.

“Huh?”

“So, you’re really leaving?”

“Have to, beautiful.”

“But...”

“Yea, I know. I’ll miss you too.” His tone was getting softer with every awkward response you choked out.

“No, I mean...” You let the words trail off. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d forgotten the meaning behind this quickly approaching date. Your brain couldn’t even craft a way to bring it up without whining. You couldn’t do it. “Just be safe, okay?”

“The hell do ya think I am? I’m always safe.”

“Safer than your version of safe, please.” Your tone was firm as it delivered the familiar words, a ritual every time he left for a mission.

The memory of the first time you’d made the request came to you easily. He was in the doorway of your office, backing out, bumping his wide shoulders into the frame as he failed to smoothly exit. Red spread across the skin directly below his mask. You had thought you had overstepped, maybe he was upset that you questioned his performance. Your head had tiled to the side in confusion when instead he only said, “Yes, ma’am.” He landed a smack against the head of the blonde hero snickering behind him as he walked off, mumbling something about shutting up.

“Mmm.” You smiled. Maybe he was thinking of that day too.

“‘Mmm’ isn’t a promise.”

“I’ll be back before Saturday. Promise.”

“Back with all the parts you left with.”

“Ya gonna’ love me less if I don’t?” His words were obviously being spoken through a smile now, or a smirk more likely.

“Depends on what you lose.” A part of you melts at the chuckle let loose in your ear.

“Bullshit.”

“Mhmm.” You’re quick to agree but want to hear him laugh again. “If you come back hurt, I’ll just kick your ass for not listening to me.”

‘What if I come back without an ass?” His laugh is cut short as you hear a familiar voice inform him how that would be highly unlikely to count as coming back safe. The tone on the other end gets harsher as he tells the man with him to mind his damn business. You roll your eyes at the familiar sounds of bickering bubbling between the two heroes. You pull Katsuki’s attention back to you as you catch the sound of Deku’s mediating attempts only pacifying Todoroki.

“Don’t you have a flight to catch?”

“Yea.” You quirk an eyebrow at the leftover hostility worming its way into his conversation with you. He hears it too, coughing back to a gentler version before he continues. “I’ll see you Saturday, beautiful.”

“See you Saturday.” Your words fall forward in a mumble towards the screen already reminding you that you’d ended the call. Fuck. Fuck.

“Fuck.”

You rolled your head forward; thankful it was still early enough in the day to start making all the calls you’d need to. You did a few of those dumb square breaths that your therapist swore by. It was annoying that it helped. A feline reminiscent stretch was the only other action you took before opening the most frequently used document saved on your phone. The twinge of regret at the sight of the bright orange header was promptly shoved aside as you began scrolling down to the vendors’ contact info. By the third call, you had quite a script ready to go as soon as someone picked up: Hello, sorry to bother you right before closing. I actually have you guys booked for the event tomorrow night. There’s been a change of plans and I would like you to deliver the (whatever they were in charge of) to (whatever organization could use it) as a donation instead of delivering anything to the venue. After that, it was always a short confirmation of details before you dialed the next number on the list.

The biggest loss was the venue...no, that was wrong. The biggest loss was not being able to get Bakugou’s birthday right AGAIN. You really weren’t sure anymore if the blame was with you or the universe or maybe Bakugou was a villain whose only agenda was to thwart your birthday attempts. Well, you were pretty sure it was you, but it was way past ridiculous at this point. His birthday had been a disaster or disaster adjacent every year since you’d started dating.

There was the first one where you got flustered when he had the audacity to go for the first kiss, getting you flustered enough to drop his gift, a very not waterproof limited edition and vintage All Might card, off the bridge and into the river. The next involved a mistake where you accidentally had Kirishima drop him off at the wrong address...not realizing there were two locations for the restaurant you two had your first date at. The one after, you ended up hospitalized for just a few days, missing his birthday completely because your dumb ass didn’t wake up in time. Although he technically had spent it with you, you just weren’t conscious. You both had work the one after that, so not really your fault on that one. But you did forget his present at the office and so ended up giving it to him the day after, so that part was your fault.

He was always annoyingly understanding about the trouble you ended up causing on the one day every year that you wanted to be the least troublesome. He would just laugh it off, thanking you for an unforgettable day. He’d call you cute or sweet or a menace. He’d say his birthday wasn’t anything to stress about.

His words would be so much easier to accept if he didn’t seem to feel differently when it came to your birthday. He never gave a gift late or damaged or less than perfect. He never messed up the date or time or location. He never forgot any part of his plans or goals for the day. It was always irritatingly more than what you would’ve imagined or expected. Not that birthdays were a contest, but...if they were, you were fucking losing badly.

You slid your phone further across the counter after your last call. This was supposed to be the year you got it right. You’d even enlisted a dangerous amount of help for a surprise party: Kirishima to keep Bakugou from finding out, the head assistant at their agency to get the scheduling information just right, Mina was charged with the guest list, Kaminari and Sero were assigned the entertainment (with final approval from you after a near x-rated disaster). You even had Midoriya help you decide on a present.

Everything was finally going to be perfect. You were so determined. You had even stupidly begun to feel safe in your victory. The party was supposed to be tomorrow. And now, he wouldn’t be back for nine days. Fuck. Fuck.

“Fuck.”

You pawed at your phone again, sending a quick text to Mina so she could notify the guests of the cancellation. You were already exhausted from the last half hour of calls and just wanted to crawl into the bed that was now dumber and colder and emptier than it was supposed to be. Before burrowing, you sent “code yellow” to the One Brain Cell group chat, following the ridiculous list of emergency code phrases made up by Kaminari. You didn’t think you’d end up using them, but here you were.

You then finally set your phone aside for real, pretending to set the urge to sulk along with it. This was part of the job. He was needed and that was a priority...helping people should come first (and it always did). Even if a selfish part of you, that seemed to get louder every time he was called away, wanted nothing more than to convince him to stay. The man you were in love with wouldn’t just give up his purpose or his morals like that. Not even for you. It was admirable. As a hero, you loved and respected that. As his girlfriend, it made you feel more jealous and selfish than you would ever admit.

You would just have to not suck next year.

Inspired by the request sent in by @mentallyablaze-writes

Masterlist

Part 2 coming soon

#Bakugou #Bakugou fluff #Bakugou x reader #pro hero bakugou #Bakugou imagines #bnha #bnha fluff #bnha Bakugou #bakugou katsuki #fluff

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loganshouseofworship · 3 days

Note

Can you do something with Logan that is super angsty? Maybe you two get in a fight over his career and your career? Then both of you realize that you can live without each other and end up getting back together.

Thank you!!

I can’t live without you — Logan Sargent x reader

“I can’t do this anymore Logan,” you said, cramming your clothes into your suitcase.

“Do what? What’s going on?” Logan asked

“Stand by and watch as Williams destroys your career” you said.

“Williams isn’t destroying my career, what are you talking about?” Logan says slightly, raising his voice.

“Yea they are Logan but you're so blinded by your loyalty to the team you can’t see it” you yelled through the tears.

“Wait a minute, you can’t leave!”

“Yes, I can” you said, your voice steady but tears were flowing down your face. “I can’t do this anymore”

“What do you mean you can’t do this anymore!” Logan yelled as you went to slam the door shut, but Logan grabbed the door and stopped it.

“That team is destroying you Logan, it's taking its toll on your mental health. you can’t keep putting yourself through this” you said, as you put a hand on Logan’s arm.

“Williams doesn’t care about you. They used your signing as a PR move to bring in more American formula one fans and you're too blind to see that” you tell him.

“Don’t say that! Williams cares about me! They brought me in, they believed in me!”

“That’s just what they want you to believe. They’re using you…I don't know why I'm wasting my breath. I know you're going to stay. I don't know what I was thinking. I mean you left a team that loved you and cared about you, and now you're throwing it away for a team that's going to drag you through the mud.”

“Stop. Stop saying those things.” Logan said harshly. “I’m not throwing anything away. My loyalty to Williams is what’s been pushing me to do my best and not make a mistake.”

“Keep telling yourself that Logan” you say finally leaving the hotel room.

“No, wait!” Logan yelled into the hallway as you shut the door. You kept walking and didn’t turn around.

“Damnit!” Logan yelled.

“She’ll come back, she’ll come to see that it’s all going to be okay.” Logan muttered to himself.

Hours later, Logan was sitting in front of his laptop in the dark looking at old pictures of them together.

A photo of you two, looking happy came into view.

“Maybe loyalty isn’t the most important thing?” He whispered to himself.

A few weeks have gone by since the Australian Grand Prix since the night you left Logan alone in the hotel room. Logan’s home race was coming up and he wasn’t going to lie he was nervous as all get out.

Logan missed you and he realized that you were right about the team. They didn’t care about him, not like you had. Fans started noticing that Logan was looking more tired and exhausted than before the bags under his had darkened. They looked so dark that it looked like he had black eyes.

Logan’s eyes were red from lack of sleep, from stress, from working nonstop to show the team what he was made of. He looked so worn out, and it was breaking your heart. You knew that he was pushing himself too hard, and it was beginning to take a toll on his mental health, and you just wanted to be there to support him.

The race weekend was approaching, and he was still working late into the night, trying to perfect his setup. Logan’s exhaustion was beginning to show, he looked like a shell of himself. He had lost weight, and his eyes were dark and sunken. The fan base was starting to get worried about him.

You weren’t doing much better yourself. You were worried sick about him, every day. You’d lost weight, you could barely sleep because all you did was worry and think about him.

Your friends tried to comfort you, but you weren’t listening to anyone, you were focused on one thing, on getting him back.

You would spend all night and day looking for flight deals online, trying to find a way to get home and see him again. But every time you looked, they were all sold out. It felt like the universe was against you, but really it just wanted you to wait a little bit longer, to wait until the right time to reunite you.

You would constantly check the calendar, seeing how many days there were left before you could get on a flight and see him again.

Time was passing so slowly, and it felt like it was never going to end. But then finally, the day came when your flight was confirmed, and you were on your way back.

You were just hours away from seeing him again, but the feeling of relief and anxiety were equally strong. You knew you wanted to see him, but at the same time, a part of you was scared of what he would say, or that he might have moved on.

You landed in the US, and you could barely contain your emotions, you were nervous and excited, and a million other things at the same time, as you got to your car. You just wanted to get to the hotel and see him as soon as possible, but at the end of the day, you also wanted to get it right, to do this the right way.

Your stomach was in knots as you pulled into the hotel, and you felt your heart racing. You couldn't believe you were actually doing this, you couldn't believe you were actually back in the US.

You took a deep breath, and walked through the doors into the hotel, up to his room.

You stopped in front of the room, taking a moment to collect yourself before knocking on the door.

After what felt like an eternity, he opened the door. Logan’s face had gone pale, and the stress and exhaustion that had been weighing on him disappeared.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, his mouth was dry, and he could barely get the words out.

“I had to see you, I had to come back” you replied, trying to get the words out.

He opened the door wider, inviting you in, you slowly walked past him, and he could feel the tension in the air.

“I’ve missed you” Logan whispered, his heart began to beat faster and faster, he was overcome with emotion, and he pulled you into a tight embrace.

“I’ve missed you too” you whisper, wrapping your arms around his neck, and burying your head into his chest.

He pulls you even closer to him, not letting you go.

The air felt thick between the two of you, neither wanted to break the embrace, neither wanted to talk, neither wanted anything more than to feel close to each other again.

Finally, after a long moment, he broke the embrace and stepped back, wiping his eyes, he had almost cried right then and there.

“I’m-I’m so sorry” he said, unable to stop the words from pouring out.

“For what? “ You asked, you had no idea what he was apologizing for. All you knew was that you wanted to be in his arms again.

“I know I’ve been distant recently, and I haven’t been there for you” he said, taking your hands in his. He stared into your eyes, as if he was trying to memorize every inch of your face.

“I just…” he began, but choked up, unable to find the right words. His lips trembled, his face twisted in regret and guilt.

“Just what?” You asked gently, trying to understand what was going on.

“You were right, my loyalty to the team has taken everything from me”. He said, his voice cracking as he fought back the tears.

“What do you mean?” You asked, he was starting to not make sense, was he just tired, it must be that, because you had no idea where this was coming from.

“You were right about the team, you said that they didn’t care about me, that they were using me as a PR move. And I tried to deny it, I tried to deny everything you said, but it’s all true…”

“I’ve pushed myself to the point of mental exhaustion, and all for what, I’ve been so blind thinking that I needed to do this, but the truth is I don’t, I don’t need Williams, I need you…” He said, staring back at you.

“Do you need me?” You said, his words caught you off guard. The reality was hitting you, he needed you, he didn’t need the team. He needed you.

“Without you, I’m lost” he said finally, admitting it out loud, he took a deep breath. “I’ve been so worried about losing Williams, and I should have been worried about losing you.”

“I need you Logan , I've missed you so much” you said, tears now spilling down your face.

“I’ve missed you too” he said, wrapping his arms around you once again. You could feel the tension in the air subside, and the stress that had been weighing on you both disappeared. It felt almost as if you’d never been apart.

His grip tightened around you, not wanting to let you go, like he needed to hold you just a little bit longer. You could feel him taking deep breaths and his heartbeat steady. It was like he needed the two of you to be as close as possible for a minute, as if he needed to make up for lost time.

“I’m never letting you leave again” he said softly, tightening his grip once again. You could feel his heart rate settle, and you could feel the tension ease even greater. It felt like home.

@a-casual-romantic @amatswimming @bblouifford @bbtoni @jinx53 @jeffs77 @toasttt11 @hrts4scarr @faithshouseofchaos @vellicora

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jgracie · 1 day

Text

HEY BLONDIE — LEO + DAUGHTER OF POSEIDON

masterlist | rules

♡ dedicated to covey @hopelesslyromanticshark the blueprint for the poseidon girlie x leo trope 😇 lovey > caleo 4eva (even the ship name is cuter!)

❝ daughter of poseidon x leo valdez!!!!! ❞ — anon

in which leo dates a daughter of poseidon

pairing leo valdez x poseidon!reader

warnings percys a bit of an ass in this lowk sorry guys (he didn't mean it i promise!!!), they have tech, andddd i lowk hate this but i haven’t posted in three days so 🙁 maybe i’ll rewrite it someday!!

on the radio . . . hey blondie (dominic fike)

an i’ve been DYING for someone to request this combo i love it sm …. also OGs remember when my bio was hey blondie 🫡 reader isn’t blonde dw (i’m not even blonde myself) !! also reader is a year younger than percy (making her the same age as leo)

Leo didn’t know Percy had a sister. Maybe he was living under a rock (he was - Leo spent the majority of his days at Bunker 9), but he just hadn’t considered the possibility of it, with Percy being a child of the big three and all

If Leo had known of your existence sooner, he would’ve burnt down Bunker 9 himself and spent the rest of his days glued to your side. He had met many people, but none as perfect and charming as you

You see, the boy was simply going to pass by Cabin 3 to show Percy this new gadget he’d made for him and see if he wanted to hang out sometime, since Leo hadn’t seen Percy in a while, when he met you - Y/N, Percy’s younger half-sister

“Hello, may I help you?” You asked, opening the front door of your cabin and being met with a boy with curly brown hair and big brown eyes. Immediately, you felt the heat radiating off of him increase and all of a sudden his brown curls were on fire

As a child of Poseidon, naturally, you’ve never been fond of fire, so this freaked you out. Knowing the water fountain was right behind you, you controlled the water with your hands and shot it at Leo, putting out the fire and drenching him in the process

Leo didn’t care, though. You could drown him for Hephaestus’ sake and he’d still come crawling back - okay, maybe that was a little much. He took in your worried expression and a wave of guilt washed over him as he realised how afraid you were

“I’m sorry, I have a hard time controlling my fire powers sometimes… Where’s Percy?” He asked, not even bothering to question your Godly heritage. You were very clearly a daughter of Poseidon

After that, things calmed down between you two. You let him in and although you were wary of Leo (and sat as far away from him as possible without being labelled as rude), patiently listened as he explained why he was looking for your brother

He then showed you the gadget he made and when Leo saw the way your eyes lit up at its mechanisms, he knew his life would no longer be complete if you weren’t in it

You gushed over the thing, pressing the buttons over and over again (which Leo didn’t have the heart to tell you would wear them down) and showering him in compliments - something that has never happened to Leo before

A grin made its way onto his lips. Sure, people have praised his creations before, but none of them did it the way you did, nearly bursting with excitement as you tried to handle it with utmost care

Part of Leo wished Percy would never come back to cabin 3 ever again, but speak (in this case, think) of the devil and he shall appear. That was his unfortunate cue to leave

He quickly showed Percy how to handle the device and was about to leave when you stopped him. Leo almost couldn’t believe his ears and almost leaped for joy when he heard you ask if you could pass by his cabin sometime, since you really wanted to see more of his stuff

That was the beginning of the most iconic friendship in Camp Half-Blood history

You quickly discovered you had a lot in common and so, you became attached at the hip. It was so bad that whenever someone was asked where one of you were, they’d give the location of the other since they knew there was an incredibly high possibility of you being together

Leo taught you how to use a screwdriver and weld and I can’t think of a third thing people who make machines do but you get the gist! And in return, you taught him how to swim

His ability to swim (or lack thereof) was something which was brought up your very first time hanging out together at bunker nine. After many attempts, you finally successfully hammered a nail into a piece of metal (fyi I’m a daughter of Demeter I know absolutely nothing about this subject) and in your enthusiastic state insisted you go to the beach together

At your suggestion, Leo got awfully quiet and began shyly playing with a stray piece of metal. Your eyebrows furrowed, confused for a second about the shift in his behaviour, when it finally clicked

“Oh my Gods, Leo, do you not know how to swim?” You asked, hesitant - you didn’t want to embarrass the poor guy. He looked up at you and nodded, pouting at the way your lips wobbled as you tried not to giggle. You weren’t laughing at him, of course, you just thought it was really cute

Grabbing him by the arm, you began to drag him to your cabin and said, “c’mon, I’ll teach you! It’ll be like me repaying you for teaching me how to do all the fancy things you do with metal!”

You guys started going to the beach more often after that. At first, you were just teaching Leo how to be in a body of water and not drown, but once he got the hang of it you started having swimming competitions and introducing him to all your fish friends!

They’re always telling you to hurry up and confess because it's so obvious that you like Leo and you keeping it to yourself isn’t doing you any favours but you can’t. Why? Because you don’t think Leo likes you back

Meanwhile Leo’s sitting on the sand next to you admiring the way you seem to gain life by being near a body of water, having to push his fire powers down whenever you’d pull him closer to you, the only thing filling the space between you being the water of the ocean

You are quite literally Mr and Mrs Oblivious. Everyone can tell you like each other but yourselves

It’s actually really funny because you run in the same circles so you tend to complain to the same people about how the other can’t tell you like them and they’re just sitting there trying SO hard not to facepalm

Most of the time you two go to Annabeth, simply because she’s the only one you believe can keep a secret as big as your crushes. Unfortunately for you she and Percy come as a packaged duo, which means Percy’s aware

She didn’t mean to tell him but one time after a heated discussion with you where you analysed Leo’s every move it was still fresh on her mind and she let it slip

Ever since then, Percy’s been eyeing Leo, who’s definitely noticed the behaviour switch. It’s not like Percy had anything against you dating - you were only a year younger than him, after all, and you never tried to stop him and Annabeth from dating - but he couldn’t help but feel a little protective

An extra year of life still made you his baby sister! He’d insist to Annabeth that it doesn’t bother him and Leo is a good guy and his friend so he’s happy that the two of you reciprocate each other’s feelings then turn and give the poor boy a glare so terrifying it’d make a hellhound cower in fear

While all of this is happening, Leo’s freaking out. He’s absolutely losing his mind because all of a sudden Percy no longer likes him which means he’s probably noticed he likes you and disapproves of your potential relationship

All these thoughts cause him to spiral and eventually distance himself from you. It was just occasionally rejecting plans but then it turned into him somehow always being busy, and it broke your heart

Percy, being the kind and loving brother he is, asked you what was wrong on one of those days and you had to fight the urge to burst into tears as you told him about how you thought you did something to hurt Leo

You see, Leo was your first real friend at camp. Sure, you had other friends, but they were all just casual acquaintances you’d talk to whenever you happened to see them. Leo was your first best friend, which meant a lot

In that moment, Percy knew what he had to do

“Hey, why’re you avoiding Y/N?” Percy asked, barging into bunker nine, his arms crossed as he stared down Leo, who was busy making something (as usual)

Leo, who hadn’t been fully listening, looked up to find none other than Percy Jackson standing in front of him, “what?” He asked, his eyes widening

“I said, why are you avoiding my sister?” He repeated, the scowl on his face deepening. Percy was usually a pretty nice guy, but that could change really quickly if anyone ever even thinks of hurting his loved ones (loyalty is his fatal flaw after all)

Putting his tools down, Leo stood up, suddenly defensive. Why was Percy putting the blame on him? He was the reason Leo decided to talk to you less in the first place. Doing that to you really hurt Leo, but he wasn’t going to let himself get close to you just to end up heartbroken and without two friends in the end

“Do you hate her all of a sudden, is that it? Because if that’s the case, you should at least be kind enough to voice those thoughts so she can find new friends–”

“Dude, I love Y/N. Who put that in your head?” Leo interrupted, “I’m avoiding Y/N because I’ve seen the way you look at me, Percy. I get it, you’re not happy that I like her, and I don’t want to bother you or put a strain in your relationship, so I’ve distanced myself.”

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He avoided you because he loved you, because he didn’t want there to be any trouble between you and your brother because of him, and yet somehow here he was being accused of hating you?

You’re the first person Leo truly felt love for ever since his own mother. How could he hate you

“Tell her,” Percy said. He felt immensely guilty as the realisation that he was the reason why you’d almost lost your crush and best friend hit him. He never meant for it to go this far, and honestly, the glances weren’t even purposeful - he just couldn’t help it

“She likes you too, literally everyone at camp knows it, you’ll be fine. And Leo, I’m really sorry I made you feel that way. I didn’t mean to, honestly, I just really care about Y/N and don’t want her to get hurt. But I know you won’t hurt her, so… I approve.”

When I say Leo ran so fast to your cabin that he left a whole trail of fire behind him, I’m not exaggerating. He passed by Flowers and Vines (Demeter + Dionysus kid flower shop/fruits market iykyk) and set their crops on fire, quickly making himself their mortal enemy

He couldn’t care less though. You liked him back! In a few moments, he’d confess and you’d agree to date him and you’d finally be his

And confess he did <3 you were a little mad at Percy at first for unintentionally separating the two of you but after three days’ worth of grovelling you were fine

You couldn’t be too mad, after all, since you now had your fireboy

(The crowd cheers!!!! After 5 pages of backstory you get actual dating hcs)

Okay so I just want to start by saying that Leo is literally like a raven or a cat or whatever animal it is. He’s constantly finding the randomest trinkets and just giving them you for no reason

He goes to the beach a lot on his own whenever he misses you because the salty air smells just like the crook of your neck and often comes back with a bunch of seashells, randomly shaped rocks and one time an actually alive sand dollar

You spent so long teaching him how to spot one that’s alive and one that’s dead so when he saw a sand dollar he got really excited at the idea of you being proud of him remembering the difference that he’d forgotten it

His favourite things are the seashells though. Why? Well, because he can turn them into cute jewellery for you, duh!

It started off as a silly little idea. He found a cute seashell and thought ‘what if I strung a piece of thread through this and made it a necklace for my beautiful hot gorgeous pretty siren mermaid cutie pie Y/N?’

He ended up doing it and you loved it so much he decided he’d make you a whole collection of seashell jewellery

The second time around, he made an actual chain for the necklace because you’re deserving of more than some lousy thread!!!

Then he began making bracelets and rings and earrings and all sorts of other things for you. Somehow, despite making so many of them, Leo managed to make them all unique in their own way. Your favourite, however, was the seashell locket he made you for one of your anniversaries

Inside of the locket is a picture you took together on the beach. It was from back when you were just friends, but you looked so gorgeous in it Leo couldn’t help but choose it for the necklace

Also, you guys are LITERALLY fireboy and watergirl

You’d had an epiphany one day whilst lying your head on his chest and the gasp you let out had Leo worried you were dying for a second

When you told him this, Leo was confused. Being in the foster care system at a young age then sent to wilderness school then doing demigod things left very little room for him to discover modern things other people his age liked

You immediately took him to the little computer you shared with Percy and opened up fireboy and watergirl (the OG game of course, not one of the newer editions) and taught him how to play

Honestly, Leo’s really bad at it. Like at first you thought he just needed to get the hang of it but then you reached the one year anniversary of when you first showed him FB & WG and he was STILL awful at it (also yes you know what day that is. You and Leo have anniversaries for everything)

“Leo!” You exclaimed, unable to watch as the try again prompt popped up on the screen. After about 50 times doing this level (which you had completed on your own before just fine), you’d finally gotten to the last hurdle when, of course, fireboy had to fall into the green slime

Leo pouted, once again prepared to fight his case, “Fireboy’s an idiot! It’s not my fault you get to control the smarter one out of the two!”

“Nuh, uh! Fireboy’s so much easier to control! He has the arrows, watergirl has WASD, which is way harder!”

“Fine, you control him, since he’s so easy to use!”

“But I’m Watergirl! I can’t have you killing me too!”

You’d have this conversation almost every single time you played the game. It got so bad one time Percy had to block the fireboy and watergirl website from the computer

Which was stupid because Leo’s literally a son of Hephaestus so all he had to do was touch the computer and it quickly became unbanned!

Also I think all children of Poseidon have an obscene amount of fish/sea animal merch. Specifically plushies

Leo stayed the night at your cabin once thinking ‘oh my Gods I’m gonna be sleeping with Y/N for the first time WTF WTF WTF!!!’ only to end up sleeping with Chelsea the starfish instead

He teased you a little at first but you’d refused to talk to him after that so he accepted them into the L/N-Valdez family (despite them hogging the bed 😒)

Now, he also defends the plushies like his life depends on it. If someone even DARES to utter a word against Haley the seahorse its ON SIGHT fr

He also keeps a mental note of all the names of your plushies to see if he can figure out a theme with the kinds of names you like for when you name your future baby but that’s a story for another day!

#leo valdez x reader #leo valdez x you #leo valdez x y/n #leo valdez #leo valdez x fem reader #percy jackson #pjo #percy jackson x reader #pjo x reader #leo valdez fanfic #pjo fanfic #leo valdez drabble #leo valdez x poseidon reader #daughter of poseidon #children of poseidon #poseidon pjo #cynwrites

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justanotherlifeff · 15 hours

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Love is meaningless

[True form heian era Sukuna x reader. I may have taken many creative liberties with his backstory alongside certain spoilers so be warned!]

Love is meaningless, this was something Sukuna believed for most of his life. He can proclaim it precisely because he understands it. Being born a wretched curse by his foolish starving mother was not a start to life he had appreciated, but it was what it was. Fate was that he absorbed his twin for nourishment, fate was that he was born monstrous. One can only live with fate and become stronger, after all. Of course, he had to raise himself, of course he had to get stronger to survive. The golden age of Jujutsu meant many other cursed spirits, and of course, humans were no better. Weak people shouldn’t complain about their transgressions after all. That is simply how the world is built, to please the strong.

Yet, unexpected things happen, as it is part of life as well. Some people find it in their stupid, human, hearts to love a monster. And sometimes, something as meaningless as love creeps up in a monster’s heart too if they are weak enough. Sukuna wasn’t born the king of curses after all. It was a meaningless gesture that one might call kindness, something he believed that he didn’t deserve, that started it all. Just like his mother who birthed him, this foolish girl gave him an apple from her basket when he was starving. A foolish act of kindness from a human to a cursed being. He accepted nonetheless, as a starving man would, since this was before the days when he took whatever he wanted.

The days when he was weak enough to be considerate. For some reason, you kept coming back, with food every time, and for some reason, he didn’t leave the outskirts of that village after the first few encounters. He convinced himself that it was because your cooking was amazing, not because he wanted to see that smile on your face again, not because he was getting addicted to that kindness. Why would a human be kind to the likes of him after all? Surely, he was being delusional. However, weeks turned to months, and you wouldn’t stop visiting the small cave where he was living at, since no one would give him shelter or a job due to his monstrous features. Somehow you weren’t afraid of the four arms, the four eyes, the odd markings on his body. Somehow, you made conversation with him at one point as you watched him eagerly eat whatever food you brought him and somehow, he found himself replying. Hope was something that the weak shouldn’t have and yet, he found it in you, he made that mistake.

Looking at water in streams was something he hated, because it showed him his inhumanity and made the struggles he faced his entire life be something that was acceptable. Who would care for a monster after all? And yet, one day, you looked at him and called him beautiful with a blush on your pretty little face. He didn’t know how to reply to that, as someone who never encountered a situation like that before and yet, he couldn’t sleep all night, thinking of those words. He awkwardly called you beautiful too the next day.

Small compliments turned into teasing and at one point, neither you nor he had to say it out loud that you loved each other. It was simply something that happened. However, you had to keep it a secret from the village, and he understood why. Loving something like him had its consequences as they would kill you for being with a curse. He understood the consequences but his hunger for you was far too much to ignore. It started with kisses, and then he wanted more, so much more. And you let him take what he wanted with a smile on your face, that same smile he fell in love with. Even your old kimonos started looking like ones that queens would wear, your simple hairpin was better than the highest quality jade to him. You were beautiful and you were his and that was the best thing that happened in his wretched life at the time. Or at least, he was foolish and weak enough to believe so.

During his days as the king of curses, he saw the women he fucked as no more than pieces of meat that exist for his pleasure. One might think he wasn’t capable of being gentle, of having any other expression than the ruthless and deranged smile that adorns his face. Yet, his first time was so different, as he looked upon your beauty with nothing but wonder in his eyes, not believing his own luck as you were naked underneath him, that beautiful tint of red adorning your face. Perhaps that was when he found himself loving the color red so much, it was never about the blood of the thousands he killed later in life. You looked beautiful even with your old kimonos, but you looked divine without it, and he wasn’t shy enough to keep that opinion to himself, mostly because he wanted to see that blush on your face when he says it out loud. He wanted to hear you call out his name in that affectionate and yet pleasured voice when he was deep inside you. He wanted you, all of you, even if he didn’t deserve you.

The weak gets trampled on, it isn’t something they should complain about as it is the way of life. He almost had you, the day you came to him with a worried expression on your face and told him that you may be expecting his child. For a moment, he dreamed, despite being weak. He asked you to elope with him, that he would protect you. He knew that the child he sired would be cursed too, and that you were unmarried, so of course, overall, you would be killed if he left you alone. He loved you far too much to even consider that. “Come with me, Ill take you far from here and protect you. I’ll make sure nothing hurts you or our child. I’ll get stronger for you.” He told you with that gruff tone of his. To his surprise, you agreed. However, you were a kind little thing full of hope. You wanted to see your parents one last time before leaving with him forever. He didn’t understand it, but he wanted you to be happy, so he suggested making a binding vow. A part of him felt wary as all these felt too good to be true.

The vow was simple, it was to live as long as you can. He was still new to forming binding vows, so he forgot to acknowledge the fact that breaking the vow didn’t mean much if someone else killed you. Only that your death would be far more painful. Things were peaceful, too peaceful. He ate the food you cooked him, talked with you about a future together, looked at the sun set together. Like every day, you left him after that with a kiss on his cheek. Yet, he felt uneasy enough to sneak near the village that night after hearing the commotion.

It didn’t take long to find you, as you were right there, in the middle of the village square, or at least your severed head was. The blood splattered everywhere indicated the effects of the binding vow, your entire body exploded when your head was cut. Perhaps you were weak and ended up telling your parents, perhaps somehow, they found out that you were pregnant with his child, he would never know. That village burned that night and not a single person there survived. As he stood there, watching whatever was left of you burn with the village, it was almost as if he achieved enlightenment. The weak shouldn’t complain, so he wasn’t complaining. He would get stronger so that he would be the one taking, to fill the void that was created this day. His hunger was endless because he would never eat the food you cook again. Love is meaningless, because without you, this world lost its meaning.

#sukuna #sukuna ryomen #ryoumen sukuna #jjk sukuna #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n

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melbatron5000 · 9 hours

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The Big Damn Kiss

Buckle up, my fellow Good Omens Ineffable Mystery Puzzlers, Crackpotters, and Assorted Brainrotters, because I learned something HUGE yesterday.

This will be a bit of a long post, because I want to show you exactly how I got where I am. I want you to understand. I want to put all the naysayers to bed (ha! But I'm still gonna try), and settle this once and for all.

I know (almost) exactly what Crowley gave to Aziraphale during the kiss.

DO NOT TAKE ANY OF MY THEORIES TO NEIL! PLEASE!

Okay? Okay. Thanks. Shall we begin?

Ahem.

Firstly, whether you believe me or not, I am 100% certain that Crowley did, indeed, give something to Aziraphale in his mouth during The Kiss. I've covered that in the link previous. Okay? Okay.

I did not know what it was. I've now heard theories that it was a bullet (nope), a ball bearing (nope), hellfire (nope), and no one, NO ONE has suggested what I see. (If you have, hello! Talk to me!)

Here's our first foreshadowing Clue:

And here's our next foreshadowing Clue:

And the next:

And our last Clue:

With me so far? Well, that first GIF is a bit off, I couldn't find one of Crowley actually spitting out the flies. But he does. When Beelzebub first drags him to Hell, he actually goes "Pleaugh!" and spits out four or five flies.

Moving right along, we come to Crowley in Heaven with Muriel, looking at the trial. We learn two important things here:

One, Gabriel doesn't have a desk.

Two, Muriel does. Where they keep the records. And it's a bit lonely. Every few hundred years, someone comes and asks for something. Muriel can't access the sensitive ones, you have to be pretty high up. A throne, dominion, or higher. Like, maybe Supreme Archangel?

So if Gabriel doesn't have a desk, whose desk is he at when he's getting ready to leave Heaven? Of course I can't find a damn picture of Gabriel at the desk, but it's Muriel's. Where they keep the RECORDS.

Gabriel puts his memory into the fly, then gets on the elevator to go to Earth.

Now, when Gabriel opens the fly with his memories inside, we find out that it's a container. Bigger on the inside. You can put thing(S) in it. The bit we see of him remembering is shot in two parts, one where he's flying down a red tunnel, one where he's flying down a blue. If you slow this scene down and watch, you can see that he is NOT looking at just his own memories. There is more going on here, more that he was not present for. @embracing-the-ineffable put up a great meta about that here. Go look!

Now I figured Gabriel must have taken something else. Something important. Something useful. Something he meant to give to Aziraphale, except he forgot.

I also figured he must have left whatever it was in the fly when he took his memories out. Crowley must have realized while watching the trial footage that Gabriel also grabbed something else. I don't know when Crowley grabs the fly, but he does. And that is what he gives to Aziraphale in the kiss. Why? Well.

I had no idea what Gabriel took until I started working on the chiastic structure of season 2. I'm not done with that analysis yet, but let me show you one thing that I have found so far:

(The numbers are just to try and help me navigate the story and its events without time stamps)

My note #357 of what happens isn't quite right, but when I saw the only two times Aziraphale says "I forgive you" are towards the beginning of Season 2 and towards the end, I realized I had something.

Rephrase line 357: Crowley's kiss is forgiven IN EXCHANGE FOR RECORDS.

(Not that I think Crowley's kiss needs to be forgiven. It's just what Aziraphale says, and had to say at that moment, because the Metatron was listening in.)

What does Heaven in Good Omens remind us of most of all?

A big corporate entity. And what do powerful people do when they get fired from a big corporate entity? They download all their emails while they're cleaning out their desks. Damning emails. Emails that can be used to black mail or even destroy big corporate entities. Or, ya know, maybe they swipe some sensitive RECORDS?

Oh yes.

Here's Aziraphale reading the records:

Here's Aziraphale being horrified and outraged by what he's reading:

And here's Aziraphale realizing he has got some GOOD DIRT on Heaven. Maybe enough to bring them down:

That's it folks. I have no idea what the records actually say, and maybe we're not meant to know until season 3, but whatever it is, it's GOOD.

That's my story, and by God Herself, I'm sticking to it.

#good omens #good omens 2 #crowley #good omens meta #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #good omens analysis #good omens fan theory #ineffable mystery #aziraphale elevator #corporate heaven #the big damn kiss #the kiss #good omens muriel #good omens gabriel #good omens beelzebub

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jerreeeeeee · 2 days

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i don't think taako's voice is really all that high most of the time. it's higher than justin's normal voice a little, but idk, the defining quality of it isn't its pitch to me, there's something else that i don't really have the words for. but anyway i do notice that his voice gets lower and less exaggerated when he's being serious. which is interesting bc it sort of implies that the usual "taako voice" is something he puts on.

i don't really think of taako as a habitual performer. his charisma modifier is a -1, he's not this ultra smooth charming actor, and although he does tend to hide behind humor and is slow to build connections, he's also very frank with what he's about and what he wants. he goes on an entire tirade about wanting to talk about his feelings (he's multidimensional!), he never acts embarrassed or hesitant about big moments of vulnerability and caring for others (arms outstretched, "i'm not going fucking anywhere," admitting a deep fear to kravitz on their first date, spilling his tragic backstory to angus, not to mention several serious moments with lup) (and not all of these can be chalked up to "forgotten connections," either. he does have a foundation of growth with magnus and merle, even forgotten, and his conversations with lup are of course all with memories intact, but he does not have that with kravitz and angus). he's just slow to reveal all of his hidden depths, because of (understandable) trust issues. but all in all he's not nearly as closed off as i think fandom tends to portray him (which is not to say he's open, either), nor is he someone who wears a lot of masks and obscures himself. i don't think he hides his "true self."

sizzle it up was successful because of his intelligence, not his charisma. he's a natural teacher who's knowledgeable and passionate, and that was what made the show great, not his personality or performance (though i don't think those were bad. just not the primary appeal of the show. the only fan we see is ren, and she loved sizzle it up because it inspired her and taught her to cook, not because she thought taako was awesome or whatever). bc that's the thing, he's not a performer, but he is extremely adaptable. so when he's set up with a stagecoach and a show lined up, sure, he'll have a TV persona, he'll learn to be charming, he'll learn to be showy, when he's on stage. when he gets famous, he learns to like being famous, but i don't think it was really a dream of his before then. or at least not in the way people think of it. i don't think he ever wanted to be a celebrity as much as a celebrity chef or celebrity wizard. he doesn't care if people think he's pretty. he doesn't want people to adore him (before the voidfish, anyway. afterwards is a different story. there's a void where love used to be that he's desperate to fill, and adoration almost feels like it works). really what he wants is for people to appreciate his skill and intelligence and depth (and he's also very afraid of actually displaying those things. he's multidimensional).

but most of the time, when he's not literally performing for an audience, i just don't think he's putting on a show, desperate for people to like him and think he's charming. he'll do what he needs to do, say what he needs to say, be who he needs to be in any given circumstance, with strangers and antagonists, but he also drops the act when it's not necessary. or at least his performance is subtler. he performs stupidity, he performs nonchalance, he makes efforts to be funny (because he is always funny, but that's something you have to work for and always be thinking about, even when the humor is dry), he carefully does just enough to be useful, but not enough to raise expectations. he's very aware of how other people view him, but he's also perfectly okay with people thinking negatively about him—as long as they're the negative traits he wants people to see. but, he only does all those things in the beginning of the show; after a little while with magnus and merle, after a little while with the bob, he drops the act. so i guess that's the difference to me. he's adaptable out of necessity, it doesn't bleed into his entire life. i don't even really think i'd qualify it as a performance. it's more of an invisibility. he's not performing charisma to get people to like him, he's trying to lay low. but then when he actually wants people to like him, he's himself, fairly unapologetically. with the people who matter, lup, magnus and merle, kravitz, the other bob members, the other ipre crew, he's pretty comfortable with himself.

one last interesting point is that while he doesn’t seem to hesitate when it comes to actions, he does shy away from verbal displays of affection, trust, vulnerability. and the best two scenes to show that play out almost exactly the same: lup’s best day ever dinner, and dropping his disguise self with kravitz. in each, taako does something meaningful for both npcs, who then verbalize their affection for him, which taako immediately deflects with a joke.

taako drops his disguise spell for kravitz, totally honest with him, (although… i don’t tend to think the beauty sacrifice was as meaningful to taako as fandom tends to portray, i think most of his vanity is an exaggeration he intentionally cultivates, but still, it’s a vulnerable moment, he clearly cares what kravitz thinks), and kravitz tells him he loves him. to which taako replies with a joke. he does not return the words.

taako doesn’t hesitate to construct the best day ever for lup, never even questions why she’d ask. he puts it all together, cooks for her, shows her he knows her, he loves her—and then when she bears her heart to him, tells him he is her heart, all he says is, “i know,” and pulls out a bottle of vodka. of course lup knows he loves her, the whole day was an elaborate demonstration of it, but he doesn’t say anything. to be fair, it’s not exactly a typical interaction between them, taako is textually scared shitless, lup did just tell him she’s going to turn herself into an undead abomination, so he’s not exactly at his best here. but anyway.

i don’t really have anything to add to this observation, it’s just very consistent and interesting to me. taako is fairly comfortable with grand gestures, but sidesteps around words. which ties in perfectly with his identity as a chef, to me. cooking is an action, work, intention, cooking for people is an act of love, an act of connection, an act of caring, and taako’s character doesn’t fit the bill for that—except, he kinda really does.

#listened to the multidimensional scene bc i'm writing about mongooses. it made me think #also i'm learning so much about mongooses and also weather systems in south asia. not strictly necessary but interesting #mine #taako #taz taako #taz balance #the adventure zone #analysis #also his cha mod is -1 in gerblins its possible he put ASIs into it later on but it still wouldnt be very high #his int and dex are his high scores

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auteurdelabre · 8 hours

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PLEASE MISTER MILLER SEQUEL PART 7 - BFD!Joel x f!Reader

rating: 18+ (MAJOR FILTH IN THIS ONE)

pairings: Your Best Friends Dad Joel x f!Reader

warnings: FILTH, age gap, divorce, domestic bliss, public-ish sex, oral (m and f receiving), unprotected sex, p in v sex, all the sex and all the fluff, slightly possessive Joel, love love love.

a/n: Y'all I had major writers block with this one. Took me a bit but I think I got us there. One more chapter after this to go and I'm unsure of how to end it. . . Dunno what these two idiots deserve.

masterlist here

There's something strange about entering into Joel's home after all these months that makes your heart pound. Joel carries your bags for you, chatting animatedly that the place might look different. His voice fades into the back of your mind as you look around. It all feels so surreal to be back in this house. Bizarre to see how Joel has made the place more his own in the short time since his separation.

For one thing the frames that contained photos of Tess are gone. The only ones that remain are of him and Sarah smiling toothily at the camera. Its clear Tess has not been in the picture for some time, despite her last ditch effort to connect.

A bunch of the furniture seems new as well. The sofa he fucked you on last Christmas has been replaced by a smaller, more streamlined looking leather piece and most of the knick knacks and colorful items from the rooms have been removed. The TV is propped up on a plastic stand that looks garish amongst the more subdued and tasteful décor.

The place is definitely a bachelor pad.

The bedroom has been painted not green, but a gentle blue and that makes your heart clench tightly. The bed is new, has grey sheets and plush looking pillows. A stationary bike is in the corner. The dresser is adorned with coins, old receipts, CD’s, pencils and a variety of other things one would normally find in a carpenter’s pockets. No longer in wicker baskets or small decorative dishes.

“Now you don’t have to stay in here,” Joel says seriously, his hand still on your suitcase handle as you glance around his bedroom. “We can set you up in the guest room like before no problem. That way you’ll still have your own space.”

You frown at him. “You want me in the guest room?”

“Doesn’t matter what I want.”

“Joel.”

He sighs softly. “No, I don’t, not really.”

“So I can stay in here with you?”

“Only if you wa-“

You stop his rambling with a kiss before taking the handle from him and rolling it to the far side of the room.

“Can I put my stuff in the closet? Or dresser?”

“Both.”

You start to unpack and Joel watches this with a soft little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Dinner is pizza sat on the glass coffee table, watching a movie you two could agree on. You spend most of it sneaking glances at Joel’s profile from the corner of your eye. You find yourself completely taken with everything about him – how his salt and pepper curls fall into his forehead, how his jaw clenches when he chews his pizza, how he huffs through his nose when he’s amused at something in the movie.

You’re pathetically in love with him.

Hours later the two of you collapse onto the bed side by side, too tired from the day’s travel to do anything other than sleep. Despite this, Joel takes great pleasure in watching you shimmy out of your jeans and shirt, pulling on your nightdress and climbing back into bed with him.

“Goodnight baby,” he murmurs as he pulls you into his arms, tucking you there underneath his chin after a soft kiss. “M’so glad you’re here.”

///

You've woken up next to Joel several times in hotel beds, but never his own. So when the sun lazily makes its way into the bedroom that first morning and you blink awake, you're almost startled to see him sleeping there next to you. You take in the grey of his bed sheets, the way his mouth parts slightly in his sleep, the way his hair is tousled from sleep and you feel your heart swell.

"Morning, honey," you whisper. "You wanna get coffee?"

"Nuh uh," he mutters, eyes still closed. An arm slides over your waist, pulling you against him. "Want you."

Fucking in Joel's bed is just as delicious a fucking him in your dorm at college. Only now you don't have to rush or panic. You can just enjoy the way his skin looks in the morning sun as he buries his mouth between your legs with your thighs at his ears, his hands gripping your ass so he can devour you properly.

"Right there!" You cry out, body arching for him. "M’so close, I just-"

You come with a shuddering cry, piercing the peaceful quiet of the bedroom. Joel grins, mouth glistening with your arousal. He climbs up the length of your body, mouth ravishing yours before he urges you onto your belly. His body is heavy over yours, his mouth rasping against your ear.

“My turn.”

Joel gathers your hair into a ponytail, wrapping it around his palm and tugging you onto all fours for him. You give a soft whimper, delighted at the tugging sensation on your scalp. Joel grins, tugging you gently again by the hair as his free hand grips your thigh, urging you to arch ass in the air for him.

He sinks into you slowly, but when you whimper at the sensation and arch further the angle of your shifting hips allows his stroke to drive deeper. Already turned on out of his mind, Joel begins to thrust deep and fast, causing your eyes to roll back as you groan.

"You like that?" Joel grunts, his hips snapping against your ass.

"Uh huh."

He continues on like this with his hand wrapped in your hair, tugging you gently as he fucks into you. He checks in with you every once in a while, a soft kiss to your shoulder and a husky ‘you still okay?’ before he continues with you groaning your desire for him to go harder and deeper.

He pounds into you with intensity, the rhythm of his fingers on your clit staying steady.You come with a shuddering cry, head lolled forward and Joel’s cock sawing in and out of you, his fingers dancing on your clit.

“Whose girl are you?”

“Yours,” you groan, flesh rippling as his hips slap against your ass in a frenzy.

"That's right," Joel growls before he nips at your earlobe. "Now prove it and soak my cock."

You cry out his name before thrusting yourself back against his cock.

“That’s it, that’s it,” he coos as you come down.

You hear his ragged grunts as you climax but notice that he begins to slow, his cock slowly dragging and plunging before tapering off. You look over your shoulder at him, your cheeks flushed. Joel is looking down at you with a strange look on his face.

"What's wrong, baby?"

"Was thinking of tryin' somethin'," he murmurs, dark eyes sliding over your naked body as he gently pulls from you. “You up for somethin’ a lil different?”

"Anything you want," you tell him honestly. And you mean it; Joel can use your body in any way he desires. You trust him absolutely. He’s never given you reason to doubt him. His face lights up almost boyishly as he grins down at you.

"Yeah?"

You nod and he practically leaps off the bed. You grin, taking time to appreciate the sight of his deliciously taut ass twitching as his naked frame pads over to the dresser where he threw his jeans last night.

You watch in quiet fascination as he un-loops the dark brown leather belt from the pair, sliding it around his palm as he looks over at you.

"You've used a belt before," you remind him as he moves towards the bed, hard cock bobbing as you think of how he used a belt to bind your wrists once.

"Not like this," Joel slides his tongue into his opposite cheek as he crawls back onto the bed behind you. His large palm slides over the curve of your ass, gripping a moment. You can feel his eyes on your naked body, heavy and hot.

"You trust me?"

"Yes."

There's no hesitation, no balking. You simply rest there on your hands and knees, waiting.

You feel Joel continue to watch you, no doubt observing the gathering slick of your cunt and the shine of it on your inner thighs. His hot and heavy breath is there at your ass, giving you a sharp nip on your left cheek that has you yelp and him chuckle. His warm hand soothes the sting immediately.

"So gorgeous," Joel murmurs as he kisses his way up your naked spine. You bow, wanting him to press his lips to every vertebra, to tattoo your body with his tongue and mouth. You feel him behind you, the warmth of his body curling over you as his mouth drags over your shoulder blade, slow and sensual.

"You’re so fuckin’ good for me, you know that?"

His mouth is at your jaw as he asks this and by answer you tilt your head to capture his lips against yours. He makes a low noise, his hand going to curve around your throat, holding you there so that he can kiss you at his leisure, sucking your tongue into his mouth as your cunt weeps.

“Keep bein’ good, yeah?”

You feel him circle the leather around your waist, the sensation drawing a soft gasp from you. His eyes drift to your wait as he tightens the belt before notching it. It’s almost as if he expects you to wear it, only he keeps the tail end of it firmly gripped in his palm.

"Tell me if it's too tight."

"S'not," you purr, finding the sensation of leather biting into your hips and belly to be a turn on more than anything.

He tugs gently, urging you back towards him before giving the belt some slack. His free hand is at your ass again, rubbing sweet circles over the mark he’s left. You feel him on his knees, bending back to look at you.

"Show me what's mine, baby."

You sigh contentedly, forcing your legs apart further, ass in the air, your face resting on the mattress. You know from where he kneels behind you be can see everything, including your puffy pussy completely drenched.

You whimper slightly at the sound of Joel's groan.

“Yeah, she’s all mine.”

Joel watches your muscles roll and skin prickle in anticipation and he can't stop himself from rubbing his palm up your spine, his fingers tracing where his mouth and tongue have travelled.

You whimper again, cunt twitching as fresh arousal gathers there. Joel swallows a growl and you feel him notch himself at your entrance, guiding the head of his cock against your clit before sinking into your dripping cunt.

“Joel!”

From this angle he feels so big, filling you so well. Your cunt almost stings from how big. When he begins to move you grip onto the bed sheets, body jolting as you let out little mewls of pleasure.

"So fuckin' good," Joel groans out between clenched teeth. He pulls out slowly, wanting to see his cock glossy with your slick before he’s sinking between your lips again. He does it again and again, pulling out slowly, admiring how your pussy looks when its empty and then stuffed full of him.

He does this for several moments, working you up and making you cry out his name in broken little whispers.

“Please, Joel.”

"I made you come twice already," Joel reminds you with a teasing edge to his voice. "Now you’re gonna lay there and let me fuck you full a' my come, pretty girl."

All at once you feel him tug the belt back abruptly, sending you sliding back along his length as he thrusts forward and buries himself to the hilt. He does this over and over until you hear the squelching sounds of him fucking into you. It’s obscene and dirty and you fucking love it.

"You gonna do that?" You hear the smile in his voice as his hips start to pick up the pace. "Gonna let me fuck you full?"

The bite of the leather against your skin mixing with the feel of Joel's hips slapping against your thighs is making you quickly unravel.

"Yes, Joel!" You cry out, not in pain but in pleasure.

You surrender to his thrusts, sliding back as he pushes forward, using the belt to keep you at the perfect fucking distance. You hear his panting and the sound of your sweaty bodies smacking against one another.

"What a bad fuckin' girl," Joel taunts as his hips slap your ass over and over at increasingly quicker intervals. "Came twice and she's so cock drunk she's gonna gimme another one."

"N-no Joel," you manage. "Gonna make you come."

"Don't think you can," Joel rasps with a husky chuckle. "Think my bad girl needs to soak my cock again."

You cry out at the sensation of his length hitting you so deep. But the burning desire to do good, to pleasure him overrides this.

"Wanna make you come, Joel. M'not a bad girl," you tell him almost petulantly as you move up the bed with a particularly aggressive thrust from Joel.

"Oh no?" he grinds himself against your ass, tugging the belt again. "Show me how good you can be."

You slide yourself back against the length of him, smiling into the pillow when you hear his shaky inhale. You do it again, slowly welcoming him deep before sliding off, the tip teasing your entrance before you feel the tug of his belt, forcing you back.

"Uh huh that's my good girl," Joel pants, surprising you by landing a quick slap to your ass with his free hand. "Yeah, that's it. Fuck yourself on it for me."

Your ass bounces as you bow your back for him, desperate for him to take what he wants. You urge him deeper, moaning as his hand gives you another swat on the other cheek.

"Deeper," you beg him, not just to make him feel good but because you're so fucking close.

"You’re so goddam good," he tells you as he buries himself, sawing in and out of your slippery cunt. He tugs the belt, pulling you back along his cock over and over. You cry out loud from the dual sensations of Joel's cock and the leather belt.

You feel as a few of his fingers slide under the waist of the belt, holding you more firmly in place as he begins to jackhammer his cock into your slot deeper than ever. It makes your whimpers come out in little huffs, your body shaking with each plunge of him between your thighs.

"Take... It.... Just... Like .. That." Each word is barked out with a pump of his cock into your cunt. "Good ... Girl."

You give out sharp little grunts with every thrust of him from behind you, your hands fisting in the sheets as your eyes roll back. He holds you firmly by the belt, head tilted back as his cock kisses your cervix.

"Stay right there," he pants, hips rolling aggressively now. "N'make me feel good."

"Yes," you promise, breasts shaking as he fucks harder and deeper into you. His hips slap loudly in against your ass, his cock so thick and so soaked as he slides between your swollen folds. You keen as his cock forces itself deeper and he starts grunting louder, punched out with each thrust.

“Fuck, fuck I love yo-“

He can't finish the sentence. He's coming hard, pulsing into you as he grips your body, his lips pressed to your cheek, gasping as he thrusts. Your arm goes to bend around his neck, your flesh jolting as he uses you to finish. You smile through your mutual panting, finding his mouth as you tilt your head.

“I love you too, Joel.”

///

You wake up the first few days after staying with Joel with a coiled tension in your body.

There is a small part of you that is terrified that this is all going too good. That perhaps now that you know Joel is getting divorced and the forbidden aspect of the relationship is over that it will dampen your ardor for him. That his biggest fears he had about you will come true.

But they don’t.

If anything your capacity for loving him grows. Doing crosswords together over coffee in the morning, going for walks hand-in-hand in the park near his house. Laughing over something stupid on the TV, playing cards late into the night.

He tells you he loves you every morning and every night. He holds you in his arms when you drift off to sleep. You feel a safety and a contentment you’ve never experienced before. Always waiting for the shoe to drop, but it never does.

And of course there’s the fucking everywhere, almost as if Joel has a personal mission to make sure you come in every single room. You don’t mind at all. In fact you encourage it one morning by bringing out the snowflake skirt from Christmas that you packed at the bottom of your bag, giggling in your dorm.

You put it on over a tight white tank top and bend over in front of him to grab the milk from the fridge, giving a soft “morning baby.” You can feel his sleepy gaze from beside the coffee maker and you arch slightly, pretending to not see what you’re looking for. You’re just starting to wonder if he’s noticed you’re not wearing panties when you hear him fall to his knees behind you, turning you around and fucking you with his tongue.

Seems Joel isn’t bored either.

///

Bitch I miss u! [sadface.jpg]

Sarah attaches a sad-looking selfie to the text that makes you giggle. Your time in Austin is limited, only two weeks remain before you head back home, so you have to think to the future even if that’s the last thing you want to do.

I miss you more! How is Chile?

I love it! We went stargazing in the Atacama Desert last night! [desert.jpg]

Holy shit you look so hot!

(EMOJI) Must be all the Chilean sunshine. You should be out here enjoying with your guy.

You feel your throat tighten. You can’t tell her that things are going well with your ‘guy’. She’ll want a photo. And you know she’ll recognize her own fucking house in the background no matter where you stand. Same goes for any coffee shops or local hot spots. So you try to change the topic.

How's Charlie?

Not so good. He just got an email about the job he applied for. He didn't get it so he'll jobless in September. We’re both pretty upset.

I'm so sorry.

You frown at your phone, reading your text from Sarah. She seems pretty down about the whole Charlie thing. Sarah’s always been a planner, so you know that changes like this can really set her off. She and Charlie had planned on San Diego for their next steps and it had seemed like Charlie was a shoo in. Sarah was already talking about the cute apartment they were gonna get after their travels. Your heart breaks for your friend.

It’s okay. I just wanted to say I miss u. Hope ur having fun with your guy since you loooooooooooooove him so much. One day you’re gonna have to send me a photo for approval. Gotta make sure he’s good enough for u.

I promise he is.

The door to the bathroom opens just then and a waft of steam exits, along with the scent of bergamot and whatever else is in Joel’s shampoo. He’s wearing only his boxers and the towel is slung over his shoulder as he rubs at his damp curls.

“Mornin’ baby.”

You watch him go to the dresser and pull on his black Miller Construction t-shirt, biceps bulging.

You lay in bed, gazing up at a freshly showered Joel who looks and smells so fucking sexy your pussy throbs. His broad shoulders ripple under the strained t-shirt fabric as he drags a comb through his wet hair.

“Do you really have to go back to work today?”

It’s been two weeks of just existing in this blissful cocoon of eating and laughing and fucking. You don’t want it to end, but of course life has to intrude.

“F’raid so, baby. I’m the boss and I better show my face before they start likin’ Tommy better.”

“Not possible,” you tell him with a grin.

“But to make up for it, I’m takin’ you out tonight,” he tells you, his dark eyes staring at you in the mirror’s reflection.

“A date?” you’re on your knees now, hands excitedly clasped in your lap. “Where?”

He drops the comb on the dresser, coming to sit next to you on the bed. He grips your chin in his thumb and forefinger, dragging your mouth to his only to stop an inch from your mouth.

“S’a surprise pretty girl.”

“How should I dress?”

“However you want,” he shrugs before kissing you softly. You hold in an eye roll at this. Men just don’t understand fashion.

He prepares to stand but he smells so good and he looks even better. His curls are drying into soft little salt and pepper waves and you need to have him. You pull him back for another kiss, tongue’s dabbing.

“Do you really have to go right now?” you ask with a teasing lilt. Your hand drifts between his legs and you smirk when you see his eyelids flutter.

“Yes,” he says sternly, his hand covering yours.

“Just five minutes,” you urge, hands coming to unbuckle his jeans, drawing down the zipper and sighing when his warm cock comes alive in your palm.

“I-I have to go,” he breathes against your mouth. “I gotta-”

“Just lemme make you come,” you whisper, kissing his jaw. “I wanna make you come, Daddy.”

Joel tries so hard to regain his thoughts but you’ve started stroking and he’s powerless. It isn’t long before he’s driving you into the mattress, hips snapping against yours and moaning your name into your shoulder as he tells you time and time again that he’s late, that he has to go, that… oh fuck you feel amazing.

It’s an hour later when Joel finally rushes out of the house, still pulling down his t-shirt as he starts the truck.

///

You’re sitting on the couch, going through job applications for back home as you wait for Joel to arrive for your date night. You’ve only got a week or so left here in Austin before you have to go back to your depressing life. You need to have a plan, a place to rent. You can’t move back with your awful parents. Parents who haven’t sent you as much as an e-mail since your blow up at graduation.

The doorbell rings, surprising you into dropping your phone. You wait a moment, eyes wide as you stare at the door. Joel has never told you one way or the other if you should answer it. What if it’s Tess? What if it’s a nosy neighbor?

Ding dong.

Fuck it. If it’s a neighbor you’ll tell them you’re a friend of the family. If it’s Tess…well… You don’t know what to do about that.

You straighten your dress, trying to look composed as you sail to the door, opening it a crack and peeking your head around.

Joel stands there on the front porch dressed in a pale blue button down and fresh jeans. He’s smiling widely at you and in his hands he holds a beautiful bouquet of flowers. Some yellow, some pink, but the ones that really call to you are the white sleepy looking ones.

“I’m here to pick you up for our date,” he rumbles, his eyes glittering. His eyes sail over your face and the sundress you’ve chosen. “Fuck you’re a knockout.”

You blush, taking the flowers from him as you open the door widely. “Thank you, they’re stunning.”

“The yellow ones are kerrias and those white ones? They’re called summer snowflakes,” he says as he watches you gazing at them.

“Really?”

“Mhm.”

You press a kiss to his eager mouth, his lips chasing yours when you pull off squealing.

“I’m gonna put them in water!”

You find a tall vase under the sink and arrange the bouquet inside, gazing at them with your cheeks hot. You’ve never been romanced like this. Conrad thought jewelry and expensive dinners were enough. Joel does those things but he does so much more. He remembers little things, he calls you beautiful, he cherishes you.

Joel is still standing by the front door as if this is a real date and you hurriedly rush back, pulling your purse over your shoulder. You take in his button down and jeans again, scrunching your nose in confusion.

“How-“

“Had the clothes in my car,” he tells you with a grin before offering his arm. “Ready to go, beautiful girl?”

///

He takes you to a food truck for dinner, not exactly what you were expecting, but certainly nothing to sneeze at. The streets are busy, lined with tourists all snapping photos, laughing, listening to the street musicians.

“They got the best tacos here,” he informs you as he passes you a carton holding several. “And there’s somewhere I wanted to show you.”

You follow him down the busy main streets of Austin, past the various folks that try to sell you trinkets. You come upon a group of people bustling around one specific site, a painted mural of a piece of toast saying “You’re my” and a dab of butter boating the words “Butter Half”. You grin at it.

“They did these murals all over Austin,” Joel explains as you approach it. “Some’ve been around for decades, some more recent. S’one of my favorite things about Austin. I look at ‘em all the time when I need a walk, or to clear my head. S’better than any art gallery, cheapter too.”

“Are there more?” you ask, taking a bite from your taco.

“Yep.”

As the two of you eat your dinner, Joel takes you through a walking tour of the neighborhood, pointing out the various murals that you pass. Some are funny, some political, some devastating.

Wherever you go people are posing in front of them, flashing peace signs and smiling broadly at phone cameras. An especially popular one is the one on a green background with the red spray painted words: I love you so much. Compared to the rest of the colorful pieces its sweet in its simplicity.

“I like that one,” you muse.

“Me too,” Joel says, kissing your temple and taking your hand. He grabs you an ice cream around the next block, watching as you grapple with not letting it drip down your palm in the summer heat.

You watch Joel’s face turn into a smile as you pass a woman with two children. One in her arms, the other tugging her towards one of the murals. You aren’t blind to the way his eyes get wistful, his mouth tight. You think of your conversation over spring break when he didn’t really answer your question.

"You really want more kids, don’t you?" You offer gently.

"Uh, maybe, yeah," Joel shrugs, almost embarrassed at being caught out. "I mean, I had Sarah when I was nineteen goin' on twenty. Would be nice to be a dad when I'm not scrambling paycheck to paycheck with a wife who's got one foot out the door."

You nod thoughtfully, your tongue coming to take a slow lick of your cone.

"Just so you know, it's not a deal breaker," Joel is quick to explain when you go quiet. "I mean if we... You know… You don’t need to want them."

"But you just said you think you want another kid."

"I want you more."

You feel your heart hiccup at that. You have to turn away so he doesn’t see how your eyes have grown glossy. Sometimes Joel says the perfect, most amazing thing and he doesn’t even realize it.

The subject is dropped for the time being. It feels like too much too soon.

"S'funny I've never been a PDA person," Joel muses as he runs his fingers along your spine as the two of you continue to walk. "But I can't keep my hands off of you."

"Same here,” you admit. “I used to hate it when Conr- when my ex would hold me around the waist when we walked. It felt so… possessive.”

“I’ll make a note of that,” Joel muses with a smirk.

“That’s different,” you say quickly, eyes wide. “I… I wouldn’t mind it if you did it.”

“You like me bein’ a little possessive of you?” Joel murmurs, smirking down at your increasingly red face. You give an airy shrug, hoping it conveys a sense of indifference.

“Maybe.”

His hand wraps around your waist, holding you against him as you keep walking. And it doesn’t feel like possession, it feels like love. Everything Joel does feels like love.

With your ice cream gone but your hand still sticky you come to another mural, this one a black painted wall with writing all over. The closer you get the more you can the details. It’s like the wall of the building has been painted like a huge chalkboard. Stenciled on is the same question over and over ‘Before I die _________”.

You can see there are so many answers in chalk all over it.

Before I die I want to visit Australia.

Before I die I want to see Harry Styles in concert.

Before I die I want to write a book.

“You ever answered this?” you ask as you read more of the various scripts.

Before I die I want to make a change in the world.

Before I die I want to win the lottery.

“Yeah. Once.”

You turn to him when he doesn’t elaborate. He’s got a funny little look on his face, staring at the mural.

“When?”

“Little bit after Christmas,” Joel mutters, almost embarrassed. He tries to keep walking but you hold him steady by the wrist. He looks back over at you, his cheeks stained pink at the cheekbones.

“C’mon, tell me,” you urge with a gentle tap of your hip against his. “No secrets, remember?”

The day is quickly turning to night and Joel’s silhouetted in the golden hour, making him look almost angelic as he stands there. The deliberation is clear in his expression before Joel huffs a soft sigh, his mouth twitching into a crooked smile as he leans forward, his mouth at your ear.

“Before I die, I want to hold Snowflake one more time.”

Your eyes fill with tears as he pulls his face back from yours, his own eyes damp. You know how he must have been feeling last year. The same way you had been, only you’d convinced yourself it was one-sided. A fleeting infatuation.

How wrong you had been.

///

You and Joel haven’t brought up the fact that you have to leave soon. Three days in fact until your unofficial time with him is over. Three days left of kissing and hugging and whispers of fidelity and love are shared. Three days left of fucking him over every imaginable surface.

You want to distract yourself from the oncoming misery so you send him a text with items you’ll need to make him a special dinner. At six promptly the front door to the house opens and Joel comes walking in, weighted down with grocery bags.

“You’re sure you needed all this stuff?”

“Mhm,” you jump up from the couch, padding after him into the kitchen. “I wanted to make something special to celebrate our time together.”

Joel grins over at you, his eyes crinkling in the corners as he drops the bags on the counter. He leans forward and presses a peck to your mouth. You feel his tongue dab against yours and you know exactly what he’s up to.

“Get outta here,” you say pushing him gently and going to stand at the counter. “I gotta start cooking.”

“I just wanna watch,” Joel insists, standing behind you and wrapping his arms around your middle. You want to deny him, but his hands are coming to the hem of your t-shirt, tugging it free from your skirt.

“Joel-“

"Remember when you sucked my cock right there?" Joel groans into your hairline, pressing you into the counter with his hips.

"Yeah," you whimper, feeling his hand curling around your panties and tugging them down over your ass.

"Fuckin’ filthy girl."

“Mhmmm,” you murmur, hand going behind you to slide down his front. His cock is already hard when you squeeze it through his jeans. "Wanted you to fuck me against it."

"We can make that happen," Joel grins against the crown of your head, pulling himself from his jeans. "You want that, baby?"

"Yeah."

"C'mon now," he breathes as he sheaths himself in your dripping pussy. "You be good an' loud for me. You tell me how good it feels."

You do.

Subsequently dinner is late, but delicious.

“Holy shit you could cook all this time?” Joel whistles between bites of cornbread and steak amongst your other homemade items. “You’ve been holdin’ out on me.”

“Maybe I just like your cooking better.”

“Mhm.” Joel gives a roll of his eyes at that.

Despite the both of you being stuffed from dinner and dessert, you still want to fuck him later that night. It feels like urgency as you think of time ticking away, but as you roll towards him in bed Joel doesn’t quite seem himself.

He’s looking at the ceiling, brows scrunched together. It makes you nervous even as you lay curled in his arms.

“What’s going on?”

“Huh?” Joel turns his attention to. “Nothin’ baby.”

You both fall quiet, your fingers twisting in the duvet. Your mind goes home to a house that feels cold and empty. To a bed that won’t have Joel in it. You try not to feel too devastated. You don’t want to ruin what precious time you have left.

You tilt your head, seeing that Joel is staring up at the ceiling again.

You shuffle to balance your chin on his sternum, gazing up at him under sleepy lids. You want to memorize his face, the way his chest falls when he breathes or the sweet, gentle way he’s gazing at you.

"What do you think of stayin' here a bit longer?" Joel whispers, hand coming to rub the hair over your ear.

"In bed?"

"In Austin."

"Like, for the rest of the summer?"

The thought makes your pulse pick up. You are in absolutely no rush to head back home to your parent’s house. In no rush to leave Joel's warm arms and warmer smile.

"Longer 'n that," Joel murmurs. Your brows knit together.

"You said you were plannin' on doing your courses online," Joel explains. "And you were lookin' for a part time job but you didn't have one yet. So why not just do it all here? I know lots of people; I could find you a job easy."

You stare at him a moment as you digest this. Joel is asking you to move in with him. And instead of fear or unease you felt at the thought of doing so with Conrad, your face blooms into a beaming smile.

"You've really been thinking about this," you say both touched and amused by him. You crawl up the length of him, wrapping your arms around him.

He goes quiet, looking embarrassed for a moment before his arms tighten around you, holding you to him as he kisses your neck.

"I'd love to," you answer with a soft peck to his lips.

“Yeah?”

"Yeah,” you grin, blinking back the wet. “I never wanna leave Austin...Or you… Or this bed."

Joel's mouth finds yours, hands pulling you more tightly to him as if his joy can be expressed better physically.

"And if it's too much stress don't worry about the job," Joel assures you between kisses. "I'll take care of you."

"Joel, I'm not gonna sponge off of you," you insist with a frown. "I'm not gonna be a kept woman. I'm gonna get a part-time job while I finish school."

"Well until then I've got a job for you," Joel says with a crooked grin as he pulls your hand over the hardening cock in his sweatpants. "One I know you're more than qualified for."

///

The sunrise feels different in Joel's bed. You can't quite explain it. It's like the colors are more vibrant peeking through his blinds, the warmth more gentle against your skin.

Joel is always wrapped around you, legs twisted, your head buried in his neck, as if even sleeping he never wants to be without you. The serenity of these first moments of consciousness never fails to amaze you.

One morning you can't help but marvel at how beautiful he is when he sleeps. Plush lips parted, eyes softly shut, dark lashes fanning over his cheek. His golden body muscled and warm from slumber.

And he’s yours.

The concept overwhelms you and you find yourself pushing your body from the bed, energy forcing you to the kitchen where you put on a pot of coffee before padding into the living room. The sun hasn’t quite risen over the neighborhood yet.

You sit on the window seat, shoulders loose and your head tilted to the side. Your hands are in your lap, loosely curled against your ankles, the percolating coffee forgotten as you take in the beauty of the morning.

You’ve never had things like this; quiet, peaceful mornings where the day stretches out before you full of sublime joy and possiblity. Always in school or at home with your parents or with Conrad. But with Joel you just exist, not beholden to anyone but yourself.

This is what happiness is.

You hear footsteps pad slowly towards you and you glance up over your shoulder to see a mug of coffee extended in your direction, made just the way you like it. You take it along with the full lipped kiss he gives you. Joel’s eyes are sleepy small and his body is still warm from slumber.

"Watch the sunrise with me," you whisper.

Joel nods before taking a seat next to you with your situating yourself in his lap, leaning back into his chest as the pink of the sky bleeds into blue. You sip your coffee slowly, reveling in the security of Joel's body, the steady rise and fall of his chest, at the way his muscled arms wrap around you like a cloak.

You're both silent as the gold of the morning breaks through, casting everything in that hazy romantic light. You don't even notice the tears until they plop onto your bare leg. Joel must notice too because he cranes his head to peer into your face.

"What's the matter, baby?"

His voice is early morning rumble. You sniffle before gazing up at him with a watery smile.

"I'm just so happy."

///

In early July Austin goes through a heat wave that leaves everywhere absolutely sweltering. It has you and Joel resting on the living room floor, the air conditioner and fans whirring around you. Joel wears nothing but shorts and you nothing but a skimpy pair of cut offs and tank top. But neither of you is feeling amorous.

The heat carries into the rest of the work week leaving Joel sweaty and exhausted when he comes home. The air conditioner is working overtime but the sticky heat lingers. It makes doing much seem impossible. You’ve been stuck inside the last few days, eating cold meals and trying to do as little as possible.

Joel doesn’t always have bad days at work, but when he does you want nothing more than to take the weight from his shoulders. You can tell it’s an especially bad one today because he kicks off his shoes and drops the toolbox at the front door.

“Bad day?”

“Tommy thought it would be great to sign off on tile that we can’t fuckin’ afford on this latest remodel,” Joel all but snaps, collapsing onto the couch with a groan.

“I’m sorry. Can I do anything?”

“Lower the price of fuckin’ tile?”

You don’t say anything to that. Suddenly you feel very small, as if this is somehow your fault. As if you do in fact control the price of tile. You glance around the house and see plates on tables, cups forgotten. You should’ve cleaned today instead of looking at jobs.

"Let’s go for ice cream after dinner," you offer, trying to rouse his spirits. “My treat.”

"S’too hot. It'll melt before we even get a lick in."

"Home Depot?" You suggest, knowing it’s one of Joel’s favorite spots to walk around.

"It'll be crowded and we might see some people I know."

It's a bit of a sore point between you two. Joel hasn't introduced you to anyone and you've made no effort to make him. You enjoy this little cocoon you've created and don't want anything to spoil it. The thing is you have an idea that Joel would like to start introducing you, but Sarah has to know first.

Neither of you is looking forward to that.

“Could make those boozy slush things we saw?”

“Nah,” Joel replies, sweat beading his forehead.

You’re feeling irritable from the heat and unhappy that Joel’s bad day has somehow translated into you feeling shitty.

“Well you’ve shot down all my ideas why don’t you come up with one?”

“I just worked ten hours in the blistering sun. I’m sorry if I’m not in the mood to plan a fuckin’ date,” Joel snaps, sweat beading his forehead. “Maybe if you gave me five fuckin’ minutes t-”

Whatever else Joel had been about to say is lost because you’re already striding from the room. Your legs feel like jelly and you are almost blind with tears. You rush to the guest room, slamming the door behind you.

You throw yourself onto the bed; eyes squeezed shut as you try to even out your breathing. Your heart is pounding and you want to sob. But another part of you wants to tell Joel off, to tell him to go fuck himself.

You hear the door to the bathroom opening, then the shower running. You roll onto your back, eyes glaring up at the ceiling. Ten minutes pass before there’s a knock at the door. You pull yourself to a sitting position, holding your knees.

“Baby?”

You don’t answer. You don’t want to listen to him, to look at him. You’re furious at him for this and you’re terrified because this feels like your first real fight together.

When you don’t say anything he gently pushes the door open, dark eyes peeking around the door to see your tear-stained face glaring back at him. His brows saddle and he comes to the end of the bed, just looking down at you.

“So I guess that was our first real couple fight,” he offers guiltily.

“Yep.” You sniffle. "I don't like it."

"Me neither. I'm so sorry I snapped," he tells you earnestly, dropping to his knees beside the bed, but not touching you. "I know you were just trying to help. The stuff at work an’ the heat just got to me."

You shrug. “I didn’t give you space.”

“Space I’ve never asked for before? Nah, I was just bein’ an asshole," he says gently and you see the harshness leaving his handsome features. “Came home like a bear with a toothache. All you were tryin’ to do was make me happy.”

“Still.”

"I appreciated it,” Joel tells you gently. "Just maybe if I'm upset gimme time to cool off. I can have a bad temper at times an’ sometimes I just need to be in my head about it for a bit."

His hand grips your knee gently, squeezing to let you know all is well on his end. You allow it, feeling your animosity leaving you at the exchange.

"Okay," you nod. "I can do that."

"So I'm forgiven?"

"Always.”

You lift his hand from your knee and Joel smiles at you, accepting your gentle kiss to his palm without hesitation. He kisses you tenderly before pushing the sweaty hair from your face, his nose brushing yours.

"I have an idea of how to cool off."

An hour later you're at the movies with its sweet, beautiful air conditioner and giant tubs of popcorn and sodas in your laps. You and Joel pick the next movie playing which turns out to be some superhero fair he enjoys. You smile when he laughs, watching out the corner of your eyes as he does, your heart light because everything with Joel feels possible. Fights seem manageable.

Life is beautiful.

///

It’s the start of August when you start a part time job at a bookstore nearby. You and Joel discovered it during one of your lazy Sunday morning adventures where you try new coffee places.

It’s a quick bus ride from your place, but Joel insists on driving you when he can. But today you’ve been let go early due to over-staffing. You don’t mind at all, taking advantage of the beautiful day.

You walk down the sun-dappled streets feeling buoyed. You walk past the strip mall, glancing at the stores that line it. You normally don’t pay attention, but today your gaze is drawn to the sultry photo of the model in the store window.

Where Sensuality meets Style.

You don’t know what you’re expecting to do when you go inside the shop. What you’re not expecting is to come out a half hour later with some of the most scandalous lingerie you’ve ever owned. It’s black and strappy and shows more than it covers.

The second you get home you jump in the shower before primping. You take the lingerie out of the bag delicately, eyes wide with delight.

The lace black bra is completely see-through and the deep blush of your nipples are easily visible. There are decorative straps that hug the curves of your breasts. The panties match the fabric of the bra, low cut and barely covering your ass. Around your middle is a strappy black garter belt that matches the straps of the bra. You pull on the sheer black thigh-highs, attaching them before spinning, turning to see you from every angle in the bedroom mirror.

You look hot.

Your strappy high heels have been in the bottom of your bag, waiting for such an occasion. You tie them up, smiling to yourself. Joel is going to be very pleased. You pull on the black silk robe that came with your purchase, a thin little kimono-style that barely reaches your knees.

You’re just applying a deep shade of red to your lips when you hear Joel’s truck pull into the driveway. Your heart skips a beat and you quickly spritz yourself with the perfume Joel bought ages ago.

Showtime.

You hear the key starting in the lock and with a dramatic flourish you throw open the door as you undo your robe, letting your lingerie doing most of the talking for you. You strike a pose, hip jutting and tits out.

"Hope you're ready to get your cock sucked Mister Mill-"

Your eyes blow wide when you see the man on the other side of the door isn't Joel at all. It's a younger man with similar eyes and curls, his hand raised and holding a key to the house that he was in the process of unlocking.

The man averts his eyes to the ground politely before breaking into an embarrassed grin. You pull the robe around you tightly, cinching it and squeaking in humiliation.

"Now I see why my brother keeps rushin' home after work," the man says with an unsteady laugh.

Brother.

This is Tommy, Joel's brother that you've heard so much about.

Fuck

Sarah's uncle.

Double fuck.

"I…uh..." You falter, terror running through you.

Tommy looks immediately apologetic, his dark brows furrowed.

"Hey now, there's no need to be embarrassed," Tommy assures you. "Joel's his own man. I ain't gonna tell him he's too old and ugly for a pretty young thing like yourself."

You wonder if you should make up a lie like you're the house cleaner. But no, you can't after you answered the door dressed like you are.

Triple Fuck.

"It's not just that," you say and suddenly you feel the blush heating your cheeks. "It's uh... "

"What the fuck is goin’ on?"

The two of you glance over to see Joel pulling his truck into the driveway beside Tommy’s. He nearly jumps out while it's still parking. His legs scissor quickly over the grass, nearing to you.

You hear Tommy swear under his breath as his older brother advances. Joel sees you in the doorframe, your eyes wide. He glances down your body when he sees you’re wearing a robe before glaring at Tommy.

"What the fuck are you doin' at my house?"

"Came to get those tools we talked about." Tommy tries to smother his smirk. "Didn't know you had company."

"You could've called."

"Never had to before."

“Well you do now.”

The two brothers stare at each other speaking through micro expressions. You worry that a fist fight is about to break out if you don't de-escalate the situation.

“I’m gonna go change," you say with an awkward laugh.

"I'll grab the tools," Tommy mutters, wincing at the angered look from Joel. "Think they're in the back shed, yeah?"

"Or the garage. Can't remember."

The two continue talking lowly but you’re already in the bedroom with the door closed. Your cheeks are flushed and your heart is beating like mad as you go to the dresser to pull out some jeans and shirt, your hands trembling with anxiety.

What if Tommy tells Sarah?

She'll be devastated. She needs to hear it from you and Joel, not her uncle.

You hear the bedroom door open behind you and you see Joel slip into the room, his dark eyes on you.

"I'm so sorry," you say as he approaches you. "I thought it was you."

"Course you did," Joel murmurs, coming to stand next to you. "How could you have known my idiot brother would be breakin' in?"

"I'd hardly call it breaking in," you say with an eye roll. "He had a key."

"Not anymore." Joel frowns, his eyes noting the robe again. "Did you just wake up?"

"No," you say, suddenly shy. "I was... I was wanting to surprise you.”

Joel's gloomy mood is immediately broken. His mouth curves into a broad smile.

"My girl," he coos, fingers pinching your chin softly. "So thoughtful."

You want to say more but Joel's fingers are sliding down your neck, ghosting over your breasts and then at the sash untying quickly, eyes wide with anticipation. He practically tears it from you as you hold in a giggle.

When Joel sees the lingerie underneath you feel his gaze turn ravenous.

"This is what you were waitin’ to show me?" Joel murmurs, hands trailing down the front of your lingerie.

"Yeah."

"Turn for me," Joel whispers. You spin gently in his arms, feeling flustered. He grips a handful of your ass, groaning at the sight as it falls. "Fuck baby. I don't deserve this."

"You deserve more," you tell him, looking at him over your shoulder.

You spin slowly in his grip, feeling his fingers drag along the sheer fabric. Joel casts an appreciative gaze at your breasts barely contained. He's groans feel the back of his throat, his hands cupping you through the fabric. He sees your nipples and latches his full mouth over one, sucking through the fabric.

"Joel!"

He does the same with the other, soaking the sheer fabric and leaving you panting. He twists you gently, his hand sliding over your covered mound.

"Gonna let me fuck you, pretty girl?"

"Now?"

"Mhmm," Joel murmurs against the shell of your ear. "Can't wait when you look that good."

"I guess I could show you what I had prepared," you tease.

He watches you slide onto your knees in front of him, hands deftly coming to his belt and zipper.

Joel watches this with his mouth parted and his gaze electric as he watches you pull his cock from his jeans. He's rock hard and when you swipe your tongue over the head he hisses.

You kiss the head gently, feeling him twitch with every graze of your full mouth over him. Your tongue comes out to give long, wet licks to the shaft and you hear him groan above you. You place him against your lower lip, watching the red bloom on his cheeks.

You look the very picture of debauchery on your knees with his cock resting against your lips.

"Can I please suck your cock, Joel?"

A full-bodied shudder goes through him at your husky plea. His hand comes to cup your cheek as he gives you a soft shake of his head. You're surprised at this and when he tilts, bringing you to a stand in his arms you furrow your brow.

"Need to feel your cunt, baby," he says grazing his lips against yours. 'S'that okay?"

You pause, indecision flirting across your features. You're not exactly quiet when Joe is inside you. He turns you, holding you from behind and urging you towards the bed. But you pause, your pulse thrumming.

"Tommy might hear."

"He never should have come here," Joel tells you as he nuzzles the back of your neck. "His own fault if he hears somethin'."

"Joel!"

"Mister Miller," Joel croons against the shell of your ear and suddenly you understand. The dynamic that started all of this, fucking when you could be caught. He's throbbing against your back and you smile, grinding back against him.

"You're so bad, Mister Miller," you coo, feeling as delicious goose bumps prickle all over, whimpering when Joel's palm cups your pussy through the fabric.

"Must be what you like, cuz you're soaked," he reminds you, nipping the flesh of your lobe. "Get on the bed for me, bad girl."

His hand moves from your pussy to slap your ass playfully. You barely hesitate before you shoot him a smirk and go to unbuckle your heels but Joel stops you with a firm shake of his head.

“Leave ‘em on.”

You grin up at him before turning onto your stomach, sure to arch appealingly as you crawl on all fours to the center of the mattress. Joel watches this from under heavy eyelids, his cock straining against the zipper of his jeans.

You throw yourself onto your back, giggling softly when Joel comes to bracket your thighs with his own. He looks down at you with a heat in his eyes that you can feel burning within you. He leans over your body, warm and heavy and his head drops, mouth coming to lick your hardened nipple through the gauzy black fabric. The other is pinched with his free hand, worrying them both into straining points.

He does the same with the other, attentive as you sigh in exhilaration. Your thighs band around his waist, holding him nestled against you. His hands are tugging the front of your lingerie down, exposing you to him.

"Gorgeous," he breathes, huffing along your sternum, kissing down your stomach. It twitches under the contact.

You give a small gasp of surprise when Joel tugs you by the ankles until your ass is at the edge of the bed. His hands slide up your black thigh highs, inhaling as he looks you over. He brings your legs to either side, hooking your heels at his shoulder before kissing each ankle bone sweetly.

He begins subtly licking his lips in anticipation as he views you, eyes taking their time to see you pliant and waiting for him. His thumbs hook in the waist of your thong, tugging it off officiously over your ass as you squirm excitedly below him. He brings them off over your ankles and shoes, the heels at his ears.

"Wrists together," he murmurs, the black edging out the remaining brown of his eyes.

You exhale slowly, trying to calm the flush going through your body. You hold out your wrists to him, your own eyes bright.

Joel smirks down at you before binding your wrists securely with your panties. The fabric is taut around your wrists as you raise your arms above your head, letting them fall back on the mattress.

"We shouldn't be doing this," you tell him, playing into it as you gaze at him through hooded eyes. "Shouldn't fuck me when he could hear, Mister Miller."

"Maybe I want him to hear," Joel replies smoothly, surprising you. "Maybe I need him to know why he doesn't come bargin' into my house."

You giggle up at Joel, watching him bring his cock from his pants. He's remarkably hard, the head weeping as he guides it to your entrance. You’re practically folding in half, your legs against his chest, his cock teasing your clit.

"Spread those legs for me," Joel murmurs with adoration in his eyes. "Lemme see how wet she is."

"Yes, Mister Miller."

Your thighs part and he gives a heavy sigh at the sight, his hands holding your ankles against his shoulders. You lay there bound and exposed to him and you've never felt safer. You exist in the harbor of his love, protected.

Joel's one hand goes to your inner thigh, sliding until it reaches the seam of your cunt. You give a soft whimper as his fingers drive forward, grazing your clit.

"Fuckin' perfect."

Those same fingers begin to curl, coaxing more delicious whimpers from you. Joel watches this all with eager interest, his cock weeping at the sight of you restrained and spread wantonly for him. When he adds a third finger you feel your thighs begin to quake.

"Don't make me wait anymore," you beg needfully through moans. "I need your cock. Please."

Joel slowly removes his fingers, slipping them from you to wrap around the base of his cock, drenching it in your arousal before he leads it between your trembling thighs.

"Anythin' you want, baby," Joel grins down at you. "Anythin' you want."

Joel slides into you with ease. It's not shocking; you're already dripping for him. He lets out a groan before his hands go to your thighs, parting them further, allowing him to thrust deeply, his ass clenching as he bottoms out in you. The two of you give a soft gasp at the sensation.

“Never felt this good,” he tells you, eyes heavy. “Not with anyone.”

His palms slide down your thighs, grazing over your calves until they come to stop at your ankles. Joel takes one in each hand, pressing a kiss to the delicate anklebones before he's parting your legs obscenely until you’re almost doing the splits below him, your pussy glossy and pink and full of his cock. He holds you open like this, eyes ravenous as he continues to sink into you.

“Attagirl,” he croons as his head tilts back. The sensation is divine and you let him guide your movements, your hands on the bed and your legs held spread by Joel. From this angle you can see him enter you slowly, shaft glistening as he strokes in… and pulls out, grazing your clit.

"So full," you whimper, eyes rolling and back arching off the bed. He feels so good, so perfectly thick between your legs when he does it again. "So good."

He grips your ankles tightly, dark eyes peering down as he stands next to the bed. Your tits bounce with every drive of his hips into you.

"Take it all, baby" Joel grunts down at you. "Make me proud."

He’s still standing, still slightly tilted over you beside the bed. It’s impossible to touch him, only to lay there, spread-eagle with Joel’s cock driving into you over and over, deeper and deeper. Sweat begins to shine along his shoulders as he fucks into you, little groans escaping him as he watches your body ripple under him.

"J-Joel!" You groan out, hands groping the sheets.

"Not my name," Joel grunts, his hips slamming into your ass.

"M-Mister m-M-ah-Miller!"

He's going faster, his soaked cock pistoning in and out of your cunt as your body rocks against him. Your hands are in the blanket, gripping there tightly as Joel holds you wider as his pace quickens. Your hips burn, your thighs strain but you crave more. You glance down again, watching as he saws in and out of you, his cock dripping with you arousal.

"Takin' it so well," Joel grunts out loudly when he sees you watching. "Pussy is just fucking milkin' my cock today, pretty girl."

At the sound of your groan in response he fucks into you furiously, balls slapping your ass and making sharp smacking noises in the quiet bedroom. It’s this sound which brings you back to yourself, recalling that Tommy is likely in the house at this very moment, tools in hand.

"You gotta be q-quiet!" You whimper between his deep thrusts. Joel may be fine with his brother hearing the two of you fuck but you certainly aren't.

"Nuh uh," Joel grins almost ferally. "Not in my house... Wanna hear my bad girl scream my name."

It’s so fucking wrong.

"Say my name," Joel urges. "Wanna hear it when you come."

You're brain goes fuzzy, knowing what Joel requested. But a pleasure is building between your legs and drifting into your veins. It makes your mind work sluggish, unable to form the right words.

“I’m gonna come-“

“For who baby? Say it?” Joel demands, and now he fucks you hard, his balls tightening when you bounce on his cock.

"Daddy!"

Both sets of eyes blow wide at this. Neither of you were expecting that to be the honorific you groaned loud enough for Tommy to hear. But the sound of it is potent and Joel grips your hips tightly in his hands and fucks you deep.

"Fuck yeah you are," Joel grunts out obscenely. "Give it to Daddy."

You try to cover your mouth but Joel is thrusting so quickly, so deep your hands fly to gain purchase on the mattress.

"You're so deep," you moan, your breasts rolling as he pumps into you. "It's so good!"

You know that if Tommy is still in the house he's heard everything. But you don't care, all you can do is look where Joel has you spread lasciviously, his soaked cock pumping in and out of you.

"Come on my cock, come on Daddy's cock," Joel chants in a hush, sweat shining on his brow. "Need it baby, Daddy needs it now."

Joel's collar and neck are pink, his cheekbones red. His teeth are clenched and bared as he watches himself fuck into you. His biceps are curled, holding your thighs widely open for him.

He's magnificent.

His eyes roll back a moment, his hips stuttering a moment. He's getting close.

"Come for me," Joel groans out, his eyes stuck on yours. "Be a good girl and come for Daddy."

And suddenly you can't stop yourself. Your hands are clutching the blankets and your body is arching off the bed violently as your orgasm takes you over.

"Fuck, Daddy! I'm coming!"

Joel gives a broad grin before grunting your name as he spills inside you with your trembling legs still spread wide, ankles held by Joel's large palms.

Finally he comes down, his panting heavy as he collapses into the bed next to you. He brings you over to him, wrapping you in his arms and grinning in your hair.

"That'll teach Tommy to come over unannounced."

///

The two of you are on the sofa; your head is resting on a pillow in his lap. He's watching the news on TV while you scroll through your text messages. The two of you were out in the backyard today, Joel mowing the grass while you did some sunbathing. The two of you are sunburned and sleepy from it.

Sarah and Charlie are in a club. The lights are low and colorful. The image is slightly fuzzy. Sarah is being held in Charlie's arms and she holds up a glass of something alcoholic judging by the way she's peering into the camera, mouth in a sloppy smile.

Looks like you're having fun!

Chapter c ch jjj JG da

Hah yeah, Sarah's drunk. Luckily Charlie looks in control of his faculties in the photo.

"Is that Sarah?" Joel asks his eyes catching the edge of your phone.

"Yeah."

"Lemme see," Joel says reaching for the phone. "She didn't send me a photo today, just a message about some museum."

He's fake pouting, irked that you've received something from Sarah while all he's had this week are texts. His brows rise when you pull your phone out of his reach, holding it against your chest.

"She's... This isn't a photo she'd want her dad seeing."

Joel's face immediately contorts into disgust and you burst into laughter.

"Not like that," you say between wheezes. "She's at a club with Charlie and they're both drunk. I don't know if she'd want her dad seeing her wasted."

"Yeah probably not," Joel relents after some thought.

It's the first time you've been the bridge between them. A spy working on both sides. It makes you feel funny, like its wrong that you love both of them. While your love for each is not the same in nature, they have both carved parts for themselves within your heart.

“Baby?” Joel murmurs from above you.

“Yeah?”

“I need you to know that I’m serious about you n’ me.”

You glance up to his face before pulling yourself into a sitting position next to him. Your heart melts as he gazes at you.

“Me too.”

“So I wanna tell Sarah about us,” Joel says quietly. “I don’t like lying to her.”

He must see the terror in your face because his hand falls over yours.

“Doesn’t need to be while she’s off havin’ an adventure. Don’t wanna spoil that for her. But she gets home soon and when she does, I wanna tell her. If nothing else about this relationship, we're at least gonna do this part right."

"It's too soon," you tell him with a flutter in your chest.

"I wanna hold you in my arms out in the open," Joel murmurs against your temple. "I'm tired of keepin' you a secret, like we’re doin’ something wrong. I love you and that ain’t wrong.”

You feel yourself turn to a puddle at his feet when he tells you that.

"I love you too."

"Sarah talked about coming back here before her job starts up," Joel explains. "Just for the weekend. I think I need to tell her then."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I'll invite her over for dinner and we'll talk."

"What if she's upset?"

"She probably will be," Joel says, sighing heavily. The thought of his daughter being upset with him churns his guts. They've been through so much together, but that's why keeping you a secret is so hard.

"But I can't keep lying to her."

"I know."

“So it’s decided,” Joel tells you, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “When Sarah comes home next week we’re gonna tell her.”

“Yeah,” you nod resolutely. “We’ll tell her then.”

///

There are few people in this world that Sarah Miller can depend on.

After her mother left when she was a toddler Sarah’s always had a feel of being forgotten. Of being left behind.

Her dad is someone she can depend on. Always there if she needs to talk, helping her set up furniture, there when her heart has been broken, there when she needed money or someone to help her buy a car.

He's a good dad. A good man.

And so when the taxi pulls into the driveway on Rancher Street Sarah breathes a sigh of relief at the familiar windows and freshly varnished front porch. A classic Joel move that he does every summer.

She’s several days early since she caught the earlier flight to surprise him. She can’t wait to see him after all these months away. She’s missed him and his silly jokes, his dumb DVD’s and the way he always listens as if she’s the most interesting person in the world.

One the few phone calls she’s made home he’s seemed different as of late. More spring in his step, more smiles, quicker to laugh. She figures it must be the divorce from Tess. The woman had never really understood Joel, even if she was perfectly kind.

Sarah throws her bag over her shoulder, heading into the house.

It’s not just the excitement of being home that has her almost three days early. It’s also because she just got the news that she was hired here at a clinic in Austin. One that pays well and offers benefits and makes her really really happy just at the thought.

Unfortunately during their time this week Charlie was offered a temporary position over in Santa Fe. An equally amazing opportunity and one that he couldn’t possibly refuse considering his other job fell through. Both of them had been glassy eyed as they realized their time apart would stretch well over six months.

"It'll go fast," Charlie insisted over dinner one night that Sarah was feeling especially down. "Six months is nothing. And then I'll be back in Austin and ... I think we should move in together."

Sarah thinks of her dad living in the house by himself and it breaks her heart.

No Tess and eventually, no her.

///

Your favorite thing about Sunday is that you and Joel take full advantage of it being his day off. You sleep in, tangled in each other's arms. You usually wake up to Joel's mouth on your neck, kissing gently before whispering your name and a raspy "you up, baby?"

He never does anything more until you confirm you're awake, and then he waits for you to take the lead. Sometimes it's a kiss to his cheek and the announcement that you want to go out for croissants at that new coffee shop you both discovered.

Sometimes you press your hips to his and urge him inside you, both of you rocking to a slow and sleepy orgasm. He holds you against his slumber-warmed body as he murmurs how good you are for him, how perfect you feel.

On Sunday afternoons you lay with your legs over his on the couch. He usually has a book in one hand, the other gently resting on your calf, tracing absently. You’re usually reading your Kindle, eyes wide when you come upon something surprising. Your breathing elevates and Joel always hears it.

"What's goin' on now?"

"She just found out she has to stab three faeries in the heart with wood daggers."

"Shit, really? Here I thought the whole puzzle-lever thing was bad."

There's something about his focus on you, the intense desire to learn everything you have to share. This support, this focus, it makes you fall even harder for him. It makes your eyes go glassy and unfocused.

He knows the look. It makes him close his book with a muted slap, dropping it beside the couch before he's tugging your pants down and burying his face between your thighs until you cry out, fingers twisted in his curls.

In the evening you cook together, something your parents never did. It’s usually something easy like chicken or pasta as the radio hums behind you. On nice nights Joel BBQs with you bringing him a beer as he smiles at you, commenting that he's spoiled rotten.

Then it's TV or a movie and then to bed where more often than not, Joel urges you onto his lap where he lathers praise all over your body as your hips roll over his.

Or if you're both tired he simply drags you into his arms and whispers how he can't believe he got this lucky, how happy he is, how beautiful you are. He touches you with affection and care and you repeat much the same, feeling as if your heart could burst.

It's perfect and quiet and peaceful and you've never felt like this. So safe in his arms, so protected.

This Sunday however is different. You wake up to an empty bed. You frown, sad not to feel the warmth of his body against yours.

Maybe he's making breakfast, you think. He does this sometimes, waking you with strawberry waffles. But there's no noise from downstairs, no lingering aroma of sugar and syrup. Its possible he’s working on emails for the business.

So you stretch languidly before pulling yourself from the warm nest of the bed. You brush your teeth, before padding downstairs. You hear shuffling in the kitchen and smile as you enter.

"Baby, let's go to that bakery, again" you croon sleepily sauntering into the kitchen wearing nothing but Joel's oversized Miller Construction t-shirt and your panties. "I wanna see if they have those cro-“

The second you see a figure standing by the sink the words die on your tongue.

“Sarah?”

At first Sarah doesn't connect the dots. She's confused to see you here at her house, her mind trying to connect the dots of why her college roommate is here at her house wearing her dad's clothes. For an insane moment she’s actually excited you’re here, thinking that you must have come here for her and she steps towards you, her smile bright.

Then she sees the look of absolute terror crossing your features and Sarah looks to the counter to see two emptied wine glasses probably from last night. She sees the small touches around the home like your jacket slung over the dining chair, a lipstick tube by the microwave.

She takes in how your hair is mussed, like you just woke up here. And then suddenly, belatedly, Sarah puts two and two together. She steps back from you as if you're a stranger who's broken into her home.

"What the fuck?"

"Sarah I can explain-"

Like some terrible farce, the front door is unlocked and pushed open at that very moment and Joel's voice rings out.

"I got coffees but they didn't have any of those croissants you liked from last time," Joel calls out to you, his voice turning teasing. "Maybe tomorrow if you're a good girl-"

Joel enters the kitchen with a smile on his face that immediately drains when he sees Sarah standing beside you looking horrified.

"Sarah?"

He drops the coffees he was holding, letting the steaming contents fall to the ground where no one attempts to pick them up. The drinks just seep it into the tile floor as the three of you cast eyes to one another.

Everything in you wants to run to Joel, to have him hold you during this awful moment. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. You were supposed to be prepared and respectful, not in the middle of some domestic fantasy with the scent of sex still clinging to the both of you.

And when you see the pure anguish in Joel's eyes when he looks at his daughter you want to vomit. In this moment you would take it all back. The fucking, the kissing, the loving, you'd erase it all if it means Joel never has to experience this pain.

He takes a tentative step forward to Sarah, blinking furiously for a moment as he steadies his breathing.

"Sarah-"

"What the fuck is going on, Dad?"

Joel's lower lip trembles as he thinks of how to explain this. But how can he without hurting her?

"Sarah I can explain," you stay, shrinking when she turns her suddenly furious eyes on you.

"Well, someone'd better."

You've known Sarah for years. She's been pressed, angry, frustrated. But you've never seen her like this. With the kind of fury that makes you shrink back from her. The kind of anger that radiates off of her and causes you to lose your courage momentarily.

"Y-your dad... Joel and I are seeing each other," you say wincing at how pathetic that sounds. "We're together."

Seeing each other? You're in love with him. He asked you to live with him. You want to build a life together. You want to marry him one day, even though you’ve never voiced it.

"You're seeing my dad," she repeats slowly giving a mirthless laugh. "You don't even know my dad."

"Honey," Joel says and you both glance up at him. You cringe as Sarah realizes this the same time you do.

"This is disgusting," she utters with a shudder. She looks at Joel with a look of absolute disbelief. "She's my age, Dad."

"I didn't-" Joel falters and he casts a desperate look in your direction before he's looking back at his daughter. "It's not an age thing."

"Right."

"S'not," Joel insists honestly.

She stops and you feel your stomach sink when recognition flashes across her anguished face. She looks over at you, grimacing.

"Joe," she says barely above a whisper. "That night I heard you at the bar you weren't saying Joe. You were saying Joel."

"Sarah-"

"How long has this been going on?" Sarah’s voice is up two octaves. "How long?"

"Christmas."

"Christmas?" Sarah looks ill. "You've been fucking my roommate in secret for almost nine months?"

"Sarah," Joel warns. "I know you're angry but-"

"I'm not angry!" Sarah insists. "I'm disgusted. You're like twenty years older than her, dad."

"Eighteen," you offer quietly. The dark looks they both give you assure you that your addition was unnecessary. And suddenly Sarah’s attention is on you, her fury focused on the woman wearing her dad’s clothes.

"I brought you here to my house after Conrad dumped you because you said you were so heartbroken and you fuck my dad?" Sarah seethes. "You make it so he gets divorced?"

"Tess and I were headin' that way for a while babygirl," Joel interjects. "Long before Christmas."

"Who made the first move?"

Joel and you exchange a look and it's your cheeks that heat and your eyes that drop to the floor.

"Me," Joel lies. You don't want to argue with him right now, but you both know it sure as hell wasn't Joel who started things.

It was you who forced yourself into his room. You who begged him to let you suck his cock. You who rode him, demanding his come. Joel had come around eventually, but there was no question on who initiated things.

"It was me," you insist. "I pursued him."

Sarah is staring at you with glassy eyes, chin wobbling and the sight of it devastates you. "I thought we were friends."

Now you feel your eyes growing damp. "We are-"

"Friends don't sleep with their friends dads!" Sarah insists and before you can answer she's whirled around to face Joel. "And what the fuck dad? Since when are you one of those midlife crisis guys?"

"S'not a midlife crisis," Joel explains.

"No?"

"No," Joel says sharply. "This ain't some casual fling. I'm in love with her."

Even though he's told it to you so many times, hearing him say it out loud to someone else has your eyes spilling over with tears. Fuck you wish you were holding him right now.

"In love," Sarah scoffs with a tremor in her voice. "Bullshit."

She spins quickly and before either of you can reply she's jogged out of the house, slamming the door behind her. The tears are in Joel's eyes along with a heavy dose of panic shot your way.

"I have to-"

"Don't have to explain," you urge him. "Go."

Joel nods and before he leaves he turns briefly, eyes cast to you. He marches to you and kisses gently and all too briefly.

"I love you."

And then he's gone, his body striding from the room after Sarah. Only once the door is closed behind him do you allow the sobs to escape.

///

Joel returns hours later to find you sitting on the couch, dressed and looking into space. You’ve packed all your things in your suitcase and duffle. Your clothes are clean and you try your best not to cry when you see him.

He looks exhausted, his eyes red-rimmed and puffy. You can tell he’s been crying, or trying not to, all day. He looks at you sitting there waiting and you see his brows saddle. You don’t go to him, don’t approach him. You wait for him to sit next to you on the couch.

“Come here.”

Only then do you launch into his waiting arms, letting him bring you into his lap. You straddle him, but it’s not sexual. You do it so that you can hug him tightly, your chests pressed together, hearts beating in tandem.

"She was coming home cuz she got a job out here," Joel explains, your head tucked under his chin. "She uh, she's wanting to move back home for a few months. Til Charlie’s back from Santa Fe.”

“Makes sense.”

You feel Joel swallow and you pull back, still seated on his lap facing him. He looks so lost when you gaze at him, hand coming to cup his cheek.

“What is it, baby?”

"She says she's not gonna come in the house until you're gone," he says with a tremor in his voice. You see the sheen begin in his eyes, the way he blinks it back rapidly.

"I don't know what to do," Joel murmurs.

"You know exactly what you have to do," you answer for him, sounding stronger than you actually feel. "She's your daughter Joel. She had your heart long before I did."

You both know that this is it. This is the end of your story. For Joel, Sarah's welfare will always be his top priority and if you're honest, you wouldn't respect any other choice.

"It's okay, I already packed my bags," you answer. Joel looks struck dumb, his brows knitted together.

"You did?"

"After I saw Sarah's reaction I just knew," you say sniffling, your fingers going to a stray thread in the collar of his t-shirt. You twist it around your finger, watching the blood pool in your fingertip. "There’s no way for this to go on without hurting her.”

"I think maybe ... Maybe if we give it a few weeks," Joel tries to reason, but you stop him with your fingers gently coming to press against his full lips.

"Joel."

You both know it won't be a few weeks. The damage done to Sarah is deep. You both know that just from seeing her reaction. You know that your continued presence here will only increase the divide between them and you know you can't do that to the man you love.

If she’d come home when she was originally planned there was a maybe it could work. If they’d presented it confidently, holding hands, a united front. If they’d explained it calmly instead of being found out and acting guiltily maybe there was a chance she would have come around. But now? After what she stumbled upon? You can’t say that you would be any different.

Your hand moves from his mouth to cup his cheek once more. The rasp of his beard tickles your palm as you hold him, gazes stuck on one another.

"It can't be over," Joel says, his voice thick with emotion. "I can't give you up. I just found you."

Your heart breaks at those words coming from the man who wants nothing more than to take care of you, to love you.

"You have to," you say, sniffling. "I never want you to choose between me and Sarah. It's an unfair ask."

You also know that he will always pick Sarah. He has to, he's a father first, your boyfriend second. You see it in the resigned way he clenches his jaw. It’s why you love him – that devotion, that love.

Joel falls silent a moment, his fingers tracing the small snowflake pendant you haven’t taken off since he gave it to you.

"But she has no right to be upset," Joel insists after a moment. "You're grown, I'm grown, we're both single-"

"You're in the middle of getting divorced and I'm your daughter's best friend," you tell him flatly. "And she found out completely by surprise that we've been together for months and that we'd been having an affair when you were married to Tess."

Joel is solemn. Hearing it all out loud sounds so harsh, so vulgar. But it's the truth and you won't hide from it. Your head is on his shoulder, cheek pressed against the soft fabric.

"She has every right to be upset. I would be if I were her."

And while it's true, it doesn't stop the hurt. It doesn't stop Joel from trying to think of an alternative.

"I could put you up in an apartment in town and-"

"And drain your bank account? Make you sneak around and lie to Sarah?" You shake your head gently. "I won't let you do that, Joel. And I won’t hide away like a dirty secret, terrified of being found out."

Joel’s eyes are shut tightly, as if he's trying to block out this entire day.

"We had months of happiness and love together and maybe we have to just be thankful for that." Your voice is quivering.

"S'not enough," Joel insists, his arms around your waist, pulling you against him. "I want you here with me. I need you."

Tears are falling down his cheeks at the same rate as yours. Even as your lips tremble and your view of him becomes a watercolor blur, you press on.

"Maybe this is what we have to live with after what we did, Joel. Maybe we don't deserve a happy ending."

This is what breaks Joel and you see the light fade from his dark eyes. You see the way his face sobers as you both realize there's no coming back from this.

You don't want to prolong this heartache. You want to go and cry somewhere private. You want to regroup.

"I'm gonna call a taxi to the airport hotel."

"I'm drivin' you."

"No Joel," you say, shaking your head. "I... It'll be too hard. I need us to say goodbye here and now."

You know that if he drives you you'll invite him into the hotel room. You'll fuck all night, making sorrowful promises, extending the pain. You need to sever it quickly.

Joel sniffles softly before nodding. His eyes are wounded, large and imploring.

"Can I call you?"

"I don't think it's a good idea." Even as you say it you feel your heart crumbling. "Not for a little while anyway. If Sarah found out..."

"Right."

You see the mixture of pain and frustration in his dark eyes. Your hands go to either side of his face, holding him, thumbs grazing his stubbled cheeks.

"Don't be upset with her," you urge. "She's done nothing wrong. And she loves you more than anything."

"I know." His voice is soft and you know that nothing in this world could make him care less for his daughter. It's one of the things you love most about him. You lower your hands from his face.

The two of you lapse into silence and finally Joel brings out his phone and presses it a few times. You crawl out of his lap and the two of you stand beside the couch. Joel murmurs a few things into the phone before hanging up.

"Taxi'll be here in ten minutes."

Joel brings you into his arms, holding you tightly to him and rocking back and forth. For the next ten minutes you hold one another, your face buried in his the crook of his neck.

"I'm never gonna stop lovin you," Joel tells you plainly, mouth against your temple. "Even if I never get to see you again. I need you to know that."

You want to say so much to him but your throat has closed up entirely. You want to thank him for loving you. Want to thank him for showing you what real love looks like.

He kisses you with the regret of years of his love unfulfilled. He kisses you with the desperation of a man who knows his time is up. He kisses you with all he has and then he releases you and now you find the words

"I'll love you forever, Joel."

Because you will.

He follows you onto the sun baked driveway, the two of you walking past Sarah in Joel's truck. You see her swollen, tearstained face and feel guilt start anew. You never wanted to hurt your friend like this. The only real friend you've ever had in your life. The loss of her friendship is its own kind of pain that burns deep.

Joel fights the urge to touch you, to kiss you again; you can sense it in the way he stands so close to you as the driver loads your suitcase into the trunk of the taxi.

"Goodbye."

He can't help himself. His hands go to either side of your face, holding you there as he moves his lips over yours, kissing you fiercely. You let him, your hands gripping his waist as he tastes you one last time.

When the driver gives a loud cough Joel pulls back, his eyes wet again. There are no words left. Only the sorrow of your dual gazes as his thumb strokes your cheek.

"Promise me you'll find someone who makes you happy," you tell him in a rushed whisper, holding him tightly. "Someone who makes you laugh and feel good and wants to have babies with you."

"I'm not-"

"Promise me Joel," you tell him firmly.

"Only if you promise me you're gonna find someone who treats you right," Joel all but begs. "No more fucking Conrad’s. No more boys that don't appreciate how fucking perfect you are."

"No one could ever love me like you do," you tell him through broken sobs and Joel wraps his arms around you. You go to wrap your arms around his waist until you see that Sarah is watching the two of you from the truck with a disgusted look on her face. You pull back from him, trying to summon all your composure.

Maybe it was always meant to end like this. Maybe it's exactly what you deserve for selfishly starting this all last Christmas. Part of you thinks that it’s not fair. That your love should overcome this. But then a larger part feels like it's what you deserve.

Happiness this wonderful doesn't deserve to last.

“Goodbye, Joel.”

Shielding your eyes from the sun you cast one last look at Sarah over your shoulder, hoing she sees that this isn’t some fling. Praying that she sees the love you and Joel have for one another as she bursts out of the truck and forgives you both.

But instead she glares furiously at you, making your stomach sink as you accept that this is the only possible decision.

You crawl into the taxi, pulling the door shut and give him the address for the airport hotel. You can't look at Joel but know that he's standing there staring into the cab.

As the taxi pulls away from the curb you finally tilt your eyes and watch as Joel's form grows smaller and smaller in the back window until he's nothing but a mirage. His voice stays with you though, even and tender and husky.

I’m never gonna stop lovin’ you.

You absently finger the silver pendant around your neck, musing darkly that snowflakes never last that long.

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