#& I will be posting about it on tumblr rested assured I will not stop being annoying <3

[helenofblackthorns]

can't wait for twp in a couple years & for it to be offhandedly mentioned Jace plays piano or something because I WILL be like "Alastair used to play piano 😢😭😔" and have to close the book & collect myself over half a sentence

[todayisafridaynight]

Do you not interact with the rgg fandom as much as you did before? I remember back then you’d tweet and reply quite a bit but now you just post art every now and then is there a specific reason?

i interact with the rgg fandom as much as i always have, i just post art less compared to the like. comic-a-day thing i had going on a while ago lol

and there's no decisive reason for that: i just dont have any rgg to post ! whenever people inbox me here though i'm fully prepared to write a 30-tag ramble in response; even if i dont post about a thing i'm always excited to talk about it :]

[ot3]

What Is ORV?

The number one question I get asked on this blog, now answered better than ever. Today I am going to formally introduce you to Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint

To start off this recommendation: ORV might very well be my favorite thing I've read. Ever. If I could only reread one thing for the rest of my life it'd be this webnovel.

My elevator pitch is this: something with the cosmic-scale goofy video game nonsense and intricate setting comparable to Homestuck in its prime, paired with the deft emotional poignancy and emotionally-driven fights of Mob Psycho 100, topped off with the sort of compassionate and heartwrenching metanarrative of Undertale.

ORV is a love letter to it's own readers. ORV revels in the joy of losing yourself in fiction, even when it's the kind of fiction that tends to be considered lowbrow or worthless. It's something that dances the delicate line between recognizing the difficult nature of using media as escapism without condemning it. I've rarely seen anything else that accomplishes everything it sets out to do in its narrative with such remarkable precision. Frankly if you're reading a tumblr media recommendation post in 2023, I can almost guarantee ORV has the kind of meat you're looking for in a narrative, whatever that may be.

The story follow the antics of protagonist Kim Dokja, a 28 year old office worker on an expiring contract, whose only real joy in life is reading his favorite massively long and massively boring webnovel. One day, the novel’s events - worldwide deathmatches aired for the entertainment of mysterious higher beings called ‘constellations’ - begin playing out in reality in a sort of reverse-isekai. Kim Dokja, the only longterm reader of this webnovel, finds himself uniquely poised to succeed based on the advantages given to him by his knowledge of future events, but the webnovel’s actual protagonist, Yoo Jonghyuk, is a violent monster who will stop at absolutely nothing to complete his goals, no matter the cost to anyone else. Kim Dokja finds himself in a delicate dance of guiding the events of the story to play out more favorably than the version he read while trying to avoid being massacred in the fallout, all while trying to see it through to the story’s end. 

Below the cut I'll go into a more in-depth (but non-spoilery) explanation of what exactly makes ORV so unique and worthwhile, and what you're in for if you choose to read it.

Clocking in at 550 chapters, and over 1.3 million words in English, ORV may seem incredibly daunting to dip your toes into, but I assure you it's worth every moment. I would read 1.3 million more words if they had them for me. Here are some things about ORV I consider to be selling points, not necessarily in any particular order:

The tone. Its funny, for starters. It is extremely funny, which is very high up on my media priority list. In ORV, there will be incredibly grim things that make you laugh, and incredibly cringe and silly anime bullshit that will hurt you as heavily as any other media you’ve seen. I always love this kind of tonal whiplash when it's well executed, and ORV probably executes it better than anything else I've seen to date.

It’s got fun and fascinating worldbuilding mechanics. the core concept being ‘reality now operates on the rules of a shitty novel’ means that the worldbuilding doesn’t have to function logically, it functions thematically. It’s explicitly stated in ORV canon that some of the internal rules governing this new reality are objectively really stupid and illogical, but they just have to roll with it because that’s what was in the book, and i think it’s a really enjoyable way to do it. This may at first sound like a copout to excuse bad worldbuilding, but I promise it isn’t. The worldbuilding is actually incredibly deeply thought out, but it doesn’t exist for the sake of rational function, it exists for the sake of furthering orv’s thematic arcs. The rules by which this universe operate do a magnificent job of strengthening the core concepts the authors are exploring.

It plays with the trappings of isekai/litrpg in a really thoughtful way. These are genres I'm not super familiar with, so I can't comment on this point too heavily, but with my limited knowledge ORV feels a lot less of a deconstruction of it's genre and more of a celebration/interrogation of it. Despite that, it's still accessible to readers such as myself who are not super familiar with these genre conventions.

It deals with morality in a really wonderful and nuanced way. there are almost no characters in ORV’s extremely large cast who are just explicitly morally condemnable, and almost every conflict allows you to understand exactly why the antagonists believe they’re in the right by opposing the actions of our protagonists. The central conflicts are never pure right and pure wrong; they’re always about contrasting goals, conflicting worldviews, and different priorities between ends and means. this makes the conflicts all feel so much more dynamic and engaging than those where the only stakes are physical harm.

The characters interpersonal relationships are some of the most interesting I've ever seen. ORV is very slow burn and it takes a long time for a lot of these to come out of the woodwork, by design, but by god once they do they fucking hit. Similar to the plot conflicts, the interpersonal conflicts also almost never occur where there’s one side clearly in the wrong. The characters are almost all genuinely attempting to do their best by each other, and the tension comes from the ways in which human communication is fundamentally imperfect and part of our feelings and intentions get lost in translation. it’s very heartwrenching and heartwarming to see unfold, in equal measure.

Following from that, it’s a narrative that really meaningfully prioritizes non-romantic relationships over romantic ones as the central focus. Orv is about love, but not about romance. Obviously there’s shipbait and the ot3 is real and good and my friend but if you’re looking for deep complex platonic, (found or otherwise) familial, and antagonistic relationships that never get ruined with forced romantic arcs, we got em baby!

The pacing is unlike anything i’ve ever seen before. from a purely technical standpoint, it is genuinely a fascinating case study in how to execute a narrative that is almost constantly escalating without exception. there is very little downtime or breathing room in orv, which is insane for something that clocks in at over a million words, and somehow, it still works. i’ve never felt more like a frog in a pot of slowly boiling water than i did when i was reading orv and i can’t believe they pulled it off. it’s so interesting to read something like that.

It is a tragedy without resorting to cynicism and a very adult narrative that’s really steeped in childlike wonder. I’m a big fan of cartoons made for children. Cartoons made for children are some of my favorite things to watch, but of course children’s media will always be simplified and not very relatable to an adult audience. ORV is very much a serious and heavy adult narrative, and a deeply tragic one at that, but it never delves into torture porn. It’s a very compassionate piece of media overall, that holds a lot of reverence and sympathy for the ‘naive’ optimism of children that gets stripped down over time. if you, like me, feel more like a grown up child than an adult some days, I think it’ll hit for you.

It is extremely cathartic and meaningful. I am not exaggerating at all when I say that reading it gave me the closest thing I have ever felt to any sort of spiritual breakthrough. It helped unfuck my head a ton during some very grim times and i think the perspective it offers on the value of human life and our relationship to storytelling is a really really good one.

And if my word isn't enough, here's some reviews from satisfied customers. With that, I'll leave the rest to you, and hope you one day reach the end of the story.

[killerlookz]

another think piece bc this is kind of getting ridiculous now and i feel so bad for the people on here who are constantly losing motivation or outright deleting their hard work bc of some dumbass kids on the internet

im genuinely curious now, bc i still keep seeing people post about their work being posted on joostwt... like it must be on purpose now right? look i can understand being naive and coming onto tumblr for the first time and just looking up a fandom you like and then being surprised when people are little freaks about it ... but i mean at this point you have to KNOW what is on tumblr we've been the talk of joostwt (and tikok honestly) for like over a month now... you're no longer "accidentally" stumbling upon nsfw works you're actively seeking it out. and specifically actively seeking it out to harass and degrade the people who made the work, to what? to prove your own "morality" in this fandom? do you really think joost feels better now that you've put some random person on blast? do you think he's going to get on his knees and thank you for fighting the evil disgusting tumblr fandom... omg get a GRIPPPP!

if the tumblr fandom bothers you so much... stop actively seeking out the tumblr fandom??? like if its so gross and weird to you WHY do you keep coming back. go block some tags, or delete tumblr off your phone and stop trying to live out your repressed high school mean-girl fantasies over the internet and go outside.

like personally i dont really enjoy the joost fandom on tiktok or twitter, so i just simply dont interact with them, that easy. sure if joost content happens to be on my feed ill probably like it, but other than that i dont go out of my way to search the joost tags, or seek out fan accounts, bc just not my vibe- i suggest the rest of you do the same for us on tumblr

and tbh like i probably assure you joost is not surfing the "joost klein x reader" tag on here 😭 he's not going to see this shit as long as YOUUUU stop reposting them other places. anyways if you want to complain about sexualization are you also going to complain about the women he sexualizes in his songs? or what about that short story he wrote where he talks about a woman going down on him in a club bathroom... are you going to complain that he sexualized that woman? or when he talks about how he stole his friend's mom's bra... are you going to whine about how he sexualized her? because that's him sexualizing a real-life person. i mean cmon if sexualizing real people is so bad, lets at least keep our morals consistent.

[cannellee]

NARUTO OMEGAVERSE ☆

୨୧ alpha!naruto x omega!reader (f)

— how does he act around his omega s/o ?

MY MASTERLIST: ☆

this is my first time writing for anything other than tokyo rev. I've just entered another naruto brainrot and was baffled by the lack of naruto omegaverse content on tumblr, so I decided to diversify my blog and write for naruto too!

I'll post a headcanon about being team 7's omega later in the evening!

ALPHA!NARUTO

naruto truly is an energetic person, the reason why he approached you in the first place is because of your empathy for others.

you know him since childhood, while his personality and his curse might have driven others away, you never treated him differently.

you were kind and thoughtful, but you still stood your ground and never hesitated to speak up for others.

naruto was always by your side. he was a noisy kid and whenever you voiced something, he often felt the urge to say it even louder to make sure people heard you or to back you up. you did feel a bit embarrassed sometimes, but his clumsy actions were endearing in their own way.

you noticed how he always seemed to protect you without never overstepping your boundaries. he wanted you to know he would always defend you, but never overwhelm you with his presence.

he would always challenge the other kids whenever he saw them as threats, possibly taking your eyes away from him.

always your #1 defender, never letting any other kids treat you badly, especially since you hung out with him. he wasn't afraid to get mad and pick a fight if he considered that your pride or integrity was involved.

growing up, he still didn't stop following you like your shadow.. the only difference was the way he carried himself, he seemed so much more reliable you found yourself falling for him.

COURTING

his actions towards you were no longer clumsy attempts to impress you, instead, he started an enthusiastic pursuit, his determination was impressive and you knew he meant every words he ever said to you.

as mindless and forgetful as he might look, naruto is one to spoil you with thoughtful gestures.

during the courting process, he would gift you handwritten notes, try his best to carve a wooden necklace with your initials behind it.

his gifts are surprisingly delicate and he's paying extremely attention to your interests.

naruto is always so supportive of you, cheering you on, congratulating you for any reasons and ready to help you for anything as well.

he's so reassuring, affirming that everything will be fine whenever you're doubting.

if you're in trouble for example, he'll simply tell you to go rest. he'll take care of the rest, you don't have to worry about anything! he'll throw you a big smile and come back with his same happy face, and your problems are all gone in a minute!

even as a teenager, naruto still is pretty jealous, not in a possessive way, but he will get upset when other alphas are looking your way. once again, he will not hesitate to challenge anyone if it means keeping you for himself. yes, he will be the main reason why you don't have any alphas asking you out anymore.

naruto wants to seduce you by showing you how strong and reliable he is, always bragging about his strength and how his training will turn him into one of the best shinobi to ever exist.

he tells you about his ability to protect you, and that he'll never stop working out nor neglect his training. you can rest assured that you'll always be safe by his side!

he is protective of you, that's a fact, although it's not as intense as some other alphas. he trusts you and values your independence, he doesn't want to become a burden or a nuisance to your happiness.

that's why he learnt to take it easy and let you live a normal life most omegas don't even have access to.

but don't worry, naruto isn't scared to step in, in order to shield you from whatever he considers compromising to your safety. he wants you to be 100% comfortable, doing everything in his power to keep you away from harm.

you're his priority and he will offer you his unwavering support in times of distress and doubt.

even during the courting process, you both are comfortable enough to let him spread his scent around you. he'll shower you with his pheromones to calm you down and talk to you in a reassuring manner, so foreign to the naruto people usually have in mind.

RELATIONSHIP

once you get together, he's attached to you, more than before if that was even possible.

he's dragging you to surprise dates, gifting you everything that reminded him of you and kissing your forehead every chance he gets.

his nose is always buried in your neck : he's whipped for you and your sweet scent, and he's shameless about it too.

he takes deep breaths with his face pressed against your scent gland and doesn't stop until you push him away. once you look at him, he has the most satisfied grin ever and profusely kisses your whole face with love struck eyes.

he's crazy about pda and isn't embarrassed at all to initiate it, even in public. you're his omega, why would he restrain himself from showing you his love?

he is so proud to be your partner, everyone knows about it the second you start dating.

you're the prettiest omega he ever laid his eyes on and naruto knows how lucky he is that you have chosen him out of everyone.

that's why he's so desperate to show you that he's the right one for you, that he's trustworthy and that you can lean on him.

oh yes please, he's so devoted to you he'll do anything! especially during your most vulnerable moments, when he thinks he's blessed that you chose to trust him near you when you're in this state.

ask him to bring you this type of snacks and he's running outside to get it! ask him to give you more blankets or soft items for your nest and he'll go straight to your favourite shop to buy them.

he's delighted the first time you ask him to scent one of your clothe. sure, he had gifted you a couple of his shirts when you weren't dating, when he was still courting you, but it was always coming from him, and he didn't really know whether you accepted them or just politely threw them away without him knowing.

to have his beautiful omega, directly ask him to be scented by him is a dream come true and you swear he has heart eyes when he eagerly starts scenting all of your wardrobe.

being in your nest, cuddling with you is quality time he'll never neglect or refuse. he loves it so much! everything smells like the both of you, an intoxicating mix of your flowery scent and his own, which makes him soo dizzy.

he's even happier when you start cooking for him, always packing his lunch before a mission or any normal training.

food is one of the things he loves the most, and to have it prepared by his precious omega is such a blessing. you're the best cook and your food is so delicious he can't get enough!

but you're not the only one who can make him giddy, naruto has his ways when he wants to make you flustered.

he actually doesn't do it on purpose, but when he suddenly acts all serious and talks to you with his reassuring and soft voice, looking at you like you're the most beautiful and delicate thing he's ever seen, you can't help the blush from making its way to your cheeks, nor the rapid heartbeats his manly scent sparks.

he smells it in your scent, it's subtle but he's able to decipher such change in you. when you get shy or a bit more submissive than usual, you scent also gets sweeter and softer. it drives him crazy and he has to dig his nose closer.

he teases you a bit about it, but he doesn't want to ruin the romantic mood so he tones it down for now.

his omega needs his love and attention, and he'll give it to her!

[goldensunset]

🌟calamitous-star

🔁 princesslight400

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🌃 ad-astra-purr-aspera ♦️

Hey all! This is your friendly neighborhood reminder that Founder’s Day is coming up on Saturday, and with it, the deadline for the annual required donation to the Master Ephemer Heritage Center. Don’t forget to get everything in order before then! ☺️

🌅 borninthewrongera Follow

how absolutely RICH for a pampered little society-of-the-heirs princess like astra to make a psa about paying your dues. i bet founder’s day is super fun for someone who only has to worry about getting dressed for her public appearance and not the actual financial bullshit the rest of us go through right?

📚 all-academia-is-dark-here

🤍 princesslight400

that person’s entire blog is full of posts romanticizing the keyblade war 💀

#YO??? #also lady astra i am so sorry as well

500 notes

🥀beauty-in-red ♦️

🔁 starlight-and-social-justice Follow

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this post contains filtered tags:

#master ephemer bloodline discourse

🤍 princesslight400

🔁 scala-ad-crylum Follow

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🔐 scala-ad-crylum Follow

so every day on my way home i pass by this one random guy always standing out on his balcony and today i accidentally made eye contact with him 😭

🗝️ ephemerally♦️ Follow

Soooo is he cute? LOL!

🔐 scala-ad-crylum Follow

i mean it’s not like i can really see much of his face cuz he wears this big hat but he does seem kinda hot. or at least in a romantic melancholic solitude way if nothing else. but like i’m not about to ever actually go talk to him

🔐scala-ad-crylum Follow

if this post gets 30k notes i’ll say hi and blow him a kiss

🔐scala-ad-crylum Follow

nonononoNONONO I DIDN’T MEAN IT STOP REBLOGGING THIS

🕵🏻 thevirusofficial Follow

So, this is how I figure out I’m Tumblr famous…

🔐scala-ad-crylum Follow

BALCONY GUY????

#HELPPPP #fish i’m sorry but this is the funniest thing i’ve ever read in my life

30,467 notes

🌊 fountainwaterdrinker-29

remember when, for about a week, they made it so that any random non-heir who paid 800 munny to the site could get a red diamond badge next to their username too? the way all the heirs on here went absolutely BALLISTIC lol

#you had to have been there #i swear we were about a day away from civil war breaking out

1 note

🦋 no-good-usernames-left-5

🔁 imissthechirithies Follow

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⚜️ littledandelion ♦️ Follow

Why do some people act as if being descended from Master Ephemera makes you inherently privileged and prideful? I assure you I see myself as your comrade and equal and share in your struggles and sorrows to the same extent as anyone else. I wish only to befriend you all.

⬜️ verdandi-simp-deactivated10962310

don’t care

✊ starlight-and-social-justice Follow

goodnight sweet prince 😔

#NOOOOOOOO THEY NUKED MY MAN VERDANDI-SIMP #absolute hellsite

5097 notes

[acewritesfics]

Lost Love | Tommy Shelby

Request: No.

Warnings: Mentions of death, murder, going off to war, grief, guilt. Angst. Italics - Flashbacks.

Word count: 665

TOMMY SHELBY MASTERLIST || PEAKY B. TAG LIST SIGN-UP

⚠️ THIS IS A REPOST FROM MY MAIN BLOG @/DLMLUFICS. YOU CAN FIND THE ORIGINAL POST STILL FLOATING AROUND ON TUMBLR SOMEWHERE. UNFORTUNATELY, I HAVE TO DO IT THIS WAY. MORE INFO IN MY PINNED POST.

"She died two months ago, Tommy," the words echo in his ears as he stands in front of a grave belonging to someone very special to him. "A drunk had been brought into the emergency room. He stabbed her twice, one of which punctured an artery. She died from blood loss before they could get her to the operating theatre." 

Y/N's mother had informed him of the death of her daughter, his first and only love, when he went to visit her two hours ago. In that moment his heart had shattered even more than it was from the war. 

With his head bowed and blue eyes tightly closed trying to stop the tears from forming, he relives the memory of the last time he'd seen and spoken to her in person. 

"Thomas Shelby, don't you ever forget about me," Y/N tells the young man who she loves more than anyone else. She is proud but heartbroken to see him in his uniform, ready to fight for his country. There had been no way for her to stop him from enlisting, his pride and the thought of being labelled a coward if he didn't go weighed heavily on him as well as his eagerness for a fight, a lot of that having to do with how they were raised.  She feared for his safety and his life. Standing on the platform of the train station, saying her goodbyes to him, she gets a sinking feeling that this would be the last time she sees him in person. 

"I'll never forget you, Y/N," he promises her. "After all, you're the one I intend to spend the rest of my life with." 

He takes her left hand in his hand and kisses her on the fingers, right where her engagement ring sits. They were supposed to marry in six months, but then the war was announced, and they couldn't find anybody to marry them in the short time they had left together before he departed for France. All the men who had lovers seemed to be getting married before leaving. 

"I promise, the first thing we'll do when I get back is to get married. Nothing would make me happier than to call you my wife." 

Y/N smiles fondly at her fiancée before delicately kissing him. "Just promise me you'll come home." 

"I promise," he whispers before slamming his lips to hers, pulling her tight against him, savouring every inch of her, also sensing that this was the last time they'll be this close. He eventually steps back and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "I love you, Y/N." 

"And I love you, Tommy," she says sadly as she kisses him one last time, tasting their salty tears mixed together before he boards the train. 

"I'm sorry, love," Tommy whispers as he opens his eyes, looking down at Y/N's headstone. "I'm so fucking sorry. I should have been here for you, given you everything I promised. I would have made so much money that you would not have needed to work. Maybe you'd still be here if that happened instead.  You deserve more than this." 

He holds the engagement ring he gave her between his fingers. "I kept my word and returned to you. Now it's your turn to assure me that you'll be there to greet me when my time is up." 

Tommy kneels to create a small hole in the ground. He kisses the ring, and then places it inside the hole before covering it up. Standing back up, he looks at her headstone again . "I'll never forget you, Y/N. I love you. That will never end." 

He turns and walks out of the graveyard. As he stands next to his car and raises his head to the sky, he feels a tender kiss land on his cheek. It was Y/N assuring him that she would honor her promise. That one day, when his turn comes, she'll be there waiting for him. 

LINK TO TAG LIST ABOVE.

[aachria]

Heyyyyyy babesssssssss I haven't seen you talking, you okay? Please be okay pooks, i'm actually concerned because usually when i visit your tumblr theres always a post and its been like, three days??? I hope you're doing good wherever you are! If not then thats bad, but we all have bad days and it'll come to pass soon even if its gonna be long long time. Pookie you better be okay i'm gonna cry ong- Grab your cat and cuddle babs<3 Point is, i'm checking in on you and i hope you're doing fine dandy😃 Hoping to see your amazing ahh self again xoxo

Lmao y’all are so damn paranoid something is gonna happen to me and it’s very sweet, but also gang sometimes I just don’t wanna be on Tumblr and answering asks isn’t #1 on my priorities list.

I’ve been going fucking BEAST MODE this week and written like three and a half whole chapters already, so yay me! But also I am now writing sad things, so poor me. But I also wrote a very sweet thing, so yay me again!

I also chopped all my hair off yesterday! I’m not in love with it yet, but it’s growing on me. I had been letting my hair grow out, it was the longest it’s been in actual years at the longest part, so now I’m missing like 4 inches off my underside and trying not to mourn not being able to braid it anymore. It was such a bitch to shower with and I know it was for the best, but I don’t think you ever kill the little girl who lived in your heart and wanted hair like a Disney princess you could put in elaborate styles, even when you stop being a girl yourself.

It’s like 3 and I’m real tired so I’m going to bed, but y’all can all rest assured I’m not dead or dying. Like really, if another person pleads for me not to die I’m gonna start suspecting you fucks know something I don’t. Gn babes, and stop worrying about lil’ ol’ me.

[polyamorousmood]

My gf (mtf) is fairly monogamous but I'm not necessarily, especially with sex. I have an offer from our mutual male friend (cis) to try penetration since I (afab nb) am terrified but curious about it and he's one of the only cis guys I'd feel comfortable trying that with. I have hooked up with him once before, prior to meeting my gf, and it was really good. My gf is fairly supportive about it, one of the things that really works for us sex-wise is that neither of us want penetration in our relationship. I'm just absolutely terrified of making her insecure and ruining her friendship with our friend. I know I can function fine with blurring the lines between sex, friends, and partners, but she's got the trauma of an ultra-Christian childhood and has so much constant dysphoria that I'm scared something like this could ruin our relationship. We talked so much when he first offered and I know she's not opposed, but I just keep thinking about all the horror stories I've read about couples opening up their relationship or trying poly after being mono and it ruining them. Especially if I end up wanting it more than just once with our friend. I don't particularly need advice, I'm just laying in bed next to her in the dark scrolling horrifying stories on Reddit while talking with our friend over text getting all up in my head about our dynamics and I don't have anyone to vent to about this right now. I figure a polyam blog on tumblr will at least understand that nuances that come with figuring this stuff out. Thanks for listening

It's really fair that you'd be worried about this, and it's a really good sign for everything that you want to do this consciously and carefully - if at all. Sincerely the worst thing about polyamory (and related things) is how isolating it can be. 😣Oftentimes, the only person you can even discuss problems with is the partner who is also all up in the problem. Which I clearly don't need to explain to you how that sucks.

You said you didn't need anything but listening. But like, it's me. So.... 🤷‍♀️

Reddit and the forums are the mother of all selection biases: happy people generally don't feel the need to post about their lives online, and people who have found something sustainable but not completely perfect don't feel like their input is valuable because they "still have problems" even though how things can work really well or well enough is probably some of the most valuable information to you!

It's not your fault if your partner lies about or grossly mis-estimates her okayness level on this. And if she is the type of person to usually lies about or grossly mis-estimates her okayness level with things, its bound to be a problem at some point, even if you can successfully avoid it being a problem on this one issue by being really anxious.

🗣📢EXPLICITLY UNSOLICITED ADVICE WARNING🚨🚨 Everything up to this point could be construed as "just thoughts" but the following is unambiguously advice. Stop reading now if you want to continue in your unadvized state. She cannot assure you with 100% certainty she will not have a problem with it. If she tries, all she'll do is lock herself into not being able to tell you if she does. The only helpful thing in these situations I have found is to establish a procedure for what to do if there is a problem. Give her the tools to find something that's comfortable for her. Give her the certainty that you will listen to her, talk things through (which is sometimes a solution on its own!), and not hold it against her if you need to make changes. Then you can rest assured if there are problems, they won't last.

When you're doing "but I don't want to hurt herrrrrr😖" anxiety calculus, remember your non monogamous tendencies probably aren't going to stop! So also evaluate if you'd be okay with never ever doing anything with someone besides your gf. And if you're not. It will probably hurt her worse if you say you're fine with staying monogamous forever now, and then feel like you're about to snap two years later. So just like. Factor that into your calculations, too, haha!😅

And as a close

I'm with you. I feel you. This blog has DMs open if you want to talk more organically or about details you don't want to be public. No matter how this shakes out, you will get through to the other side.💙💖🖤

[fixing-bad-posts]

I looked around and didn't see anything about this on your blog but I apologize if I missed it.

I was wondering, what does doing the work behind this blog...feel like? I guess what I'm asking is if it does anything to you. Like, I had a thought. For a flash, I imagined you as Butters from South Park in that episode where he is tasked with filtering out all the negative comments on Cartman's social media. It ended up really messing with Butters, what with him having to see all that negativity.

You're definitely not being affected to that extreme, I assume, but I wonder if you would have anything to say about the process of finding these negative posts and reading them several times to edit them. Has it exposed you to unpleasantness that you wouldn't have otherwise seen? Or is there perhaps a kind of catharsis in editing such filth?

I'm making a lot of assumptions here. Maybe I'm also asking about your process. I just think what you're doing is neat and would love to hear about your experience with it.

Thanks for reading and I hope you have plenty of reasons to feel joy <3

oh boy, i love talking about myself haha—so thank you for giving me an excuse to do so! i have answered similar questions in the past, though never at length. every once in a while, someone pops into the inbox to ask about my mental health (which, rest assured, is just fine—i don’t put this blog’s operation above anything; it’s honestly pretty low on my list of life-priorities), and it’s always quite sweet. having a mob of strangers following one’s sideblog has its perks: one being that sometimes parasociality results in some well wishes, kind thoughts, and general goodwill. which is very nice, and probably an unearned vanity-boost for my ego.

what does the work behind this blog feel like? in turns: mundane, challenging, vindicating, annoying, amusing… and probably other things that i’m forgetting. most of the work i do on this blog is actually me procrastinating! i am a certified adult with a job™, and i’m definitely guilty of slacking off at work sometimes to queue posts submissions from my inbox, which is more fun than like… proofreading financial documents and making spreadsheets. other times, i’m sitting in a café with my partner, and allegedly i’m “writing” fanfiction. but, uh, if you know any writers, you know that sometimes “writing” means, ‘looking at a blinking cursor’. so it’s in those moments that i open up tumblr and start writing image descriptions and adding tags to prep posts for my queue. that’s mainly when the blog feels mundane.

something that i think helps me avoid negative doomscroll-spirals is that i don’t actively seek out bad posts for this blog. being a citizen of the internet delivers fodder to me naturally. that, and running a semi-popular sideblog on tumblr. when i see a bad post in the wild, that’s when the feeling is annoying/challenging. challenging, because ever since starting this sideblog, hateful posts don’t feel as vicious to me. once i see them, they stop being posts and turn into word-puzzles. and i love word puzzles!

solving the word puzzle is amusing for me, as is getting to look at my resulting “blackout poem.” it makes me laugh, it stretches my brain. when i started, i used to have to read a post several times to find the ‘good post within the bad post’ so to speak. these days, i’m so used to it, i barely read the bad posts more than a handful of times. but as i was saying to my partner, one of the reasons i love found poetry (erasure poetry, and cut-up poetry) is that it uses the same part of my brain that loves scrabble (the board game). then, of course, it's vindicating to see my posts get so many notes, sometimes surpassing the original bad post. that's more of my own vanity, i'm sure.

as for the last part of your message: yes, i have plenty of reasons to feel joy. i work with people who respect me, i live walking distance from a bubble tea café, and have friends and family whom i love. i have the good fortune to be safely out as a queer person. i’m a fanbinder. i’m currently working on a long fanfiction which is getting some very nice comments on ao3. and i’ve recently decided to become a poet (like, for real).

i must admit, i’m fascinated by how you imagine me. i often wonder how i am perceived, especially because i keep many cards close to my chest here on my sideblog.

anyhow, thank you for this excuse to ramble about myself and the process of running this blog. i hope you also have plenty of reasons to feel joy 💛

[filmtv2022]

To The Bitter End:

The Meeting of a Lifetime (Extra Scene)

Series Masterlist (It is 18+ as a whole... even though this part isn't)

Synopsis: This scene occurs right before Doc and Y/N share a quiet moment on the porch after meeting for the first time. Doc, Wyatt, and Y/N share drink and laughter together, and for the first time in a long time, John and Y/N feel alive.

Warnings: Language + drinking + smoking + spoilers? (It connects right into the rest of the story, but I think anyone could probably read this and be okay)

A/N: Well, it's been nearly two years since I posted To The Bitter End, and I haven't stopped thinking about it. I went back and read it again, and I have to say, I'm so unbelievably proud of that story. With that being said, recently a few ideas for extra scenes popped into my head for this story, and I thought... why not write them for others to enjoy (hopefully). As always, I apologize for any errors! Also, I'll put the stupid page break in once Tumblr gets it shit together! :)

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Passing the bottle of whiskey across the table to Wyatt you could feel the impending lull in conversation. Maybe it was the alcohol loosening your tongue or perhaps it was the mesmerizing smirk that played across your guest’s face, but you just couldn’t help yourself, “So, John, you said you’re a doctor. Of what exactly?” 

Wyatt tucked in his drink, falling silent as his focus darted between you and John. Not yet worried, but also unwilling to relax. He’d seen you take a conversation a step to far one too many times to be comfortable. 

“Dentistry,” John sipped at his drink, hearing your murmured hum of incredulity he continued on, “I sense skepticism. Care to enlighten me as to why?” 

“How perceptive,” Clearing your throat, you tossed back the rest of your whiskey, “It's just that you don’t strike me as a man who’s willing to settle down. Which I assume would be necessary to have a thriving practice. I truly have a hard time picturing you like that… a white coat covering your fine suit and tie, no gun in your holster, and only patient after patient to occupy your mind. It doesn’t add up. You’re an intellectual, I’ll give ya that. A businessman, sure. But one to call any place home longer than absolutely necessary… never. You, John Holliday, are a wanderer. I can see it in your eyes."

Doc remained quiet as you reached for the bottle, and poured yourself another. There was something in his gaze as it remained fixed to yours. A dark haze belied his base nature, but for John, it was the distinct feeling of you peeling back the layers of his cultured facade as easily as breathing that terrified and intrigued him the most. Trapped in your aura, he finished his own drink, letting the glass thud on the thick wooden table before inhaling deeply from his cigar, “And you darlin’… are as dangerous as they come.” 

“Perhaps,” you chewed the inside of your lip, tugging your features into a sly smile, “And yet, what does man, such as yourself, have to fear of little ol’ me?” 

“Everything,” John’s tone was serious and steady, and yet nothing in his response could hide the way you drew him in. 

You clung to his every move, tracking the minute changes in his countenance. The pull of his lips, the bob of his throat… the hitch of his lungs. It felt as though there were no secrets between you at this moment, and it thrilled you.

“Smart answer, Mr. Holliday,” the uncomfortable grit of Wyatt’s cough broke the trance, “Now where were we? Ah, that's right we were discussing my brother's propensity to find himself embroiled in less than lawful activities from which he cannot extricate himself without help despite being a legendary lawman. That's precisely what we were talking about, care to elaborate Wyatt?”

“You're a downright menace, you know that?” Wyatt's huffed chuckle assured you that no offense had actually been taken.

“Yes, I’m well aware. And who do we have to blame for that?” you brought your glass up and took a deep swig of the amber liquid, “Because truthfully, I’m not sure what you expect of me after bein’ cooped up in this hell hole of a tinder box all day while you go off galavanting as some goddamn hero of the wild west. But again, I am glad you aren’t dead. I don’t know what the hell I’d do without ya. Quite honestly, I’m afraid I’d be joining you six feet under when Virg and Morgan got a hold of me ‘cause somehow I’d be blamed for your death.”

“Jesus Christ, Y/N you can't say shit like that.”

“I can… and I will,” smirking at Wyatt you couldn’t help, but swell with pride at the sound of John’s laughter. Joining in the levity, your tone was light and airy as you spoke, “Now if you don’t mind. I’m going to get some air.” 

Despite opening the open windows, the room had grown stuffy with heat from the fire & smoke from the men’s cigars.

Needing a small break for fresh air you excused yourself to the front porch. Wyatt took advantage of the moment to go seek out yet another bottle of whiskey as you all had worked your way through the first. 

The air had cooled substantially from this afternoon and sent goosebumps running over your skin. But you didn’t care, the clean, crisp scent of the air was exactly what you needed to clear your head. There on the porch, staring out into the vast nothingness ahead of you, the palpable tension you felt in your body began to dim. Losing a loved one was something that scared you through and through, and realizing how close you’d come to that today put your nerves on high. The creak of the door opening had you turning your head back to see who had joined you. You were pleasantly surprised to see John making his way towards you. Laying your palms on the wooden railing in front of you, you closed your eyes & and let your head fall back a little as you inhaled deeply. The scent of the night air mixed with another, one that over time you’d realize was distinctly John. It was a perfect mix of whiskey, smoke & sweat. It filled your lungs sweetly bringing with it a feeling of peace. 

You could feel him stop behind you, only a few inches separated the two of you. The pair of you stood there for a moment in silence. Your eyes were still closed allowing your body to relax. John on the other hand was fixated on you. His eyes mapped your face, trying to commit every beautiful feature to memory. His gaze landed finally on your lips, and the longer John stared the more difficult it became for him to refrain from leaning down to kiss you. A small gust of wind blew over the porch causing you to shiver slightly. Without thinking John removed his jacket & placed it over your shoulders before rubbing his hands along your upper arms in an attempt to warm you. Sighing with contentment, you leaned your body back until you met his frame. The skirt of your light yellow dress blew in the wind wrapping itself around John.

Opening your eyes you turned your head to look up at John.

“Thank you. Thank you for keeping him safe.”

“Anything for you darlin’ ” 

It was here on this night that the invisible string that would tie you two together had started to form.

[lucimarinee]

Pushover | dbf!Joel x f!Reader

Pairing: dbf!Joel x f!Reader

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

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

Word Count: 14,756

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you hope it won't come to that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

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

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

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

Nothing more.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah, I know that."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He looks like he's holding back a comment.

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

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

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

That brings a smile to your face.

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

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

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

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

It was bitterness.

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

Inadequate, bitter, envious .

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

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

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

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

"It's fine."

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

"Don't bullshit me." he deadpans.

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

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

"So what's wrong, then?"

It takes a moment for you to reply.

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

Joel considers your words carefully.

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

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

"Oh, fuck off."

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

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

He has a point, unfortunately.

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

Joel shakes his head.

"Don't be stupid."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fuck off."

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

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

"Whatever, Joel. Shut up."

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

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

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

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

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

You liked it .

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

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

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

"What's so funny?" Joel asks.

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

You have nothing more to say about the topic.

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

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

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

But that was a good thing.

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

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

"Welcome home, doll."

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

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

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

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

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

Those are your father's footsteps.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It was fine." you say.

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

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

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

He says, you smile, Joel coughs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What— no."

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

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

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

"Joel—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He blinked.

Once, twice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Joel looks impressed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

" Touch me. "

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Shut up."

He did shut up.

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

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

Joel was kissing you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You could barely take it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"fuckJoelyesyesyesYESpleaseitfeelssofuckinggood—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You sure?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I mean it, it's alright."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You laugh, shaking your head.

"Alright, old man."

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

You hope he does.

[bunnliix]

Hello!☀️ I haven't followed you for that long but I saw the whole debacle with that idiotic list and such and just wanted to come here and say that you and everyone else that were included on that list did not deserve that at all and I think it was very cowardly of said person to not either come and talk to you guys personally or just block you if they do not like what you post etc. with that said I hope you and everyone else take care of themselves a little bit extra after all of this and remember that you guys are amazing people who seem so genuine and nice from what I've seen when scrolling on Tumblr💓 don't let them stop you from being the creative person you are etc.❣️ make yourself a nice cup of your beverage of choice and if needed take some time of to focus on yourself!🥰 also I hope this didn't come across as weird I just wanted to send some like encouraging words after seeing what had happened

hihi! First of all, this doesn't come off as weird at all! It honestly almost made me cry, because yesterday was honestly really stressful for me. I was shaking for hours and ended up with a migraine by the end of it all, to be fully honest.

I won't get into much about the list, other than myself and others on that list have ideas who may have said those things, but you're correct that it was very cowardly of anyone involved to not come talk to anyone on the list personally, or to block us if they disliked myself or the others to that point. The block button is there for a reason, and I've used it myself for people I don't want to see or who I don't like. But regardless of that, and as much as I wish this never happened, I have made many new friends out of this, so at least the result isn't all negative. I'm definitely taking care of myself, and for the time being, I may be slower on updating, as I take time for myself, but rest assured I'll be around and back to posting soon enough. I wouldn't let people who don't like me for frankly petty reasons, push me away from my blog and tumblr. <3 <3

Thank you again for your kind words, and I'm thankful for this super sweet ask <3

[thetriumphantpanda]

hi charlie! 

to say the vibes have been off lately would be an understatement, wouldn’t it? because there has been a lot of negativity, too much for a place that is supposed to be about finding an outlet for your creativity and people to share your interests.

i know it has been difficult, draining to be around here and face all the discourse cankering the fandom. 

because of all this negativity, i believe it is important to try and balance it out with some kindness. so here i am, doing a little check-up on you <3

so first, how are you, really?

everything you feel regarding what is happening is valid and you deserve to feel happy and safe around here. so please, make sure you take the time you need from posting, from sharing fics, even just from being on the platform. i want you to know it’s okay and i support whatever you decide, for whatever reason.

i also want you to know that you have your place here, as much as the rest of us. you’re loved and wanted and i can assure you the fandom is a far better place with you in it.

i hope you’re taking care of yourself outside of tumblr as well. please remember to stay hydrated and to eat something 🫶🏼

now i would like you to sit back and enjoy the perfect, quiet night in with joel <3

do not hesitate to reach out if you need to talk, i’m here for you! sending you all my love and so many hugs 🫂

anna 💗

Ahhh Anna, this is so sweet of you - thank you for taking the time to try and combat so much of the negativity on here by spreading some love - it's so important!

I have had so many thoughts about what's been going on lately, some of which I'll share here, but I'll put under a read-more so if you're not wanting to read discourse, you don't have to!

I'm going to go and enjoy my quiet night in with Joel, because that would absolutely fix me right now and thank you for sharing that with me. He's making me a cup of tea right now and is going to bring it to me, we'll watch TV and I will continue crocheting a blanket for us to snuggle up under!

Take care of yourself Anna, and thank you for always being kind and wonderful on here!

If you've been around here a while, you'll know that I rarely, if ever, get involved and wade into the discourse that floats around often. It's not because I don't care, it's because this blog has, and always will be, my way to escape the pressure of my real life. I have enough personal drama to contend with outside of the internet, and I very rarely want to allow it to bleed into the one space I have where I can escape for some peace.

That being said, it has become harder and harder for me to ignore the absolute storm of shit that has been swirling these past weeks. My friends and mutuals having their works blatantly stolen and then receiving hate when calling this out. People I look up to and whose writing I enjoy being attacked for presenting certain kinks. The insane rise in anon hate being spouted not just here, but across other sites as well. It's all too much and it all has to stop.

The people on this site create fic because they enjoy it. They graciously and selflessly write thousands of words for your enjoyment, for free might I add, without asking for very much in return. They write often around full-time jobs, school work and through personal and health issues. They agonise over making sure their work is as good as they can make it. They don't owe you anything, we don't owe you anything. We do this because we enjoy it, but the current climate on this absolute hellsite is making the enjoyment really fucking hard to find these days.

Be kind to each other. Stop hiding behind the cloak of anonymity to spew hate and be mean. Stop stealing other people's work. If you come across a fic that has warnings or themes that aren't your cup of tea, stop reading and walk away. Take a step back and think about what will happen if writers are continuously driven off this site.

[greenerteacups]

(1) I spent four months trying to find the log in details of my old tumblr account just to send in this message. You decide to write the seminal dramione fic of this decade for the fandom and you didn't think to warn us? Who do you think you are to take me on this kind of a journey. I pay TAXES. I have to get my oil changed. I lost my favorite satin scrunchie. I have things to fucking DO. Now all my Fridays have been ROBBED???????

this overwhelmingly kind ask came in three pieces, and I am posting only the question here, but rest assured that i read and treasured the second part as any author must treasure the high compliment of having ruined someone's life, a little bit, in a fun way. please pay your taxes! i hope you have found the scrunchie.

(3) And for my question: Draco has a pretty significant cognitive dissonance when it comes to Hermione + her muggle parents, and his blood supremacy, that he's only just began to confront. BARELY. Her being the exception to most of his rules in general helps that. How has writing that cognitive dissonance been? Have there ever been points where Draco's thinking made you uncomfortable, or mad? It's easy to be sympathetic to him in this fic but still.

the answer to this is: yes, definitely! or rather, it's the kind of thing that i would find uncomfortable if i weren't making him do it. an author has an almost dictatorial control over her relationship with her characters, so i can't ever really be as angry at my draco as i would be a character in someone else's story, or god forbid a real person, because he is, after all, my draco. it's like riding a roller coaster when you control how fast it goes: i can hit the gas or the brakes, but i can't then be shocked when we accelerate. that being said, draco's thinking about hermione's blood status is the kind of thing that would absolutely rub me the wrong way. from a personal perspective, when they have arguments about it, i'm usually on (or mostly on) hermione's side; i think this is just one of those issues where draco's position is not justifiable on any grounds not related to "i am used to doing this bad thing and many people have done it also." now, there are definitely cases where hermione gets up in his face and says some unkind things about him and his parents. but the imperfection of her communication style doesn't impute the perfection of her argument, which is, essentially: "my parents are human beings of equal value to yours, and you should treat them and me as such." and frankly, draco's so entrenched in this belief system that it's hard to imagine her ever getting through to him unless she's willing to drop the civil guise, from time to time, and get in his face. (major spoilers for book four down below, by the way.)

the cognitive dissonance of draco's position on muggleborns vs. Hermione specifically is embodied by that little word in the middle: versus. hermone is a special case. in any and every context. gradually, we've watched the meaning of that evolve from "special mudblood" to "special Gryffindor" to "special witch" to "special Person," full-stop. as long as hermione is the exception to every rule in draco's life — and it kind of helps that in a lot of ways, she is — he can frame his changing stance not as a fundamental shift in philosophy, but as an acceptable bit of rule-breaking. he thinks he's doing what narcissa suggested he do at the end of book three: just handwave a little bit. it's fine, we're not burning Parliament down, i'm allowed to have this.

but hermione keeps putting pressure on that, because — and i love her for this — she refuses to be that for him. she doesn't want to be his exception. she doesn't want to be his "acceptable bit of rule-breaking". she's not his fucking manic pixie dream mudblood. she wants him to be better, and like her open-eyed and open-armed for what she is. and if he's not going to do that, then he's at least going to know why she's mad at him when he doesn't! so by the end of book four, that crystallizes in the first true breakthrough of the book: hermione tells him, listen, i am a muggle-born and that matters, and i care for you, but if you don't believe me, this is the end of the line for us. and because of various things he's been through, many of them at her side, draco is finally able to make that connection: hermione is special and she's muggle-born, and those two things are allowed to coexist. they have to be, because if they can't, then he isn't allowed to have her. and then, immediately after, we see his resolution in dumbledore's office after viktor's death: it's not a regression to "hermione is special and that's why it's okay to bend rules for her," but a progression to: "hermione is special and so am i, and that's why i can break all the fucking rules i want to, because they can't matter if they get between us." this is not what we would call an extremely healthy world philosophy, but in his defense, he's fifteen and traumatized, and also recently discovered the life-altering properties of Being On The Right Side of an Era-Defining Social Conflict. he's still processing, to say the least.

[blue-collar-mans-sub]

Swallow: the newest member of the boys’ club.

I had officially fucked up.

Let me explain—I was on my way home from Lowe’s, and found myself at a stoplight behind a younger biker. Maybe a 30s day, chunky boots, jeans, and a leather jacket.

I watched as he slowed down, dropped his feet to the asphalt, and walked his bike up to the stop line.

After he took off, I forgot about him. Until later that night, when I was pounding my meat. Suddenly I was looking up “biker” and “Harley” on Tumblr.

As it usually does when in horny, my horniness got the better of me and before I knew it, I banged out a Doublelist post titled “30s Alpha Bikers, Please Use Me!” I went on to describe I liked the idea of a rough, younger biker taking advantage of me; telling me what to do. Stated I liked military and authority figures, straight guys, masculine guys, and that discretion was assured.

I got one immediate reply: “bad scene, dude.” The message didn’t have an email address and was a waste of my time anyway. Fucking trolls

It wasn’t until the next day that I got my second:

40s. Ride a Harley. Former military. Got a pretty average cock, but shoot nice loads. I want sucked. Often. Get back at me with a place and time.

He sent a pic and he was, well, my type. Not pretty, rugged. I definitely noticed the thin blue line flag on his vest.

If I hadn’t been stroking when I read the reply—if I had came, maybe I wouldn’t have responded. But I did.

Gave the dude my address and said “whenever, just let me know.”

Next thing I know I was sucking on his hog. He just watched straight porn on his phone.

Soon enough, I heard him grunt and whisper, “swallow it.”

I did, and thanked him for feeding me a nice load.

He looked amused as he got up to go. Re-doing his belt, he looked at me and said “Not bad. Might hit you up some other night.”

“Anytime. Thanks for not beating the shit out of me. he laughed, and I should have left it there. But awkward me, always saying too much. “Never expected anyone like you to reply. It’s kinda weird—I always had this fantasy of being, like, the club bottom.”

He turned back to me on his way out to the mudroom.

“Yeah? That’s fucked up.” He seemed to think about it for a moment. He smirked and I saw an almost sadistic glint in his eye for a second. Something made him light up, anyway.

“So I got a group I ride with. Decent guys, we’re not a gang. Not a club. Just boys hanging out. Mostly vets, guardsman, retired military. A few of us are cops, we got a few tradesmen too. But all straight. And from what I know, kinky fuckers.”

I kinda liked the sound of that.

“Judge is kind of like our patriarch. He got us all together. We hang at his place by the marina. But point is, he caught his wife cheating. He didn’t really care too much. They ended up opening things up… but it was the secrecy and the lies he was mad about.

To punish her he ‘sentenced’ her to 6 months serving any of the guys, on demand. She did it, but after 6 months he made it clear she was off limits.

But some of us really got used to snapping our fingers and getting a suck job. That’s how it worked. We’d just snap or call for her and she’d do the rest. Pull it out, get it up, suck it down.”

Now if you’re serious, I know at least some of the guys would be willing to use a fa- uh, a queer cocksucker. But you’re gonna have to make it worth it. Dedication, probably full service. We never fucked Crystal… but you got two holes.

And if we do this, you gotta commit. You can’t start and then just disappear. The guys aren’t gonna want someone out there knowing they let a fa—fuck, a queer—swing on their dick.

Friday and Saturday nights you’re ours. Go home on Sunday and do what you do. But while you’re at the club, you obey.

Might even get you a vest like mine, if you stick around. Mark you as our little faggot cocksucker?”

That third time, he didn’t edit the “f” word. Hearing it made my dick harder than it was.

“Shit, that’s it. I got your nickname. “Swallow.” He kept going, sounding cocky. “Fuck, I can smell the desperation on you. You’re doing this. I’ll get the best embroidered and we’ll have them put a bull ring on the back, too.”

I must’ve looked confused.

“To hook your leash onto. Didn’t I mention the leash? It’s just to keep you obedient. …and, down where you belong.”

“Speaking of which, the thought of the club sharing another sex toy, that shit’s got me hard again.

Work another load out, Swallow.”