#I wrote it some time ago but saved it for this occasion

[kalolasfantasyworld]

The birdies at the wedding 🕊️

A little one shot posted for 3000 hits!

Summary:

Helena, Nozel, Heinry, Noureen and Natalia attend the wedding of Asta and Noelle.

Just lots of fluff, pretty descriptions, spanglish and some silly jokes 💕

Yes, there is an illustration 🩵

Type: One shot

Word count: 2800

Author's note:

I mention other people's OCs. (Literally mentions, but I couldn't stop myself 😁.) They belong to @lyranova @thoughtfullyrainynightmare and @loosesodamarble.

The ceremony at Asta and Noelle’s wedding was simply beautiful. Helena could come up with multiple astounding adjectives to describe it, but she was sure that even all of them complied could not reflect on how she was feeling. She bawled her eyes out and was loudly sobbing, while using a handkerchief to wipe away her never ending tears of joy. 

Her children two nine year old boys Heinry and Noureen, and Natalia a three year old little girl would point out her emotional state. 

“Mama, why are you crying?” Heinry pulled on her dress. “Papa do something!” He would then bother Nozel, who just smiled softly and stayed quiet as all of them should have done through out the ceremony. 

After Asta and Noelle spoke their vows and finally said the long awaited ‘Yes’, the party was moved from the great chapel to the Silva Estate ballroom. As the Lady of the house it was Helena’s job to have it meticulously prepared. She obviously poured her heart out and countless hours at that, towards reaching her goal. The grand hall was lavishly decorated with white, pink, purple and blue flower bouquets, garlands, lights and all possible accessories. However it was not too much, just the perfect amount to not let anyone feel overwhelmed, but allow them to appreciate the interior. Helena cared for the good name of House Silva and she continued to fulfil that playful promise she had made to Nozel years ago, about pouring her dignified strength and giving her best for the prosperity and reputation of their House. Theirs. And now Asta joined the Silva family too. 

The newlyweds sat at a rectangular table, which was specially raised on a platform, so that everyone could see them. Kahono as Noelle’s bride’s maid and Yuno as Asta’s best man, sat on both of their sides. Next to Yuno there was one additional seat prepared for his fiancé Neva, but she disappeared somewhere within the crowd and had yet to join them. 

Helena and her familia were seated at the table to the right from the newlyweds. Next to them sat Solara and Fuegoleon with their own three cubs. They were engaged in some pleasant conversations and Fuego was completely drowning in the mesmerising green eyes of his wife. Helena watched them fondly, happy that everything seemed to have fallen in its right place. 

She turned towards her three birdies, whose sight filled her with joy and pride only a mother could understand and smiled. Noureen was fidgeting with the high neck of the white jabot that he was wearing. It contrasted with his pastel red, sleeveless blazer and chocolate brown strands of hair, that fell onto his shoulders. Under the blazer he wore a white shirt with golden bands gripping it at his wrists. Matching pants were straight pleat and golden sandals finished of his look. The red cross flory fitchy earring in his right ear proudly stated, which house he belonged to. Although everybody could probably guess it anyway, because his hair was styled almost exactly as Nozel’s. And those eyes of his, they were lilac, just like nana Acier’s and his papa’s. 

Heinry wore the exact same outfit, just that the accents were baby blue and the earring was on his left ear. He looked like a miniature copy of Nozel with his silver hair styled in an eagle like manner. However only looked, because when it came to his behaviour, nothing could scream louder the energetic atmosphere of the Drazels. 

Natalia sat on the other side of the table in a raised seat specially prepared for a three year old. Her silver hair was getting longer and it was neatly styled in soft waves. The dark brown eyes of the girl were excited as she tried manoeuvring towards her mouth a piece of duck using a small fork. Helena worried that she would drop it on her soft lilac dress and then they would need to leave the party to get her changed. Thankfully Nozel was there to save the day. With a flick of his fingers he created some mercury protecting the fabric. 

Classical ballroom music was being played by the band and Kahono, now a kingdom wide star, sang a love song for the newlyweds. Helena was immersed into the sound. She felt excitement rise in her chest and she knew, she wanted to join the dance. 

Helena turned towards her husband and a her lips formed a beautiful smile. 

“Would you like to dance mi amor?” She asked in a sweet tone. 

“I’m good,” Nozel answered flatly and focused on the roast duck, that was in front of him, completely not noticing an annoyed expression on his wife’s face. He had to not realise, that she was just asking out of courtesy. 

Helena furrowed her brows and huffed. 

“Are you suuure?” She elongated the word and made Nozel look up. His eyebrows raised and lilac eyes were questioning. 

“I want to finish this dish,” he said. “You know it’s my favorite.”

Yes Helena was aware, but she wished to be selfish and dance now.

“Papa helps me eat,” Natalia crinkled her tiny nose and now that it was two against one Helena knew she lost. Daddy’s girl was taking his side, since her youngest years. 

“I would like to dance with you mama,” Heinry jumped of his seat and approached her. He respectfully bowed down and then reached his hand towards her. The little prince, that he was, knew all the required etiquette and was pristine with his manners. Lilac eyes flashed confidently and Helena chuckled softly reaching out to her son. 

“At least someone knows how to be a gentleman,” she grinned at her husband, who just rolled his eyes affectionately, before once again swooping in to save Natalia’s dress. “What if you just feed her?” Helena added. 

“I can… myself,” Natalia found the right word and furrowed her brows, while gripping harder onto the fork, that she was holding. She was a smart three year old and certainly a feisty one. Wonder where she got that from?

“You heard our hija,” Nozel proudly gazed at his daughter.

Helena could not help the fond expression, that appeared on her face. Nozel was a great dad, despite his countless worries, that he was going to be an awful one, like his own father was. However both of them pushed through, they made mistakes, they learned from them and they did all of this together, supporting one another. Now the three little birdies were growing up in a warm and happy environment, something Nozel’s childhood was lacking after his own mother had passed away. 

Helena was pulled out of her thoughts by Heinry, not so sophistically dragging her towards the dance floor. He was very excited. When the next song began to play, she let her son lead her and even though he would make tiny mistakes, and slip from time to time, Helena knew that he was doing his best and it was all that mattered. 

When Kahono finished singing they moved slightly to the side, but did not leave the dance floor yet. Helena smiled at Heinry and he responded in the same way, flashing his white teeth. ‘That’s my niño,’ she thought.

Suddenly somebody ran up to them and grabbed Helena’s dress hiding behind her. 

“Woah, Noureen!” Helena exclaimed startled. “What are you doing hijo?” 

He poked out his nose, so only the upper part of his face and frantically searching lilac eyes were visible. 

“Tia Noelle wants to dance with me,” he whispered determined. “I’m running away.”

“Yhm,” Helena nodded and furrowed her brows at him. “And you think you will find shelter, while grabbing my dress?”

“Yeees?” Noureen raised his brow and Heinry chuckled, which earned him a poked out tongue from his exactly twenty four minutes younger brother. 

“Hijo,” Helena smiled and pulled his small hands off her dress. She then turned around to face him and knelt down so they would be levelled. Helena reached out her palm and pressed it to her son’s cheek. Noureen nuzzled into it and she smiled, noticing right away how similarly to Nozel he behaved. “It is tia Noelle’s wedding day. She doesn’t want to dance with you to make you miserable, but to share her joy with her nephew,” Helena’s voice was tender. “Consider it a little gift you can give to her. I know you want tia to be happy.”

“I do,” he nodded motivated, “but what if I trip and then ruin her dress?” Noureen asked. “She looks very beautiful, tio Asta just can’t take his eyes of her.”

“My sweet hijo,” Helena looked at him lovingly. “It will be alright. You know how to dance and if you trip, that’s simply it. It will be just fine.”

“Tia won’t get angry?” Noureen blinked his lilac eyes. 

“I don’t think there’s anything, that could ruin her mood today,” Helena winked and tapped his pointy nose. Her son softly giggled. “So go on now. Ask tia Noelle to dance.”

Noureen nodded determined and ran off towards the woman of the night. Helena and Heinry watched them for a minute, before deciding to head back to their table. 

How surprised they were when the only ones present were Cyraleona and Eleonora Vermillon. Their parents and their brother were gone mingling, or dancing, while Nozel and Natalia were nowhere to be found. 

Helena furrowed her brows. Where could these two had gone off to? 

“Maybe papa did not manage to save Natalia’s dress and they went to change?” Heinry said out loud.

“Probably,” Helena nodded and looked at him. “Since they’re not here would you like to dance again?”

“Mama,” he groaned annoyed. “You know I have to ask you that. I’m practicing being a gentleman.”

“You already are one,” Helena chuckled, but let Heinry ask her again. Court etiquette practice was always welcomed, while being raised in a Royal family. 

However as they moved towards the dance floor and then began swaying to yet another waltz, something drew Helena’s attention. Between the swirling dresses and moving legs, Helena noticed a familiar glint of silver. She guided Heinry towards it, walking past a pair, who Helena recognised as Josele and Nacht Faust, and then abruptly stopped, because her heart could not take the emotion, that it was experiencing. 

Helena smiled and watched the view in front of her, while the warm feeling inside of her chest bubbled joyfully. 

Just a few meters away Nozel and Natalia were dancing. However since their daughter was so small he had to lean down towards her in order to support her. Natalia’s movements were clumsy and she did not know the steps, so Nozel let her step on his feet, and with each move of his, she had no other choice but follow. Two dark orbs were staring and trying to analyse the dance, while brows furrowed determined. Silver hair beautifully framed her plump cheeks as she pouted. Her lilac dress, surprisingly without any stains on it, fluttered behind her. 

Nozel was smiling, softly, because this was his way and Helena knew, that it was the most genuine expression, that he could have. His gaze was filled with love as he guided his little girl and lilac eyes were watching, taking in her view. Nozel looked amazing himself and Helena could proudly admit, that to her taste, he was the most handsome man at the party. He wore a blue, long sleeved blazer with sophisticated golden accents and a white jabot, but it started lower on his neck, beneath the part, where his golden collar used to be. A Silva cross was attached to the jabot at the centre beneath the soft feathery neckline. The vest underneath the blazer was white and his pants were pressed pleat, like those his sons wore. Silver hair was styled in the eagle like pushed back and up hairstyle and the strands at the front were braided. However it was just this official occasion. Everyday he would have them loose, because he no longer needed the reminder of his past. He would clasp the blue Silva pendant only on occasions, such as this one, which required the ‘Nozel Silva’ look. 

He had to feel her stare, because Nozel looked up at her and Helena’s heart beat faster. She smiled genuinely and felt a soft blush spread over her cheeks. How she loved him and the family they had created. 

“Natalia really can’t dance,” Heinry commented and pulled Helena out of her thoughts. 

“Oh shush. They’re doing amazing,” she quieted him, but her tone was fond. 

They came back to the dance themselves, but then Heinry grinned at her. 

“What if we do a switch?” He asked. “I can teach Natalia a little bit and you would dance with papa?”

“Heinry,” Helena chuckled. “Do you think I need a wingman to dance with my own husband?” 

“Well mama,” he shrugged. “You kind of failed earlier.”

“I won’t this time,” she deflected.

When the song ended they approached Nozel and Natalia. Helena smiled fondly and swept her gaze over them. Just as she was about to speak up and ask her husband to dance, Natalia reached out her little arm and grabbed onto his palm, pulling him down towards herself. Her fingers looked so small compared to his. She leaned in and whispered something to his ear. 

Nozel slowly closed his eyes and then delicately nodded, before ruffling her hair. Natalia squeaked excited and let him stand up. 

“May I have this dance Helena?” Nozel reached out his hand toward her.

She gracefully took it and let him lead her just few steps away from their children. They did not want to loose sight of them, especially the three year old in this filled with people ballroom. So only when Heinry and Natalia began to dance, the gazes of their parents went towards one another. 

“Keeping secrets from me again mi amor?” Helena playfully quirked her brow as Nozel pulled her closer and began leading her to the music. 

“Would you like me to spill them?” He asked flatly and when Helena nodded, he shook his head. “I can’t violate the sacred father-daughter trust.”

Helena pouted. 

“So I’m going to be left in the dark, when it comes to your whispers?” She fluttered her lashes. 

“Maybe,” Nozel stated. “Although I suppose you will get it out of Natalia after making her surrender in a tickle war.”

“I am the best at tickle wars,” Helena laughed. 

“I am aware,” he deadpanned and just to tease him Helena moved forwards. “Don’t you dare,” he furrowed his brows and it made her chuckle even more. 

“Oh you know I wouldn’t do anything, while we’re in public. Nobody will know the tricks that señora Silva has up her sleeve,” Helena winked.

“They don’t acknowledge how much of a devil you are with these,” Nozel stated in a serious tone. 

“No captain,” she corrected him and her tone changed to seductive. “I’m a devil in some other settings, only known to you,” she purred. 

“Helena,” he hissed, but could not hide the gentle, fond expression on his face. 

“I love you,” Helena grinned and Nozel just rolled his eyes. 

“I love you too,” he gazed at her deeply, “but you are annoying.”

“And I will gladly annoy you for the rest of our days,” she said. 

“Keep your promise.”

The song ended and Helena very reluctantly pulled away from Nozel. Two of their kids were nearby and she noticed further away Noureen bowing to Noelle, before she took her new husband’s hand. Asta’s green eyes were focused on her this entire time and seemed very excited to dance with his gorgeous bride.

“After the next song you should ask Noelle to dance with you,” Helena inquired. 

“I will,” Nozel nodded and looked at his sister proudly. “She’s come so far and became very strong. I am happy for her.”

“Oi watch out,” Helena grinned and he quirked his silver brows at her. “Your caring side is showing so much today, that some may even think the real Nozel Silva has been kidnapped.”

He narrowed his eyes. 

“You actually think you’re funny?” Nozel asked irritated. 

“And that’s how I know you’re my husband,” she giggled. 

Soon the song ended and Nozel was about to go ask Noelle to dance, while Helena and their children would head to the table. However at the last second Nozel stopped her and looked her in the eyes. 

“I love you Helena and you look beautiful this evening, just like you do everyday,” he said and it caught her by surprise how out of the blue it was. Despite being married for years, she flushed and her heart picked up its pace. “Save me the next dance, because I want to show off to everyone my amazing wife.”

[javiscigarette]

Silent Night

Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: You’re home for the holidays and Joel isn't gonna let a drinking contest or a house full of people stop him.

Warnings: PWP ofc, established relationship, mentions of drinking/alcohol, having to keep quiet?, oral (f&m receiving), thigh grinding, creampie, breeding kink, come play, getting caught, I think that's all lmk if I missed anything

w/c: 6.6k

a/n: hiii everyone! I am in fact alive! I'm finally on break from school and this is just a lil something I wrote real quick bc I've been in the holiday spirit since before October even ended hehehe :) Anyway, thank u to the actual loml @undrthelights for beta reading and finding the perfect pics!! It's nice to be back! Please leave a comment letting me know if you liked it, support is what keeps writers going!! Love u all!!

my masterlist

Your hips grind a little harder against his thigh, a soft sight falling from your lips as he licks and sucks at the spot under your ear that drives you absolutely wild. “I don't think I can be quiet” you whisper, gasping softly when his tongue swipes over your pulse.  "You can" he mumbles against the side of your neck, the vibrations of his voice and his warm breath against your skin sending burning hot sparks down your spine. “You can do whatever I ask, can’t you baby?”

You can hear them downstairs, muffled sounds of Joel and several other of your family members talking and laughing while they sip on the fancy whiskey that your dad was saving for the occasion. You opted out of it, quickly taking up the offer of the first hour or two of alone time you’ve had since you arrived at your parents house two days ago instead. You figured Joel could use the time too, talking with your dad and uncles and cousins about whatever men talk about when they’re doing whiskey tasting in the mancave of a basement. 

You managed to avoid getting roped into watching a shitty Hallmark Christmas movie with the rest of your family or helping them prep for the big dinner tomorrow. After successfully sneaking away to your old childhood bedroom that’s now redecorated as a simple guest room, you're left with nothing to do besides relax. First up was a long shower with the water so hot you nearly scalded your skin, and now you’re cozied up in bed, nose buried deep in the middle of your book while the rest of the house buzzed with muted background noise. 

Time passes without you noticing, too engrossed in your book to keep track, but eventually the bedroom door creaks open, pulling you back to reality. You’re about to tell off whoever is at the door for interrupting you, but you immediately soften when Joel slips inside, quietly closing the door behind him. 

He looks so sweet, wrapped up in a thick dark brown sweater, his curls flopping over his forehead, a light dusting of pink on his cheeks and the bridge of his nose with a lopsided smile. His eyes are soft, warm, and a bit glassy as he looks at you like you’re the best thing he ever did see.

"Think your dad is trying to kill me" he says, his words slurring just a bit as he crosses the room over to the bed.

You giggle, watching him plop down on the bed on his back, his head rolling over to look at you, "Are you surprised? He does this to you every year."

It's true, every holiday at your parents house, your dad insists on the whiskey "tasting", which is really just him pouring heavy handed shots and glasses and seeing who's going to be the last one to tap out. Usually it's just him and his brothers in the end, hashing out some decades old sibling rivalry in the form of a drinking contest. And ever since the first time you brought Joel home for the holiday five years ago, your father has insisted on dragging him down there and challenging him too.

The first year was the worst with Joel not heeding any of your warnings about how much liquor your dad would actually push on him. Joel was so sick by the end of the night that he made best friends with the toilet and passed out on the couch, then spent most of the next morning with a massive hangover, apologizing profusely to your dad about it who just laughed and said that he can try again next year.

Thankfully, Joel knows his limits now and has made peace with the fact that he'll never beat your dad at his own game. It doesn't mean that the challenge doesn't still stand.

"No" he mumbles, a dopey smile spreading across his face, "Guess I jus' never expect him to pour shots big enough to knock out a horse"

"How many did you have this time?" You ask, bookmarking your place in the book before setting it aside, sitting up a little straighter and adjusting the pillows behind your back.

"Jus' three."

"Oh, so you are  just a lightweight then?"

"I'm not a fuckin' lightweight" he grumbles with a dramatic pout. 

You laugh as you turn to lay on your side, propping yourself up on your elbow. Your hand instinctively falls to his hair, a small content sigh falling from his lips as your fingertips skate across his hairline and glide through his soft curls.  scooting closer to him and reaching down to run your fingers through his hair, "Okay, baby" you hum, smiling when his eyes fall shut as your nails gently scratch his scalp, "If you say so."

Joel melts under your touch, like a cat basking in the sun, a lazy little grin on his face and a dreamy, far off look in his eyes. His face is still flushed, the tips of his ears and the tops of his cheeks a rosy shade of pink, his lips slightly parted, a few more stray curls falling across his forehead. He looks absolutely gorgeous, and the soft, tender look in his eyes when he finally looks back up at you melts you from the inside out.

You cup the side of his face in your hand and ;ean in to press a lingering kiss to his forehead. "You're so cute when you're drunk" you murmur, moving kissing his cheek.

"M'not drunk"

You pull back to look him in the eye, smiling, "Sure you're not"

"I'm not" he whines, "M'just a lil' tipsy."

"Alright" you hum, pressing a quick kiss to his pouty lips.

Joel follows your mouth with the softest whine when you start to pull back, his large hand cupping the back of your head, holding you still while he kisses you, needy, but still so sweet. The taste of whiskey is heavy on his tongue as it slides against yours, a soft, satisfied noise rumbling in his chest when you part your lips further, kissing him deeper. 

When he finally lets you break the kiss, you're left just a little breathless and dazed, a giddy feeling swirling low in your belly. His pupils are blown when he looks up at you, his lips spit slick and plump, a lopsided smile on his face. He turns a little more on his side facing you, his fingers fiddling with the hem of your t-shirt until his hand slips easily underneath like it was meant to be there. The warmth of his palm smoothing up and down the curve of your spine is soothing, his fingers gently tracing over your ribs and the dip of your waist, the slight scratch of his calluses over your skin sending a shiver down your spine.

His eyes are half-lidded as he stares at your lips, licking his own. Realistically, you knew exactly what was going to happen as soon as he entered the bedroom. You know how he gets when he's like this, soft, sweet, and incredibly needy. With all the amount of times he tugged you into a bar bathroom after he's had a few, or when Tommy drops him off after a night out and he's already halfway to undressing you before the front door even shuts. You know he's trouble like this, but you can never deny him when he's looking at you like that, like you're the only thing he needs, the only thing he's ever needed.

He leans in to kiss you again, slow and sweet, his fingers splaying on your lower back and keeping you close. His mouth moves languidly against yours, the tip of his tongue tracing your bottle lip and his teeth sinking in the slightest bit to nip and tug, pulling a desperate little sound out from the back of your throat. 

He sighs at the small sound and starts to lean into you more, using his weight to roll you over until you're flat on your back with him hovering above you, his forearms on either side of your head with his knees bracketing your hips. The kisses grow hungrier, wetter, more insistent, his mouth moving against yours like he's trying to breathe the very air from your lungs. 

He shifts a bit and you moan softly into his mouth when his thigh slots between yours, the firm muscle of his thigh pushing right up against the apex of your thighs, the perfect amount of pressure to make heat spark and smolder in your belly. He does it again, rocking his thigh up against you just a little harder, swallowing the needy whimper that you let out, the heat and friction making you ache. 

You can’t help but grind against his thigh, the seam of your sweatpants pressing against the damp spot that’s already forming on your panties and digging into your clit just right. You’re chasing the growing pleasure, the firmness of his thigh and the intoxicating taste of whiskey on his soft lips mixed with the faint trace of his peppermint toothpaste. You’d give anything to have him, for him to take you, but the sounds of laughter and chatter coming from downstairs is a rude reminder of reality. 

"Joel" you warn with absolutely no heat in your voice, his lips grazing the sensitive spot under your ear, "We can't.”

He ignores you for a beat, crashing his lips back on yours and kissing you until he needs to come up for air. 

"We can" he says, his voice gravelly and thick with want, the deep rumble vibrating in his chest. "We're bein' real quiet"

His lips trail across the line of your jaw and up your cheek before landing on your mouth again. The slow, lazy drag of his tongue against yours makes you throb, another soft when escaping you and the muscles in your legs and stomach tightening as you make no effort to stop moving against his thigh. 

“Everyone will hear us” you try feebly, knowing it’s futile. 

Joel smirks against your lips, the bastard. “Nah. I’ll be quiet.” 

You know he's a damn liar and a bad one at that. In what world could you be quiet with his hands and mouth on you, with his thick cock buried deep inside you, stretching you out and filling you up so good that your toes curl? And in what world could he be quiet, not running his mouth about how good you feel, how pretty you look stuffed full of him, how well you take him. You know exactly how it'll go, if the numerous failed previous attempts are anything to go by.

But then his lips are on the side of your neck, and you're forgetting why it matters. You let your eyes fall shut as his lips press gentle, wet kisses up and down the column of your throat, the stubble on his cheeks and chin scratching and tickling in the best way. You're quickly forgetting why this was a bad idea to begin with.

Your hips grind a little harder against his thigh, a soft sight falling from your lips as he licks and sucks at the spot under your ear that drives you absolutely wild. “I don't think I can,” you whisper, gasping softly when his tongue swipes over your pulse point. 

"You can" he mumbles against the side of your neck, the vibrations of his voice and his warm breath against your skin sending burning hot sparks down your spine. “You can do whatever I ask, can’t you baby?” 

“I don’t- oh…” 

The rest of your sentence dies on the tip of your tongue as he pushes his thigh against you, grinding it up against your core in a way that has your head spinning and toes curling, the pleasure sharp and delicious as it melts into your veins. 

“That’s right” he murmurs, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You’ll do whatever I say, huh?” 

There’s a pause and when you open your eyes, his are dark, his pupils blown wide, the deep brown nearly swallowed whole. His hair is tousled and curlier than ever, a few loose strands hanging in his face. His lips are slightly parted, swollen, red, and sick and shiny from your kisses. He’s an absolute sight and you can’t help but nod, eager to do whatever he wants, whatever he asks, because god it’s always worth it. 

His eyes crinkle a bit at the corners and the lopsided smirk on his face widens. He’s the fucking devil. 

Just the thought of him taking you with the rest of the house full of your extended family is making your veins buzz, excitement bubbling low in your belly. But you're well aware of just how thin the walls are and how nosy some members of your family are and you can't fathom how awkward it would be to come down for breakfast the next morning after the whole house heard you getting absolutely railed.

"It’ll be okay" he assures, reading your thoughts, his hands slipping under your shirt again. The fabric bunches up over his wrists as he slides his palms up your torso to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples. "M’not gonna let anyone else hear you. Just me."

Fuck.

His simple words are enough to convince you, not that you needed much convincing in the first place. He had you wrapped around his finger and him around yours, and there was no way you were going to say no to what you know will come next. A jolt of electricity shoots down your spine and settles hot and heavy in the pit of your stomach. Your resolve breaks, your legs falling open further, letting him get even closer, and Joel lets out a soft, happy noise against your mouth.

"Atta girl" he hums, his voice rough and deep, "So good for me, aren't ya baby?"

"Always" you manage to reply, the word more of a sigh as you arch your back, his thumb teasing your nipple until it's pebbled and hard.

He gives into you easily, tugging your shirt up and over your head. His mouth lands on your chest as soon as it’s exposed, immediately licking and kissing across your collarbones and the swell of your breast. He noses along the valley between them, the coarse hair of his beard tickling your skin and making you giggle. You can feel him grinning against your skin before he nips and sucks at the supple flesh until a red mark rises to the surface. 

You squirm beneath him, his leg still nestled perfectly between yours and pressing against you every time he shifts. The pressure is building in your gut, your clit aching and throbbing. The feeling is almost too much with his hot wet mouth now wrapped around your nipple, his tongue swirling around the stiff peak making it harder and harder for you to keep quiet. 

“Joel,” you hiss, the word half warning and half plea. 

“Hush, baby” he mumbles against your skin. His fingers replace his mouth, pinching and teasing your swollen, spit-slick nipple as he kisses across your chest to lavish your other nipple with the same attention. 

“Gotta be quiet, remember?” he says when he pulls back, releasing your nipple with a wet pop. “Unless you want everyone hearin’ ya” 

You open your mouth to say something in protest, to tell him that he’s making things a lot harder right now, but then he starts moving, sliding down the bed and the words die in your throat. The look he gives you as he settles on his stomach between your thighs is sinful, his eyes dark and mischievous, his lips pulled up into a smirk. 

He hooks his fingers in the waistband of your sweats, slowly pulling them along with your panties down your legs, leaving you completely bare. Your stomach swoops at the sight of his eyes trained to your center and your thighs twitch, wanting to snap shut and hide. But his hands on both of your thighs keep you spread open for him. You swallow thickly, your breath catching in your throat, the anticipation building in the pit of your belly as your slick starts to drip down the cleft of your ass. 

Joel’s mouth falls open slightly, a shaky breath escaping him. “Fuck, baby” he sighs, tongue darting out to lick his cherry red lips, his eyes glazing over. A small, content smile tugs at the corners of your mouth, a swell of pride blossoming in your chest. He looks wrecked, like a starving man eyeing his first meal, and the way he's looking at you so intently, like you're the best thing he's ever seen, the thing that's kept him alive all these years, is making your heart pound almost painfully in your chest. 

“Fucking gorgeous,” he praises, his hand running along the inside of your thigh. “And all mine.” 

Like he can’t wait another second, he’s leaning in and licking a long, wet stripe up your center, dragging his tongue through your folds from your leaking hole to your swollen, needy clit. The feeling of his tongue on you pulls a soft, broken sound from you. You clap your hand over your mouth as your head spins, a rush of pleasure washing over you making the muscles in your thighs and stomach twitch and flex. 

He does it again and again, and every time his tongue flicks over the swollen bud, you let out a soft whine that sounds far too loud in the otherwise quiet room.

He groans against you, his mouth already wet and messy as he laps at your pussy like he's starving for it, like he would die without tasting you. His eyes are locked on yours, the look in them so dark and primal that it makes your walls clench, more slick freely leaking out of you and onto his tongue. He laps it up happily, his fingers digging into your hips, holding you steady as his mouth works your clit.

He lets out a quiet, breathy moan when you slide your hand through his hair once again, your fingers tangling in and pulling on the soft brown strands. His eyes flutter shut, a shuddery exhale falling from his parted lips, and the feeling of his warm breath fanning over your wet, sensitive center has you stifling another high pitched whimper.

You roll your hips up against his face, desperate for more, and he gets the hint, the flat of his tongue swiping up through your folds a few more times before he dips it into your entrance, pushing in and out while his nose nudges at your clit. You're writhing beneath him, tugging at his hair, trying so hard to be quiet but failing miserably, soft, desperate little noises pouring out of your mouth. You know he's loving it too, making no effort to keep your noises at bay, not giving a single fuck about who might hear.

He moans against your cunt, the vibrations making you jolt, your hips rolling up to meet him. You're panting, the hand that isn't buried in his hair gripping the sheets tight enough that your knuckles turn white, and your back arches when his tongue fucks in and out of you faster, rougher.

"Joel, fuck" you gasp, "I- I'm-

He growls, the sound muffled by your pussy, the vibrations and the feeling of his stubble dragging along your inner thighs making your toes curl, the familiar coil in your belly tightening, your thighs trembling.

He doubles down, bringing a hand between your legs to replace his tongue with two thick fingers sinking into you and curling up against that spot inside you that has you seeing stars, his tongue circling your clit while his fingers pump in and out of you, his mouth and hand working in tandem to pull you apart.

"Fuck, I'm close" you whimper, his fingers crooking against that spot inside of you, sending white hot fire coursing through your veins as your slick leaks down his fingers and into his palm like hot honey. 

He hums, sucking your clit between his lips, and your legs clamp around his head, your hand tightening in his hair as your orgasm crashes over you, your back arching off the mattress, a muffled, broken moan spilling out from behind your hand. He fucks you through it, his tongue flattening out against your clit while the tips of his fingers rub against that sweet spot inside of you, sending more sparks of pleasure tingling up and down your spine.

When it's too much, when the sensitivity makes tears prick in the corners of your eyes, you make a feeble attempt to push him away. He pulls back, sitting up on his knees, his chin and cheeks wet with your slick, his pupils blown so wide that the brown is almost completely swallowed up by black. He stares at you, his gaze so heavy and intense that it makes another shiver run down your spine.

"You're not being very quiet" he smirks as he moves off the bed to stand up.

You roll your eyes, still coming down from the aftershocks, your thighs quivering, "Yeah, no shit" you mutter, propping yourself up on your elbows.

He chuckles as he pulls off his sweater and the t-shirt underneath it before he starts unbuckling his belt and working on his jeans. You sit up, shuffling closer to the edge of the bed, reaching out and batting his hands away, taking over and quickly unfastening the button and pulling the zipper down.

He doesn't protest, letting you push his jeans and boxers down his legs until he kicks them all the way off. Your mouth waters at the sight of his thick, hard cock hanging heavy between his legs, flushed a deep red with slippery precum beading at the tip. You reach out, wrapping your hand around the base and taking a moment or two to revel in the familiar weight and warmth of him in your hand.

He shudders, a low moan rumbling in his chest, his eyes slipping shut as his hand moves to cup the back of your head. He watches you intently as you take your time, lazily stroking him, rubbing the pad of your thumb over the leaking tip and tracing the throbbing veins that run along the sides. His breathing grows heavy, his jaw clenching and his stomach muscles twitching as he tries so hard not to buck his hips up into the loose circle of your fist.

"C'mon, sweetheart" he pleads, the words leaving his mouth as a low, breathless groan, "Get me all nice and wet for you."

He doesn't have to ask twice. You lean forward and you dart your tongue out to lap up the bead of precum, humming at the salty, bitter taste of it, swirling the flat of your tongue over the head of his cock, your hand pumping the rest of his shaft. His breath catches in his throat, a stuttered curse falling from his lips when you dip your tongue into the slit, teasing more precum out.

He groans, his grip on the back of your head tightening, urging you to take him into the warm, wet heat of your mouth. You sink down, flattening your tongue and taking him all the way until he hits the back of your throat, the tip of his cock brushing against the roof of your mouth. You breathe through your nose, hollowing your cheeks, swallowing around him, and the deep, guttural groan that he lets out has you squirming, slick leaking out of your cunt and onto the sheets below.

"There ya go" he pants, his head lolling back, "Oh, baby, that's it. S'fuckin' perfect."

You pull off, a string of spit and precum connecting his cock to your bottom lip, and you look up at him through your lashes.

"Need to be quiet" you remind him, "Or else I'll stop"

He lets out a shaky breath and nods, swallowing hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. He's not used to keeping quiet, not used to not telling you how good you feel, not used to not begging you to let him cum in that low, raspy tone that never fails to make you weak.

"I'll be good," he whispers, breathless and needy. "Promise."

Your stomach swoops at his words, arousal burning bright in your belly. Unable to stay away for much longer, you lean forward, pressing a soft kiss to the head of his cock. His hips jerk, another drop of precum leaking out. You lick it up, swirling your tongue around the sensitive, swollen tip before sinking down again. You take him into the wet heat of your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and swallowing around him, bobbing your head slowly and steadily.

He bites his lip hard enough to draw blood trying with all his might to keep his noises in as you drool all over his cock. He can't take his eyes off you, watching the way he disappears into the slick heat of your mouth. You look so pretty with your lips wrapped around him, spit dripping down his cock and leaking out the corners of your mouth while your eyes water as you take him as far as you can.

You take him deeper, and you swallow, your throat convulsing around him, and the way his whole body shudders makes you smile, proud of the effect you have on him. He's so big and thick, and you both know you can't fit him all the way down your throat, but seeing you try your best is enough to make his thighs start to shake. 

His cock hits the back of your throat again and again, the tip dipping into the soft, warm, tight space, and Joel's breathing is getting heavier and faster, his jaw clenched and his eyebrows knitted together.

"Shit" he grits out under his breath, "That's it, sweetheart. That's fuckin' it."

The praise goes straight between your legs, a fresh wave of slick leaking out of you and it's too tempting to resist, so you slip your hand between your thighs and rub circles around your clit, moaning softly around his cock.

He hisses, his eyes snapping down, watching your hand disappear between your legs.

"Are you touchin' yourself?" he asks, the words coming out rough and choked, his eyebrows raised.

You nod, sliding a finger into yourself, and you pull off his cock, panting, a thin strand of spit connecting the head to your bottom lip.

"Can't help it" you whine pathetically, your voice already raspy from how far his cock had been down your throat.

Joel groans, his dick twitching, and he's had enough. He takes a step back, and you let go, a little confused and worried that you've done something wrong. But he just takes hold of your arms and yanks you off the bed, his strong hands easily manhandling you, and then he's pushing you, turning you around and bending you over the side of the mattress.

"Oh" you breathe out, bracing yourself on your forearms, arching your back, sticking your ass up in the air.

You don't have to wait long for him to move. His hand is smoothing over your ass, the other one guiding his cock towards your sopping cunt. He teases the tip between your folds, spreading your slick and dragging his head over your swollen clit a few times before lining himself up and sinking in.

You bite down on the inside of your cheek to keep quiet, letting out a stuttering breath, the familiar, delicious burn of his thick cock stretching you out making your eyes roll back into your head. You've made peace with the face that you'll never be used to his size. It'll always be too much, the feeling of him pushing into, forcing your walls to make room for him will always make you clench and shiver.

He's got his hands on your hips, holding you steady as he bottoms out, his hips flush with the curve of your ass with the tip of his cock pressed against your cervix. He holds himself there for a moment, both of you adjusting to the feeling, and you're trying so hard not to moan, to keep your noises muffled by the mattress, and you know Joel's struggling too, his jaw clenched tight and his brow furrowed.

"Good girl" he whispers, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips, "Taking my cock so well, aren't ya?"

You nod, whimpering, your fingers twisting in the sheets.

He pulls back and thrusts back in, setting a steady, slow rhythm, the wet slide of his cock making the most obscene sounds. And it's driving you crazy, the need to let out loud, your chest burning with the effort of keeping your noises in. He keeps his pace slow, not wanting to make more noise with his hips snapping against your ass. It’s nearly tortuous though, the drag of his cock in and out of you so slow that you can feel every ridge as he takes his sweet time. You can only handle it for a few moments before the tingling hints of pain from the stretch subside and the burning need for him to fuck you senseless takes over.

"Joel" you whine, "Faster, please."

He leans over you, his front pressed against your back, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. "You're not gonna stay quiet if I do," he says, his voice deep and gravelly, "Just take what I give you, sweetheart."

You're so worked up, the slow pace makes you even more desperate for him, and you can't help it, you need more, and you reach a hand back and grab his hip, urging him to speed up.

"I-I'll try" you promise, "Please, just- Just fuck me, Joel, please"

He hesitates, but the way you're squirming beneath him is so tempting, and the way his cock is throbbing and dripping inside of you is telling him that he needs more too.

Before you can say anything else, he's pulling back, the thick, heavy weight of him sliding out of you. You whimper at sudden empty feeling but you don't have time to complain before he's flipping you over onto your back and scooting you up the bed before climbing on top of you. You can’t help but notice how big he is, the muscles flexing smoothly in his strong arms that box you in as he hovers above you, nearly encompassing your entire body underneath his. His mouth is on yours before you can even blink, his tongue slipping past your lips and kissing you like his life depends on it.

He settles between your legs, his hips nestled in the cradle of your thighs, his cock dragging along your clit again warm and heavy, and you gasp, the sound swallowed by his mouth. You're squirming again, desperate to feel him stretch you out more and he takes mercy on you, reaching between your bodies and grabbing the base of his cock, guiding the thick head towards your entrance.

"Gotta be quiet, baby" he warns, his eyes boring into yours as he looks down at you. "Those pretty noises are just for me, yeah? Can't have anyone hearin' 'em."

You nod frantically and the next second he's pushing in, the fat head of his cock forcing its way into you and bottoming out in one smooth motion. You let out a gasp that's definitely too loud but Joel is quick to remedy it, his hand coming up to cover your mouth, his fingers splaying across your cheek.

"Shh" he shushes you, his hips rolling, the slow, lazy drag of his cock against your walls making you clench around him. Your eyes roll back, your back arching as his hand stops all the whiny little sounds you can't help but make. He continues to fuck you slow and deep, his cock sliding in and out of your soaking wet cunt, the filthy sounds of skin slapping against skin echoing softly in the room.

You can't take your eyes off him, watching his eyes squeeze shut, the muscles in his arms and shoulders flexing as he fucks you, his brows knitted together and his teeth sunk into his bottom lip. He looks beautiful like this, sweat glistening on his skin, his jaw tight, and his eyes shut tight, his mouth hanging open with his breaths coming out in soft, barely audible pants.

"Mmm" he hums, his hips picking up speed, his cock pushing impossibly deeper. "You feel so fuckin' good, baby. Fuck."

You reflexively clench around him and a shudder runs through his whole body.

"Gettin' real tight" he pants, "Tryna milk the cum right outta me, huh? Tryna make me fill up that pretty pussy?"

You whimper into his palm, your pussy fluttering, a fresh wave of slick coating his cock, and he groans, his hips picking up speed.

"S'what you want?" he asks in a hushed tone, his hand still pressed firmly over your mouth. "You want me to fill you up? Make a mess of that pretty pussy? Breed you until you're fuckin' stuffed, baby girl?"

Your back arches off the bed, the coil in your belly so tight that you think you might pass out. He's rambling, his thrusts losing rhythm, his breathing getting ragged and choppy, his chest heaving and his thighs shaking.

"That's it" he coaxes when you tighten around him even more, "Can feel it, can feel how close you are. Go on, baby, cum on my cock. Wanna feel that tight, wet cunt cum all over my cock, please, baby."

His hips snap forward, his cock pushing deep into you, the tip rubbing against the spongy spot deep inside you that makes the coil in your belly finally snap. Your eyes roll back, a muffled, broken moan falling from your lips as your entire body convulses, your orgasm washing over you and making your toes curl as your walls flutter around his cock buried to the hilt inside of you.

Joel lets out a deep, low groan, his hips stuttering as he fucks you through your orgasm. His hand slips away from your mouth so he can grip your hips with both hands, his fingers digging into the soft flesh, holding you in place so he can chase after his own release. His chest is tight as he holds in his grunts and groans, but it’s barely any use with the lewd noises that fill the room as your pussy gushes around him, your slick leaking past the tight seal of your walls around him and dripping down to his balls. 

"Oh, shit, baby. Christ,” he chokes out, his stomach muscles clenching as his hips slam into yours, his cock pushing impossibly deeper and harder. “Keep makin’ a mess, keep lettin’ me feel it. That’s it. Fuckin’ hell.” 

You can feel his cock starting to throb inside of you and you know he’s close. And you can’t stop the words from leaving your mouth, the need to let him know just how good he’s making you feel is destroying any bit of common sense. 

“Want you to fill me up,” you whine. “Please, Joel, wanna feel it.” 

That’s all it takes. His jaw clenches, his nose scrunching as his eyes squeeze shut. His cock twitches and pulses as he buries himself as deep as he can get before spilling into, filling you with thick, hot ropes of his cum. His hips jerking and stuttering d you clench around him, squeezing and milking him for everything he has while he buries his face in the crook of your neck, muffling his broken, ragged moans against your skin.

"So good,” he whimpers. “Fuckin’ perfect.” 

The praise goes straight between your legs and you wrap your arm around his shoulders, trying to pull him closer. He lifts his head, his palm resting on your cheek as he lifts his head and presses his lips against yours, kissing you languidly. His hips rock back and forth lazily, pushing his cum in as deep as he can get it. You melt into the bed underneath him, the only things keeping you tethered to the earth being your fingers combing through his hair and your legs tightening around his waist.

When he finally pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours, and you're both left panting, trying to catch your breath. You listen to the muffled sounds of people downstairs, the movie playing and their drunken voices filtering in through the door, and Joel must be thinking the same thing because he chuckles.

"Well" he says, his thumb rubbing back and forth over your cheekbone, "I don't think anyone heard us."

"You better hope they didn't" you retort, a grin on your face. Joel rolls his eyes. "That's a weird way to say thank you" he teases. You start to laugh, but the sound dies in your throat, morphing to a whimper instead when he starts pulling out his softening cock.

"Joel" you whine, but he doesn't stop. "Joel, please. It's-"

He's not listening, he's too focused on the way his cock looks when he pulls out. The tip slips out of you, and the rest follows, and his eyes widen as he watches a string of thick, sticky cum stretch from the tip of his cock to your cunt. It breaks, falling to your thigh, and he licks his lips. He can't tear his eyes away, watching the way your cunt flutters, and his cum starts to drip out, running down your slit, the obscene sight making Joel's spent cock twitch. 

"Shit" he mutters under his breath, "Ain't that a pretty picture."

He reaches down, dragging a finger through the mess of cum and slick and gathering it on his finger before pushing it back into your cunt. You clench around the digit before he sighs and pulls it back out.

"Gonna be leaking all day tomorrow" he murmurs, almost to himself.

You whimper, the thought of having him dripping out of you all day like that has renewed arousal already seeping into your veins. 

“It’s okay” he assures you, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll take care ya. Clean you up and put my cock back in right where it belongs, how’s that sound, hm?” 

You sigh, nodding, a wave of fatigue washing over you. “Sounds perfect,” you agree. 

You watch as he climbs off of you and starts to move, but a sudden, sharp sound of knuckles knocking on the other side of the bedroom door makes you both freeze. 

“You two are fucking disgusting!” the voice of your cousin calls out, accompanied by the sound of a couple other people giggling and laughing. “Put some goddamn clothes on and get down here!” 

You and Joel exchange glances, his eyes wide and apologetic, his cheeks burning bright red as you give him a look that says I told you so. 

“Alright, alright, we’re coming” he yells back. 

“We’re coming! Oh, yeah we’re coming!” another voice teases, the sound of everyone bursting out laughing quickly follows. 

“We’re never doing that again” Joel mutters and you can’t help but chuckle. 

“Yeah right. Keep telling yourself that”

Thank you for reading!!! Plsss let me know if you enjoyed hehehe

[punkshort]

Hi again !! I wanted to know if one day you could write a one-shot based off of this prompt:

“But I wanted to do that with you! You could have asked me!"

I tried to do something with this myself but failed miserably 😭

This is my current oldest request, apologies for taking so long to get through these. Okay here goes nothing:

Five Senses

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: You catch Joel sneaking off to do something in the middle of the night and curiosity gets the best of you.

Warnings: language, m!masturbation, smut (18+ MDNI), some descriptions of violence and gore, angst, yearning

WC: idk I wrote it on my phone - maybe 2K?

The fire was out by the time you woke. Was it time for your turn on watch? It had to have been. So why didn't Joel wake you?

Slowly, you rolled onto your back and looked around, your eyes struggling to adjust to the darkness surrounding you. The woods were quiet. Not a single twig snapped, no leaves rustled nor bird sang. Even the wind was still. The loudest thing was your heavy breathing and your heart beating in your ears.

Where was he?

Panic gripped you then. Did something happen? He never strayed too far out, especially when the weather was fair. It brought out infected, easily the biggest downfall of living in the wilderness during summer.

"Joel?" you whispered into the dark abyss, sitting up in your sleeping bag in the process. You strained your ears, flared your nostrils, using all your available senses when sight was questionable, just like he taught you that first week after you ran into each other. It was years ago, now, but you remembered it like it was yesterday.

He saved you. He didn't know who you were, he didn't have to answer your screams of terror, but he did. Just when your arms were growing weak from holding the infected above you, it's snapping jaw so close you had to push back into the dirt to keep it from grazing you, there was a loud explosion. Then you were covered in wet, dead brains and pieces of bone, but you were alive.

He hauled the carcass off you and you furiously began to wipe the carnage from your face, worried it would still somehow get into your bloodstream.

"Here," he had said, handing you a used blue washcloth. You snatched it and whispered your gratitude, wiping off your face more throughly so you could stand and get a good look at your savior.

At the time, you chalked it up to adrenaline, but you felt like you fell in love the moment you first locked eyes. Those deep, beautiful brown eyes that could look right through you, that gazed at you with so much concern when he patched you up after scuffles with raiders, that glared at you when you fucked up and almost gave away your position, that squinted when he laughed at something you said over the fire.

It took a few weeks, maybe a month, but you eventually determined adrenaline wasn't to blame. You were hopelessly in love with Joel Miller, and you never once had the courage to tell him. Never once tried to kiss him, tried to do anything except stare at him when his back was turned, allowing your eyes to greedily take in his broad shoulders and thick, curly, tuggable hair.

He never looked at you like that. God, you wished he would, but he was far too focused. His only concern was survival. Sometimes you wondered how he was able to function properly on so little sleep. Sleep was his only luxury, and he rarely allowed himself to relish in it. It didn't matter how many times you told him you could keep watch the whole night, or on the rare occasions he found you a cabin or shed, he refused to let his guard down.

So where was he now?

Slowly, you stood, your right hand brushing against your handgun which was tucked into your leg holster. You took a steadying breath, trying to quiet yourself so you could listen to your surroundings. Pay attention, stay alert, step lightly.

That was when you first heard it. Panting, or gasping, somewhere to your right. Oh, god, what if he was hurt? What if something happened and you were sleeping, leaving him to bleed out, or worse?

You pulled out your gun and gripped it with both hands, aiming it at the ground as you quickly made your way towards the noise, your heart slamming against your ribs, fear squeezing your throat, but you stayed focused. You had to. For him.

But as you got closer, when it sounded like he was just on the other side of a thick tree trunk, you realized you were very wrong. Your feet became rooted to the ground as you listened to the unmistakable sound of skin against skin, of fabric rustling rhythmically together, and you squeezed your eyes shut. You felt your cunt throb when you heard his soft groans and you knew you should have left, you should have given him privacy, but you didn't. You couldn't. You ached for him for so long and not one time had you ever seen this side to him. He never so much as flirted with you, even just innocently, so you weren't willing to let this moment pass you by.

The clouds finally parted and the moon shined down, trickling through the thick forest. Opening your eyes, you could now see his shadow reflecting on the forest floor. You could see how fast his fist worked himself over, you could hear how eager he was for release, you could practically smell his sweat from where you were standing.

But then something happened.

He groaned again, but that time he groaned your name.

You were certain of it, unless you were in a dream and your mind was playing tricks on you.

He groaned your name.

Before common decency had a chance to catch up, you spoke, interrupting him.

"Joel?"

The sounds ceased. It was deathly quiet, and you feared you made a huge mistake. What were you thinking?

He said your name again, but it was a question. No breathy moans slipped from his mouth this time.

"What's wrong?"

He came around the tree appearing put together, and if it weren't for the flush in his cheeks and the tightness of his jeans, you might have convinced yourself it was all a mirage.

"Nothing. W-what are you doing?"

His eyes flickered around in shame, looking everywhere but at you.

"What did you hear?" he finally asked softly.

"I heard enough."

He squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh.

"Listen-" he began, but you cut him off.

"I wanted to do that with you. You could have asked me."

His eyes popped back open in shock and it felt like time stood still. Oh, fucking hell, what were you doing?!

"What?"

Well, there was no going back now. You reholstered your gun and took a tentative step forward.

"You said my name," you told him, voice barely above a whisper. You could see him swallow as you inched closer.

"I did."

"Were you thinking... of me?" you squeaked. Slowly, he nodded, and that time if he felt any shame, he didn't show it. "I think about you, too," you confessed, taking another step closer.

"You do?"

You nodded, biting your lower lip nervously as you continued to advance. "All the time."

"Fuck," he groaned, then quickly closed the remaining distance between you. He grabbed your face with both hands, cupping your jaw, and smashed his mouth hungrily against yours.

When he swiped his tongue across your lower lip, you could have melted into the ground right then and there. Was this really happening?

His tongue slid past your lips, exploring your mouth with his jaw pried open as if he were trying to swallow you whole. And you would let him, if that's what he wanted. You trusted him with your life, you craved his touch, dreamt about the taste of his lips, and fantasized about what he would do to quell the constant ache between your legs.

Joel walked you backwards, back towards camp. Your eyes were closed and you refused to remove yourself from his mouth, so you relied on your ears and feet to guide you through sound and touch, but you knew it didn't matter. Joel had you, and he never let anything bad happen. He wouldn't allow it.

He eased you down onto his sleeping bag before he finally broke the kiss, both your chests heaving from the effort to drag in much needed air as you each worked on removing your clothes as quickly as possible. You knew Joel so well by now that he wouldn't want you to be too exposed, just in case, so you only focused on your lower half, and he did the same.

"Are you sure?" he asked when he was kneeling between your legs, poised to enter you. You spread your legs wider and nodded. You wanted to tell him you'd been waiting for so long, that you couldn't stand another second without him, but when you felt that delicious sting between your legs when he first pressed forward, your mind went blank.

"So tight," he gritted out, fingers digging mercilessly into your hips, no doubt leaving circular bruises you would cherish for days.

You cried out his name when he finally fully sheathed himself inside you, only to have him clamp his palm over your mouth.

"Gotta be quiet," he reminded you, but his voice was tender and his breath was ragged and you had a feeling his warning was for you both.

When you nodded, he slid his hand away and groaned quietly as he shifted his weight slightly on top of you before slowly pulling almost all the way out. His eyes flicked up to meet yours so he could watch your face contort when he slammed back in, something animalistic coming alive inside him at the way your back arched and your jaw hung open, a silent scream on your lips every time he rolled his hips and stretched you open, molding you to him.

Your senses came alive as he fucked steadily into you, pushing you closer and closer to the edge with every forceful thrust. Every grunt sounded like a melody, every greedy stroke of his fingers left a firey trail. When he could tell you were both getting close, his mouth crashed over yours again and you tasted the metallic flavor of his blood from where he had bit down too hard on his lip.

"I'm gonna find someplace for us," he whispered, voice trembling from the way your walls squeezed around him. "Someplace we can live. Someplace safe."

You nodded your head deliriously, too focused on the steady rise of your orgasm, your stomach tensing each time his cock brushed up against one particular spot that made it difficult to breathe.

"Then you can be as loud as you want," he continued, mouth dipping to bite and suck on your neck. Your fingers twisted in the fabric of his flannel, the worn material begging to be torn under your grip. "Just me and you. I'll take care of you. Won't let anythin' bad happen."

You nodded again, tears pricking your eyes.

"Would you like that?" he asked, his words muffled by your skin as he continued to lick and kiss and suck on the column of your throat, leaving more marks to serve as a reminder that night happened, that what you had was real.

"Yes," you moaned, "oh, god, yes, Joel, it's all I've ever wanted."

You thought you heard him whimper but then his hips began to snap roughly against you, sending shockwaves through your body with each devastating stroke.

"Joel, I think I'm gonna-" you gasped and cut yourself off, your vision blurring for a moment before his hand pressed firmly over your mouth once again, capturing your cries while your body tensed and slowly began to relax underneath him. Not until your eyes reopened did he remove his hand to be replaced with his mouth. You bent your legs so your knees were pressed against the sides of his ribs, holding him close, your tongue licking feverishly behind his teeth.

At the last moment, he yanked his hips back and spilled his seed all over the inside of your thighs, keeping his mouth pressed firmly against yours until he was done painting your skin milky white.

"All this time?" he panted, gazing down at you while you both took a few moments to recover. "All these years?"

You nodded and brushed some of his hair away from his sweaty forehead. "From the first day."

His eyes slid closed in disbelief. "Why didn't you tell me? We wasted so much time."

You smiled and sighed, breathing in the cool night air. It was going to rain soon, you could smell it.

"All we have is time."

[lavendermin]

Your Jing Yuan breeding kink hcs saved me, thank you, thank you (I too, want to be pampered and taken care of by Xianzhou Luofu's kind, handsome and strong general without having to think about paying taxes or rent)

Jing yuan breeding kink brainworms going crazy chewing on my brain cables to make me short circuit. ANON IM GOING INSANE. Just thinking about him again made me black out as I wrote this whole thing. It was supposed to be a simple short answer but well… here we are…

—

Jing Yuan, your sweet and delightful husband who discovers his breeding kink (perhaps even a pregnancy kink, the night is young and we’re all insane here). It starts off innocently and then slowly trickles into a little obsession— sexually repressed old man who is centuries old discovers kinks! Wow!

cw | smut, minors dni, breeding kink, pregnancy, just jing yuan discovering his nasty side idk what to tell you

There are a few colleagues around who are in some stage of their pregnancy and soon headed into maternity leave. Being the general, of course he has extended his congratulations and well wishes to them before they’re off for a few months. The ladies in turn cannot help but prod if he has children of his own.

Surely, it should be well-known fact… maybe? He is quite the private man despite his high ranking position. No one aside from a very few select individuals even knew of you being his wife for the longest time. Never even knew the General was dating anyone.

So they can’t help but be curious, “General you must know what it’s like. Haven’t you children of your own by now with your spouse?”

He only smiles and chuckles fondly. The first seed of want, now firmly planted in his subconscious. Oh how the expecting mothers dote on him and say his children surely must look like the spitting image of him. All fluffy, silvery hair and kind eyes (Do they assume he’s the only one making them? What about your genes?). And he has to unfortunately let them down with amused, gentle smiles that, no, he has not had children.

Yet, some part of him whispers. A part that lays dormant for now.

The seed of desire takes root when he’s home with you and you’re fussing lightheartedly over Yanqing’s attire. Worrying over the young boy being out too late and skipping lunch. He wonders when it became so natural for you to fall into step as a mother-figure for his retainer. In little things, he notes. It’s not outright but it’s enough to make him pause and take it in. Chew it and over think it— let it linger in the back of his throat like the burn from a fine drink.

A mother… The thought is fleeting— a whisper unheard and carried with the breeze as Jing Yuan idles next to you in the gardens of his home.

Those next coming nights, for weeks on end, Jing Yuan is plagued with dreams of pressing himself deep within you. He fills your womb, whispering praise and prayer to your ear as he desperately begs you to bear his children. It’s something so carnal and raw and desperate he wakes up with a start, body drenched in a sheen of sweat and a throbbing erection. He’s panting lightly, having to go to the bathroom to sort out his little… problem in the middle of the night while you’re sound asleep, none the wiser to your husband’s evolving desires.

He doesn’t know what’s more torturous— closing his eyes and dreaming of breeding you until you’re both incoherent or looking at you while you sleep, daydreaming of your soft belly rounding out as the months ago by. Hips soft and just noticeably wider, breasts plump and full, and you’re glowing and–

Aeons, he’s hard again for the 3rd time that night.

The general, respected and composed and perfect, coming undone—untouched—at the thought of you having children with him. Part of him is a little distraught but, he thinks, he just loves his wife that much.

And he’s not wrong.

When he has you gasping and begging for release under him on the rare occasion he has time to love you how he wants, it devolves into fucking you into the mattress with a wild look in his eyes. Honeyed gaze watching you plead and fall apart under him as he now practically has you folded in half, his large hands sinking into the plush of your thighs as he presses them to your chest.

Usually he opts for pulling out and finishing on your tummy, but that night it’s like the aeons are working against him (or maybe with him? Lan the wing man, who knows). You’re begging and clawing at his back as he pounds into you approaching his climax— pleading and slurring your words of please please please Yuan inside– I want– I want it inside please please hurry h-harder please!

You’re playing with the thin strand of sanity he has left. Any semblance of decorum and gentle, vanilla husband is not worth it if it’s keeping your womb empty. But Jing Yuan will spoil his wife always and foremost. If it��s what his wife wants, he won’t hold back.

[turnstileskyline]

The Oral History of Take This To Your Grave – transcription under the cut

The pages that are just photographs, I haven't included. This post is already long enough.

Things that happened in 2003: Arnold Schwarzenegger became governor of California. Teen Vogue published its first issue. The world lost Johnny Cash. Johnny Depp appeared as Captain Jack Sparrow for the first time. A third Lord of the Rings movie arrived. Patrick Stump, Pete Wentz, Joe Trohman, and Andy Hurley released Take This To Your Grave.

"About 21 years ago or so, as I was applying to colleges I would ultimately never go to, Fall Out Boy began as a little pop-punk side project of what we assumed was Pete's more serious band, Arma Angelus," Patrick wrote in a May 2023 social media post.

"We were sloppy and couldn't solidify a lineup, but the three of us (Pete, Joe, and I) were having way too much fun to give up on it."

"We were really rough around the edges. As an example of how rough, one of my favorite teachers pulled me aside after hearing the recording that would eventually become Evening Out With Your Girlfriend and tactfully said, 'What do you think your best instrument is, Patrick? Drums. It's drums. Probably not singing, Patrick.'"

"We went into Smart Studios with the Sean O'Keefe... So, there we were, 3/5 of a band with a singer who'd only been singing a year, no drummer, and one out of two guitarists. But we had the opportunity to record with Sean at Butch Vig's legendary studio.

"Eight or so months later, Fueled by Ramen would give us a contract to record the remaining songs. We'd sleep on floors, eat nothing but peanut butter and jelly, live in a van for the next three years, and somehow despite that, eventually play with Elton John and Taylor Swift and Jay-Z and for President Obama and the NFC championship, and all these other wildly unpredictable things. But none of that would ever come close to happening if Andy hadn't made it to the session and Joe hadn't dragged us kicking and screaming into being a band."

Two decades after its release, Take This To Your Grave sits comfortable in the Top 10 of Rolling Stone's 50 Greatest Pop-Punk Albums, edging out landmark records from Buzzcocks, Generation X, Green Day, The Offspring, Blink-182, and The Ramones.

It even ranked higher than Through Being Cool by Saves The Day and Jersey's Best Dancers from Lifetime, two records the guys in Fall Out Boy particularly revere.

Fall Out Boy's proper full-length debut on Fueled by Ramen is a deceptively smart, sugar-sweet, raw, energetic masterpiece owing as much to the bass player's pop culture passions, the singers deep love of R&B and soul, and their shared history in the hardcore scene as any pioneering punk band. Fall Out Boy's creative and commercial heights were still ahead, but Take This To Your Grave kicked it off, a harbinger for the enduring songwriting partnership between Patrick Stump and Pete Wentz, the eclectic contributions from Joe Trohman, and the propulsive powerhouse that is Andy Hurley.

The recordings document a special moment when Fall Out Boy was big in "the scene" but a "secret" from the mainstream. The band (and some of their friends) first sat down for an Oral History (which doubled as an Oral History of their origin story) with their old friend Ryan J. Downey, then Senior Editor for Alternative Press, upon the occasion of the album's 10th anniversary. What follows is an updated, sharper, and expanded version of that story, newly re-edited in 2023. As Patrick eloquently said: "Happy 20th birthday, Take This To Your Grave, you weird brilliant lightning strike accident of a record."

– Ryan J. Downey.

A Weird, Brilliant Lightning Strike Of A Record. The Oral History Of Fall Out Boy's Take This To Your Grave.

As told by:

Patrick Stump

Pete Wentz

Joe Trohman

Andy Hurley

Bob McLynn - Crush Music

Sean O'Keefe - Producer/Mixer

John Janick - Fueled By Ramen

Tim McIlrath - Rise Against

Mani Mostofi - Racetraitor

Chris Gutierrez - Arma Angelus

Mark Rose - Spitalfield

Sean Muttaqi - Uprising Records

Rory Felton - The Militia Group

Richard Reines - Drive-Thru Records

"To Feel No More Bitterness Forever" - From Hardcore to Softcore, 1998-2000

PETE WENTZ: When I got into hardcore, it was about discovering the world beyond yourself. There was a culture of trying to be a better person. That was part of what was so alluring about hardcore and punk for me. But for whatever reason, it shifted. Maybe this was just in Chicago, but it became less about the thought process behind it and more about moshing and breakdowns. There was a close-mindedness that felt very reactive.

TIM MCILRITH: I saw First Born many years ago, which was the first time I saw Pete and met him around then. This was '90s hardcore - p.c., vegan, activist kind of hardcore music. Pete was in many of those bands doing that kind of thing, and I was at many of those shows. The hardcore scene in Chicago was pretty small, so everyone kind of knew each other. I knew Andy Hurley as the drummer in Racetraitor. I was in a band called Baxter, so Pete always called me 'Baxter.' I was just 'Baxter' to a lot of those guys.

JOE TROHMAN: I was a young hardcore kid coming to the shows. The same way we all started doing bands. You're a shitty kid who goes to punk and hardcore shows, and you see the other bands playing, and you want to make friends with those guys because you want to play in bands too. Pete and I had a bit of a connection because we're from the same area. I was the youngest dude at most shows. I would see Extinction, Racetraitor, Burn It Down, and all the bands of that era.

WENTZ: My driver's license was suspended then, so Joe drove me everywhere. We listened to either Metalcore like Shai Hulud or pop-punk stuff like Screeching Weasel.

MCILRITH: I was in a band with Pete called Arma Angelus. I was like their fifth or sixth bass player. I wasn't doing anything musically when they hit me up to play bass, so I said, 'Of course.' I liked everyone in the band. We were rehearsing, playing a few shows here and there, with an ever-revolving cast of characters. We recorded a record together at the time. I even sing on that record, believe it or not, they gave me a vocal part. Around that same time, I began meeting with [bassist] Joe [Principe] about starting what would become Rise Against.

CHRIS GUTIERREZ: Wentz played me the Arma Angelus demo in the car. He said he wanted it to be a mix of Despair, Buried Alive, and Damnation A.D. He told me Tim was leaving to start another band - which ended up being Rise Against - and asked if I wanted to play bass.

TROHMAN: Pete asked me to fill in for a tour when I was 15. Pete had to call my dad to convince him to let me go. He did it, too. It was my first tour, in a shitty cargo van, with those dudes. They hazed the shit out of me. It was the best and worst experience. Best overall, worst at the time.

GUTIERREZ: Enthusiasm was starting to wane in Arma Angelus. Our drummer was really into cock-rock. It wasn't an ironic thing. He loved L.A. Guns, Whitesnake, and Hanoi Rocks. It drove Pete nuts because the scene was about Bleeding Through and Throwdown, not cock rock. He was frustrated that things weren't panning out for the band, and of course, there's a ceiling for how big a metalcore band can get, anyway.

MANI MOSTOFI: Pete had honed this tough guy persona, which I think was a defense mechanism. He had some volatile moments in his childhood. Underneath, he was a pretty sensitive and vulnerable person. After playing in every mosh-metal band in the Midwest and listening exclusively to Earth Crisis, Damnation A.D., Chokehold, and stuff like that for a long time, I think Pete wanted to do something fresh. He had gotten into Lifetime, Saves The Day, The Get Up Kids, and bands like that. Pete was at that moment where the softer side of him needed an outlet, and didn't want to hide behind mosh-machismo. I remember him telling me he wanted to start a band that more girls could listen to.

MCILRATH: Pete was talking about starting a pop-punk band. Bands like New Found Glory and Saves The Day were successful then. The whole pop-punk sound was accessible. Pete was just one of those guys destined for bigger things than screaming for mediocre hardcore bands in Chicago. He's a smart guy, a brilliant guy. All the endeavors he had taken on, even in the microcosm of the 1990s Chicago hardcore world, he put a lot of though into it. You could tell that if he were given a bigger receptacle to put that thought into, it could become something huge. He was always talented: lyrics, imagery, that whole thing. He was ahead of the curve. We were in this hardcore band from Chicago together, but we were both talking about endeavors beyond it.

TROHMAN: The drummer for Arma Angelus was moving. Pete and I talked about doing something different. It was just Pete and me at first. There was this thuggishness happening in the Chicago hardcore scene at that time that wasn't part of our vibe. It was cool, but it wasn't our thing.

MCILRITH: One day at Arma Angelus practice, Pete asked me, 'Are you going to do that thing with Joe?' I was like, 'Yeah, I think so.' He was like, 'You should do that, dude. Don't let this band hold you back. I'll be doing something else, too. We should be doing other things.' He was really ambitious. It was so amazing to me, too, because Pete was a guy who, at the time, was kind of learning how to play the bass. A guy who didn't really play an instrument will do down in history as one of the more brilliant musicians in Chicago. He had everything else in his corner. He knew how to do everything else. He needed to get some guys behind him because he had the rest covered. He had topics, themes, lyrics, artwork, this whole image he wanted to do, and he was uncompromising. He also tapped into something the rest of us were just waking up to: the advent of the internet. I mean, the internet wasn't new, but higher-speed internet was.

MOSTOFI: Joe was excited to be invited by Pete to do a band. Joe was the youngest in our crew by far, and Pete was the 'coolest' in a Fonzie sort of way. Joe deferred to Pete's judgement for years. But eventually, his whole life centered around bossy big-brother Pete. I think doing The Damned Things was for Joe what Fall Out Boy was for Pete, in a way. It was a way to find his own space within the group of friends. Unsurprisingly, Joe now plays a much more significant role in Fall Out Boy's music.

WENTZ: I wanted to do something easy and escapist. When Joe and I started the band, it was the worst band of all time. I feel like people said, 'Oh, yeah, you started Fall Out Boy to get big.' Dude, there was way more of a chance of every other band getting big in my head than Fall Out Boy. It was a side thing that was fun to do. Racetraitor and Extinction were big bands to me. We wanted to do pop-punk because it would be fun and hilarious. It was definitely on a lark. We weren't good. If it was an attempt at selling out, it was a very poor attempt.

MCILRITH: It was such a thing for people to move from hardcore bands to bands called 'emo' or pop-punk, as those bands were starting to get some radio play and signed to major labels. Everyone thought it was easy, but it's not as easy as that. Most guys we knew who tried it never did anything more successful than their hardcore bands. But Pete did it! And if anyone was going to, it was going to be him. He never did anything half-assed. He ended up playing bass in so many bands in Chicago, even though he could barely play the bass then, because simply putting him in your band meant you'd have a better show. He was just more into it. He knew more about dynamics, about getting a crowd to react to what you're doing than most people. Putting Pete in your band put you up a few notches.

"I'm Writing You A Chorus And Here Is Your Verse" - When Pete met Patrick, early 2001.

MARK ROSE: Patrick Stump played drums in this grindcore band called Grinding Process. They had put out a live split cassette tape.

PATRICK STUMP: My ambition always outweighed my ability or actual place in the world. I was a drummer and played in many bands and tried to finagle my way into better ones but never really managed. I was usually outgunned by the same two guys: this guy Rocky Senesce; I'm not sure if he's playing anymore, but he was amazing. And this other guy, De'Mar Hamilton, who is now in Plain White T's. We'd always go out for the same bands. I felt like I was pretty good, but then those guys just mopped the floor with me. I hadn't been playing music for a few months. I think my girlfriend dumped me. I was feeling down. I wasn't really into pop-punk or emo. I think at the time I was into Rhino Records box sets.

TROHMAN: I was at the Borders in Eden's Plaza in Wilmette, Illinois. My friend Arthur was asking me about Neurosis. Patrick just walked up and started talking to me.

STUMP: I was a bit arrogant and cocky, like a lot of young musicians. Joe was talking kind of loudly and I overheard him say something about Neurosis, and I think I came in kind of snotty, kind of correcting whatever they had said.

TROHMAN: We just started talking about music, and my buddy Arthur got shoved out of the conversation. I told him about the band we were starting. Pete was this local hardcore celebrity, which intrigued Patrick.

STUMP: I had similar conversations with any number of kids my age. This conversation didn't feel crazy special. That's one of the things that's real about [Joe and I meeting], and that's honest about it, that's it's not some 'love at first sight' thing where we started talking about music and 'Holy smokes, we're going to have the best band ever!' I had been in a lot of bands up until then. Hardcore was a couple of years away from me at that point. I was over it, but Pete was in real bands; that was interesting. Now I'm curious and I want to do this thing, or at least see what happens. Joe said they needed a drummer, guitar player, or singer, and I kind of bluffed and said I could do any one of those things for a pop-punk band. I'd had a lot of conversations about starting bands where I meet up with somebody and maybe try to figure out some songs and then we'd never see each other again. There were a lot of false starts and I assumed this would be just another one of those, but it would be fun for this one to be with the guy from Racetraitor and Extinction.

TROHMAN: He gave me the link to his MP3.com page. There were a few songs of him just playing acoustic and singing. He was awesome.

WENTZ: Joe told me we were going to this kid's house who would probably be our drummer but could also sing. He sent me a link to Patrick singing some acoustic thing, but the quality was so horrible it was hard to tell what it was. Patrick answered the door in some wild outfit. He looked like an emo kid but from the Endpoint era - dorky and cool. We went into the basement, and he was like, trying to set up his drums.

TROHMAN: Patrick has said many times that he intended to try out on drums. I was pushing for him to sing after hearing his demos. 'Hey! Sing for us!' I asked him to take out his acoustic guitar. He played songs from Saves The Day's Through Being Cool. I think he sang most of the record to us. We were thrilled. We had never been around someone who could sing like that.

WENTZ: I don't think Patrick thought we were cool at all. We were hanging out, and he started playing acoustic guitar. He started singing, and I realized he could sing any Saves The Day song. I was like, 'Wow, that's the way those bands sound! We should just have you sing.' It had to be serendipity because Patrick drumming and Joe singing is not the same band. I never thought about singing. It wasn't the type of thing I could sing. I knew I'd be playing bass. I didn't think it'd even go beyond a few practices. It didn't seem like the thing I was setting myself up to do for the next several years of my life in any way. I was going to college. It was just a fun getaway from the rest of life kind of thing to do.

STUMP: Andy was the first person we asked to play drums. Joe even brought him up in the Borders conversation. But Andy was too busy. He wasn't really interested, either, because we kind of sucked.

WENTZ: I wanted Hurley in the band, I was closest to him at the time, I had known him for a long time. I identified with him in the way that we were the younger dudes in our larger group. I tried to get him, but he was doing another band at the time, or multiple bands. He was Mani's go-to guy to play drums, always. I had asked him a few times. That should clue people into the fact that we weren't that good.

ANDY HURLEY: I knew Joe as 'Number One Fan.' We called him that because he was a huge fan of a band I was in, Kill The Slavemaster. When Fall Out Boy started, I was going to college full-time. I was in the band Project Rocket and I think The Kill Pill then, too.

MOSTOFI: After they got together the first or second time, Pete played me a recording and said, 'This is going to be big.' They had no songs, no name, no drummer. They could barely play their instruments. But Pete knew, and we believed him because we could see his drive and Patrick's potential. Patrick was prodigy. I imagine the first moment Pete heard him sing was probably like when I heard 15-year-old Andy Hurley play drums.

GUTIERREZ: One day at practice, Pete told me he had met some dudes with whom he was starting a pop-punk band. He said it would sound like a cross between New Found Glory and Lifetime. Then the more Fall Out Boy started to practice, the less active Arma Angelus became.

TROHMAN: We got hooked up with a friend named Ben Rose, who became our original drummer. We would practice in his parents' basement. We eventually wrote some pretty bad songs. I don't even have the demo. I have copies of Arma's demo, but I don't have that one.

MOSTOFI: We all knew that hardcore kids write better pop-punk songs than actual pop-punk kids. It had been proven. An experienced hardcore musician could bring a sense of aggression and urgency to the pop hooks in a way that a band like Yellowcard could never achieve. Pete and I had many conversations about this. He jokingly called it 'Softcore,' but that's precisely what it was. It's what he was going for. Take This To Your Grave sounds like Hot Topic, but it feels like CBGBs.

MCILRITH: Many hardcore guys who transitioned into pop-punk bands dumbed it down musically and lyrically. Fall Out Boy found a way to do it that wasn't dumbed down. They wrote music and lyrics that, if you listened closely, you could tell came from people who grew up into hardcore. Pete seemed to approach the song titles and lyrics the same way he attacked hardcore songs. You could see his signature on all of that.

STUMP: We all had very different ideas of what it should sound like. I signed up for Kid Dynamite, Strike Anywhere, or Dillinger Four. Pete was very into Lifetime and Saves The Day. I think both he and Joe were into New Found Glory and Blink-182. I still hadn't heard a lot of stuff. I was arrogant; I was a rock snob. I was over most pop-punk. But then I had this renaissance week where I was like, 'Man, you know what? I really do like The Descendents.' Like, the specific week I met Joe, it just happened to be that I was listening to a lot of Descendents. So, there was a part of me that was tickled by that idea. 'You know what? I'll try a pop-punk band. Why not?'

MOSTOFI: To be clear, they were trying to become a big band. But they did it by elevating radio-friendly pop punk, not debasing themselves for popularity. They were closely studying Drive-Thru Records bands like The Starting Line, who I couldn't stand. But they knew what they were doing. They extracted a few good elements from those bands and combined them with their other influences. Patrick never needed to be auto-tuned. He can sing. Pete never had to contrive this emotional depth. He always had it.

STUMP: The ideas for band names were obnoxious. At some point, Pete and I were arguing over it, and I think our first drummer, Ben Rose, who was in the hardcore band Strength In Numbers, suggested Fall Out Boy. Pete and I were like, 'Well, we don't hate that one. We'll keep it on the list.' But we never voted on a name.

"Fake It Like You Matter" - The Early Shows, 2001

The name Fall Out Boy made their shortlist, but their friends ultimately chose it for them. The line-up at the band's first show was Patrick Stump (sans guitar), Pete Wentz, Joe Trohman, drummer Ben Rose, and guitarist John Flamandan in his only FOB appearance.

STUMP: We didn't have a name at our two or three shows. We were basically booked as 'Pete's new band' as he was the most known of any of us. Pete and I were the artsy two.

TROHMAN: The rest of us had no idea what we were doing onstage.

STUMP: We took ourselves very seriously and completely different ideas on what was 'cool.' Pete at the time was somewhere between maybe Chuck Palahniuk and Charles Bukowski, and kind of New Romantic and Manchester stuff, so he had that in mind. The band names he suggested were long and verbose, somewhat tongue-in-cheek. I was pretty much only into Tom Waits, so I wanted everything to be a reference to Tom Waits. The first show was at DePaul [University] in some cafeteria. The room looked a lot nicer than punk rock shows are supposed to look, like a room where you couldn't jump off the walls. We played with a band called Stillwell. I want to say one of the other bands played Black Sabbath's Black Sabbath in its entirety. We were out of place. We were tossing a few different names around. The singer for Stillwell was in earshot of the conversation so I was like 'Hey, settle this for us,' and told him whatever name it was, which I can't remember. 'What do you think of this name?' He goes, 'It sucks.' And the way he said it, there was this element to it, like, 'You guys probably suck, too, so whatever.' That was our first show. We played first and only had three songs. That was John's only show with us, and I never saw him again. I was just singing without a guitar, and I had never just sung before; that was horrifying. We blazed through those songs.

ROSE: Patrick had this shoulder-length hair. Watching these guys who were known for heavier stuff play pop-punk was strange. Pete was hopping around with the X's on his hands. Spitalfield was similar; we were kids playing another style of music who heard Texas Is The Reason and Get Up Kids and said, 'We have to start a band like this.'

MOSTOFI: The first show was a lot of fun. The musical side wasn't there, but Pete and Patrick's humor and charisma were front and center.

TROHMAN: I remember having a conversation with Mani about stage presence. He was telling me how important it was. Coalesce and The Dillinger Escape Plan would throw mic stands and cabinets. We loved that visual excitement and appeal. Years later, Patrick sang a Fall Out Boy song with Taylor Swift at Giants Stadium. It was such a great show to watch that I was reminded of how wise Mani was to give me that advice back then. Mani was like a mentor for me, honestly. He would always guide me through stuff.

MOSTOFI: Those guys grew up in Chicago, either playing in or seeing Extinction, Racetraitor, Los Crudos, and other bands that liked to talk and talk between songs. Fall Out Boy did that, and it was amazing. Patrick was awkward in a knowing and hilarious way. He'd say something odd, and then Pete would zing him. Or Pete would try to say something too cool, and Patrick would remind him they were nerds. These are very personal memories for me. Millions of people have seen the well-oiled machine, but so few of us saw those guys when they were so carefree.

TROHMAN: We had this goofy, bad first show, but all I can tell you was that I was determined to make this band work, no matter what.

STUMP: I kind of assumed that was the end of that. 'Whatever, on with our lives.' But Joe was very determined. He was going to pick us up for practice and we were going to keep playing shows. He was going to make the band happen whether the rest of us wanted to or not. That's how we got past show number one. John left the band because we only had three songs and he wasn't very interested. In the interim, I filled in on guitar. I didn't consider myself a guitar player. Our second show was a college show in Southern Illinois or something.

MCILRITH: That show was with my other band, The Killing Tree.

STUMP: We showed up late and played before The Killing Tree. There was no one there besides the bands and our friends. I think we had voted on some names. Pete said 'Hey, we're whatever!'; probably something very long. And someone yells out, 'Fuck that, no, you're Fall Out Boy!' Then when The Killing Tree was playing, Tim said, 'I want to thank Fall Out Boy.' Everyone looked up to Tim, so when he forced the name on us, it was fine. I was a diehard Simpsons fan, without question. I go pretty deep on The Simpsons. Joe and I would just rattle off Simpsons quotes. I used to do a lot of Simpsons impressions. Ben was very into Simpsons; he had a whole closet full of Simpsons action figures.

"If Only You Knew I Was Terrified" - The Early Recordings, 2002-2003

Wentz's relationships in the hardcore scene led to Fall Out Boy's first official releases. A convoluted and rarely properly explained chain of events resulted in the Fall Out Boy/Project Rocket split EP and Fall Out Boy's Evening Out with Your Girlfriend. Both were issued by California's Uprising Records, whose discography included Racetraitor's first album and the debut EP by Burn It Down. The band traveled to Wisconsin to record their first proper demo with engineer Jared Logan, drummer for Uprising's 7 Angels 7 Plagues.

TROHMAN: This isn't to be confused with the demo we did in Ben's basement, which was like a tape demo. This was our first real demo.

STUMP: Between booking the demo and recording it, we lost Ben Rose. He was the greatest guy, but it wasn't working out musically. Pete and Joe decided I should play drums on the demo. But Jared is a sick drummer, so he just did it.

TROHMAN: We had gotten this great singer but went through a series of drummers that didn't work out. I had to be the one who kicked Ben out. Not long after, our friend Brett Bunting played with us. I don't think he really wanted to do it, which was a bummer.

STUMP: I showed up to record that demo, feeling pulled into it. I liked hanging out with the guys, but I was a rock snob who didn't really want to be making that type of music. The first few songs were really rough. We were sloppy. We barely practiced. Pete was in Arma Angelus. Joe was the guy determined to make it happen. We couldn't keep a drummer or guitar player, and I could barely play guitar. I didn't really want to be in Fall Out Boy. We had these crappy songs that kind of happened; it didn't feel like anything. Joe did the guitars. I go in to do the vocals, I put on the headphones, and it starts playing and was kind of not bad! It was pretty good, actually. I was shocked. That was the first time I was like, 'Maybe I am supposed to be in this band.' I enjoyed hearing it back.

SEAN MUTTAQI: Wentz and I were pretty tight. He sent me some demos, and while I didn't know it would get as big as it did, I knew it was special. Wentz had a clear vision. Of all the guys from that scene, he was the most singularly focused on taking things to the next level. He was ahead of the game with promotion and the early days of social media.

STUMP: Arma Angelus had been on Eulogy. We talked to them a bit and spoke to Uprising because they had put out Racetraitor. At some point, the demo got to Sean, and he decided to make it half of a split with Andy's band, Project Rocket. We were pretty happy with that.

HURLEY: It was kind of competitive for me at the time. Project Rocket and Fall Out Boy were both doing pop-punk/pop-rock, I met Patrick through the band. I didn't really know him before Fall Out Boy.

TROHMAN: We got this drummer, Mike Pareskuwicz, who had been in a hardcore band from Central Illinois called Subsist.

STUMP: Uprising wanted us to make an album. We thought that was cool, but we only had those three songs that were on the split. We were still figuring ourselves out. One of the times we were recording with Jared in the studio, for the split or the album, this guy T.J. Kunasch was there. He was like, 'Hey, do you guys need a guitarist?' And he joined.

MUTTAQI: I borrowed some money to get them back in the studio. The songwriting was cool on that record, but it was all rushed. The urgency to get something out led to the recording being subpar. Their new drummer looked the part but couldn't really play. They had already tracked the drums before they realized it didn't sound so hot.

STUMP: The recording experience was not fun. We had two days to do an entire album. Mike was an awesome dude, but he lived crazy far away, in Kanakee, Illinois, so the drive to Milwaukee wasn't easy for him. He had to work or something the next day. So, he did everything in one take and left. He played alone, without a click, so it was a ness to figure out. We had to guess where the guitar was supposed to go. None of us liked the songs because we had slapped them together. We thought it all sucked. But I thought, 'Well, at least it'll be cool to have something out.' Then a lot of time went by. Smaller labels were at the mercy of money, and it was crazy expensive to put out a record back then.

MUTTAQI: Our record was being rushed out to help generate some interest, but that interest was building before we could even get the record out. We were beholden to finances while changing distribution partners and dealing with other delays. The buck stops with me, yes, but I didn't have that much control over the scheduling.

WENTZ: It's not what I would consider the first Fall Out Boy record. Hurley isn't on it and he's an integral part of the Fall Out Boy sound. But it is part of the history, the legacy. NASA didn't go right to the moon. They did test flights in the desert. Those are our test flights in the desert. It's not something I'm ashamed of or have weird feelings about.

STUMP: It's kind of embarrassing to me. Evening Out... isn't representative of the band we became. I liked Sean a lot, so it's nothing against him. If anybody wants to check out the band in that era, I think the split EP is a lot cooler. Plus, Andy is on that one.

TROHMAN: T.J. was the guy who showed up to the show without a guitar. He was the guy that could never get it right, but he was in the band for a while because we wanted a second guitar player. He's a nice dude but wasn't great to be in a band with back then. One day he drove unprompted from Racine to Chicago to pick up some gear. I don't know how he got into my parents' house, but the next thing I knew, he was in my bedroom. I didn't like being woken up and kicked him out of the band from bed.

STUMP: Our friend Brian Bennance asked us to do a split 7" with 504 Plan, which was a big band to us. Brian offered to pay for us to record with Sean O'Keefe, which was also a big deal. Mike couldn't get the time off work to record with us. We asked Andy to play on the songs. He agreed to do it, but only if he could make it in time after recording an entire EP with his band, The Kill Pill, in Chicago, on the same day.

MOSTOFI: Andy and I started The Kill Pill shortly after Racetraitor split up, not long after Fall Out Boy had formed. We played a bunch of local shows together. The minute Andy finished tracking drums for our EP in Chicago, he raced to the other studio in Madison.

STUMP: I'm getting ready to record the drums myself, getting levels and checking the drums, pretty much ready to go. And then in walks Andy Hurley. I was a little bummed because I really wanted to play drums that day. But then Andy goes through it all in like two takes and fucking nailed the entire thing. He just knocked it out of the park. All of us were like, 'That's crazy!'

WENTZ: When Andy came in, It just felt different. It was one of those 'a-ha' moments.

STUMP: Sean leaned over to us and said, 'You need to get this guy in the band.'

SEAN O'KEEFE: We had a blast. We pumped It out. We did it fast and to analog tape. People believe it was very Pro Tools oriented, but it really was done to 24-track tape. Patrick sang his ass off.

STUMP: The songs we had were 'Dead On Arrival,' 'Saturday,' and 'Homesick at Space Camp. There are quite a few songs that ended up on Take This To You Grave where I wrote most of the lyrics but Pete titled them.

WENTZ: 'Space Camp' was a reference to the 1986 movie, SpaceCamp, and the idea of space camp. Space camp wasn't something anyone in my area went to. Maybe they did, but it was never an option for me. It seems like the little kid version of meeting Jay-Z. The idea was also: what if you, like Joaquin Phoenix in the movie, took off to outer space and wanted to get home? 'I made it to space and now I'm just homesick and want to hang out with my friends.' In the greater sense, it's about having it all, but it's still not enough. There's a pop culture reference in 'Saturday' that a lot of people miss. 'Pete and I attack the lost Astoria' was a reference to The Goonies, which was filmed in Astoria, Oregon.

HURLEY: I remember hearing those recordings, especially 'Dead on Arrival,' and Patrick's voice and how well written those songs were, especially relative to anything else I had done - I had a feeling that this could do something.

WENTZ: It seemed like it would stall out if we didn't get a solid drummer in the band soon. That was the link that we couldn't nail down. Patrick was always a big musical presence. He thinks and writes rhythmi-cally, and we couldn't get a drummer to do what he wanted or speak his language. Hurley was the first one that could. It's like hearing two drummers talk together when they really get it. It sounds like a foreign language because it's not something I'm keyed into. Patrick needed someone on a similar musical plane. I wasn't there. Joe was younger and was probably headed there.

HURLEY: When Patrick was doing harmonies, it was like Queen. He's such a brilliant dude. I was always in bands that did a record and then broke up. I felt like this was a band that could tour a lot like the hardcore bands we loved, even if we had to have day jobs, too.

"(Four) Tired Boys And A Broken Down Van" - The Early Tours, 2002-2003

STUMP: We booked a tour with Spitalfield, another Chicago band, who had records out, so they were a big deal to us. We replaced T.J. with a guy named Brandon Hamm. He was never officially in the band. He quit when we were practicing 'Saturday.' He goes, 'I don't like that. I don't want to do this anymore.' Pete talked with guitarist Chris Envy from Showoff, who had just broken up. Chris said, 'Yeah, I'll play in your band.' He came to two practices, then quit like two days before the tour. It was only a two-week tour, but Mike couldn't get the time off work from Best Buy, or maybe it was Blockbuster. We had to lose Mike, which was the hardest member change for me. It was unpleasant.

TROHMAN: We had been trying to get Andy to join the band for a while. Even back at that first Borders conversation, we talked about him, but he was too busy at the time.

STUMP: I borrowed one of Joe's guitars and jumped in the fire. We were in this legendarily shitty used van Pete had gotten. It belonged to some flower shop, so it had this ominously worn-out flower decal outside and no windows [except in the front]. Crappy brakes, no A/C, missing the rearview mirror, no seats in the back, only the driver's seat. About 10 minutes into the tour, we hit something. A tire exploded and slingshot into the passenger side mirror, sending glass flying into the van. We pulled over into some weird animal petting zoo. I remember thinking, 'This is a bad omen for this tour.' Spitalfield was awesome, and we became tight with them. Drew Brown, who was later in Weekend Nachos, was out with them, too. But most of the shows were canceled.

WENTZ: We'd end up in a town, and our show was canceled, or we'd have three days off. 'Let's just get on whatever show we can. Whatever, you can pay us in pizza.'

STUMP: We played in a pizza place. We basically blocked the line of people trying to order pizza, maybe a foot away from the shitty tables. Nobody is trying to watch a band. They're just there to eat pizza. And that was perhaps the biggest show we played on that tour. One of the best moments on the Spitalfied tour was in Lincoln, Nebraska. The local opener wasn't even there - they were at the bar across the street and showed up later with two people. Fall Out Boy played for Spitalfield, and Spitalfield played for Fall Out Boy. Even the sound guy had left. It was basically an empty room. It was miserable.

HURLEY: Even though we played a ton of shows in front of just the other bands, it was awesome. I've known Pete forever and always loved being in bands with him. After that tour, it was pretty much agreed that I would be in the band. I wanted to be in the band.

WENTZ: We would play literally any show in those days for free. We played Chain Reaction in Orange County with a bunch of metalcore bands. I want to say Underoath was one of them. I remember a lot of black shirts and crossed arms at those kinds of shows. STUMP: One thing that gets lost in the annals of history is Fall Out Boy, the discarded hardcore band. We played so many hardcore shows! The audiences were cool, but they were just like, 'This is OK, but we'd really rather be moshing right now.' Which was better than many of the receptions we got from pop-punk kids.

MOSTOFI: Pete made sure there was little division between the band and the audience. In hardcore, kids are encouraged to grab the mic. Pete was very conscious about making the crowd feel like friends. I saw them in Austin, Texas, in front of maybe ten kids. But it was very clear all ten of those kids felt like Pete's best friends. And they were, in a way.

MCILRITH: People started to get into social networking. That kind of thing was all new to us, and they were way ahead. They networked with their fans before any of us.

MOSTOFI: Pete shared a lot about his life online and was intimate as hell. It was a new type of scene. Pete extended the band's community as far as fiber optics let him.

ROSE: Pete was extremely driven. Looking back, I wish I had that killer instinct. During that tour; we played a show in Colorado. On the day of the show, we went to Kinko's to make flyers to hand out to college kids. Pete put ‘members of Saves The Day and Screeching Weasel’ on the flyer. He was just like, 'This will get people in.'

WENTZ: We booked a lot of our early shows through hardcore connections, and to some extent, that carries through to what Fall Out Boy shows are like today. If you come to see us play live, we're basically Slayer compared to everyone else when we play these pop radio shows. Some of that carries back to what you must do to avoid being heckled at hardcore shows. You may not like our music, but you will leave here respecting us. Not everyone is going to love you. Not everyone is going to give a shit. But you need to earn a crowd's respect. That was an important way for us to learn that.

MOSTOFI: All those dudes, except Andy, lived in this great apartment with our friend Brett Bunting, who was almost their drummer at one point. The proximity helped them gel.

STUMP: There were a lot of renegade last-minute shows where we'd just call and get added. We somehow ended up on a show with Head Automatica that way.

MCILRITH: At some point early on, they opened for Rise Against in a church basement in Downers Grove. We were doing well then; headlining that place was a big deal. Then Pete's band was coming up right behind us, and you could tell there was a lot of chatter about Fall Out Boy. I remember getting to the show, and there were many people there, many of whom I had never seen in the scene before. A lot of unfamiliar faces. A lot of people that wouldn't have normally found their way to the seedy Fireside Bowl in Chicago. These were young kids, and I was 21 then, so when I say young, I mean really young. Clearly, Fall Out Boy had tapped into something the rest of us had not. People were super excited to see them play and freaked out; there was a lot of enthusiasm at that show. After they finished, their fans bailed. They were dedicated. They wanted to see Fall Out Boy. They didn't necessarily want to see Rise Against play. That was my first clue that, 'Whoa, what Pete told me that day at Arma Angelus rehearsal is coming true. He was right.' Whatever he was doing was working.

"My Insides Are Copper, And I'd Like To Make Them Gold" - The Record Labels Come Calling, 2002

STUMP: The split EP was going to be a three-way split with 504 Plan, August Premier, and us at one point. But then the record just never happened. Brian backed out of putting it out. We asked him if we could do something else with the three songs and he didn't really seem to care. So, we started shopping the three songs as a demo. Pete ended up framing the rejection letters we got from a lot of pop-punk labels. But some were interested.

HURLEY: We wanted to be on Drive-Thru Records so bad. That was the label.

RICHARD REINES: After we started talking to them, I found the demo they had sent us in the office. I played it for my sister. We decided everything together. She liked them but wasn't as crazy about them as I was. We arranged with Pete to see them practice. We had started a new label called Rushmore. Fall Out Boy wasn't the best live band. We weren't thrilled [by the showcase]. But the songs were great. We both had to love a band to sign them, so my sister said, 'If you love them so much, let's sign them to Rushmore, not Drive Thru.'

HURLEY: We did a showcase for Richard and Stephanie Reines. They were just kind of like, 'Yeah, we have this side label thing. We'd be interested in having you on that.' I remember them saying they passed on Saves The Day and wished they would have put out Through Being Cool. But then they [basically] passed on us by offering to put us on Rushmore. We realized we could settle for that, but we knew it wasn't the right thing.

RORY FELTON: Kevin Knight had a website, TheScout, which always featured great new bands. I believe he shared the demo with us. I flew out to Chicago. Joe and Patrick picked me up at the airport. I saw them play at a VFW hall, Patrick drank an entire bottle of hot sauce on a dare at dinner, and then we all went to see the movie The Ring. I slept on the couch in their apartment, the one featured on the cover of Take This To Your Grave. Chad [Pearson], my partner, also flew out to meet with the band.

STUMP: It was a weird time to be a band because it was feast or famine. At first, no one wanted us. Then as soon as one label said, 'Maybe we'll give 'em a shot,' suddenly there's a frenzy of phone calls from record labels. We were getting our shirts printed by Victory Records. One day, we went to pick up shirts, and someone came downstairs and said, 'Um, guys? [Owner] Tony [Brummel] wants to see you.' We were like, 'Did we forget to pay an invoice?' He made us an offer on the spot. We said, 'That's awesome, but we need to think about it.' It was one of those 'now or never' kinds of things. I think we had even left the van running. It was that kind of sudden; we were overwhelmed by it.

HURLEY: They told me Tony said something like, 'You can be with the Nike of the record industry or the Keds of the record industry.'

STUMP: We'd get random calls at the apartment. 'Hey, I'm a manager with so-and-so.' I talked to some boy band manager who said, 'We think you'll be a good fit.'

TROHMAN: The idea of a manager was a ‘big-time' thing. I answered a call one day, and this guy is like, 'I'm the manager for the Butthole Surfers, and I'd really like to work with you guys.' I just said, Yeah, I really like the Butthole Surfers, but I'll have to call you back.' And I do love that band. But I just knew that wasn't the right thing.

STUMP: Not all the archetypes you always read about are true. The label guys aren't all out to get you. Some are total douchebags. But then there are a lot who are sweet and genuine. It's the same thing with managers. I really liked the Militia Group. They told us it was poor form to talk to us without a manager. They recommended Bob McLynn.

FELTON: We knew the guys at Crush from working with Acceptance and The Beautiful Mistake. We thought they'd be great for Fall Out Boy, so we sent the music to their team.

STUMP: They said Crush was their favorite management company and gave us their number. Crush's biggest band at the time was American Hi-Fi. Jonathan Daniels, the guy who started the company, sent a manager to see us. The guy was like, "This band sucks!' But Jonathan liked us and thought someone should do something with us. Bob was his youngest rookie manager. He had never managed anyone, and we had never been managed.

BOB MCLYNN: Someone else from my office who isn't with us anymore had seen them, but I hadn't seen them yet. At the time, we'd tried to manage Brand New; they went elsewhere, and I was bummed. Then we got the Fall Out Boy demo, and I was like, Wow. This sounds even better. This guy can really sing, and these songs are great.' I remember going at it hard after that whole thing. Fall Out Boy was my consolation prize. I don't know if they were talking to other managers or not, but Pete and I clicked.

TROHMAN: In addition to being really creative, Pete is really business savvy. We all have a bullshit detector these days, but Pete already had one back then. We met Bob, and we felt like this dude wouldn't fuck us over.

STUMP: We were the misfit toy that nobody else wanted. Bob really believed in us when nobody else did and when nobody believed in him. What's funny is that all the other managers at Crush were gone within a year. It was just Bob and Jonathan, and now they're partners. Bob was the weird New York Hardcore guy who scared me at the time.

TROHMAN: We felt safe with him. He's a big, hulking dude.

MCLYNN: We tried to make a deal with The Militia Group, but they wouldn't back off on a few things in the agreement. I told them those were deal breakers, opening the door to everyone else. I knew this band needed a shot to do bigger and better things.

TROHMAN: He told us not to sign with the label that recommended him to us. We thought there was something very honest about that.

MCLYNN: They paid all their dues. Those guys worked harder than any band I'd ever seen, and I was all about it. I had been in bands before and had just gotten out. I was getting out of the van just as these guys got into one. They busted their asses.

STUMP: A few labels basically said the same thing: they wanted to hear more. They weren't convinced we could write another song as good as 'Dead On Arrival.' I took that as a challenge. We returned to Sean a few months after those initial three songs, this time at Gravity Studios in Chicago. We recorded ‘Grenade Jumper' and 'Grand Theft Autumn/Where is Your Boy' in a night or two. 'Where is Your Boy' was my, 'Fine, you don't think I can write a fucking song? Here's your hit song, jerks!' But I must have pushed Pete pretty hard [arguing about the songs]. One night, as he and I drove with Joe, Pete said, 'Guys, I don't think I want to do this band anymore.' We talked about it for the rest of the ride home. I didn't want to be in the band in the first place! I was like, 'No! That's not fair! Don't leave me with this band! Don't make me kind of like this band, and then leave it! That's bullshit!' Pete didn't stay at the apartment that night. I called him at his parent's house. I told him I wasn't going to do the band without him. He was like, 'Don't break up your band over it.' I said, 'It's not my band. It's a band that you, Joe, and I started.' He was like, 'OK, I'll stick around.' And he came back with a vengeance.

WENTZ: It was maybe the first time we realized we could do these songs titles that didn't have much do with the song from the outside. Grand Theft Auto was such a big pop culture franchise. If you said the phrase back then, everyone recognized it. The play on words was about someone stealing your time in the fall. It was the earliest experimentation with that so it was a little simplistic compared to the stuff we did later. At the time, we'd tell someone the song title, and they'd say, 'You mean "Auto"'?

JOHN JANICK: I saw their name on fliers and thought it was strange. But I remembered it. Then I saw them on a flyer with one of our bands from Chicago, August Premier. I called them and asked about this band whose name I had seen on a few flyers now. They told me they were good and I should check it out. I heard an early version of a song online and instantly fell in love with it. Drive-Thru, The Militia Group, and a few majors tried to sign them. I was the odd man out. But I knew I wanted them right away.

HURLEY: Fueled By Ramen was co-owned by Vinnie [Fiorello] from Less Than Jake. It wasn't necessarily a band I grew up loving, but I had so much respect for them and what they had done and were doing.

JANICK: I randomly cold-called them at the apartment and spoke to Patrick. He told me I had to talk to Pete. I spoke to Pete later that day. We ended up talking on the phone for an hour. It was crazy. I never flew out there. I just got to know them over the phone.

MCLYNN: There were majors [interested], but I didn't want the band on a major right away. I knew they wouldn't understand the band. Rob Stevenson from Island Records knew all the indie labels were trying to sign Fall Out Boy. We did this first-ever incubator sort of deal. I also didn't want to stay on an indie forever; I felt we needed to develop and have a chance to do bigger and better things, but these indies didn't necessarily have radio staff. It was sort of the perfect scenario. Island gave us money to go on Fueled By Ramen, with whom we did a one-off. No one else would offer a one-off on an indie.

STUMP: They were the smallest of the labels involved, with the least 'gloss.' I said, 'I don't know about this, Pete.' Pete was the one who thought it was the smartest move. He pointed out that we could be a big fish in a small pond. So, we rolled the dice.

HURLEY: It was a one-record deal with Fueled By Ramen. We didn't necessarily get signed to Island, but they had the 'right of first refusal' [for the album following Take This To Your Grave]. It was an awesome deal. It was kind of unheard of, maybe, but there was a bunch of money coming from Island that we didn't have to recoup for promo type of things.

JANICK: The company was so focused on making sure we broke Fall Out Boy; any other label probably wouldn't have had that dedication. Pete and I talked for at least an hour every day. Pete and I became so close, so much so that we started Decaydance. It was his thing, but we ended up signing Panic! At The Disco, Gym Class Heroes, Cobra Starship.

GUTIERREZ: Who could predict Pete would A&R all those bands? There's no Panic! At The Disco or Gym Class Heroes without Wentz. He made them into celebrities.

"Turn This Up And I'll Tune You Out" - The Making of Take This To You Grave, 2003

The versions of "Dead on Arrival," "Saturday," and "Homesick at Space Camp" from the first sessions with Andy on drums are what appear on the album. "Grand Theft Autumn/Where is Your Boy" and "Grenade Jumper" are the demo versions recorded later in Chicago. O'Keefe recorded the music for the rest of the songs at Smart Studios once again. They knocked out the remaining songs in just nine days. Sean and Patrick snuck into Gravity Studios in the middle of the night to track vocals in the dead of winter. Patrick sang those seven songs from two to five in the morning in those sessions.

STUMP: John Janick basically said, ‘I'll buy those five songs and we'll make them part of the album, and here's some money to go record seven more.'

MCLYNN: It was a true indie deal with Fueled by Ramen. I think we got between $15,000 and $18,000 all-in to make the album. The band slept on the studio floor some nights.

STUMP: From a recording standpoint, it was amazing. It was very pro, we had Sean, all this gear, the fun studio accoutrements were there. It was competitive with anything we did afterward. But meanwhile, we're still four broke idiots.

WENTZ: We fibbed to our parents about what we were doing. I was supposed to be in school. I didn't have access to money or a credit card. I don't think any of us did.

STUMP: I don't think we slept anywhere we could shower, which was horrifying. There was a girl that Andy's girlfriend at the time went to school with who let us sleep on her floor, but we'd be there for maybe four hours at a time. It was crazy.

HURLEY: Once, Patrick thought it would be a good idea to spray this citrus bathroom spray under his arms like deodorant. It just destroyed him because it's not made for that. But it was all an awesome adventure.

WENTZ: We were so green we didn't really know how studios worked. Every day there was soda for the band. We asked, 'Could you take that soda money and buy us peanut butter, jelly, and bread?' which they did. I hear that stuff in some ways when I listen to that album.

HURLEY: Sean pushed us. He was such a perfectionist, which was awesome. I felt like, ‘This is what a real professional band does.' It was our first real studio experience.

WENTZ: Seeing the Nirvana Nevermind plaque on the wall was mind-blowing. They showed us the mic that had been used on that album.

HURLEY: The mic that Kurt Cobain used, that was pretty awesome, crazy, legendary, and cool. But we didn't get to use it.

WENTZ: They said only Shirley Manson] from Garbage could use it.

O'KEEFE: Those dudes were all straight edge at the time. It came up in conversation that I had smoked weed once a few months before. That started this joke that I was this huge stoner, which obviously I wasn't. They'd call me 'Scoobie Snacks O'Keefe' and all these things. When they turned in the art for the record, they thanked me with like ten different stoner nicknames - 'Dimebag O'Keefe' and stuff like that. The record company made Pete take like seven of them out because they said it was excessively ridiculous.

WENTZ: Sean was very helpful. He worked within the budget and took us more seriously than anyone else other than Patrick. There were no cameras around. There was no documentation. There was nothing to indicate this would be some ‘legendary' session. There are 12 songs on the album because those were all the songs we had. There was no pomp or circumstance or anything to suggest it would be an 'important’ record.

STUMP: Pete and I were starting to carve out our niches. When Pete [re-committed himself to the band], it felt like he had a list of things in his head he wanted to do right. Lyrics were on that list. He wasn't playing around anymore. I wrote the majority of the lyrics up to that point - ‘Saturday,' 'Dead on Arrival,' ‘Where's Your Boy?,’ ‘Grenade Jumper,' and ‘Homesick at Space Camp.' I was an artsy-fartsy dude who didn't want to be in a pop-punk band, so I was going really easy on the lyrics. I wasn't taking them seriously. When I look back on it, I did write some alright stuff. But I wasn't trying. Pete doesn't fuck around like that, and he does not take that kindly. When we returned to the studio, he started picking apart every word, every syllable. He started giving me [notes]. I got so exasperated at one point I was like, ‘You just write the fucking lyrics, dude. Just give me your lyrics, and I'll write around them.' Kind of angrily. So, he did. We hadn't quite figured out how to do it, though. I would write a song, scrap my lyrics, and try to fit his into where mine had been. It was exhausting. It was a rough process. It made both of us unhappy.

MCLYNN: I came from the post-hardcore scene in New York and wasn't a big fan of the pop-punk stuff happening. What struck me with these guys was the phenomenal lyrics and Patrick's insane voice. Many guys in these kinds of bands can sing alright, but Patrick was like a real singer. This guy had soul. He'd take these great lyrics Pete wrote and combine it with that soul, and that's what made their unique sound. They both put their hearts on their sleeves when they wrote together.

STUMP: We had a massive fight over 'Chicago is So Two Years Ago.' I didn't even want to record that song. I was being precious with things that were mine. Part of me thought the band wouldn't work out, and I'd go to college and do some music alone. I had a skeletal version of 'Chicago...'. I was playing it to myself in the lobby of the studio. I didn't know anyone was listening. Sean was walking by and wanted to [introduce it to the others]. I kind of lost my song. I was very precious about it. Pete didn't like some of the lyrics, so we fought. We argued over each word, one at a time. 'Tell That Mick...' was also a pretty big fight. Pete ended up throwing out all my words on that one. That was the first song where he wrote the entire set of lyrics. My only change was light that smoke' instead of ‘cigarette' because I didn't have enough syllables to say 'cigarette.' Everything else was verbatim what he handed to me. I realized I must really want to be in this band at this point if I'm willing to put up with this much fuss. The sound was always more important to me - the rhythm of the words, alliteration, syncopation - was all very exciting. Pete didn't care about any of that. He was all meaning. He didn't care how good the words sounded if they weren't amazing when you read them. Man, did we fight about that. We fought for nine days straight while not sleeping and smelling like shit. It was one long argument, but I think some of the best moments resulted from that.

WENTZ: In 'Calm Before the Storm,' Patrick wrote the line, 'There's a song on the radio that says, 'Let's Get This Party Started' which is a direct reference to Pink's 2001 song 'Get the Party Started.' 'Tell That Mick He Just Made My List of Things to Do Today' is a line from the movie Rushmore. I thought we'd catch a little more flack for that, but even when we played it in Ireland, there was none of that. It's embraced, more like a shoutout.

STUMP: Pete and I met up on a lot of the same pop culture. He was more into '80s stuff than I was. One of the first things we talked about were Wes Anderson movies.

WENTZ: Another thing driving that song title was the knowledge that our fanbase wouldn't necessarily be familiar with Wes Anderson. It could be something that not only inspired us but something fans could also go check out. People don't ask us about that song so much now, but in that era, we'd answer and tell them to go watch Rushmore. You gotta see this movie. This line is a hilarious part of it.' Hopefully some people did. I encountered Jason Schwartzman at a party once. We didn't get to talk about the movie, but he was the sweetest human, and I was just geeking out. He told me he was writing a film with Wes Anderson about a train trip in India. I wanted to know about the writing process. He was like, 'Well, he's in New York City, I'm in LA. It's crazy because I'm on the phone all the time and my ear gets really hot.' That's the anecdote I got, and I loved it.

O'KEEFE: They're totally different people who approach making music from entirely different angles. It's cool to see them work. Pete would want a certain lyric. Patrick was focused on the phrasing. Pete would say the words were stupid and hand Patrick a revision, and Patrick would say I can't sing those the way I need to sing this. They would go through ten revisions for one song. I thought I would lose my mind with both of them, but then they would find it, and it would be fantastic. When they work together, it lights up. It takes on a life of its own. It's not always happy. There's a lot of push and pull, and each is trying to get their thing. With Take This To Your Grave, we never let anything go until all three of us were happy. Those guys were made to do this together.

WENTZ: A lot of the little things weren't a big deal, but those were things that [felt like] major decisions. I didn't want 'Where Is Your Boy' on Take This To Your Grave.

JANICK: I freaked out. I called Bob and said, 'We must put this song on the album! It's one of the biggest songs.' He agreed. We called Pete and talked about it; he was cool about it and heard us out.

WENTZ: I thought many things were humongous, and they just weren't. They didn't matter one way or another.

"Our Lawyer Made Us Change The (Album Cover)" - That Photo On Take This To Your Grave, 2003

STUMP: The band was rooted in nostalgia from early on. The '80s references were very much Pete's aesthetic. He had an idea for the cover. It ended up being his girlfriend at the time, face down on the bed, exhausted, in his bedroom. That was his bedroom in our apartment. His room was full of toys, '80s cereals. If we ended up with the Abbey Road cover of pop-punk, that original one was Sgt. Pepper's. But we couldn't legally clear any of the stuff in the photo. Darth Vader, Count Chocula…

WENTZ: There's a bunch of junk in there: a Morrissey poster, I think a Cher poster, Edward Scissorhands. We submitted it to Fueled by Ramen, and they were like, 'We can't clear any of this stuff.’ The original album cover did eventually come out on the vinyl version.

STUMP: The photo that ended up being the cover was simply a promo photo for that album cycle. We had to scramble. I was pushing the Blue Note jazz records feel. That's why the CD looks a bit like vinyl and why our names are listed on the front. I wanted a live photo on the cover. Pete liked the Blue Note idea but didn't like the live photo idea. I also made the fateful decision to have my name listed as 'Stump' rather than Stumph.

WENTZ: What we used was initially supposed to be the back cover. I remember someone in the band being pissed about it forever. Not everyone was into having our names on the cover. It was a strange thing to do at the time. But had the original cover been used, it wouldn't have been as iconic as what we ended up with. It wouldn't have been a conversation piece. That stupid futon in our house was busted in the middle. We're sitting close to each other because the futon was broken. The exposed brick wall was because it was the worst apartment ever. It makes me wonder: How many of these are accidental moments? At the time, there was nothing iconic about it. If we had a bigger budget, we probably would have ended up with a goofier cover that no one would have cared about.

STUMP: One of the things I liked about the cover was that it went along with something Pete had always said. I'm sure people will find this ironic, but Pete had always wanted to create a culture with the band where it was about all four guys and not just one guy. He had the foresight to even think about things like that. I didn't think anyone would give a fuck about our band! At the time, it was The Pete Wentz Band to most people. With that album cover, he was trying to reject that and [demonstrate] that all four of us mattered. A lot of people still don't get that, but whatever. I liked that element of the cover. It felt like a team. It felt like Voltron. It wasn't what I like to call 'the flying V photo' where the singer is squarely in the center, the most important, and everyone else is nearest the camera in order of 'importance.' The drummer would be in the very back. Maybe the DJ guy who scratches records was behind the drummer.

"You Need Him. I Could Be Him. Where Is Your Boy Tonight?" - The Dynamics of Punk Pop's Fab 4, 2003

Patrick seemed like something of the anti-frontman, never hogging the spotlight and often shrinking underneath his baseball hat. Wentz was more talkative, more out front on stage and in interviews, in a way that felt unprecedented for a bass player who wasn't also singing. In some ways, Fall Out Boy operated as a two-headed dictatorship. Wentz and Stump are in the car's front seat while Joe and Andy ride in the back.

STUMP: There is a lot of truth to that. Somebody must be in the front seat, no question. But the analogy doesn't really work for us; were more like a Swiss Army knife. You've got all these different attachments, but they are all part of the same thing. When you need one specific tool, the rest go back into the handle. That was how the band functioned and still does in many ways. Pete didn't want anyone to get screwed. Some things we've done might not have been the best business decision but were the right human decision. That was very much Pete's thing. I was 19 and very reactionary. If someone pissed me off, I'd be like, 'Screw them forever!' But Pete was very tactful. He was the business guy. Joe was active on the internet. He wouldn't stop believing in this band. He was the promotions guy. Andy was an honest instrumentalist: ‘I'm a drummer, and I'm going to be the best fucking drummer I can be.' He is very disciplined. None of us were that way aside from him. I was the dictator in the studio. I didn't know what producing was at the time or how it worked, but in retrospect, I've produced a lot of records because I'm an asshole in the studio. I'm a nice guy, but I'm not the nicest guy in the studio. It's a lot easier to know what you don't want. We carved out those roles early. We were very dependent on each other.

MCLYNN: I remember sitting in Japan with those guys. None of them were drinking then, but I was drinking plenty. It was happening there, their first time over, and all the shows were sold out. I remember looking at Pete and Patrick and telling Pete, ‘You're the luckiest guy in the world because you found this guy.' Patrick laughed. Then I turned to Patrick and said the same thing to him. Because really, they're yin and yang. They fit together so perfectly. The fact that Patrick found this guy with this vision, Pete had everything for the band laid out in his mind. Patrick, how he can sing, and what he did with Pete's lyrics - no one else could have done that. We tried it, even with the Black Cards project in 2010. We'd find these vocalists. Pete would write lyrics, and they'd try to form them into songs, but they just couldn't do it the way Patrick could. Pete has notebooks full of stuff that Patrick turns into songs. Not only can he sing like that, but how he turns those into songs is an art unto itself. It's really the combination of those two guys that make Fall Out Boy what it is. They're fortunate they found each other.

"I Could Walk This Fine Line Between Elation And Success. We All Know Which Way I'm Going To Strike The Stake Between My Chest" - Fall Out Boy Hits the Mainstream, 2003

Released on May 6, 2003, Take This To Your Grave massively connected with fans. (Fall Out Boy's Evening Out with Your Girlfriend arrived in stores less than two months earlier.) While Take This To Your Grave didn't crack the Billboard 200 upon its release, it eventually spent 30 weeks on the charts. From Under the Cork Tree debuted in the Top 10 just two years later, largely on Grave's momentum. 2007's Infinity on High bowed at #1.

WENTZ: I remember noticing it was getting insane when we would do in-stores. We'd still play anywhere. That was our deal. We liked being able to sell our stuff in the stores, too. It would turn into a riot. We played a Hollister at the mall in Schaumburg, Illinois. A lot of these stores were pretty corporate with a lot of rules, but Hollister would let us rip. Our merch guy was wearing board shorts, took this surfboard off the wall, and started crowd-surfing with it during the last song. I remember thinking things had gotten insane right at that moment.

HURLEY: When we toured with Less Than Jake, there were these samplers with two of their songs and two of ours. Giving those out was a surreal moment. To have real promotion for a record... It wasn't just an ad in a 'zine or something. It was awesome.

MCLYNN: They toured with The Reunion Show, Knockout, and Punch-line. One of their first big tours as an opening act was with MEST. There would be sold-out shows with 1,000 kids, and they would be singing along to Fall Out Boy much louder than to MEST. It was like, 'What's going on here?' It was the same deal with Less Than Jake. It really started catching fire months into the album being out. You just knew something was happening. As a headliner, they went from 500-capacity clubs to 1500 - 2000 capacity venues.

WENTZ: We always wanted to play The Metro in Chicago. It got awkward when they started asking us to play after this band or that band. There were bands we grew up with that were now smaller than us. Headlining The Metro was just wild. My parents came.

MCLYNN: There was a week on Warped Tour, and there was some beel because these guys were up-and-comers, and some of the bands that were a little more established weren't too happy. They were getting a little shit on Warped Tour that week, sort of their initiation. They were on this little, shitty stage. So many kids showed up to watch them in Detroit, and the kids rushed the stage, and it collapsed. The PA failed after like three songs. They finished with an acapella, 'Where is Your Boy,’ and the whole crowd sang along.

WENTZ: That's when every show started ending in a riot because it couldn't be contained. We ended up getting banned from a lot of venues because the entire crowd would end up onstage. It was pure energy. We'd be billed on tour as the opening band, and the promoter would tell us we had to close the show or else everyone would leave after we played. We were a good band to have that happen to because there wasn't any ego. We were just like, "Oh, that's weird.' It was just bizarre. When my parents saw it was this wid thing, they said, 'OK, yeah, maybe take a year off from college.' That year is still going on.

MCLYNN: That Warped Tour was when the band's first big magazine cover, by far, hit the stands. I give a lot of credit to Norman Wonderly and Mike Shea at Alternative Press. They saw what was happening with Fall Out Boy and were like, 'We know it's early with you guys, but we want to give you a cover.' It was the biggest thing to happen to any of us. It really helped kick it to another level. It helped stoke the fires that were burning. This is back when bands like Green Day, Blink-182, and No Doubt still sold millions of records left and right. It was a leap of faith for AP to step out on Fall Out Boy the way they did.

STUMP: That was our first big cover. It was crazy. My parents flipped out. That wasn't a small zine. It was a magazine my mom could find in a bookstore and tell her friends. It was a shocking time. It's still like that. Once the surrealism starts, it never ends. I was onstage with Taylor Swift ten years later. That statement just sounds insane. It's fucking crazy. But when I was onstage, I just fell into it. I wasn't thinking about how crazy it was until afterward. It was the same thing with the AP cover. We were so busy that it was just another one of those things we were doing that day. When we left, I was like, 'Holy fuck! We're on the cover of a magazine! One that I read! I have a subscription to that!'

HURLEY: Getting an 'In The Studio' blurb was a big deal. I remember seeing bands 'in the studio' and thinking, Man, I would love to be in that and have people care that we're in the studio.' There were more minor things, but that was our first big cover.

STUMP: One thing I remember about the photo shoot is I was asked to take off my hat. I was forced to take it off and had been wearing that hat for a while. I never wanted to be the lead singer. I always hoped to be a second guitarist with a backup singer role. I lobbied to find someone else to be the proper singer. But here I was, being the lead singer, and I fucking hated it. When I was a drummer, I was always behind something. Somehow the hat thing started. Pete gave me a hat instead of throwing it away - I think it's the one I'm wearing on the cover of Take This To Your Grave. It became like my Linus blanket. I had my hat, and I could permanently hide. You couldn't see my eyes or much of me, and I was very comfortable that way. The AP cover shoot was the first time someone asked me to remove it. My mom has a poster of that cover in her house, and every time I see it, I see the fear on my face - just trying to maintain composure while filled with terror and insecurity. ‘Why is there a camera on me?'

JANICK: We pounded the pavement every week for two years. We believed early on that something great was going to happen. As we moved to 100,000 and 200,000 albums, there were points where everything was tipping. When they were on the cover of Alternative Press. When they did Warped for five days, and the stage collapsed. We went into Christmas with the band selling 2000 to 3000 a week and in the listening stations at Hot Topic. Fueled By Ramen had never had anything like that before.

MOSTOFI: Pete and I used to joke that if he weren't straight edge, he would have likely been sent to prison or worse at some point before Fall Out Boy. Pete has a predisposition to addictive behavior and chemical dependency. This is something we talked about a lot back in the day. Straight Edge helped him avoid some of the traps of adolescence.

WENTZ: I was straight edge at the time. I don't think our band would have been so successful without that. The bands we were touring with were partying like crazy. Straight Edge helped solidify the relationship between the four of us. We were playing for the love of music, not for partying or girls or stuff like that. We liked being little maniacs running around. Hurley and I were kind of the younger brothers of the hardcore kids we were in bands with. This was an attempt to get out of that shadow a little bit. Nobody is going to compare this band to Racetraitor. You know when you don't want to do exactly what your dad or older brother does? There was a little bit of that.

"Take This To Your Grave, And I'll Take It To Mine" - The Legacy of Take This To Your Grave, 2003-2023

Take This To Your Grave represents a time before the paparazzi followed Wentz to Starbucks, before marriages and children, Disney soundtracks, and all the highs and lows of an illustrious career. The album altered the course for everyone involved with its creation. Crush Music added Miley Cyrus, Green Day, and Weezer to their roster. Fueled By Ramen signed Twenty One Pilots, Paramore, A Day To Remember, and All Time Low.

STUMP: I'm so proud of Take This To Your Grave. I had no idea how much people were going to react to it. I didn't know Fall Out Boy was that good of a band. We were this shitty post-hardcore band that decided to do a bunch of pop-punk before I went to college, and Pete went back to opening for Hatebreed. That was the plan. Somehow this record happened. To explain to people now how beautiful and accidental that record was is difficult. It seems like it had to have been planned, but no, we were that shitty band that opened for 25 Ta Life.

HURLEY: We wanted to make a record as perfect as Saves The Day's Through Being Cool. A front-to-back perfect collection of songs. That was our obsession with Take This To Your Grave. We were just trying to make a record that could be compared in any way to that record. There's just something special about when the four of us came together.

WENTZ: It blows my mind when I hear people talking about Take This To Your Grave or see people including it on lists because it was just this tiny personal thing. It was very barebones. That was all we had, and we gave everything we had to it. Maybe that's how these big iconic bands feel about those records, too. Perhaps that's how James Hetfield feels when we talk about Kill 'Em All. That album was probably the last moment many people had of having us as their band that their little brother didn't know about. I have those feelings about certain bands, too. 'This band was mine. That was the last time I could talk about them at school without anyone knowing who the fuck I was talking about.' That was the case with Take This To Your Grave.

TROHMAN: Before Save Rock N' Roll, there was a rumor that we would come back with one new song and then do a Take This To Your Grave tenth-anniversary tour. But we weren't going to do what people thought we would do. We weren't going to [wear out] our old material by just returning from the hiatus with a Take This To Your Grave tour.

WENTZ: We've been asked why we haven't done a Take This To Your Grave tour. In some ways, it's more respectful not to do that. It would feel like we were taking advantage of where that record sits, what it means to people and us.

HURLEY: When Metallica released Death Magnetic, I loved the record, but I feel like Load and Reload were better in a way, because you knew that's what they wanted to do.

TROHMAN: Some people want us to make Grave again, but I'm not 17. It would be hard to do something like that without it being contrived. Were proud of those songs. We know that’s where we came from. We know the album is an important part of our history.

STUMP: There's always going to be a Take This To Your Grave purist fan who wants that forever: But no matter what we do, we cannot give you 2003. It'll never happen again. I know the feeling, because I've lived it with my favorite bands, too. But there's a whole other chunk of our fans who have grown with us and followed this journey we're on. We were this happy accident that somehow came together. It’s tempting to plagarize yourself. But it’s way more satisfying and exciting to surprise yourself.

MCILRITH: Fall Out Boy is an important band for so many reasons. I know people don't expect the singer of Rise Against to say that, but they really are. If nothing else, they created so much dialog and conversation within not just a scene but an international scene. They were smart. They got accused of being this kiddie pop punk band, but they did smart things with their success. I say that, especially as a guy who grew up playing in the same Chicago hardcore bands that would go on and confront be-ing a part of mainstream music. Mainstream music and the mainstream world are machines that can chew your band up if you don't have your head on straight when you get into it. It's a fast-moving river, and you need to know what direction you're going in before you get into it. If you don't and you hesitate, it'll take you for a ride. Knowing those guys, they went into it with a really good idea. That's something that the hardcore instilled in all of us. Knowing where you stand on those things, we cut our teeth on the hardcore scene, and it made us ready for anything that the world could throw at us, including the giant music industry.

[invisibleicewands]

Bringing revolution to Port Talbot - by Michael Sheen

On a recent February morning, I woke up to find I was wrong. Not a particularly uncommon experience in itself, but unusual to discover that on this occasion I was being publicly accused of it by the Secretary of State for Business and Trade. “Michael Sheen has said that ‘the people of Port Talbot have been let down’,” Kemi Badenoch wrote in the Daily Mail. “But he is wrong.”

It was a big day. I spent all of last year directing a three-part drama series for the BBC called The Way, which was to air that night. It begins in my hometown of Port Talbot, where a strike at the local steelworks becomes the spark that ignites a violent descent into national chaos. Clearly, Ms Badenoch had been given a sneak peek of the series before forming quite a strong opinion on it. But no: reading her article, Ms Badenoch admits that she hadn’t watched it at all. Why let a total lack of information prevent a full-throated denouncement, eh? Presumably, she also assumes that we managed to write, film and edit the entire series after Tata Steel announced the imminent loss of some 2,500 jobs at the steelworks mere weeks ago.

While the winds of change have only been blowing in one direction for many years, the events in our story were dreamed up some years ago and act as a fictional catalyst for all that follows. Surely even Tory ministers understand there is no VIP fast lane for making a TV series. This isn’t a PPE contract, after all…

Nothing to see here

After that episode aired, it occurred to me that such shenanigans in the right-wing press could have been about a couple of things. Since the ITV drama about the Post Office scandal, Mr Bates vs The Post Office, caused public outrage, I imagine the government has a new fear of the impact a TV show can have. A pre-emptive strike against a series it perceives to be criticising its actions around the steel industry must have seemed a useful tactic. And, having seen Breathtaking – based on Rachel Clarke’s memoir of how the Covid crisis unfolded in the NHS, which aired on ITV the same night as The Way – I wonder if her piece was an attempt to distract attention away from more dangerous territory.

It gave Ms Badenoch a chance to trot out her line about how the people of Port Talbot should be grateful for all that the government is doing to save the steel industry, not moaning about the impact job losses will have on their community. But the people of Port Talbot have been let down, no matter what Ms Badenoch wants us to think. Not by any single entity, but by years of neglect. That she immediately assumed my comments referred to her and her government tells its own story. In the words of a much older drama than mine: the lady doth protest too much, methinks.

Then and Nye

“This crisis is a privateering racket with your friends lining their pockets!” No, not an accusation against Boris Johnson, but something I currently say to Winston Churchill every night. We opened a new play called Nye at the National Theatre this week. I play Aneurin (“Nye”) Bevan, who attacks the prime minister for turning a wartime crisis into a money-making scheme for him and his cronies. It’s one of many moments in the play that seem to speak to past and present at the same time.

The entanglement of “now” and “then” is heightened by the fact that I am wearing pyjamas. Nye is lying unconscious in his hospital bed at the end of his life, and we follow him through a dream of his past. He wanders from childhood memories of overcoming his stutter in Tredegar library to his meteoric rise through local politics, to becoming the youngest member of Clement Attlee’s pioneering postwar cabinet. And, of course, as minister for health, his tumultuous birthing of the NHS on 5 July 1948. It’s an extraordinary, surprising and moving experience telling this story on stage each night. That shared space between actors and audience, where all is felt but unseen, crackles with electricity.

Once more, with feeling

It seems that exploring the motives of politicians, the uses and abuses of political power, and the quest for justice that saw the creation of the NHS taps into deep wells of emotion. Like the pockets of gas that miners feared within the coal seam, their release brings risk and reward. At a recent show, we had three instances of people needing to be helped out of the theatre, the final one forcing us to pause the show moments from its end. Thankfully, it was nothing more serious than someone fainting. But emotions are running high.

I’m more than happy to invite Ms Badenoch to a performance. But I realise, of course, there’s no guarantee she would make it to the end.

[billthedrake]

This is a story I wrote years ago and always thought I’d develop into something much longer. I never did, so just decided to post it as is, in two parts.

THE AD AND SON (PART ONE)

Brian Casey stirred awake. It was a week before daylight savings time and the daylight peeked in through the crack in the bedroom drapes before 6:30 now. A year earlier, Brian would never wake up that early, and if it hadn't been for Calc I his freshman year, he'd have had no reason to get up before 9.

But now it was his routine. Though he didn't like that word. Routine implied something drab and dull, but this was anything but.

The sophomore stretched out in the covers. He could still feel the warm on the other side of the queen bed, and smell the scent of his father on the sheets and pillow. This morning Brian rolled over and took in a hit of that scent. If he wasn't already erect, that trace of his dad, half cologne, half just the scent of a full-blooded man, would make him hard as fuck. But at 19, a month shy of 20, he never failed to have morning wood. He could fuck all night or have a multiple stroke-off session and still wake up hard as iron.

Like this morning. He took one look at the clock. 6:45. "Damn," he said aloud, to no one, in his morning voice. A voice which was deeper now that he was in college. A man's voice.

He pushed the covers off, exposing his toned body and teen boner to the cool air. A year and a half of college had done wonders for Brian's body. Crew in the fall and spring, weight training in the off season. His father, an ex-jock himself, had given him good genes and Brian had run with them.

He padded down the hall and found his father where he expected him, in the kitchen/open living area of the modest 2-bedroom house, drinking his coffee and reading the paper. He was dressed in his customary conservative suit and tie. The man looked up when he noticed Brian's presence.

"Morning, son," Dan Casey greeted with a grin. He set down the coffee mug and folded the paper, laying it on the counter. He took a second to admire his flesh and blood. An inch taller than Dan and beautifully proportioned, but still definitely with that collegiate youth that made Dan wonder what he saw in his old man. "Fuck," he whispered in appreciation.

"You got time to give me head?" Brian asked, in a deep soft voice. This part had taken a while to come, the confidence to speak freely about it, and to order his dad around sexually. Now it was his favorite part. Well, almost.

"Oh yeah," Dan replied and unbuttoned his dress shirt, unloosening his tie a little. Then he crouched down right there in the kitchen and ran his hands up his son's legs, leaning forward to lick, then swallow the erect cock.

"Oh Dad," Brian hissed, pushing his hips forward slightly to guide his dick into the father's welcoming mouth. His dad was good at this, so good, and scarcely a day went by when Dan didn't service the young stud. Brian bit his lip and held off his initial impulse to cum quickly. There were times when Dan took advantage of his son's eagerness and excitement to milk the cum out in a few sucks, but if Brian could get over that initial sensation then his hair trigger abated and he could enjoy the amazing incestuous blow job.

Thinking back, he wondered why he'd been resistant. Not of his father or the taboo of their sexual connection. That came impulsively, almost naturally, a few years back. But both Casey men had tried to compartmentalize it. It helped that the divorced father lived in a different state, with a new assistant athletic director job at a Division I university. Sex was something for special occasions, when Brian came to visit on a long weekend, or over the summer.

Now, Brian was at the same university - the free tuition made it a no-brainer - and for their first year they'd set down ground rules. Sex only once a month, and while Dan expected Brian would be around to meet up for dinners and some father-son time, he also expected his freshman son to live his own life and to enjoy college. Meet new friends. Date.

That plan lasted until February, when father and son found themselves having sex much more frequently. And finally, Dan got the nerve up to ask if Brian wanted to live with him the next year. "I have a spare bedroom sitting empty," he added, but his son was cutting off his words, meeting him in a kiss. Their first. And it led to a heated session in Dan's bed where Brian lost his cherry.

Turns out the guest bedroom would remain unused.

Brian looked down now. His dad, who at 46, was hot as fuck. Built from his lacrosse days and carrying the demeanor of a lax coach, he was also more distinguished now in his new job.

"God you like my dick, Dad, don't ya?" the stud asked, and Dan moaned his agreement around the thick Casey cock filling his mouth and throat. Dan sometimes thought his boy was better hung than he was, but it was a close call.

"I can tell. You suck me off every morning. And I never get sick of it either. It's what I look forward to when I wake up. My father going down on me, making me feel like a man."

Dan spit out Brian's prick and grunted. "You are a man, son. I love sucking your babies down." With that he swallowed his offspring's meat and started working it with his mouth at a furious pace that triggered Brian's nut.

"Aw Dad, aw FUCK!!" he growled as he held on to the suit-covered shoulders and spurted his semen into Dan's hungry mouth. "Take my fucking cum, sir. Oh Fuck!" He came down from the intense orgasm as his father licked the dribbles softly before backing away.

Dan stood up and met his son in a soft kiss, sharing the taste of the Casey semen. "Fuck, that's hot," he finally said with a grin, gripping the erection in his suit to rearrange it into a more comfortable position. It was by now established that Dan liked to wait until the evening to get his release, whereas Brian had the stamina to get off three, four times a day.

"I'll say," Brian said, stepping back to take in just how handsome his dad was. "Gets hotter each time."

"I think you cum more, too," Dan said. Like Brian he now basked in the ability to talk so openly with his son, even after the heat of sex.

He picked up his phone and took a look at the time. "I gotta be off in a few." He took a sip from his coffee. It had gone cool, but the morning sex with his boy was worth it. "Listen... what do you have going on next week?"

Next week was spring break. The previous year, Brian had gone to the Caribbean with some buddies, but he had nothing planned this year. "Just laying low I guess."

"I hope you didn't decide to forgo a trip on my account..." Dan started, but his son interrupted.

"Dad, come on," Brian said with exasperation. "I just didn't feel like going anywhere this year. Jeez."

Dan gave Bri a serious "Dad" look to communicate that he understood. "Well, we can stay here if you like, but I was thinking... it might be cool to go up to the mountain for the week. I could use a little vacation, and this week is generally quiet at work." This was a big difference between the two men. Dan loved the mountains, even in the cold weather, whereas his son was more a warm beach kind of guy. One of the first things he did when starting the job was buy that second home an hour and a half from the college town where he lived.

"Sounds awesome, Dad," Brian replied. "Any chance we're gonna fuck like bunnies up there?" He asked with a smirk.

Dan laughed, picking up his phone and putting in his suit pocket. He really had to get to work. "I have a feeling we'd be fucking like bunnies even if we stayed here. But I like the idea of us Casey men getting plenty of alone time and letting loose a little." Dan's guilt had now receded, but this was the one thing left that bugged him about the relationship with Brian. That he couldn't be open and that the two had to be extra guarded all the time.

"In that case, it's a date. You and me in the fucking cold all next week," Brian wisecracked with a smile. He stepped forward and met his father in a soft kiss. "All right, you're going to be late, Dad. Have a good day."

"You too, Brian. Love you, kiddo."

"Love you, too, sir."

****

Brian and Dan unloaded the car. Dan had taken the Friday off and they'd left town early. A day earlier a snowstorm had dumped a good amount across the state and Dan offered to forgo the plan, but Brian was having none of it.

"Come on, Dad," he said, massaging his father's knotted traps through the man's T-shirt. "You like the snow... it'll be fun."

"I guess I have the 4 wheel drive and winter tires for a reason," the man smiled. He'd owe Brian a proper beach trip this summer.

It had turned out to be a sunny day when they went up, warmer than the previous, though at elevation the air still felt brisk and damp.

Dan's mountain place was something between a house and a cabin. A smaller A-frame structure next to a lake, it had a simple exterior but with all the amenities inside, including a big screen TV and extra fridge. Brian stocked it with the two cases of beer they'd brought. He was happy his father had picked up some craft beer instead of the domestic lager he typically went for. "Expecting a party, Dad?" he teased.

Dan was unpacking several grocery bags worth of food. Steak, chicken, bacon, milk, eggs, sides... and enough ingredients to cook for the week. "Just don't feel like running out. The next town's a half hour away, and the roads might get snowy." The forecase was calling for rain back home this week, but that meant snow up here.

When Dan was done, he took their duffel bags to the bedroom, reflecting on how it seemed such a major step the first night Brian had slept in his bed. His heart beat excitedly and yeah, his dick hung heavier in his jeans. "Easy Danny boy," he thought to himself, "you're getting ahead of yourself."

He was in a lusty state of mind when he rejoined Brian in the living room and the sight of his son didn't help. The boy had taken off his puffy coat and stood at the plate glass window wearing his long-sleeve crew-logo shirt and a pair of faded jeans. All of Brian was beautiful but the backside was the best, Dan decided. The broad shoulders, the sculpted powerful back muscle, and the round ass. He stepped up and placed his hands affectionately on his son's shoulders.

"I bet you'd prefer it up here in the summer," Dan said about the lake they could see straight ahead.

"It's beautiful now," Brian replied, looking back at his father. Seeing his dad's odd expression, he said, "What?"

"Where's the sullen teenager that's my son?" Dan smirked. It was true. A couple of years earlier, Brian would have been grumpy the whole trip.

Now the college jock laughed. "All grown up, Dad." With that he turned his head and met Dan in a kiss. Not soft, but not hard. Dan knew his boy definitely had sex on his mind, too.

Their tongues battled and swatted against one another as they embraced. Already, Brian's fingers were tracing beneath the hem of his father's shirt, feeling the warm flesh and hard muscle beneath. "No one around but us this week, Dad," he grunted softly and started kissing along the length of his father's strong neck, up to the man's ear.

The young jock was right. With no ski resort near, this was more of a summer vacation area.

"God yeah," Dan moaned. He hadn't been sure Brian would go for this, but the fact that his son was on the same wavelength as him excited the hell out of him.

"No one to bother us," the teen continued. "We get to fuck... and make out... and hang out... and do it all again."

"Oh Bri," Dan gasped, starting to hump his son's crotch while his hands went to cup the stud's perfect ass.

Brian smirked at the positive reaction of his words. He'd normally feel like a doofus spouting such sex talk, but the way his dad responded egged him on. "I wanna fucking feel and kiss and lick every inch of my father's body. Get to know you, sir. And you know me. Like it was our first time."

"I want that, too," Dan growled. "Want to learn where my son's magic spots are." He pulled back and stripped off his shirt, almost giggling as his son matched the action, baring a chest that was starting to get a dusting of light brown hair, a shade darker than Dan's own, which was somewhere between dirty blond and light brown.

Brian reached down and started undoing his jeans and now father was the one copying son. "I think you know my magic spot, Dad," Brian said with a straight face. "About five inches up my ass. You get your cock up there and I go wild."

Their lips crashed together in a kiss that was definitely hard and excited. Their jeans and briefs came down and their bare cocks pressed against one another, communicating their mutual need and lust.

"You gonna fuck me Dad?" Brian huffed. It had been a week since his father had screwed him. That used to be plenty for the collegiate stud, but lately he'd been craving it more.

"Let's go to the bedroom," Dan hissed.

Brian's grip stopped him. "No. Dad, let's fuck in here. I want to do it in every room of this cabin. On every piece of furniture."

God, his son was definitely taking the initiative in keep their sex life fresh, Dan thought. He smiled and nodded, very into what Brian was suggesting. He went to fetch some lube and when he came back Brian was naked and bending over to lean on the coffee table. "Fuck me with the curtains wide open, Dad. No one can see us."

"Oh fuck," Dan whispered as he lubed up and got into position, taking in the sight of those smooth creamy white buns with just a dusting of fur deep in the crack. "Ungh!" he grunted as he pushed in. Brian was tight but relaxed enough to take him. His son rarely opened up like this but he was now. Dan paused a second deep inside then started fucking.

Any concern he had about the pace or whether his son could take the deep strokes went away as Brian urged him on verbally and bucked his jock ass back against his father's thrusting hips. "Fuck yeah, Dad. You're hitting my spot all right. So fucking good..."

"Yeah?" Dan thought maybe Brian was building up his ego. Maybe that's what it was but it was working. Dan fucked harder.

"Hell yeah. I had a couple of guys fuck me but they couldn't make it feel like you do. My own dad's dick... fuck!"

Dan had guessed his son might have other experiences, but they somehow had never talked about it. Part of him was jealous but part of him was turned on, too. That he measured up as a top.

He leaned forward and wrapped his strong arms around his son's muscular lithe body, humping wildly in tandem with his son's bucking. It felt even better this way... the angle and the extra body contact. "We're like animals going at it," Dan said aloud.

It felt great for Brian, too, and he relished the strength of his father's grip, and the furry forearms and heat and firmness of the man's chest against his back. "You bring that out in me, Dad. Bone me deep, sir!"

Dan worried he wouldn't last long, not like this, but he was too excited to slow his thrusts. "I'm doing it kiddo... so deep in my boy."

"That where you're going shoot your seed? Way deep up your son's guts?"

Dan didn't answer but just growled and fucked wildly to his orgasm. Brian was coming in sync, too, spraying globs of semen on the coffee table as his whole body flushed red from sexual overload.

"Oh Jesus," Dan hissed as his body relaxed against his son's back. He didn't want to pull out, not just yet, so he stay put and softly caressed Brian's body. "That was one hell of a way to start the week."

Brian finally leaned up and stepped free of his dad's embrace. "I have a feeling it's only going to get hotter," he said. He reached down and cupped his father's sticky-wet genitals. "Damn, my dad's a stud."

Dan blushed at the compliment. "Sometimes I think you're just saying stuff like that," he admitted.

Brian kissed him, then pulled him over to the couch, where they sat down. Thoughtfully he stroked his father's hairy chest, powerful and bulging. "I don't know what I have to do to show you I'm serious," he said.

"Come on, kiddo. I don't mean it like that. It's just that, well, I'm middle aged and fucking around with the hottest dude on campus."

"I think you may be a little biased, there, Dad," Brian smiled. His hand traced down to play with his dad's cock, which was soft but thick and heavy.

Dan sighed and relished the playfulness and sensations in his dick. "That's nice," he purred.

"Yeah?" Brian asked, then knelt down and started sucking on his dad's penis. It wasn't a blowjob exactly given Dan's relaxed state but it was a soft pleasurable worshipping.

After a few minutes he rejoined his dad on the couch. "You know, I thought I might have said the wrong thing earlier," Brian ventured.

"About what?"

"About the other guys who fucked me."

"You're an adult," Dan said, matter of factly. "You don't have to answer for that."

Brian nodded, like he was expecting this response. "Yeah, I know. I just... well, we've never talked about stuff like that."

Dan could tell from his son's tone of voice that he wanted to talk about this. "And you want to, I take it?"

"Yes, sir. Unless you don't want to," he added.

Dan shifted and placed his arm around Brian's shoulders. "I'm good. What's on your mind, kiddo?"

Brian took a breath before starting. "I figure one of us will be dating sometime. Maybe soon."

Indeed this was the conversation Dan had been fearing. Their connection, physical and otherwise, had been so intense and impetuous, it seemed to thrive by denying any other real world considerations. Deep down, Dan wasn't sure it would survive.

"I think you should have your life. I always have." Dan said, thoughtfully. He meant it, or at least convinced himself that he meant it.

"Even if I date someone, I don't see not wanting you, too, Dad," Brian admitted. "God, am I shitty person?"

Dan's stoic facade melted a little and he met Brian in a kiss. No doubt their stubble would give some major whisker burn by the week's end. "Hardly, Bri. You're honest with yourself, that's all."

"You thinking of dating anyone, Dad?"

"Can I be honest?" Dan asked.

"Yes, please." Brian looked at him expectantly. Wanting the truth, Dan could tell.

"If we continue this, I don't see wanting to date anyone, son." He felt himself blush with the admission. But he was heartened by the big smile that broke out on Brian's face.

"I shouldn't be happy to hear you say that," Brian replied.

"Yeah?" He shifted a little to face his son more directly.

"Oh yeah. I mean, I'd never get in the way of your happiness, Dad. You know that... But I've been afraid you'd meet someone and cool things off between us."

"I wish I had the will power to cool things off, son..." Dan added thoughtfully. "I don't know," he said with a blush, "It's just an incredible rush to go down on you. Or to fuck you. I know sex isn't going to be that intense with anyone else."

Brian nodded. He understood. "I'm glad we're talking like this Dad. I want to get to know you this week."

"You do know me," Dan chuckled.

"Not completely," Brian countered with a serious expression. "You have this guard up, Dad. Maybe I do too. Like you're afraid you're not going to be my dad if we're close like this."

"Maybe," Dan said in non committal tone. What Brian was saying was heavy in its implications, and he'd have to think about this a lot more.

"In the meantime," Brian smirked. "I was serious about exploring every inch of your body. Lay back," he instructed and started feeling along his father's calves and up the legs.

Unbelievably, not even a half hour after his amazing orgasm, Dan's prick was hardening up again.

****

After a few hours, their sex fever had died down. Dan had held off on a second release but had sucked Brian to completion just before sunset.

As Dan raised his head from Brian's crotch, the taste of his son's sperm fresh in his mouth, his boy had a look of complete satisfaction and relaxation on his face, his young body covered in a sheen of sweet and his hair matted down. "Don't take this the wrong way, Dad, but you've got to be the best cocksucker on the planet. Fuck..."

Dan gave Brian a mock punch to the shoulder as he got up to fetch their first beers of the evening. As he sat back next to his boy, he admitted, "Just glad I can make you happy, kiddo. Want to keep you coming back for more."

Brian got a kick out of seeing his father walk around nude and with a hardon jutting from the light brown fur of his crotch. He didn't know how his father could hold off cumming like he did. He'd definitely have blue balls. "If that's the plan, it's working," Brian said. "You know, I used to count them."

Dan gave a quizzical look.

"Orgasms," Brian clarified. "I kept track of how many times you sucked me off. I lost track at two hundred."

"Two hundred?" Dan asked with surprise.

"Oh it's a lot more now," Brian assured him. "I just stopped counting."

Dan leaned back and reflected. The number made sense, given that blowing his son had become a regular occurrence. He was a little ashamed by it, but a little proud, too.

"Well, here's to two hundred more, kiddo," Dan toasted by clinking his bottle. "Think that one will hold you til bedtime you horndog?"

"Yessir."

It did, too. They made dinner and then watched some TV. Dan had a couple of beers and was feeling relaxed. Brian was, too, he could tell, and when they finally decided to go to bed, neither man was very horny.

"Tired?" Dan asked as his son's nude body snuggled up to his under the covers. Maybe it was the cool air of the cabin, but the man relished the warmth radiating from Brian. His hand traveled up and down the young man's strong back.

"A little," Brian said. He gave his dad a kiss. Dan returned it with a finesse that thrilled Brian. His dad was a good kisser. A great kisser. And he seemed to get better, if that was possible.

"So..." Dan started when they finally broke their kiss, "You want to know more about your old man, huh?"

Brian nodded.

"Well, ask me anything, kiddo."

Brian got an excited look on his face. "Well, I guess... I'm curious who was your first?"

"My first what?" Dan asked for clarification.

"First time having sex. Whatever counts as sex for you."

"My teammate Keith," Dan answered, surprised how easily and directly came to him. "We'd fooled around, you know, JO sessions, then mutual. Finally we swapped blow jobs, and I thought that was the most incredible thing."

Brian laughed. "They are. So, your first was a guy?"

Dan nodded. "Wasn't till senior prom before I lost my virginity to a girl." The father got an amused look on his face. "You know, normally I never would have talked about this with you. Never felt right to talk about life before your mother."

"I'm glad you are, Dad."

"What about you, kiddo? Your first time?"

"I had an earlier start, at least with women." he winked. "Susan Peterson my sophomore year. You were my first time with a guy."

"No regrets, kiddo?" Dan asked nervously. He still had some lingering guilt that he was corrupting Brian. He'd known he was the first inside Brian's ass, but he wasn't sure about oral.

"What do you think, Dad?" Brian answered in an annoyed tone as he gripped his dad's hand and guided it to his bone. The teenager wasn't as rock hard as he often got but he had a solid erection, which is father gratefully explored.

"I think I'm a lucky man," Dan growled playfully. "You still interested in women?"

Brian shrugged his shoulders. "Sometimes. Maybe 10 percent lean that way. Mostly dudes do it for me." He reached up and ran his hand through his father's soft hair, which was cut a professional medium-short length. It was a surprisingly simple and affectionate gesture. "What about you, Dad?"

"More like 30 percent for me. Used to be more, but as I get older, I like sex with men more. It's a little rougher, a little more intense you know. Besides, I love sucking a man off."

"I noticed, sir," Brian winked.

They kissed again, more passionately. Dan could feel his son more erect now as they made out. Slowly he kissed his way down his son's toned body, not rushing but not taking his time either.

"Hell, yeah, Dad," Brian hissed as he realized where his father was going. "Suck my cock, sir."

Dan held Brian's hard thick tool and laved it with his tongue. The boy was definitely hard and ready now. He took another minute to explore that Casey dick before popping it into his mouth and starting his bobbing action.

Brian didn't thrust his hips like he was sometimes tempted to, but he wasn't in a passive mood. His hands firmly gripped his dad's head and guided him urgently up and down his bone.

"Oh fuck, sir, you're gonna get me there pretty quick tonight. Sorry, Dad, can't hold off any longer. Suck my fucking cock. That's it. Gonna come down your throat, Dad. UNGH!"

Dan gladly swallowed his son's somewhat salty seed, which pulsed in several heavy spurts.

Excitedly he leaned up and started stroking wildly. He didn't even need lube he was so turned on. A few tugs and his fatherly jizz sprayed from his cock, all over Brian's torso.

"Jeez, buddy," he gasped then leaned down to meet Brian in a kiss. Dan's seed clicked the connection of their bodies as they embraced and made out.

"Perfect end to a perfect day, kiddo," Dan finally said.

"I'll say," Brian sighed, rolling onto his back. He recovered from his orgasm as his father got up to piss and wash off. When Dan came back, Brian took his turn in the bathroom.

His father looked sleepy when he came back to bed.

"Ready for bed, Dad?"

"Yeah, pretty much. I got a horny son who's worn me out."

"Better get used to it, Dad," Brian laughed, his voice starting to show signs of being tired, too. "We got seven more days here. And my sex drive's probably not going down."

"That's a safe bet, kiddo."

They kissed and turned out the light. Up in the mountains there were no street lights and given the cloudy night there was no moonlight either. The room was pitch dark.

"Dad..." Brian said at last.

"Yeah, Bri?"

"Thanks for bringing me up here."

His father muttered a soft, nearly inaudible reply. Pretty soon, the Casey men were both asleep.

[prettiestdolliestgirl]

i blinked and suddenly, i had a valentine

pairing: Mike Schmidt x reader

tags: wholesome, fluff, short oneshot

synopsis: it’s your first ever Valentine’s Day having a valentine and Mike wants to make it the best day possible

-> inspired by valentine by laufey

A/N: i wrote this in a hurry because i really wanted to write a little something for Valentine’s Day so here it is! hope you’ll enjoy it! <3

Mike and you have been dating for a few months now, you moved with him and Abby a month ago, it felt like a dream come true. You never fell this hard for anyone before, you weren’t scared to picture a future with him and Abby. Abby loves having you around and you love playing with her, doing her hair, and making fun of her older brother together while he burns dinner in the kitchen.

Mike never saw Abby be this comfortable with an adult that wasn’t him before and it only made him love you more. He also knew Valentin’s day was approaching and he knows you love romance, Mike doesn’t have a lot of money but he really wanted to make this day special for you somehow. On the other hand, you weren’t expecting anything, you know Mike is extremely tired from working tirelessly, taking care of the house and Abby, he barely has any time to rest. So, because of that you weren’t expecting much, being able to spend the day with him was already more than enough. You’ve always been a hopeless romantic and knowing that for the first time in your life, you were going to spend Valentine’s Day with someone that you were head over heels for felt like the greatest gift you could have ever received.

You wake up to go to work with soft kisses all over your face, you open your eyes to see your lover and his sleepy brown eyes looking at you. You can’t help but smile widely, you don’t recall ever being this happy before. « Happy Valentine’s Day babe » he whispers, smiling back at you.

You get up to wake Abby up for school and you all eat breakfast together. You all leave the house and hop in the car, drop Abby off at school, and then Mike drops you off at work, you kiss him goodbye and get going.

You couldn’t help but think about him all day, you were so distracted that it made your coworkers smile, they were really happy to see you finally get the love you deserve.

Mike got to work and couldn’t help but feel anxious. He wanted to make this day great for you, he even called Vanessa multiple times for advice. She told him that he just had to make you feel special which confused Mike even more but he really wanted to make you feel loved so he decided to do as best as he could with the little money he had saved for the occasion, I wasn’t much but he’ll make it work he thought.

He even arranged his shift so that he could be home before you and surprise you properly and asked Vanessa to take Abby for the night for a sleepover which she was delighted by.

As his shift ended, he quickly got home and assembled a board with all of your favorite snacks on it, he rented your favorite movie and got you a pretty box he got at an antique shop you love. In the box, Mike put pictures of you two together and some with you and Abby, he also wrote a sweet note which was the hardest part for him, he has the hardest time when it comes to talking about his feelings but he always felt the need to tell you how much he loved you. He looked at the hour and got going to pick up Abby from school before that went to the florist to pick up a small bouquet of your favorite flowers and a tulip for Abby. She looked quite happy but she was even happier when he told her he was dropping her off at Vanessa’s for the night. He has a quick chat with Vanessa who reassures him that you were going to love everything he did for you.

Mike gets back in his car and goes to your workplace to pick you up. You wave your coworkers goodbye and hop in the car excitedly. As you enter the car you notice Abby isn’t in it and you ask « Where’s Abby? » Mike answers « At Vanessa’s, I dropped her off before coming.. I figured it could be fun for us to have the house to ourselves tonight » with a slight smirk. You were increasingly excited now, you hadn’t had time alone with Mike in quite a while now and you were undoubtedly looking up to it. Mike drove back home and you sensed that he was quite nervous. You head back home but as you turn around you see Mike with, in hand, a small but tasteful bouquet of your favorite flowers Mike had hidden in the truck. « Mike! You really didn’t have to! They’re so pretty, I don’t even know what to say! » you say. Mike smiles widely in response.

You enter the house and notice everything Mike had planned during the afternoon. You look back at him and can’t even function enough to word anything so you jump in his arms, hugging him tightly. Then you pulled away and kissed his face everywhere, «  I love you so much Mike, no one ever did anything like this for me before » you say as you pulled away from his face. « One last thing, » he said getting the box, « I know it’s not much… but you hope you like it. ». You open the box and a single tear rolls down your cheek, « Mike… I… I love it… I really do » you say, your voice almost not coming out.

As you finished thanking Mike for the 13th time, you both got comfortable on the couch and enjoyed snacks while watching movies cuddled up against each other, you both felt safe and in love. You’re glad you waited this long to have to fall in love because would never want another person than Mike as your first-ever Valentine.

[phan3145]

Title: Slippery Slope. Fandom: Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes. Rating: T. ( Cursing, intensity) Pairing: Eventual Noa x Human!Reader.

***NOTE: I’m not super pleased with this chapter, it very much is filler. I had a massive plot point happen originally, but I thought it would be too soon this far in. So, I wrote some Sunset Trio bonding in two hours this morning. I have chapters 6 and 7 (this original chapter) written for the future, but chapter 5 will take place directly following the end of this one before another time jump. Another point, we will (probably) not have another Noa POV until chapter 7. So, buckle up for that, and thank you to everyone who has followed me, and to all my readers!!!

Chapter 4: Shifted Plans

You

If someone would have told you years ago that three apes would soon turn into the closest thing you had to friends or family, you would have said that they were insane. Noa was no surprise, seeing as there was an early bond of trust formed between the two of you, but his Sunset Brother and Sunset Sister, as they called each other, came as quite a shock. Anaya had a very comedic and gentle nature, which you only witnessed Noa and Soona have on occasion. Most of those occasions you noticed, were when the trio were together. He brought it out in them, and even you had to admit, he brought it out in you too. For that you were grateful, you hadn’t felt things like that in a long time.

You believed it was that same playfulness in you, and the passage of time, that finally convinced Soona to drop her guard and trust you. You respected her from day one, appreciating that she apologized for attacking you, though you hadn’t even realized she did at the time. That conversation had been awkward, at least on your part, since you still had been terrified out of your wits. You had just wrapped your brain around the fact that you could trust Noa, when a flurry of fangs and limbs had lunged for you. To suddenly have two more apes appear on top of that, screeching and hollering, your entire body just shut down. You had covered your head and jugular out of instinct, but had been willing to accept that your death would be quicker if you didn’t fight back.

Thankfully, Anaya had been able to pull you out of that cocoon of fear you had wrapped yourself in. Although, his face being the first thing you saw had unnerved you, almost wanting to curl up again. It wasn’t as soft or as comforting as Noa’s had been, but Anaya’s eyes, though deep brown instead of green, as well as the small ape noises he made, expressed clearly that he had no intentions to harm you. It made sense in your brain, reason coming back to you as you watched him sit up…if they wanted to kill you they would have already. Blinking away tears, you had sat up with him, looking around you then to see Noa and Soona standing further away so as not to frighten you further.

Soona very much felt like the big sister of the group, and while they had explained they were born on the same day, Noa did confess that they were older than him. Her approval meant more to you when you saw the love and care he held for her. You wouldn’t force it though, and you did not initially intend to be adopted by the trio at all. On that day, introductions had been made, apologies were given, thanks were said once more for saving Noa, another tour of your home was given…excluding the exit burrow, and they had departed. As Noa predicted, Anaya followed behind them as they left, basket of grapes in hand as he feasted.

You hadn’t seen them for almost a week after that, and you hadn’t sought them out either. You felt unsure how to handle having a peace with them. You still moved carefully through the forest, not knowing if they had told the rest of their clan about your existence. Coming across them was one thing, but coming across other apes? Too dangerous.

Then, one sunny midday, you went to the creek to bathe, scoping out the area to find you were alone. The water had receded a few days after the dam broke, and nearly a full week later with only light rain, you deemed the water was clean enough to use. You clung to the edge of the bank, the water still very cold after hardly any sun over the past month. You rubbed and scrubbed quickly, not wanting to be exposed any longer than you needed to be. You had grabbed the scrap of fabric you used for a towel, which you assumed used to be a table cloth of some sort, drying yourself in record time. The baggy men’s shirt, which you had scrounged up during one of your journeys to the old vineyard, was thrown on quickly afterwards.

The fact it was intact had shocked you, so you only wore it on bathing day, appreciating the buttons that still functioned. Thanks to your run in with Noa, the pants you were used to having on bathing day were still dirty. The shirt was long enough though, dangling just a few inches above your knees, and with no one around it didn’t matter anyway. It was your own sense of modesty at that point, which would be damned in a life or death situation. Standing, you left the pants on a dry mound next to the water, ready to be rinsed in the creek once you had finished your routine. You still had to wash your hair…

This was the part you hated the most, checking around you as you made your way towards the rock you had used to save Noa. Just down the side of it, where a fifteen foot drop existed, was a water fall you utilized for washing your hair. You scaled the side, careful of your footing on the slippery rocks, taking a final scan of your surroundings. The sound of water drowned out everything, so once you closed your eyes you would be vulnerable to anything and everything.

You reached the small ledge that ran under the waterfall, sticking to just the edge, close enough to not be seen from the other side, but far enough away the harsh current wouldn’t topple your center of gravity. One last look…still nothing. Kneeling down, shoulders hunching as you leaned forward, you took a breath before shoving your head under the heavy spray. Your fingers desperately scrubbed at your scalp to remove the dirt and oil that you were able to with just water alone. How you wished you had learned how to make soap when your mother was alive, or at least written down the ingredients she used.

Your hair was getting too long again, knowing you would have to cut it soon. Long hair was a luxury you simply couldn’t afford anymore, especially in a situation like this. The longer the hair, the longer it took to wash like this, which was something you would avoid like a plague. Who were you trying to impress with long hair anyway? Just below your ears was enough for your vanity to still feel feminine.

Rushing now, you felt water force it’s way into your nose when you turned sideways too quickly, causing your lungs to constrict in an attempt to push the water out. You reared back, choking on a cough as you wrapped your hair up in your towel. Whatever you had done was good enough. Wheezing, feeling the water trying to suffocate your lungs, you chose to check your surroundings again, still seeing nothing. Only then did you let the burning in your lungs take precedent, allowing your coughing fit to rage. You rubbed at your throat and nose, trying to let any remaining water drain forward, tears flooding your vision.

After a minute or two, you caught your breath, contemplating how you had survived this long on your own. Sheer luck probably. Speaking of luck…the good thing about being alone is that no one was around to see you nearly drown yourself while washing your hair. You let out a small laugh at that, clearing your rough throat after. Rolling your shoulders you pushed from the ground, scaling the side of the rock once more. Going up was so much easier than coming down.

Thankfully, the hard part was over. Body was washed, hair was washed, and you could go back to your burrow once you washed your pants. That was the plan at least…until you popped your head over the top of the rock and saw three familiar faces up stream where you had previously been. Three familiar faces that were holding your pants. They looked concerned, their hands moving rapidly, though you couldn’t hear a word spoken amongst them.

Just as you contemplated what to do, you saw Anaya jerk his head upwards, straightening his spine to see over Noa’s shoulder. The two of you locked eyes and he immediately hooted and pointed in your direction. Noa turned and Soona leaned forward to see what Anaya was reacting to.

“Echo!” Anaya practically screeched as he ran towards you on all fours.

Shit shit shit shit shit.

You yanked the towel off your head, showing no concern for the few strands of hair that were plucked out with it. You hauled your body up the rest of the way onto the rock ledge, kneeling as you quickly tied the cloth around your waist in a makeshift skirt. Before you could push yourself into a standing position, Anaya skidded to a stop in front of you. You inhaled a breath, shocked by how quick he had reached you. You opened your mouth to greet him, but the ape was moving again before you could blink.

He raised himself up on two legs, starting to circle around you, touching you freely in what you initially thought was a greeting. His hands roamed so quickly over different parts of your body that by the time you tracked one movement he was doing something else. He touched your right arm, then your left shoulder, his other hand pushing your forehead with a finger in order to tilt your head back. Said fingers then began picking up strands of your wet hair and sniffing loudly.

You had just raised your arms up to protest his poking and prodding when his hands left your body all together. He turned then to call to Noa and Soona, “Echo is…alright…not hurt.”

Your face was frozen in stunned silence, slightly irritated but not quite sure how to react to his actions. Then Anaya turned back to you, smiling, “Hello Echo…you don’t smell…hard to track…found your…cloth by creek…Noa worried.”

“Anaya…was worried,” the previously mentioned ape arrived at your side along with Soona. You saw his hands move rapidly in graceful, fluid motions you didn’t understand. Your eyes narrowed in confusion, then you saw Anaya start making gestures of his own back to Noa. It clicked then, this must be their way of communicating without words, having a private argument…if Anaya’s more choppy but forceful gestures were any indication. Soona broke in momentarily, just as Noa had started to make his first sign. Hers were short, broken apart in space but resolute in her movements. There was no room for argument, watching her turn to Noa, seeing him nod a second later before she turned to Anaya.

Anaya’s head lowered to look at you before he nodded as well, turning to blow a raspberry at Noa. Noa’s shoulders seemed to roll as he turned to move, releasing a few disgruntled noises. He didn’t go far, just a few steps away to show his annoyance. Soona seemed to notice this as well, letting out a huff before crouching to be eye level with you. You leaned back then, eyes crossing slightly as you tried to hold her gaze.

“You are…not injured…can stand?” She asked.

“Oh, yes.” You answered, gripping the knot of the cloth around your waist. You slid a foot out in front of yourself to push up into a standing position, but had no time to bare down on it as you felt hands go under your arms.

“Anaya…help Echo…” Anaya offered. You stiffened as you were hoisted upwards, feeling very toddler like in that moment.

You saw Noa’s brow furrow, but he said nothing. Surprisingly, it was Soona that sighed through her nose and huffed at Anaya, “Echo…not ape…does not like…to be touched…all the time.”

Anaya turned to look at you, wanting confirmation. Your continued stiffness and sheepish look was enough for him to quickly let go of you. A surprised scoff noise escaped him then, raising both arms in the air to show his hands were off of you. “Did not know…will not do…again.”

You hummed good naturedly, gripping onto your makeshift skirt even tighter as you found your footing. “It’s alright, I appreciate the help Anaya, but I’ll ask for it in the future if I need it. Okay?”

“Okay!” Anaya hooted, giving a big thumbs up.

The action caught you off guard, something that seemed to be happening more often than not with the apes around. Where did he even learn that? Much like with Noa, you had no chance of fighting off the sputter you let out that soon morphed into laughter that shook your body. Anaya jumped in place at the sudden sound, and while Soona did not take a step away from you, she did tilt her body backwards.

Feeling slightly bad for laughing at Anaya, who clearly had no idea he had done something funny to begin with, you tamped down on the remaining chuckles. Both apes were looking at you like you had a second head, but then you caught Noa’s eye and saw the warmth in his green gaze. You almost thought you could see a curve to his lips, and maybe you were right, because then he started hooting, returning to the three of you and grasping Anaya’s shoulder.

“Why…sound…like that?” Soona asked you then.

You hesitated, not wanting to say the wrong thing and potentially offend any of the apes. Searching for the right words, you finally decided on, “Relief, joy…uh, happiness.”

“Cackle,” Noa supplied. You almost regretted telling him that word when he added, “Echo noise females make…like laugh but better.”

“Definitely…louder.” Anaya said, making the same gesture as before, watching your reaction. Even though you knew he wanted the response, it didn’t stop the whole thing from being funny. You didn’t ‘cackle,’ but you chuckled at the action. That was apparently enough for Anaya, who hooted, looking proud of himself as he swiveled his head from Soona to Noa.

Noa blew a raspberry at Anaya, pushing off his shoulder, “At least…Echo…thinks you are…amusing.”

Anaya dropped his hand then, scoffing as he bumped into Noa, “At least…Echo thinks…something about Anaya…Noa jealous.”

You thought for a moment that was more of a barb than it apparently was, watching the two apes playfully nudge and paw at one another. You side-eyed Soona next to you, who looked unimpressed with her Sunset Brothers, before she shifted to look solely at you. Your pants were clutched in her hand, now outstretched to you. You took them gratefully as the two apes next to you persisted with their back and forth. Soona’s eyes hadn’t left you, and you swallowed your nerves under her stare. You tried to break the tension, shrugging, “Males.”

A pause, you thought she didn’t understand, before she let out a huff, “Yes.”

Her hand nudged your back as she turned away from Noa and Anya, directing you to do the same, “We go…to creek now…leave the newborns…to their games.”

You felt something warm in your chest at that, a contented smile creeping up as you walked her back to your washing spot. A small glance at her eyes showed the mischievous nature she hadn’t displayed with you before, and she hooted under her breath as you walked away from said males who had no idea you were leaving.

A first step had been taken.

Further growth didn’t happen overnight though. You were a little over a month into knowing the apes now, and you were now spending almost everyday with them. It started out as a couple of days a week after that bathing day. It was always the three of them together at that point, before it slowly became an every other day visit. That’s when you noticed some days it would be Noa and Anaya, or Soona and Noa, and then on occasion it was just Noa. The trust he mentioned on that first day was starting to make sense now, as you felt that maybe the other two apes were always there so early on because they didn’t fully trust you yet.

It always started with the creek, a common enough place to find you since you weren’t hiding from them anymore. You always needed to do laundry, get clean water, or fish for the protein your body so desperately needed. From there, the group would discuss plans for the day, or upcoming ceremonies the clan would hold. You made sure to note the when and where of those to avoid the areas that day. Oddly enough, it was only partly for your safety. Mainly, you just didn’t want to get in the way.

Sometimes their plans for the day would get taken over by yours; following you to pick fruit, helping you craft tools from wood or stone, or even go hunting with you. Usually it was for rabbit or squirrel, seeing as you wouldn’t know what to do with a deer even if you had the heart to kill one. Then came the shock of discovering that the apes did occasionally hunt deer and other wild animals too, not just fish. The idea of evolution started to make more sense as you saw the large gap between the species dwindle the more you spent time with them.

Today however, your plans shifted to theirs as the apes discussed traveling on a ‘Caesar Journey,’ as they called it, for lost information. You had been working on a new spear head when they started loudly discussing whether they should leave today or tomorrow. Anaya and Noa both agreed that it was early enough to leave today. Only Soona seemed to have reservations, vague though they were, regarding ‘many unforeseen delays’ that could take place. You had asked where they were going and Anaya had told you they called it the Valley Beyond. It sounded ominous, but when Noa described the path to get there you realized it was an old city.

When you traveled with your mother, you had passed by during the cover of night, staying on the edges of it before settling here. You had not remembered where it had been, only how tired you were as you trailed behind her. After several years of living on this side of the creek, safe in the forest or in your burrow, you hadn’t thought about it since. You only traveled to the vineyard because your mother had taken you there, being on your own meant you didn’t explore as much.

You were shocked when you found yourself asking if you could go as well, even more so when they agreed.

That’s how you now found yourself astride a horse. You had only ridden one once before, blocking out the subsequent memory of it bucking you several times. You eventually had enough, wrapping its luxurious mane around your hand and wrist, determined that if it bucked you again it would be missing some hair for the trouble. It tried, but soon realized it would do more harm than good. When you had reached your settlement you had told your friends and father you would never ride again after all of that.

Looks like fate had a sense of humor, as this horse looked dangerously similar to the one you had ridden all those years ago. Impossible, but it had made you simmer in irritation when Noa first told you that you would be riding with him on his horse. You would have preferred to ride with Soona, or even Anaya, but all agreed that Noa’s horse would be best, something about being familiar with Echo and ape riders. You didn’t really want to know what that meant.

You were surprised that the apes didn’t walk everywhere, but seeing as this journey would be an hour or so on horseback, and time seemed of the essence, it made sense. You had brought a spear with you, which Noa had slung onto his saddle bag, and satchel full of fruit for later. You didn’t have much time to prep before you were on your way, and now you wondered if you should have brought the dagger that you kept under your pillow. You hardly ever used it, but it was a good source of protection and could have come in handy. Then again, the less weapons around the apes, the better. Besides, it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to get that close to anything dangerous anyway.

Speaking of danger, the three horses that composed your group suddenly approached a tunnel, one that went so far into the mountain that you couldn’t see the light on the other end. There was only darkness. You swallowed, Noa taking the lead and going in first. He kicked his heels slightly, urging the horse to pick up the pace. It did as he instructed, shifting from a peaceful walk into a trot.

You slowly straightened in your seat, leaning back to stay within the light for as long as you could, so much so that you soon found your back flush with Noa’s chest. He didn’t comment or react to you, not that you would notice if he did. Once you were completely submerged in darkness there was nothing you could see, whether your eyes were opened or closed. No way to see danger right in front of you…and that thought caused the hairs on your arms to raise, your heart to skip a beat or two. You took a deep breath then, reminding yourself that you didn’t have to be afraid of what was in the dark…your friends were here. Noa was quite literally at your back this very moment.

You decided to close your eyes, to focus on the things you could that didn’t require your eyes. The sound of hooves was the first thing you noticed outside of the pitch darkness, the echoing sound of Soona and Anaya’s horses following close behind. Your heart had calmed and your breathing was steady, similar to the rise and fall you felt of Noa’s chest. The chill of the underground made itself known then, an almost damp cold clinging onto your arms and shoulders. Though you were no longer scared, the skin on your arms pebbled, the hair there already raised from earlier.

It became that much more noticeable when you felt Noa’s arms shift around you, readjusting his hold on the reigns. Heat was radiating from his arms, his whole body actually. The cold threatening to seep into your bones was more prominent, but also held at bay thanks to Noa’s warmth around you. Apes ran warmer than humans didn’t they? Or, was that just the outer layer of their fur?

It was nice.

Before you could think on it too much, you noticed light brightening the backs of your eyelids, prompting you to open them. And just like that, you were out. You released a sigh of relief, sitting up and away from Noa now that you felt safe again. He was kind enough not to mention you clinging to him for comfort as you continued onward. It was probably best that you did not take advantage of his generosity though, making vow to yourself not to do that on the way back.

You almost wished Noa had said something about it though, because with the exception of an occasional joke from Anaya, the ride had been pretty silent. You tried not to dwell on it, normally comfortable in silence, but with that dark tunnel just now, and Noa so close behind you…sitting so long in silence, you weren’t quite able to shake the unease of it all. As if sensing your feelings, Noa decided then to break it, “You ride well.”

You smirked, not quite what you thought he would say, but it was a good way to break the ice. You decide on teasing him to lighten the mood, “Says the ape who wouldn’t let me ride on another horse.”

“You want to ride horse…on your own?” He chuffed.

“Absolutely not!” You were quick to answer. Craning your neck back, almost touching his shoulder again, you explained, “Soona and Anaya are smaller than you, it would probably be easier for one of their horses to carry two riders.”

“Horse makes no difference,” he shrugged, scanning our surroundings. “You are small…easy to fit anywhere.”

No, you were not, you were only slightly shorter than Anaya when he stood on two legs. Again, you reminded yourself, by ape standards you probably were. You didn’t have nearly as much muscle as them, thinking back to when it had taken everything in you to haul Noa up from the creek, but he had lifted you like it was nothing.

You turned your head then, eyebrows scrunching together, “Then why did it have to be your horse?”

Noa smirked, “Easier to keep an eye…on you…if you are in front of me…and easier to make sure…you don’t fall off.”

“Get bucked off, you mean,” you muttered.

“Ape horses…do not buck riders…unless they are afraid,” Noa explained. “Easy to fall off…if you do not know…how to ride.”

You spread your hands out in front of you, “I’m riding just fine, aren’t I ?”

If God was real, he sure had a sense of humor, for in that next moment the horse took off in a gallop. You gasped, looking down as your hand desperately held onto the pommel in front of you. You felt your body start to bounce, fearing you were about to slide right off on a certain bounce. Noa’s arms tightened around you then, grunting, “Rock your hips…”

“What?” You asked, tensing up as another bounce threatened to send you off the left side of the saddle. Only Noa’s quick reflexes, strength, and balance kept that from happening.

“Widen your hips…rock with the motion.” Noa instructed, right hand going under your chin to tilt your head back up, “Look straight ahead…chest up…lean back with the jump…I have you.”

You did as he instructed, feeling more stable until you played back his last instruction. “Wait-wait… jump? What jump? Why are we jumping?”

Noa’s eyes were fixed ahead and that’s when you saw it. At the edge of the city, an abandoned barricade. That was the jump, though your first instinct told you there had to be a way around it, the longer you stared the clearer the picture became. A large pond on one side, a collapsed building on the other…stretching for who knows how long. Jump. There was no other option.

You turned then, noticing Soona and Anaya’s horses were also already in a full galloped sprint. You locked eyes with Soona, who looked just as worried as you felt. She turned to Anaya next to her, making a sign they hadn’t showed you before. Anaya looked up to you then, signing the word Trust at you before letting out several shrieks that sounded like a war cry. They knew what was coming up ahead. You felt your breath stutter as you turned back around, replaying Noa’s words over and over in your mind. You could see the barricade approaching and a count down began in your head.

5…Widen your hips…

4…Head up, look straight ahead….

3…Chest up…

2…Lean back with the jump…

You felt Noa’s right arm relinquish the reigns to wrap firmly around your middle, securing you in place and pulling you to be flush with his chest once more.

1…I have you…

You felt the horse bare down, all its weight on four legs, thrusting itself forward off the ground. Then you were simply suspended in the air. Time seemed to stop, and you wondered if the horse would clear the jump. Similar to that of a deer, you thought perhaps it leapt too early, but as its front half made it over you felt reassured. Then you felt the slight pull of Noa to angle your body back. You listened, the entire movement completed in one fluid motion as the descent forward concluded. The next thing you heard was it’s hooves hit the ground, continuing on in a gallop before slowing back to a trot.

You released the breath you didn’t realize you had been holding, panting in Noa’s grip. His hand slid upwards from your middle to tap at your clavicle, “Breathe…you did well…still on horse.”

You looked down, knuckles white on the pommel. You pried them off, not too proud to note the slight tremor. Then Soona and Anaya were joining you to create a row of three, with you and Noa being flanked on each side.

Soona hooted, “Were…you scared?”

“Of course not,” you replied. “I always nearly faint when I’m having a good time!”

All three apes hooted and chuffed their amusement before continuing on. The branches and dirt of the forest had transitioned to asphalt road, making each step the horses took seem twice as loud. You continued down several streets before you finally had the nerve to ask, “What are we looking for?”

“Human work…anything from Caesar’s time.” Noa replied.

Human work? That didn’t make any sense to you, but it was their Caesar Journey. You decided saying silent was the best thing to do. They would let you know when they were going to stop. In the meantime, you decided to try and decipher the ruins of these old buildings, attempting to figure out what they used to be.

A lot of empty panes and broken glass more often then not confirmed it used to be a business. Maybe a bank, or a law firm. Something boring like that. Other places that had faded color reminded you of food or clothing stores. You could make out a few vowels on the signs but didn’t recognize anything specific from any of the photos or old videos you had seen back in the vault as a child.

A sound far off in the distance to your left caught your attention, but you saw nothing there. None of your ape companions reacted, so perhaps it was just your imagination. That’s when you noticed a building unlike any you had seen thus far. It was made of white stone, with an old engraving at the top in gold that had faded over time. Three letters caught your attention, barely able to make them out…but it was enough. You knew exactly what it was.

“Noa, stop! Stop!” You called, twisting in the direction of the road you had just passed, attempting to dismount.

Soona and Anaya’s horses startled but were quickly reigned in by their riders. Noa had a harder time with you as you squirmed, wanting to get down against his wishes. Finally he called out in a huff, “We’ve stopped, stop…will help you down but cannot if…you fall first.”

With a graceful glide to the ground, Noa landed, turning and offering his arms to you. Soona and Anaya dismounted as well, wanting to see what it is that had you so enraptured. It took you a moment to swing your other leg to one side, but once you did you felt ready. Noa allowed you to brace yourself on his shoulders as you dismounted.

Whoa.

Your first step felt weird, causing you to sway slightly. Your legs still felt bowed wide for some reason. Soona covered her face, which you imagined was her nice way of not laughing at you. Anaya had no such reservations, hooting and pointing as he called out, “First time rider wobble.”

You snickered, bending your knees a few times to re-center yourself. Noa huffed good naturedly, “Will get used to it…happens to everyone…first time.”

“Right,” you said, unsure, looking down at your feet. Then you remembered what had caught your attention, and as you took a few more steps towards it, your suspicions were confirmed. “I think this might interest you. This would be classified as human work.”

“What is it?” Soona asked, seeing what you were so focused on.

You smiled, “It’s a library.”

[caileeflavoured]

motel sleepovers

rhett abbott x fem!reader

© caileeflavoured 2024, do not repost, modify or translate!

synopsis: CHURCH GIRL UNIVERSE | Spending a night with you in a dingy motel room, Rhett has finally ruined you for good.

a/n: another repost. no tw's cause idk wtf I wrote but 18+ and nasty smut for sure

wc: 2k

MAIN MASTERLIST | OUTER RANGE MASTERLIST

“Daddy?” You walked into the kitchen, bag all ready and packed. He turned around and looked at you. 

Short, white dress, tight around the chest, loose around your legs, stopping just above your knees (he didn’t seem to notice the light bruising on them). Your hair half up, with a little white bow in it, and, of course, your rosary around your neck, its cross disappearing between the hills of your breasts.

He should be pleased to see it on you still — despite your most recent transgressions.

“Yes, my dear?” 

“I’m going to Pauline’s now… For the sleepover, you remember?”

“Yes, yes of course, my love.” He nodded and waved goodbye.

There was a hint of disappointment in his voice, but he’d been past the point of arguing with his only daughter. 

Deep down, he knew you were not going to Pauline’s, and he’d turned to praying silently each night, and after each confession hour, begging the Lord to save his sweet girl from the devil’s tight grip.

Only that it wasn’t the devil, it was—

“Rhett?” Your voice echoed in the truck as he stopped in front of the motel.

“Yeah?”

“Why here?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” you hesitated, looking down at your lap as you kept nervously fumbling with your hands. “I thought we’d stay at your place.”

He scoffed. “Nah, sunshine. This place is much better. Trust me.”

He leaned over, his right arm propped up on the back of the seat, his hand reaching out to play with the little bow in your hair before he dropped it to your shoulder, slipping down the thin strap of your dress — giving you a little taste of what was waiting for you.

“You do trust me, do you?”

You nodded.

“Good girl. Wait here for me, I’ll go grab the key.”

As he exited the truck and headed towards the front office, he quickly disappeared behind the corner of the motel rooms, leaving you hidden in the vehicle. Almost as if he did it on purpose.

-

He didn’t give you much time to settle in (none actually) as he hurried to get rid of his clothes, all except for his underwear, his erection already very much visible. You moved to do the same but he was fast to stop you.

“Nuh-uh,” he shook his head, then walked towards you. Cupping your cheeks, he tilted your head backwards to make you look at him as his thumbs caressed your soft skin.

A rare occasion.

“I wanna fuck you with that thing on.” He’d gifted it to you a while ago. Said it made you look so innocent yet so slutty. One hand moved down your side and you could already feel the wetness pooling between your legs. Maybe even dripping down your inner thighs — you had left the panties at home.

“Wanna get all in there while your tits spill out the top,” he whispered in your ear, his lips brushing ever so slightly against its shell.

His hand forced its way underneath the skirt, confirming what you already expected. You were dripping wet for him.

“Exactly how I like my little sunshine, ain’t that the truth, huh?” Rhett smirked as he scooped up some of your juices, then brought his fingers back up.

He rested them against your lip, quivering just like the rest of your body, as a result of the way he knew exactly how to tease you. 

“Go on, open up.” He pushed his fingers forward and into your mouth with his usual determined force. You didn’t know any other way of being handled. 

“Tastes good, huh?” You nodded obediently.

“But I taste even better, don’t I?” You nodded again. 

Rhett had taught you many things over the summer. Handjobs, blowjobs, you name it. He wanted to do all sorts of things with and to you, and he was patient enough to teach you how to do it, knowing all you needed were a few words of encouragement and the promise that he’d never come inside you again without a condom.

But he didn’t really care about keeping his promises.

He moved towards the bed and sat down on the edge, legs spread as he leaned back on his hands. His cock strained against the material of his boxer briefs, and you could swear there was already a dark, wet spot of pre-cum visible.

“Come here, sunshine.” And you did.

“Get down on your knees.” You did.

“Wanna show me how good you’ve gotten at this?” You nodded eagerly.

He helped you get rid of that one last piece of clothing hiding his fully naked body from your eyes, and you still needed a good few seconds to adjust to the sight of his erection. 

Heat never failed to creep up to your cheeks.

Nevertheless, you did as you were told, following the order of the steps he’d taught you.

You collected all the saliva in your mouth, letting it drip down onto his tip. You did that a few times, making sure he was all lubed up before you wrapped your lips around him, and your hand around the rest you couldn’t fit (although you had always tried your hardest to take in all of him).

“Look at you,” Rhett chuckled, his fingers tangled in your hair as he guided your motion. “Sucking dick like the lord Himself put you on this earth for just this purpose.”

He made sure to push your head further down each time, and soon enough he had you gagging around him whenever your nose touched his abdomen. He only let go once he was sure you’d keep taking in all of him. 

His laboured pants and strangled groans started filling the quiet motel room as he reached forward, grabbing the chain of your rosary, collecting enough beads in his fist before he pulled on it, slightly constricting your airways.

He loved the small whines that’d escape your mouth shortly after.

You continued sucking him off just like he taught you to until you thought you could almost feel him twitch inside your throat, so he pulled out.

Struggling to catch his breath, Rhett pulled you to your feet, groping hands not leaving the body of his little naive sunshine. He waited a few moments, then got up to walk behind you and push you down onto the hard mattress.

Your cheek pressed into the covers on the bed, he grabbed your arms to secure them behind your back before he pushed your skirt up, then positioned himself.

“W-Wait,” you muttered, voice barely audible.

He’d heard you. And chose to ignore you.

“Don’t worry, sunshine. ’s not your first time after all, huh?”

He’d bought some Plan B just to be sure; he needed the feeling of your slick walls around his naked he.

And so Rhett pushed into you with one swift motion, a groan followed by an ‘oh fuck, you’re so tight’ escaping his throat as he bottomed out. Pulling your hips closer to his, he quickly picked up a rough pace, taking everything he wanted and needed from you.

His little sunshine. 

“Does your daddy still make you say your Hail Mary’s every time you come back home with my cum running down your thighs?”

You cried out a strangled ‘mm-hmm’ as he kept pounding into you, using your pussy for nothing but his own pleasure, which — thinking about it — quite obviously turned you on like nothing else.

“Good girl. Now would be a good time to say them again, don’t you think? With all that sin spilling out your little cunt.”

Another small and fragile ‘mm-hmm’ fell from your lips before you did what Rhett demanded — just like you always did what Rhett demanded. “H-Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee; blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus-“

His relentless pace made it all the more difficult for you to quote your prayer as his cock repeatedly hit the deepest spot inside you. 

“Go on, keep going. I know you can do it,” he said, pressing you further down into the mattress, so hard you could feel the beads of your rosary leaving marks on your neck. 

Yet you continued. For him.

“H-Holy Mary, M-Mother of God, pray for us sinners-“

“Fuck! Such a good girl,” he groaned, suddenly pulling out.

He turned you around, revealing his sweaty chest and face to you with loose strands of his dark blond hair hanging in front of his eyes. A mischievous grin gracing his lips, he lay down on his back, lifting you on top of him. 

He finally rid you of your dress with one swift, rough motion — leaving you covered in nothing but the rosary dangling down between your tits — and didn’t even wait before he lined himself up again with your entrance, pulling you all the way down on his cock.

“Pray for us sinners, you say, sunshine?” He asked teasingly, that grin still present on his face as he held you in place on top of him. “What’s with the rest of the prayer?”

Rhett waited for you to say the last bit of your Hail Mary before he picked up his thrusts again, not letting you choose the pace or rhythm as he pounded into you from below.

“…now and at the hour of our death. A-Amen.”

“Yeah, that’s right, sunshine. Amen,” he chuckled, knowing how close you already were. “Now touch yourself for me, my little sinner.”

And so you did.

The tension inside you got nearly unbearable as Rhett kept fucking you like he’s never had before. The added pleasure from your own fingers quickly sent you to the edge as your high-pitched moans and whimpers filled the dirty, sticky air of the motel room. “You like that, huh?” Rhett said with a strained voice, visibly struggling to hold back his own high. “You do all sorts of things for a dirty old cowboy like me, and you love it, don’t you?” One hand of his moved up to your chest, toying with your nipples first before he grabbed your rosary, counting each bead of the five decades.

“And you won’t come until I’ve counted the very last bead, you got that, sunshine?”

You whined at his command, already threatening to fall over the edge with tears streaming down your hot cheeks. “B-But-“

“Nuh-uh, sunshine,” he cautioned you, yet did not interrupt his thrusts, and continued hitting your most sensitive spot with each one of them. 

Rhett ignored any more whines that followed his words, and continued his counting of the rosary beads, thrusting up into you with each one he counted, and hitting it extra hard every time he reached the last one of each decade.

“One more, sunshine,” he told you, but you’d already lost all sense of time and space.

10, 9, 8, 7, 6…

“And when I reach the very last one,” he said, voice hoarse and laced with pure lust, “I want you to come for me, okay?” “Mm-hmm,” you hummed, eagerly nodding your head, trying your best to be good and behave. 

Even though you were already closer to the edge than you would’ve liked. His counting was pure torture.

… 5, 4, 3, 2…

“Ready, sunshine?” But this time, he didn’t wait for an answer. He was way too close to his own high.

“One.” The orgasm crashed down on you like it never has before, heightening all your senses at once, yet the most intense sensation was the coil in your stomach that was finally allowed to snap.

And snap it did, leaving you a shaking mess as the waves of pleasure washed over you and as Rhett followed you right away.

His hips snapped against yours one last time before he stilled inside of you, filling you up with his hot cum, so much it almost spilled out the sides of your hot and aching pussy. 

Both your moans echoed off the walls, surely to be heard in the adjoining rooms. “Fuck,” Rhett grunted as he came down from his own high, lazily playing with your sweaty tits as he watched your fucked-out frame limply sitting on top of him.

Oh, how he ruined his little church girl…

[asiandra-dash]

Hi i saw u wanna rewrite akikasa hcs PLEASE WRITE ME SOME I BEG /nf /lh

HJKJSKDKHS AKIKASA anyways I was referring to a short story I wrote a while ago but THIS!!! IS (I think) MY FIRST AKIKASA RELATED ASK!!!! I MUST WRITE!!!!!! All I have to do is figure out which thoughts are based on canon and which ones are AUs-

I took 18 days to finally post this because I kept getting ideas and had to force myself to stop because this is way too long 888 words man this ain't fanfiction also if this is illegible I'm sorry none of my headcanon posts will ever be organized no beta or read more we die like my grades after my orchestra field trip

Starting with basic shit Akito is SO so in denial about his feelings and when he's finally fed up with it he chucks it down to infatuation (It is not)

And Tsukasa is an oblivious idiot to everything even though he has a stupid crush on this ginger he just refuses to say anything because he still thinks Akito despises his guts

My guy every little bit of physical contact you make with carrot head makes him look like color hex #ff0000 RGB 255, 0, 0 how do you not notice this

Tsukasa fell first, and they both fell harder >:)

You know Tsukasa'a 1* card where Akito saved the poor man from a spider or something that's when it happened Tsukasa didn't know at first cause like haha who the hell falls in love with someone over something so small I barely even know the guy

If Akito confessed first, after a long moment of awkward silence and Akito wishing the floor would eat him alive, Tsukasa is suddenly hugging him and crying (That's a yes btw)

If Tsukasa confessed first, it would take a bit (probably a few days or weeks) but eventually Akito with the support of everyone finally accepts his feelings for Tsukasa (He didn't tell anyone about the confession btw it was probably Akiyama or one of Tsukasa's friends that told everyone also the threat of Rui was probably another reason he couldn't deny lmao)

Every date, and I mean EVERY SINGLE DATE, Tsukasa will always bring or buy some cheesecakes or pancakes for Akito

And if he doesn't the next time he brings lunch for Akito he'll bring him more cheesecake than he usually does to make up for it

When Tsukasa found out Akito's favorite flowers were sunflowers, he sometimes brings one for him too :D

Tsukasa probably got a pair of sunflower clip-on earrings too (Or whatever they're called)

Tsukasa loves to tackle hug Akito and it never fails to make the ginger laugh <3

Tsukasa borrows Akito's jackets a lot (At least twice a week).

Akito complains about it but let's be honest he loves it when he gets it back and all he smells on it is Tsukasa's scent

Tsukasa loves giving gifts to Akito even if there's no special occasion, usually some type of jewelry like earrings and the next day Akito's most likely wearing it

Obviously, they invite each other to their shows, and sometimes their other bandmates too

During WxS shows Akito's supportive and is internally loud but during VBS concerts Tsukasa is HOLLERING Akito's name and singing along if he knows the lyrics it's embarrassing but if you look closely enough you can tell it hypes up Akito a little more and he tries even harder (An has taken note of this and teases him nonstop about it)

Neither of them are a huge fan of PDA but if you stare long enough you'll probably miss a sneaky little kiss when you blink

That or if Tsukasa's in a really good mood he'll practically cling to Akito (Which is like 50% of the time tbh)

That one post I made on my side blog is real and so is the first tag

Yes Ena and Saki are supportive but holy shit Akito wants to fucking strangle Ena whenever she brings it up (This applies to An too)

Tsukasa helps Akito be more open with his feelings and Akito helps Tsukasa deal with negativity better

Around people, Akito still treats Tsukasa how he would (if Tsukasa isn't being clingy) but once they're alone Akito acts like he's touch starved and refuses to leave Tsukasa alone

Akito sometimes helps Tsukasa with practicing for his shows. He's obviously not as good but he's trying and Tsukasa appreciates his efforts

Tell Akito to say wonderhoy and he'll look at you like you're fucking insane but have Tsukasa tell him and he'll say it as unenthusiastically as he can manage

And then Tsukasa will look at him all :((( and Akito does it with more energy and "jesus fucking christ the things I do to make Tsukasa happy" (It's just a wonderhoy idk why you're so pissed /hj)

I do not understand Japanese and I am not caught up on that one event story with furry Akito so correct me if I'm wrong (about the italicized part) but before Akito gets over his fear of dogs Tsukasa always made sure they would steer clear of them and if one suddenly appeared this blond pink theatre kid is going to protect his pathetic fucking boyfriend with his life

Rui: Is that a hickey? | Tsukasa: No! It’s just a mosquito bite. | Akito, walking into the room: Hey, guys. | Rui: Hi, mosquito.

Whenever one of them stays up really late when staying over. the other tries to convince them to go to bed and cuddle/snuggle with them and it works.

Tsukasa practically begs meanwhile, if possible, Akito hugs Tsukasa from behind and basically just collapses onto him half asleep mumbling into his ear (Can you tell I'm tired it's 1 AM and I got 3 hours of sleep yesterday I'm running off of a power nap rn)

Obviously, Tsukasa can't do anything with Akito like that so he basically carries Akito to the room of whoever they're staying at

Akikasa supremacy WHO'S WITH ME AKIKASA!!!!!!! (I'm dying on a hill please)

Divider / Reply Icon made by me! ( 1 | 2 )

[k-dokja]

Wow, it has been a year since I last wrote something for him.

Summary: Your relationship is strange and perplexing. Neither of you mind it, it's no one else's business.

There is a line.

A clear line between you and Jonggun that you’ve accepted from the day you were introduced to him. The line which serves to be an invisible barrier between the two of you, thinner than thread but thick enough to keep the two of you from crossing it.

You can’t say you care for it. Not when you have no intention of crossing the line. Jonggun, however, does whatever he wants and he seldom thinks about the consequences of his actions if what he does bring him personal gratification. Because of that, on more than one occasion, you’ve seen him toeing the line, having a whole foot over even. You always patiently watched to see what he will do next, but after the third time this happened, you came to the conclusion that he only wanted to see you hold your breath in anticipation.

Afterwards, you stop caring.

While formality dictates that the two of you need to be faithful during your engagement, he cannot care less about it and the idea is appalling for you. Neither of you cares enough about the other to need some misguided loyalty. Even if you did, you doubt you’d ever receive it from him. You save yourself the grief by never bothering to care about it. He doesn’t have a problem with his freedom either. All is well in the world.

Until it isn’t.

“So, what are you to him, anyway?”

Joongoo, too nosy for his own good, always has a way to squirm his way into matters that shouldn’t be his to care about. You don’t really mind. You never bother to make sense of him, he’s useful enough that all of his downsides stop being a problem.

Tolerable enough that sometimes it amuses you to entertain him.

“Business partners,” you reply without glancing up from your phone. It wouldn't be your first choice to spend your free time lounging around with Joongoo, but there are worse options, you guess.

“Naur,” Joongoo says, “I’m business partner with him, business nemeses-with-benefits depending on days, but you are not his business partner.”

You glance at him. Trying to figure out what’s going on his pretty little head is a fool’s errand. You don’t even know where his nonsense begins and where his sense ends. At least, you aren’t so busy that his probing would become a bother.

“Pardon?” You say. “Him and I, we have common business ventures and same goals for expansion. What would we be if not business partners?”

Joongoo clicks his tongue, “You people sleep with your business partners?”

You snort, more amused by his misunderstanding than offended. “We aren’t sleeping together.” If this has been a year ago, you’d have said you don’t know where he gets the idea from. At this point in time, however, you’ve weathered enough people getting the wrong idea that his assumption sounds trivial to your ears.

“Aren’t you?” Joongoo asks, “Then what’s this weird vibe I’m getting from you two?”

“I don’t know, you tell me,” you resist smirking, you truly do, “what’s this exact vibe you see in us?”

He shrugs, “Dunno, like, you’re too comfortable with each other and shit,” he says, “either you’ve done the tango naked or something else is going on here.”

“I like your imagination. Very vivid.” You narrow your eyes at him but say nothing more about it. The discussion alone is silly and entertaining him for this long is the extent of your generosity.

"You know I'm right," he grumbles, "Even if you aren't sleeping together, there's something there. You'd be lying if you said there isn't."

You've returned to your phone by this point, and your attention to him is torn in half but at least you continue to answer, "Well, of course there's something there. We're engaged to be wed and until either of us found it enough of a nuisance to break the engagement off, we're bound by this thin thread of obligation we cannot care less for."

"Is that what you think?"

A third voice. Masculine. Familiar, and deeper than Joongoo's. You don't even need to look up to see Jonggun entering the room. You don't have to see him to know what face he's making either. Utterly impartial and mildly amused, the bare minimum of expression.

"Isn't it the truth?" You say. "Pretending otherwise would only be kidding ourselves."

Jonggun stops behind you, his hand is set on the back of your chair. He dips low enough that when he speaks, you feel his breath fan against your ears. The only indication that it affects you is the slightest twitch at the corner of your mouth. One you doubt he can see but know it's there anyway.

"And what if I want otherwise?"

You turn to level your eyes with his, your smile saccharine sweet. "If you wish for an early death then you should take the matter into your own hands, don't involve me in it." With that said and done, you go back to your phone, and your interest in the entire conversation vanishes.

"You're sure she's the nicest one out of us?" Joongoo drawls.

You don't need to see to know Jonggun is smiling when he says next, "Was there ever a doubt?"

[ash5monster01]

Speak Now

pairing: Steve Harrington x FemReader

warnings: fluff, language, mentions of heart ache, mentions of past trauma, angst.

summary: based off the song Speak Now by Taylor Swift, in honor of Taylor’s version dropping today. Listening to it today I thought of this and I just couldn’t help myself. I rushed and the writing is sloppy, but it’s still cute 💜 I just had to do it to celebrate. For a very basic description the reader crashes Steve’s wedding, enjoy xx

word count: 2,080

Masterlist

7/7/89

It had been three years since you had received a letter from him. Three years almost exactly. Three years since he gave up writing because you never wrote back. Yet this time the letter was in a purple envelope, sealed with a gold wax stamp, and cursive writing in dainty loops across the corner. Not the normal chicken scratch you were used too. Yet there it was, your name scribbled in a rush, center of the envelope. Heart hammering in your chest you opened to see what you absolutely dreaded.

Save The Date!

Tears burned at the back of your eyes but you knew you couldn’t let them fall. Crying would be useless now. You did it to yourself and now you had to deal with the consequences. Running away from Hawkins all those years ago meant running away from him too, but now maybe it was for the best. You could go back, attend the wedding, and show him you had moved on, prove to yourself you had moved on. Yet you were lying to yourself, you knew that wasn't your motive when you taped the invite to your fridge and called work to ask off.

So here you were, driving back to a town you promised yourself you'd never go back to on this extremely hot and sunny day. The purple dress wrapped in plastic laying across the passenger seat. Robin shocked she had recieved a call from you saying you'd needed somewhere to stay for the wedding, mainly because she didn't even know they invited you. She didn't hesitate to say yes though, she had missed you, and even if it was for a day she would take it. So she planned to get ready and let you do her makeup just because it had been so long. She knew not to mention the wedding as you applied eyeshadow to her eyes, curlers wrapped in your hair.

"I'm glad you're here" she tould you fondly, fingers playing with a stray makeup brush. "It's been a really long time"

"Yeah, three years" you muttered, focused on blending the pinks across her eyes.

"I'm glad you came" she told you again, trying to reinforce how much it meant to her and everyone that you were here.

"I'm surprised you’re wearing makeup for this" you told her, trying to stray from the obvious conversation you didn't want to have.

"Not really my choice, Steve wanted me up there in a tux on his side but she told me it was too tacky, that if he needed me in the wedding so bad I could stand up there in a bridesmaid dress" you couldn’t help the roll of your eyes as Robin told you this, clearly not comfortable with the fancy hair, makeup, dress, any of it.

"You can wear a tux at my wedding Rob, and I'd happily wear one to yours" you told her and she smiled brightly, missing you in a way she couldn't even explain. You should be the one marrying Steve and even she knew it. So she caught you up on her life, not leaving out a single detail because maybe if you knew everything you wouldn't leave this time.

Walking up to the church was when you finally addmitted to yourself why you were here. You’re not the kind of girl who should be rudely barging in on a white veil occasion, but he was not the kind of boy who should be marrying the wrong girl. So despite how everything ended all those years ago you knew you had to do something whether you were stopping the wedding for yourself or him, you weren't quite sure yet.

"You go ahead, I'm gonna get some fresh air" You told Robin, her bridesmaid dress a gorgeous pastel color. You were jealous she was in the wedding, standing on the side of his future wife but you knew she was up there for him, not her.

"I'll see you after" Robin set a comforting hand on your shoulder and you nodded, half tempted to light a cigarette despite not smoking one since high school. Yet before you could ask to bum one you found yourself sneaking through the back door, the bustling of the busy wedding party surrounding you. The boys stood in matching tuxes, now so much more grown in the last three years, and girls you had never seen before in matching pastels to Robin whispered in a corner. Unrecognizable family wearing pastels to match rushed around as well, quickly you walked by as if to go unnoticed. That's when you heard the shrill voice, your head peering into a room to see blonde hair curled perfectly laying a top a dress shaped like a pastry as she yelled at a briesmaid. This was not what you had thought it'd be, not what you both had imagined for your own wedding. Knowing Steve never planned something like this.

"Only a few people, none of my family if I can help it, and screw the stuffy church we should get married in a big field with a ton of wildflowers. Hell we should even ask Hopper to marry us, just our friends and the kids. There is no need to make such a big show of your love unless you're trying to prove something, and what do we have to prove?"

"Absolutely nothing, we're as real as it gets"


Those words burned in the back of your mind. The terrible truth that this wedding was him trying to prove something, maybe that's why you had recieved an invite with your name written in such a rush. Maybe it was a cry for help, or maybe you were delusional. No matter what the fantasy of standing and saying 'Don't say yes, run away now, I'll meet you when you're out of the church at the back door. Don't wait, or say a single vow. You need to hear me out' stamped permanently in your brain. Realizing the wedding was about to start you snuck back out, at least before you caught sight of him. Spotting Nancy and Johnathon in a pew, shocked faces painted on as you approached them, you slipped into the seat beside them.

"Y/N what're you doing here?" Nancy asked, moving her purse to make more room for you.

"I was invited" you told her, knowing she wasn't upset just confused.

"No you weren't, I helped send the invites" your heart tripled in speed as she informed you of this, the confirmation that Steve had invited you last minute without saying a word to anyone. A cry for help. You watched people speak fondly to eachother as the organ began to play, the song way to similar to a death march. Seeing the faces around you, the clear shock proved you were not invited by the bride to be, that you were out of place in your bright purple dress, the color of the wildflowers you imagined him marrying you in. Thats when you saw him standing at the alter, big fluffly hair, sleek black tux, and bright eyes. His eyes scanning the crowd.

Then right before they landed on you the bride appeared in the aisle, everyone standing because the wedding had now officially started, her looking like a pageant queen. But you knew he wished it was you, you looked back at him trying to read his thoughts. He would only send an invite if it truly meant he wished it was you and he wanted you to save him. The daydream came to mind again, the hope of meeting at the back door and rushing to find a field of wildflowers fit for you to remember your great love. As the wedding progressed Nancy noticed you bouncing your leg and she shot a worried glance to Johnathon. It may have been three years but she still knew you, knew that you were about to do something so crazy you had to bounce your leg to ease the nerves.

"Speak now or forever hold your peace" The preacher fianlly said and there's the silence, there's you last chance. So you stand up with shaky hands, all eyes on you, horrified looks from everyone in the room, but you're only looking at him. Steve.

Eyes scanned the room, waiting to see what happened next as the bride wore an offended look. Nancy hid her face against Johnathon, unsure what to do as Robin wore a grin bigger than the entire wedding itself. People in the pews whispered, the kids standing beside Steve hitting each other, not realizing you were here until now. Yet you never removed your eyes from his as you waited to see if what you had just did is what he had wanted. That he invited you because he wanted to not say yes, run away now, meet you when you're out of the church at the back door. To not wait, or say a single vow because your time is running out.

Your not the kind of girl who should be rudely barging in on a white veil occasion, but you are not the kind of boy who should be marrying the wrong girl, so here you were standing now when the preacher says speak now.

"What do you have to prove Steve?" you watched as his jaw clenched slightly and then he was dropping her hands, a gasp eliciting from the action yet you couldn't help the smile that appeard on your face.

"Absolutley nothing" and then looking like a dream in that tux he floated down the alter, meeting you in the aisle and rushing out the door. The hum of whispers and shocked gaps filled the church as you disappeared into the entryway, your hands locked together, grins etched across your faces as you let out heavy breaths of air.

"Let's run away now, I'll meet you when I'm out of my tux at the back door. Baby, I didn't say my vows, so glad you were around when they said, speak now" you nodded quickly, adrenaline, excitment, and love flowing through your veins. Steve grinned, hands gripping your face as he pressed a hard and quick kiss to your lips before rushing to the back room of the church where he had left his clothes.

You wasted no time getting to the backdoor, your foot bouncing as you spotted his BMW in the parking spot. The door pushed open and there was the Steve you were used to, the one that wore tight jeans and soft sweaters. He flashed you a smile as he locked hands with you again and you were sprinting to his car, laughs falling from your lips. He shut you in as fast as he could before rushing around the side of the vehicle and turning the engine to life. He peeled out so fast dirt flew up in the air but you both knew that you had already started and there was no point in stopping now.

"You came?" he smiled, hand locking with your own again.

"I did, turns out I wasn't supposed to be invited" you smiled at him and he chuckled.

"I thought I could do it, forget all about you, and do the big white wedding. Then I kept thinking about the field of wild flowers, free of my family and full of the people who actually do love me, and when I thought of that I thought of you" pulling his hand up you pressed a soft kiss to his knuckles, unbelieving that you were in Steve Harrington’s front seat again.

"I wasn't going to come but then I thought of how lonely the last three years have been and some part of me knew it was a cry for help, so I came to try one last time" you honestly told him and he smiled from his seat, continuing to drive towards where he hoped to be by the end of the day.

Looking up you saw he approached a field, just outside of Hawkins, and purple wild flowers waved in the wind, bathed by the sunlight. You realized it was exactly like the wedding you both had imagined. “I planted them a few months ago, I was going to suggest it but I realized I couldn’t share them with anyone but you”

“I love it Steve”

“Just don’t leave again”

“How could I? I just crashed your wedding!”

[cleolinda]

Varney the Vampire: A Preface

I want you to think back to what it’s like to reread your old work from years ago—your old stories or poetry, your old school papers, or even your old tumblr posts. Sometimes you’re actually kind of pleased, sure, but I want you to really go back and locate yourself in the heady cringe of that feeling.

In related news, I'm going to pick back up with the Varney the Vampire recaps I started in late 2010 CE. I got about nine chapters in, and then something, who knows what, derailed my life, as things tend to. Like, I'm used to this, it happens with the regularity of a lunar cycle. But I like writing about vampires (clearly), and since I feel like Dracula has been tread pretty thoroughly in recent times, I figured I might go back to something different; we had some lively discussions about Varney back then.

But 2010 was a time before A Lot of Things happened. I was in my early 30s at that point, so I won't say, "Oh, I was so young," but I had a very different energy as a blogger 12-13 years ago. So I've decided to rewrite the recaps a little—some more than others, some not much at all. I just feel like I have a really different perspective on the first chapter in particular, in 2023.

As before, I'm using the full, unabridged text. It is hideously long, something like 230+ chapters, but go big or go home, I figure. The thing is, I was using the files hosted at the University of Virginia, and now you can only get those through the Wayback Machine, but they are still usable for now. I have various backups saved, but I do want you to be able to see that I am, as ever, Not Making It Up.

I'm also not going to quibble anymore as to whether James Malcolm Rymer or Thomas Peckett Prest wrote this behemoth. Per Wikipedia sources, scholars seem to agree that it was all or mostly Rymer. When it's mentioned that they figured this out based on his dialogue style, I went... yeah, that checks out. Because it sure is A Style, and I'll be honest, the repetitive filler dialogue in chapter 10 was such a speedbump for me that I just threw up my hands and said, "I don't know how to recap this. Something I can't remember now is going on in my life and I Cannot. I no longer Can."

Well, it's the 2020s and we're gonna. Like I can't tell you how much stress I do not have about this. I've had covid three times and also spinal surgery. Varney the Vampire can no longer hurt me.

To start, this ordeal has a preface—apparently written upon the occasion of collecting the serial into book form—wherein The Author expresses his gratitude for "unprecedented success of the romance of Varney the Vampyre." First off, Rymer uses "vampire" and "vampyre" interchangeably, because fuck me for caring about consistency, I guess. Second, as Wikipedia notes,

It first appeared in 1845–1847 as a series of weekly cheap pamphlets of the kind then known as "penny dreadfuls." The author was paid by the typeset line [YEAH, I NOTICED], so when the story was published in book form in 1847, it was of epic length: the original edition ran to 876 double-columned pages and 232 chapters. Altogether it totals nearly 667,000 words.

For comparison, all of Lord of the Rings plus The Hobbit is 576,459 words. I sure do blanch every time I see those numbers! It's fine. We're gonna be fine. Back to the preface:

The following romance is collected from seemingly the most authentic sources, and the Author must leave the question of credibility entirely to his readers, not even thinking that he is peculiarly called upon to express his own opinion upon the subject.

"Seemingly" is doing a lot of work here.

Nothing has been omitted [for real, nothing down to the tiniest fly-swat has been omitted] in the life of the unhappy Varney, which could tend to throw a light upon his most extraordinary career, and the fact of his death just as it is here related, made a great noise at the time through Europe, and is to be found in the public prints for the year 1713.

I've seen more than one Dracula multimedia art project where people recreated the letters and diaries and recordings in the book (have you heard my whole thing about how Dracula actually was a cutting-edge techno-thriller back in 1897?), but I've never heard of anyone creating ARG-style media for the Totally for Actual-Fact Real tale of Sir Francis Varney the Vampire, and I think it would be hilarious if someone did.

I won't belabor the entire preface, but what I do want to touch on is Rymer's mention of "unprecedented success." Varney is actually standing on the shoulders of a vampire giant, and it's not the one we would think of. Nowadays, our big touchstone—the influence so great that most works either evoke it or take the trouble to say "Our vampires are different"—is Dracula, obviously. Which was published exactly 50 years after Varney, in 1897. But Varney's touchstone is Polidori's short story "The Vampyre" (1819). And for most of the 1800s, this was everyone's touchstone. Per Wikipedia (which I'm going to lean on for how concise it is, but I concur with this from my own research as well):

An adaptation appeared in 1820 with Cyprien Bérard's novel Lord Ruthwen ou les Vampires, falsely attributed to Charles Nodier, who himself then wrote his own dramatic version, Le Vampire, a play which had enormous success and sparked a "vampire craze" across Europe. This includes operatic adaptations by Heinrich Marschner (see Der Vampyr) and Peter Josef von Lindpaintner (see Der Vampyr), both published in the same year. Nikolai Gogol, Alexandre Dumas [note: I have the Ruthven play he wrote around here somewhere] and Aleksey Tolstoy all produced vampire tales, and themes in Polidori's tale would continue to influence Bram Stoker's Dracula and eventually the whole vampire genre. Dumas makes explicit reference to Lord Ruthven in The Count of Monte Cristo, going so far as to state that his character "The Comtesse G..." had been personally acquainted with Lord Ruthven. [...]

In England, James Planché's play The Vampire, or The Bride of the Isles was first performed in London in 1820 at the Lyceum Theatre based on Charles Nodier's Le Vampire, which in turn was based on Polidori. Such melodramas were satirised in Ruddigore, by Gilbert and Sullivan (1887); a character called Sir Ruthven must abduct a maiden, or he will die.

Back when no one gave a shit about copyright, Polidori's work was spun out into a cottage industry of knock-off stories and plays, an entire horror zeitgeist. Lord Ruthven was, for 78 years, who you copied, who you riffed on, who you parodied, what Count Dracula is to us now: the archetypal vampire. The Big Guy. And Varney is clearly cut from his cloth—the ostensible gentleman who worms his way into the lives of respectable, unwitting people. Unlike Dracula, there's no foreigner Othering, no "historical basis," no undercurrents of contagion and infection, no ambition to make the world his wine-press, none of that; Ruthven is a simpler figure, but the dominant one of this time no less. He is a stranger who shows up in the middle of London high society, icy and distant, his eyes “dead grey”—stern, yet somehow compelling when he cares to be. And when he cares to be, you're in trouble.

And this is the cultural consciousness when Francis Varney shows up.

[Chapter one will go up sometime this week, March 8-10 or so.]

[ashes-writing-corner]

A bit of a shorter update tonight guys! But I hope you like it anyway ^^

TW: mentions abuse/childhood trauma, non descriptive.

Taglist: @stargatenovus

Ghosts That We Knew

13- A Dead Man's Letter

You were still on the hunt for a therapist weeks after the confrontation with Ghost. Getting one wasn’t easy, and to be honest you weren’t in any rush to find one. It wasn’t that you had lied to him, at least not intentionally. You had already mentioned you didn’t like therapists, you didn’t trust them. You didn’t want to be just another doctor’s paycheck. It wasn’t like they cared about you anyway. However, to set Ghost’s mind at ease, you told Ellie’s therapist you were searching for one. Thankfully for you, they were more than willing to help you find an ideal one. 

For the time being, you were perfectly fine with running your business, which was doing pretty well. Life went on as normal. You kept Simon’s file in a locked safe in your room, so no one could get to it and you still had it close at hand in case you needed it. But on more than one occasion you found an envelope either on your bed, your nightstand, or on the floor in your room. You knew what it was. Simon’s letter. Ghost was asking you to read it, without speaking of course. Needing to regain his strength, he had gone quiet in the weeks following. 

You sat in bed, contemplating opening it, when your phone rang. An unknown number…

You didn’t pick it up, as you didn’t pick up unknown numbers. If it was important they’d leave a message. You flipped the silent phone over, thinking it wouldn’t be so distracting as you picked up the envelope. But after a minute, you just decided to put it in the nightstand and just focus on what it was he had written. Taking a slightly shaking breath, you decided to open the letter and give it a read, being delicate so as not to rip anything. The paper was already yellowing a little, meaning he wrote this a good long time ago. You blinked as you took in Simon Riley’s handwriting, which admittedly wasn’t the best, but it wasn’t illegible. 

To the poor soul reading this, 

Since you’re reading this, two things have happened. 1. I’m dead. And 2. You’re the poor sap who got stuck with this heart. Just to let you know, you’re only one of a few letters I’ll be writing, as I’m hoping all my bits get used. Hell knows I’m not using them anymore. 

A heart’s a heavy burden, and believe me I know that better than most. You’ve probably read all my stuff, as I signed the release forms earlier today. Without it, it’d be illegal for you to even see my records. But as the knew…keeper, I guess, for arguably my most important organ, I figured that was important info in there for you to know. But it doesn’t tell you everything. Only what you need to know. Maybe some notes from therapy thrown in for flavor, mental evaluations and all that. But they don’t tell you a damn thing about me. Who I was, what I wanted from life, all of that. Things about me that not even my closest friends know, few as they are.  The dreams I had, the hopes I mislaid. They’re not mine anymore. But…I want you to know this: They aren’t yours either. 

The truth is, I wanted to spend my life making the world a better place, so no one has to know what it means to suffer the way I did. This isn’t meant for you to pity me, but to understand why I made the decision to become a soldier and a donor. I lived a hard life, came from a bad home with a half mad father and, for a time, a drug abusing brother. I rose above that though, challenging as it was. I got my brother the help he needed, kicked our father out, and did my best to make sure everyone was happy before I made that choice. You, whoever you are, are the last person I’m saving, and the one who’s face at the very least I won’t know. And yet you’re being trusted with the most vital part of me…crazy isn’t it? And I don’t trust easy admittedly. 

All I got is one last wish, one last demand. I want you to live. I want you to live your life, and live it in the best way you can. Live it harmlessly, if you can. Help others when you can, but don’t enslave yourself. Live selfishly, at least a little, something I never got to do. Live…fully. I guess is what I’m trying to say. 

And drop that thought most likely going through your head: “This heart isn’t mine”. Trust me, it’s yours. It was meant to be yours the second I signed that paper to become a donor. This heart was always mine to lose, and it was always yours to gain. No matter what your silly brain is telling you, I’m telling you this right bloody now: I did not die because of you. You. Did. Not. Do. This. I chose, as I always have. And now you have a choice. Choose better than me. Choose to live your life. Be a bit selfish, because I wasn’t always able to be. But live. Just…live. And know, even though we’ll never meet, know that I’m so proud of you for fighting this battle, whatever it is that landed you this. I’m happy that I got to help you. And now you know the only thing I ask in return. 

Live your life. And take care of my heart. It was always meant to be yours, in some way or another…

Stay frosty. 

Simon “Ghost” Riley, out. 

You didn’t know what to think when you read it. It seemed a bit devoid of emotion, but it was rather matter of fact. The last part got to you. It wasn’t exactly a confession as he stated, but a reiteration of the truth. Simon lived on. Was living on. And he was doing it through you. There was something so humbling about that, now that you were thinking about it with a clearer head. It didn’t entirely change how you felt, but it put it in a different light. The familiar feeling you had at the beginning of your friendship now made more sense. Simon was a part of you now. 

Taking your phone out, you decided to see who had called, and lo and behold they left a message. You listened to the voicemail, heart pounding. An unfamiliar male voice sounded. 

“Hey, Y/N, I think that’s what Soap called you? Anyway, he told me about your situation. My name’s John Price and I’m also interested in meeting you. I hope you don’t mind, there’s actually two of us coming with him, the other being Kyle Garrick. We look forward to meeting you and hopefully clearing some stuff up” there was a pause before the man continued, “We were there that night, Y/N. The night of your transplant. As I said, I can’t wait to meet you, and I hope you and your kiddo are doing okay. Don’t hesitate to give me, Soap, or Gaz a ring, alright?” he proceeded to give you the number of their last member, Kyle Garrick, before ending the message. 

You almost dropped the phone. 

They were there. 

They. were. there…

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[male-meat-suit]

CRIMINAL MIND + ANGEL BODY = PERFECT COMBINATION 4

The night was spectacular. I woke up the next morning in a messy bed, with a naked girl next to me, the one from the night before. I got up and dressed without the girl noticing. I wrote a note and left it at the foot of the bed, the night was spectacular and I would do it again at any time, but really I was just looking for sex.

When I leave the girl's house, I don't really know where I am, my motorcycle is parked on the street, I get on it and make it roar. I start the march to go to the house of my body. From what I could find out from the ID on his wallet, Tom lived alone with his father, his mother had died a few years ago in an accident, I actually remember hearing something in jail. I get to his house and when I go to open the door a pair of arms hold me tightly against the wall. Tom's father, Nick, looks at me with teary eyes. I'm stupid, I didn't realize that Tom is the ideal son, and having been missing for more than a day must have worried his father. I'm not used to people worrying about me, even though I'm not really their son.

Nick is a tall and burly man, and a sculpted muscle torso can be easily made out under his clothing. He has short dark hair and an extremely sexy bushy beard. He's the kind of man you want on your side in a fight. He wears a plaid shirt that doesn't really do any good for him and formal pants. He hugs me tightly, while he cries on my shoulder.

"Where were you? I was very worried and I already called the police. I thought I had lost you like your mother"

"Are you OK? Nothing wrong with you? God, you're going to be grounded until the day you die Tom, but you can't even imagine how happy I am right now. "

"I'm fine dad, nothing has happened to me. But I had to spend the night outside because I was locked up in the institute and I couldn't call anyone. I was in the warehouse all night and this morning the security guard took me out" .

It is evident that Tom does not usually lie, because his father believed me even though it is the worst lie I have ever told, just to get out of the moment of trouble. This can be a problem. I've been mulling over my decisions. I need revenge on those who testified against me in the trials but I can't do it alone. I need to reunite my old gang, but going to their meeting place in Tom's body is dangerous, both for Tom and me. I have promised that when my revenge is finished I will release Tom, and that is how it will be, but for now it is a very useful tool. However, for this occasion I think I could use another body. I need something that can perfectly control my gang in case they don't believe my story. Something masculine and threatening. I think I can kill two birds with one stone. Nick has the perfect body for this, and if I turn him into a suit, I'll save myself any future trouble with him. I have to thank the nerd who turned Tom into a suit, since he left one of the vials of the drug in Tom's clothes.

As I walk into the house, I inject the vial into Nick's back and watch it fall to the floor like a new suit. I don't really have time to explore his body like I'd like, so I just step out of Tom's body and gently lay him down on the couch. I undress Nick and lay him upright, I can admire that he has the body of a fucking Greek god. I think I could have fun later too but I don't have time. I go to what I think is his bedroom and pick out some clothes from his closet, something simple dark and tactical. I change into Nick's suit, get dressed, and head out the door to my bike. It's time to reunite the old gang.