#Maybe he KNEW it was going to happen so he's like welp better make one more mistake one last hurrah

[dcxdpdabbles]

Dauntless Matchmaker Part 2

Danny knew that his strange new boss was rich. He figured that much out by the overly priced suit and the wad of cash, but when he followed him into an Uber, he never thought he would wind up at the Waynes.

Everyone knew who the Waynes were. Danny personally thought it was no exaggeration when people called Bruce Wayne the Prince of Gotham.

He thought it fit the lovable man far more than the title of White Knight. It wasn't that Bruce didn't do the most out of all the ultra-rich to help the city, but rather, it mirrored the Dark Knight too much.

Danny thinks Bruce Wayne and Batman were too different to be compared like that. At least Mr. Wayne is real.

"Welcome home, Master Damian." The butler said as soon as the two walked through the door. His intrigued eyes slowly glanced at Danny, causing the teenager to stand straighter. "And who might our guest be?"

"I believed he was here for Drake." The young boy- apparently named Damian, fibs. Danny is a little impressed that he can sound so uncaring about what is happening despite being the whole reason he is here.

Danny knows that his job is to fool the butler and act like he isn't very aware of Damian. He offers the man his best smile. "Yeah, I came to see Tom. "

The older gentleman raises a brow while Damian shoots him a look of utter venom. Danny fights the urge to cower underneath the boy's displeasure. That is one nasty scowl the boy had.

"I am afraid Master Tim, is currently unavailable in his room"

Aw, crude, he said the wrong name. "Um, I know he said he needed a few minutes to get ready, but I was allowed to go up to his room. I'm sorry, sir I'm a little nervous."

"I see," The other says carefully before sharing a look with Damian. There is a moment where the two just stare at each other, and after a few small hand signs- sign language, maybe?- the butler clears his throat.

"That's quite alright, young man. You may go to Master Tim's room. It's up the main stairway on the third level, fifth door on the right."

Danny practically ran to the stairs, throwing a quick "Thank you, sir!" as he scurried away from the Butler and his boss. The boy still looked greatly displeased with his performance.

He prays he gets better at it once he speaks with Tom-er Tim and gets their story straight. Curious, He glances around, taking in the tasteful night pictures of Gotham City and the scattered few statues.

His breath catches when he sees a large frame photo of a man lying on an old couch looking into the far distance, his smile curving with mischievous glee and the sunlight reflecting the blue of his eyes.

There is a background of an old library, but the sun streaming through the window drapes him with a glow that makes the other man seem otherworldly.

It feels like it should be a painting, but it is so clearly a photograph that Danny has half a mind to wonder if someone who looked like that could possibly be real.

"Wow." He breathes, stepping closer to the frame.

"Wow, yourself." A gruff voice suddenly says, making Danny jump. Whirling around, he finds a boy about his age leaning on the doorframe.

It takes Danny a moment to realize that he is the subject of the art he was just admiring. But while the teenager in the photo seemed like a visiting angel, draped gracefully put together the teenager before him is, in a slight word, a mess.

He was wearing an oversized, fluffy, red open bathrobe. He seemed to only bother to slip on some baggy sweatpants and one sock. His hair didn't seem to have been combed in days, and there were dreadful bags underneath his eyes.

Despite that, Danny felt his heart flutter slightly when he made eye contact with the other.

"Who are you?" The stranger asks, voice a soft mutter.

"Um...I'm looking for Tim?"

"You found him." There is a half smile, but it falls quickly as the boy's demeanor seems to grow sad. Welp, his boss did say he was recently heartbroken.

"Oh great! I was told by Damian to do this when I found you." He places his hand on the wall, knocking six times, pausing for a few seconds, then knocking four.

Tim's face flashes through emotions faster than Danny can understand before the other teens' eyes water. That's all the warning he gets just as Tim bursts into tears.

He has no idea what's happening, but Danny's protective core has him rushing forward to bring the sobbing boy into his arms. He fumbles for a few seconds, unsure if it's welcome, until Tim melts into him, sobbing softly into his chest.

"It's okay. Shh. Shhhh. It's alright, everything will be alright. Why don't we head to your room?"

"Okay," The other whimpers. Danny helps him to his room, trying his best to offer as much support as possible. He is just starting to wonder if he should offer to get him some water or something when Tim kicks the door close, and the tears are all gone.

"Alright, we managed to fool Alfred. He was watching from the stairway," Tim whispers, leaning in close to Danny's face. He gave the startled half-ghost a sneer. "Now, who are you, and why did Damian send you to be my fake boyfriend?"

"Wait, you guys have a code for fake dating? That's what that was?"

"That's not important. I want to know what your objective is."

Danny tells him everything that Damian has told him since finding him. It's only been a few hours since he was fired and since he was taken by Damian.

Tim took it all in without much emotion.

"So you're here as my pity date to get Alfred to leave me alone? And was the Demon Brat the one to hire you? A likely story."

"No, I swear everything I've said is true."

"Oh, and I bet Batman is going to come out of the closet, too," The other said, rolling his eyes.

Danny frowns. "Batman isn't real."

At once, Tim's entire body seemed to have frozen. He blinks slowly, almost as if he is delayed in the reaction. "What did you just say?"

"Batman isn't real," Danny repeats slower, suddenly afraid for Tim's mental health. Next thing he knows, Tim will say the tooth fairy is real.

"Yes, he is."

"No, that's what the government wants you to think so they can hunt him down."

Tim blicks even slower before a blush starts to climb along his cheekbones. He reaches up to play with the hair at the back of his neck. "If that's true, then what is Batman really?"

"A ghost," Danny says confidently and Tim's face grows even redder. It's....endearing.

"You're weird," Tim says, looking away. His gaze lands on a hanging mirror, seemingly taken aback by his reflection. "Oh, I haven't showered in a few days, have I? Do you mind?"

Danny shakes his head, smiling. "No, go ahead. "

Noehter notices the small boy who moves away from Tim's door. And if that boy happened to be pumping his fist into the air in celebration well, that's no one business but Damian's

[joelscruff]

feelings on fire (joel miller x f!reader) 18+ PART SEVEN

previous chapters | welp. it's here. this one is a DOOZY, and i'm so sorry. i never expected it to get this long but oh well!!! go grab a snack and get settled cause this one is kinda wild. love u guys sm. i proofread this very quickly so i apologize if there's any mistakes!! and here's my kofi if you'd like to leave a tip 💕 chapter summary: the pressure is building in more ways than one. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: age difference (joel is in his 50s, reader is in her early 20s), innocent/inexperienced reader, praise kink, dirty talk, pet names, mentions of religion, catholic guilt, sexting, n00ds, oral (m receiving), lap-sitting, thigh riding, alcohol, lemme know if i missed any! word count: 15.6k ao3

You're beginning to learn that Joel runs hot and cold.

There have been moments with him, intimate and special and warm, moments that make you feel light on your feet and send butterflies wilding through your stomach. Moments where he's open and present and wants all his attention to be on you, on your body, your pleasure. His touch sets you alight, his words send tingles down your spine.

And then weekdays happen and you start second guessing yourself all over again.

On Sunday you'd attended church with your parents, another attempt at appeasing your mother in lieu of all the lies and deceit. You've only gone to a select few services since you came home, something you know they've been silently judging you for and just waiting to hold above your head. Admittedly you'd been afraid of bumping into people you knew, having to switch on your teenage persona of Good Catholic Girl™ and lie through your teeth about how good it feels to be back home again. Luckily in the few services you'd attended, you'd only run into some elderly family friends, managing to avoid anyone you went to high school with.

Your luck had to run out at some point, though. This service you'd been accosted by none other than Bethany, one of your childhood friends who you'd practically left in the dust when you'd gone away for college. Her friendship was always full of judgement, perfection, and not to mention heaps of Catholic guilt. She'd taken one look at you, appraising you up and down as if assessing you for imperfections, then pulled you into a tight hug.

"It's so good see you," she'd said when she'd pulled back, a wide - and borderline frightening - grin plastered on her face, "My momma told me you were back, thought I woulda heard from you by now!"

Your mother, standing beside you in your pew, had furrowed her brow at this, clearly confused. You hadn't understood her reaction completely until Bethany had headed off to go say hi to someone else.

"I thought you had lunch with her and Alice the other week," she'd murmured softly to you under her breath, giving you an accusatory look, "Said you'd be helping them out over the summer. That's what you told me, anyway."

Fuck.

"O-oh, right," you'd had no idea what else to say other than that, biting down on your lip and staring straight ahead as the service began. She hadn't said anything else about it, but you'd sat in discomfort and anxiety for the next hour.

In a panic, you'd found Bethany after the service and quickly asked if she needed any extra help at Sunday School, to which she'd responded with enthusiasm - a little too much - that they always needed extra hands on Thursdays to help with lesson planning. You'd jumped at the chance, telling her you'd be there.

That night you'd texted Joel. You hadn't heard from him all day despite it being a weekend, and part of you had been hoping you might go over and see him once your parents were asleep.

guess who's volunteering at church now? this idiot.

You'd expected words of comfort, maybe a joke, at least something that would make you feel better about the situation. However, his response to yours had been brief, short, simple:

Rough. Get some sleep x

This trend of short responses has only continued throughout the rest of the week. He's distant when you text him, responds with a few words at best, short and simple and almost like an entirely different person. It's hard to believe it's the same man who whispers good girl in your ear and tells you how well you're doing, how wet you are, how pretty you look. His texts are some ghostly version of him, constantly fading in and out, barely showing interest or desire - that is, if he texts you at all.

It makes your skin itch, sends your insecurities into a tailspin. Why does this always seem to happen? You can't make heads or tails of it - you know he's busy, know that his job takes a lot out of him, and yet you can't help but feel that there's something more he's not telling you. He'd told you on his back deck all about how he wasn't very happy at his job, how he'd prefer to be retired by now, living life on his own terms - so why can't he just do that? It's clearly taking a toll on him, and while part of you feels empathetic and yearns to comfort him, another part feels angry, irritated.

You'd gone to your friends with these concerns, hoping for some sort of answer or solution to the problem. Instead, they'd been more sympathetic to Joel's plight than yours.

you gotta remember you're not in a relationship with him babe

right!! men are v simple creatures. they see things black & white. ur his fuck buddy and he prob doesn't rly want it to go beyond that.

now THAT'S going too far. she's more than his fuck buddy definitely. he wouldn't have told her his whole life story last weekend if that were true.

telling her he had a fucked up childhood isn't necessarily his whole life story. most guys had shitty childhoods lbr

but he opened up!!!!! fuck buddies don't do that.

exactly

i wish you guys were here :(

i'm honestly 5 secs away from booking a flight to texas bestie. gotta use my dad's frequent flier miles somehow.

--

"My friend Tasha is coming to visit this weekend," you tell your mom on Wednesday evening with a smile, turning your phone toward her to show the Airbnb you'll be staying at, "We're gonna stay at this little bungalow, have a girls' weekend."

Her brow furrows, "Why can't Tasha stay here?"

Because Tasha would terrify you, you want to say, because Tasha doesn't wear pants unless absolutely necessary. Instead you just smile again and say, "I think a change of scenery would be good for me, it'll be like a mini vacation. Plus there's a hot tub."

"Now that's something we need," she turns back to her book with a shake of her head, "I swear, your father is more interested in buying that boat we'll never use instead of something new for the backyard." You hadn't been asking for her permission, but her indifference sends a wave of relief through you; you've still been trying to be on your absolute best behavior lately to make up for the lies.

You head out to the backyard and seat yourself in a lounge chair by the pool, unlocking your phone again and swiping to your last conversation with Joel from last night.

hope you had a good day :)

I'm sure yours was better. Sleep well x

Curt and to the point, not at all what you'd wanted him to reply with. You recall one of your first phone conversations, the one where you'd been experiencing the same lack of interest in his texts, what he'd said to you: Don't think for one second that I don't think about you. But how can you not? How are you supposed to feel desired when he's being like this?

can you call me tonight?

You try not to wait too long before biting the bullet, not wanting to talk yourself out of it, but you do stare at the message with your finger hovering over the send button for longer than you really need to. The sound of the back door sliding open forces you to send it, locking your phone again as your mother walks over and seats herself beside you in another chair.

"It's nice to see you wearing that again," she says with a nod to your chest, referring to your crucifix - after wearing it again last weekend you'd thought that keeping it on might please her. "You're starting to really settle in here again, aren't you?"

You try not to grimace, "Yeah, it's nice being home."

She leans back in her chair, letting the suns rays hit her for a little bit without speaking. You sit there waiting for her to say something else, discomfort flooding through you. You're reminded of how easy it was to sit with Joel in his backyard last weekend, how little pressure there was to put up any kind of front - sitting here with your mother is the exact opposite.

"So, you lied to me," she finally says, voice quiet.

Your eyes widen and you sit up a bit, turning to her with panic already rising in your throat, "Wh-what do you mean?"

She doesn't turn to look at you, continuing to stare at the sky, eyes covered by her comically large sunglasses, "You know what I mean."

You sit there, staring at her with a mix of confusion and fear. There's no way she knows about Joel, how could she know? Who would have told her? You wonder if perhaps one of her neighborhood friends saw you leaving his house, saw you in his car... but the guise of lessons is your cover now, so how would any of that point to your relationship?

Some relationship, you can't help but think to yourself, based entirely on sex and only communication on the weekends.

"Bethany and Alice," your mom finally states, and you feel the panic in the pit of your stomach loosen immediately - oh.

"Mom," you say immediately, shaking your head, "I-I know. I'm sorry. I know I told you we met up but..." you bite your lip, trying to come up with some kind of excuse but coming up empty.

Instead, you do something that surprises you entirely - you tell the truth. Or at least... half of it.

"I really feel like my friendship with them has passed," you admit with a frown, "I'm... I'm different than I was when I left, you know that, don't you? I'm sure you've noticed."

She's still not looking at you but you catch her nodding slowly, thoughtfully.

"I'm sorry I lied but... I didn't want to disappoint you. And I didn't want you to worry about me being alone all the time. I'm actually rarely ever alone at college so it's been nice to have some time to myself," you smile, thinking of the girls in your group chat constantly waiting for new updates, "Having lunch with two people I haven't talked to in years just... didn't seem appealing to me. I have different friends now, you know? I'm older, people outgrow each other."

"Friends like Tasha," your mom states, bitterness in her voice, "Tasha who you don't even want me to meet."

You make a face, "Mom..."

She puts her hands up in defeat, shaking her head, "It's fine. You can do what you want and so can she," the words are drenched in judgement, "But you should remember that there are rules for staying here, young lady. And honesty is one of those rules."

You take a deep breath, swinging your legs around the edge of the chair and placing your arms on your knees, your face in your hands. You're so close to snapping back at her, making a comment that'll surely start an argument, but you shove it back down as best you can, counting to ten in your head.

"I'm sorry," you finally say through gritted teeth, "It won't happen again."

"It better not." She stands up then, disappears from the chair as quickly as she'd settled in it. You watch as she walks to the back door again, reaches for the handle.

Your mouth can't stop itself.

"Have you told Dad about my guitar lessons yet?"

She freezes, turns and stares at you for a moment without saying anything, then opens the door and heads back inside, slamming it behind her.

Checkmate.

--

I will when I get home.

Your anxiety is through the roof as you pace back and forth in your bedroom after darkness has fallen, freshly showered and pampered and already out of distractions. Without really thinking much about it, you pull Joel's flannel from under your mattress and wrap it around your shoulders, breathing him in as you sit on your bed and try your best not to keep checking your phone. When it finally vibrates you're not even embarrassed when you pick up on the first ring.

"Hey," you murmur, settling into your sheets and closing your eyes, "Is everything okay?"

"With me?" he asks, voice tired and gruff, "Thought it'd be the other way around."

Your brow furrows, "What do you mean?"

"Thought you'd wanna talk about this church volunteerin' stuff," he's moving around as he talks - you hear the sound of a cupboard banging and the clang of a glass against a countertop.

You don't speak for a moment, listening to the sound of liquid being poured into a cup and Joel taking a swig. There's no sound of the tap - you'd be willing to bet that it's not water he's drinking.

"No, I..." you frown, "I was worried about you."

You hear him take another sip, swallowing loudly and then placing the cup back down with a clink. More pouring. You swear you hear the faint sound of a chuckle before he takes another swig.

"Well that's silly," he states, and you suddenly notice there's a strange difference in his voice, a heaviness you're not used to.

"Are you drunk?"

He chuckles again but there's no humor in it, "Nowhere near as drunk as I'd like to be."

You frown, readjusting yourself against the pillows. You hear him take another sip, "Did something happen?"

He sighs then, deep and tired. You hear him put the glass back down on the counter, "No, babygirl, nothin' happened," hearing him say your pet name makes you feel a little better, the anxiety ebbing away a bit, "It's just that my job is the bane of my fuckin' existence."

He sounds genuinely exhausted, words tinged with resentment. You pull his flannel tighter around yourself, breathe him in, pretend you're in the same room as him, "Talk to me," you say softly, "Tell me what's wrong."

He doesn't reply for a moment - you can make out some footsteps on the other end, the creak of his stairs as he goes up to his bedroom, "No, darlin', it's nothin'. Shouldn't be talkin' about this with you."

"Hey, if something's bothering you, I wanna hear about it. I wanna make it better... if I can."

You hear him settle onto his bed, a satisfied little noise emanating from his throat that makes you smile, "That's the thing, babygirl. You can't. This is just the way life works. You do shit you hate and then you die, plain and simple."

"Joel," you admonish quietly - it's the first time you've said his name aloud since last weekend, it feels right on your lips, safe. He sighs but doesn't say anything else, breath evening out in your ear. "What is it? Really? I've been worrying about it all week."

"Oh honey," he murmurs softly. "Shouldn't be worryin' about me, there are more important things."

"Not to me," you admit, closing your eyes and shaking your head even though he can't see you, "First I thought maybe you were just busy, but-"

"Busy," he scoffs, "Right, yeah, busy. That's my middle name at this point. Fuckin' busy."

He really doesn't sound like himself - you know you still don't know him very well at this point, could be wrong about so many things, but part of you just knows that this isn't Joel. You know his softness, his safety, his kind eyes and crooked smile. This version of him sounds so sad; you can't help but wish you were in his bed right now, able to hold him close and run your fingers through his grey curls. You want him to open up to you.

"You don't wanna hear this shit, angel, you don't," he continues, voice gentler this time, "I know you're thinkin' somethin' is wrong, thinkin' somethin' in particular happened to make me feel like this, but the truth is..." he sighs again, deliberates for a moment and then simply states, "Truth is I'm just bein' stupid."

"You're not stupid," you say immediately, and he chuckles.

"God, you're so sweet, babygirl," he murmurs softly, "It's nice to hear your voice."

Your feel your skin heat up at the words, crossing your legs together unconsciously, "It's nice to hear yours too," you whisper with a smile, "I've missed you this week. Every time you've texted me it's felt like it's not really you."

"I'm sorry, baby," you can hear the sincerity in his voice buried underneath the tiredness and alcohol, "I'm just... I'm a mess." You hear him shuffle a bit in bed, like he's turning onto his side, "Work is always puttin' me in a shitty mood lately and I just...I don't want you to see this side of me."

"But why?"

Another sigh, then-

"'Cause I don't want you to look at me differently."

You bring the sleeve of his flannel to your lips, "I could never look at you differently, Joel," you whisper, "Promise."

He's quiet for a moment and you hope you haven't upset him, hope he's just thinking about what to say. You mean your words; it really would take a lot for you to look at him differently. You know you probably shouldn't feel that way considering you've known him less than a month, that the feeling should scare you... but it doesn't.

"I'm tired, angel," he finally says, voice sad and distant, "I'm too old to be doin' this job."

You wait for him to speak again, listening as he takes a shaky breath on the other end of the line, almost like he hasn't told anyone this. And maybe he hasn't.

"But it's hard to admit that to myself," he continues, "And even harder to admit it to you of all people. I don't want you to see some washed up, tired, old geezer, ya know?" he says it with humor but you can tell that he means it, "I mean I used to... god, I used to be able to do shifts like this no problem. Be up at five and home by midnight and able to do it all over again the next day. Now it's like I'm runnin' on a half empty tank of gas. Got no joy in this job anymore and my back is killin' me and-" he cuts himself off suddenly, "And I need to shut the fuck up before I scare you away."

"You're not gonna scare me away," you whisper, and you mean it, "I'm not going anywhere."

He laughs softly to himself; you're not sure if he believes you, but you're choosing to hope that he does, "Ya know, I didn't even wanna tell you my age when we were first together? I wasn't gonna tell you, I really wasn't. But then you were so sweet and vulnerable and honest with me-"

You scoff, "Yeah, lying about knowing how to play guitar, that's certainly honesty."

"That's not what I mean and you know it," he chastises - you can hear the sudden smile in his voice, "No, darlin'... when you told me you hadn't done anythin' before. That's when I knew I had to tell you, 'cause it wouldn't have been right otherwise," he makes an odd noise in his throat and then corrects, "Not that any of this is really right, but..."

"It feels right," you say softly, staring down at the plaid lines on the flannel shirt shrouding your body, reminding you of what it means - that you're his.

"It does," he agrees, voice rough and low, "Right and wrong in all the right ways, huh babygirl?"

You nod to yourself, unable to help the grin that spreads across your face, "Exactly."

The both of you are silent for a few moments but just like last weekend, it isn't uncomfortable or awkward. It's calming and safe, just listening to each other's breathing. You can tell he's tired, can hear it in his slow exhales; again, you can't help but wish you were lying beside him. And you can't help but wonder if a more sober Joel would have even said any of this to you, would have just kept it to himself and continued to deal with it in silence, not bothering to tell anyone how he's been feeling. It breaks your heart a little bit.

"It'll be okay," you whisper gently, soothingly, "It won't be like this forever, Joel."

He sighs, deep and sleepy, "You really are an angel," he murmurs, "So sweet and lovely, babygirl. Love hearin' you say my name like that."

His words send warmth throughout your body - no one has ever spoken to you the way Joel speaks to you, makes you feel the way he makes you feel. You close your eyes and bury your face in the sleeve of his flannel, listen as his breathing gets slow again.

"You should get some sleep," you whisper, even though you really don't want to end the call - but Joel is tired and you want him to feel better, "Text me tomorrow, okay? Even if you're grumpy."

He almost laughs but he's so close to sleep that it comes out slurred and low, "Okay, baby, I will. Promise."

"Goodnight, J-"

"Wait wait wait," he suddenly sounds a bit more alert, rousing himself from sleep, "You didn't tell me 'bout this church thing. You okay with it?"

You giggle at his sudden concern, "It's nothing, really. Just helping an old friend out with lesson plans for Sunday School. Not very exciting."

"Fun," his voice is sleepy and low again, "What're you gonna wear?"

You have to bite down on your lip to stifle another laugh, shaking your head even though he can't see you, "Go to bed, you perv."

He chuckles, "Okay, okay. Goodnight, angel."

"Goodnight, Joel."

You're about to end the call when you hear him murmur one final thing, so soft you're surprised you can even make it out - but you do:

"Hope I dream about you."

You fall asleep with a smile glued to your lips.

--

You end up wearing the same outfit you'd worn to Joel's last Saturday, though you leave the stockings at home; you doubt the women at church will be offended by your bare legs. You fasten your crucifix around your neck and make sure your mom gets a good look at you before you leave the house; you haven't spoken since yesterday afternoon but you still want her to see you're putting in some effort, as surface level as it may be.

She's in the living room when you come down the stairs, and her expression can't help but turn to one of surprise when she looks up from her book to see you standing there in your Sunday best.

"I'm going to the church," you explain softly, "Gonna help out Bethany with the lesson plan for Sunday School."

She assesses you up and down, eyes fixing on your crucifix for a moment before trailing back down to her book. She doesn't say a word.

Silent treatment. Typical.

Fifteen minutes later you find yourself being greeted by Bethany, blonde hair flowing down her dress as she stands outside the church with a bright smile plastered on her face. You recognize the forced expression immediately, one that you yourself have become an expert in feigning, though for different reasons. You haven't seen her in years but you still know her well enough to tell when she's less than thrilled about something - this time that "something" is you being there.

"I'm so excited you're here!" she tells you, voice shrill as she immediately takes a step forward to envelop you in a haphazard hug that feels neither excited nor genuine.

You should have known it would be like this. When you'd left for college a few years ago you'd promised to keep in touch with both Alice and Bethany, the only "solid" friends you'd managed to keep throughout all the studying, the tutoring, the church services, the extracurriculars, volunteering, etc. It's a miracle in itself that your friendship had even lasted through high school, if you're being honest. You'd begun to distance yourself from them a bit in those final years as you started to lose your faith while theirs only seemed to grow stronger. Leaving for college had been the last nail in the coffin.

"Me too!" you lie, feigning a similar smile as you both pull back from each other.

Though her grin is unrelenting, you can see the distance in her eyes, the sourness and disdain for your presence extremely evident. She doesn't like you. There's an awkward few seconds of silence where she assesses you up and down again, like she had at the service on Sunday.

Why did you even say yes to me coming here? You want to ask as you stand in front of her awkwardly, not really knowing what to say. If you didn't want me here you could have just said there wasn't anything for me to do. But you already know why you'd still been invited despite her obvious disdain for you - keeping up appearances means everything to these people; actually being honest about her feelings would have been disastrous for her reputation.

"Was sure you'd forgotten all about me," she finally says with an edge of malice still shrouded through her smile, "Haven't heard from you in what? Three years? And then you just show up outta the blue, huh?"

You grimace, "Uh, yeah, sorry about that. There was... I mean, I've just had a lot going on, I guess." You kick your feet awkwardly; this is not the conversation you want to be having right now.

"A lot goin' on, huh?" she echoes, eyes still scanning you up and down, "Right. Busy with college?"

You nod quickly, "Yeah, it's been kinda crazy."

She raises an eyebrow, "What are you studyin' again?"

"English Lit."

She snorts then, shaking her head and taking a step back, "Right. Reading. Sure sounds crazy."

Your brow furrows, "It's more than that."

"Oh, I'm sure it is," she puts her hands up in defense, fake laughing and smacking her lips together, "Just find it funny that an English Lit degree takes up so much of your time." She's being pretty bold with the sarcasm but you suppose she has a right to be angry, though you'd never assumed she'd be this pissed about you cutting her off, "Anyway, we should get inside, they're waitin' for us."

"Bethany," you take a step toward her, softening your expression, "I'm really sorry."

She just shakes her head again and turns away from you to reach for the handle on the front door, forced smile finally fading into a natural frown, "Forget it."

Great start.

You don't talk much after that, not after you're led into a side room off the chapel where a few other women are sitting in a circle with binders in their laps. Bethany simply gestures for you sit down in an empty chair and the meeting begins. Everyone immediately begins their rapport, discussing their plans and reading quotes aloud from their binders while you just kind of sit there unsure of what to do or say. A few of the women give you a tentative smile or two, but the way Bethany periodically glares at you is enough to keep them from actually speaking to you directly. You're okay with it though; as awkward as this is, you'd rather sit in silence than have to pretend. Still, if you'd known it would be like this you never would have come - it's not like your mother appreciates it anyway.

Your phone vibrates at one point, a text from Tasha confirming her flight information with lots of !!!!!!'s that make you smile. As if sensing your sudden mood shift, Bethany puts her hands up with another grin that doesn't reach her eyes.

"We keep phones in our purses" she says sweetly, "So we don't get distracted."

You nod and slip it back inside your bag, a gesture that's more of a peace offering than anything else; it seems to appease her.

It's strange being inside this part of the church again after so long. You'd attended your own Sunday School lessons here, prepped for choir and readings, learned your scripture. It certainly doesn't feel as safe or inviting as it once did, though you have to admit that there was always an undercurrent of pressure, of judgement - an energy that still remains today. Bethany watches you closely, quietly assessing you as you nod along to everyone's suggestions and ideas and try to keep up your long-time façade of obedience. You push down the new parts of you that long to take back a bit of control, maybe say something shocking or suggest something ridiculous just to see how they'd react.

You've been sitting in silence for about forty five minutes when Bethany announces its time for a quick phone break. Like clockwork everyone in the room pulls out their devices and starts checking for missed calls from their kids, their husbands. You pull yours out and your eyebrows go up in surprise when you see a text from Joel on your lockscreen:

How's your day going angel?

He didn't forget his promise. A smile plays at your lips as you start typing out your reply, but it quickly fades when you feel Bethany's eyes on you, watching.

"I'm, uh-" you stand up, smoothing out the creases in your dress and gripping your phone tightly, "I'm gonna take a bathroom break."

--

The bathroom is the same as you remember it, high ceilings and white walls, your footsteps echoing loudly as you walk over to the sinks and lean your back against the countertop. You continue typing out your reply to Joel:

well all the church ladies are giving me the silent treatment til i'm worthy of being here again lol. but jokes on them cause my mom is also giving me the silent treatment so i have training! anyway i miss you. wanna hug you. hope you're feeling a bit better today 💕

You turn around and face the mirror while you wait for his reply. You're still smiling - it's impossible not to when you're thinking about Joel, but this smile is bright and genuine, unlike the forced grins you've been sharing with Bethany for the past hour. God, you can't remember the last time anything made you feel as free and happy as Joel makes you, like nothing else really matters. Your phone buzzes and you tear your eyes away from the mirror to read his reply:

Aw baby I'm sorry. I wanna hug you too. Wanna do a bit more than hug if I'm being honest, but you know that already.

You bring your other hand up to your mouth, smiling even wider into it as his typing bubble pops up again only seconds later:

And I'm sorry about last night. If I said anything stupid please forget it ever happened. Me and alcohol don't mix that well sometimes. I'm alright, don't worry about me x

But I do worry, you want to say, I want to make you feel better. But how can you do that from a church bathroom, miles away from wherever he is right now? You're suddenly reminded of something he'd told you a few weeks ago, something you hadn't quite understood in the moment - You can text me whenever you want, tell me all about what you're doin', brighten up my workday. Maybe send me some pictures.

Oh.

You look at yourself in the mirror again and carefully place your phone down on the edge of the sink. Your hand slowly comes up to push aside the collar of your dress, pull the stretchy material past your shoulder and down your arm. You do the same to the other side, slipping out of your sleeves and tugging down the high neckline of your dress to expose your bare chest to the mirror, putting your cleavage on display. You bite your lip, willing yourself to see what Joel sees, a pretty girl in a pretty dress, bra straps clinging to her skin and a crucifix hanging from her throat. Filthy.

You grab your phone and turn it toward the mirror, opening up your camera app and moving it close enough so he can see only your torso, sleeves hanging limp at your sides while your other arm comes up to squeeze your breasts together a bit, accentuating your cleavage even more. You snap a pic and send it to him before you can talk yourself out of it.

He replies seconds later:

Fuck

A grin spreads across your face and you make quick work of slipping your bra straps down your shoulders as well, just as another text from him comes in:

Send me another baby. Please.

Already one step ahead of you, you think to yourself as your cheeks warm and you pull down the cups of your bra, your breasts spilling out into the cool air of the bathroom. You squeeze them together again, nipples hardening tightly as you take another picture and send it along with a coy message:

better?

He must be staring at his phone, waiting for it, because his typing bubble appears instantaneously. You can't help but feel a sense of pride at the power you're holding right now, a change of pace from your usual naivety.

Oh babygirl. This is just what I needed.

i know :)

You glance at the bathroom door and then at the time - you still have a few minutes before the meeting starts up again and your mind is already racing with what you can do with those few minutes. With barely any hesitation you tug your dress up over your thighs, pulling your panties to the side and aiming your phone underneath. You frown when you pull your phone back up to find that it's dark and blurry.

"Hold on," you whisper to no one, then carefully lift your leg and place your heel on the countertop for support, pulling your dress up again and aiming your phone a little better. You pull back your panties and aren't surprised in the slightest to feel that they're suddenly damp.

This picture comes out much better. Your pussy is bare and a little wet, clit poking out past your lips, panties pulled against your inner thigh. You already know it's gonna make him crazy as you hit send.

Jesus Christ

He's already typing something else when you receive it and you can't help but giggle, covering your mouth and trying to picture where he is right now, what he's doing. Is he in a bathroom too? On a break? Or is he in the middle of a job, surrounded by other people? The latter thought makes you even wetter somehow.

Fuck you have such a pretty pussy baby.

thank you mr. miller :)

Will you hold her open a little for me? Show me that sweet little hole?

Who are you to deny such a request? With heat radiating all over your body you bring your phone down again and scissor your lips apart, exposing the innermost part of yourself to your phone camera. You can feel your own slick on the tips of your fingers, and when you push yourself open you feel a bit of your wetness dribble down onto your palm. Fuck. This is hotter than you'd expected it would be. You'd thought it would be a good way to make him feel better, get him through his work day like he'd said; you never thought you'd enjoy it this much.

Oh sweetheart. Look at that.

You feel another rush of pride as you take your leg down from the counter and tug your dress back down, rubbing your thighs together and doing everything in your power not to touch yourself again even though you want to. A quiet whimper unconsciously tears itself past your lips at his follow-up message:

Who's that perfect pussy belong to babygirl?

You've never typed a message back so fast in your life.

you. it's yours mr. miller.

That's right. Good girl.

Your skin is on fire, body tingling in all the right places. You smooth a hand down your bare chest, cup one of your breasts, gently squeeze. It's impossible for your eyes not to roll back a bit when you imagine Joel's hand on you instead, big and firm and callused and perfect. Your pussy throbs in your underwear and another whimper slips past your lips.

i'm really wet now :(

I know angel. Come over tonight and I'll take care of it, Ok?

Your heart leaps at the invitation, even more wetness pooling in your panties at the thought of what Joel might want to do tonight, if there's another “lesson” he has in mind.

yes please

Eyeing the time again, you bite your lip in disappointment when you realize you should probably be getting back. You wait until Joel has finished typing his final response, a message that makes your skin burn with anticipation:

Don't touch yourself til you see me. Keep that soft little pussy hidden, baby. Promise me.

i promise x

Just as you hit send you suddenly hear the unmistakable sound of footsteps down the hall, quickly approaching the bathroom. Your eyes widen in the mirror, gaze snapping to your bare breasts, sleeves still hanging loosely at your sides. In a panic you hurriedly attempt to stuff yourself back into your bra before you have company – but you're not that lucky.

The bathroom door bangs open and you freeze with one arm halfway through your sleeve, breasts still completely exposed in the mirror as you turn on the spot to see none other than Bethany standing there, frozen in place.

“I-” she looks flabbergasted, expression one of pure horror as she takes a step back from you and grips the knob of the door like she could rip it off at any moment. Your free arm that isn't trapped in a sleeve comes up to cover yourself as best you can, but you know she's already seen everything.

“I'm- I was just-” You're similarly taken aback and at a complete loss for words, unsure how the fuck you can explain what exactly she's just walked in on.

Her eyes fall to the phone in your hand, like she's putting the pieces together, then she shakily takes another step back and leaves without saying another word, the click of her heels echoing back at you loudly until the door finishes closing behind her.

Shit.

You don't have time to stand around thinking up an excuse; you do briefly consider escaping through one of the windows to avoid facing her, but you know it would just delay the inevitable. Instead you hastily finish pulling your dress back on and stare at yourself in the mirror for one final moment.

Your smile is gone. So is the light in your eyes. You suddenly begin to feel that familiar sense of guilt creeping in, the shame, the sin. You blink a few times and find that there are tears welling up in your eyes, a lump in your throat. A tiny voice in the back of your mind, one you've been attempting to mute for years, whispers to you: What have you done?

--

Bethany doesn't speak to or look at you for the rest of the meeting. It's not much of a change from before you'd gone to the bathroom, but there's something new in her silence now, something you can see in her eyes as she stares down at her binder while the other women talk. Fear. You've known her for most of your life, can sense certain mood changes from a mile away; you've frightened her. And somehow that just adds even more to the guilt building in your stomach.

You'll apologize to her after the meeting, it's all you can do. You genuinely feel horrible that she'd walked in on something so private, seen something she never intended or desired to ever see. You wonder if there's anything you can use to pass off as an excuse; maybe you spilled something on your dress and were cleaning it off? Maybe it was too tight and you needed a breather? Anything is better than the alternative – the truth – but you somehow doubt she'll believe anything you say at this point. That bridge was broken the second you left for college; there's no repairing it now.

The meeting ends with a few pleasantries exchanged and several comments about picking kids up from school, getting home to cook something for dinner, normal things that remind you how abnormal your own situation is in comparison. Half an hour ago you'd felt on top of the world, in control, had power in the tips of your fingers. Now you just feel small again, inconsequential.

You wait until the other ladies have left before taking a step toward Bethany, ready to unload your apologies and beg for forgiveness. She surprises you by speaking first.

"I'd think twice before wearing that again,” she hisses at you, venomous and pointed. Your eyes widen.

"Excuse me?"

"I said,” her words are slow and full of bitter intention, eyes glaring daggers at you, “I'd think twice before wearing that again" she gestures to the crucifix around your neck and you unconsciously reach up to take it between your fingers, glancing down at it before looking back up to meet her angry gaze.

“I'm...” you feel overwhelmed, tears pricking in your eyes again at the sudden burst of rage being directed at you, “I don't...”

"You might not understand this,” she practically spits through her teeth, “but that symbol actually means something to the people here."

"I know what it means.” It comes out as barely a whisper, voice shaky as she takes an intimidating step toward you with nothing but malice in her expression.

"So that's why you've got your breasts out in a public bathroom? A church bathroom?”

“Bethany, I-”

“You're not welcome here anymore, understand?” her voice is full of finality, “You can come to church with your parents-” The mention of your parents sends your anxiety into a tailspin, heart beating frantically in your chest as she continues to step closer and closer toward you, “And you can pretend you're their good little girl. But I know the truth. And it's not welcome in my Sunday School ever again. Got it?”

My Sunday school. The superiority complex is strong and you know deep down that this is all completely rooted in her own fears, her own desires, her pride, but none of that seems to matter when she's staring you down like this, holding you captive with her hostile words.

"Got it,” you whisper, nodding shakily.

"Good. Now go home and take," she points toward the crucifix, the tip of her finger close enough to faintly brush against the shape of it, “that,” she suddenly prods it, giving you one final sneer, “off.”

It takes you twenty minutes to leave the parking lot after that, tears blurring your vision as you cry in your car and try not to let the shame completely envelop you.

--

Going to Joel's that night carries none of the anticipation you'd felt earlier this afternoon; instead you feel nothing but shame as you steal your mother's house key from its dish in the hallway, closing the front door behind you as softly as you can and hurrying out into the night. There's no excitement or rush like the last time you'd done this. You feel like you could cry at any moment as you approach Joel's house, climbing his front steps with a heavy weight on your shoulders that wasn't there before, that hasn't been there in weeks.

The door opens before you can even turn the knob – he must have been watching from his window, waiting for you in anticipation for tonight's “lesson”. Your stomach lurches.

“There's my little Sunday School girl,” he murmurs, taking your hand and tugging you gently inside.

“Please don't call me that,” you say quietly, head down.

He shuts the door behind you and takes your hands in his – you can feel his eyes on you but you're unsure of the look on his face, what expression is on it. Does he sense there's something wrong? Or is he waiting for you to jump his bones?

“Hey,” his voice is soft, concerned, “Hey, look at me, sweetheart.”

You shake your head, still staring at the floor.

“What happened, babygirl?” he murmurs, one of his hands releasing yours to come up and stroke your cheek gently, thumb grazing the wetness beneath your eyes, “Why're you cryin', darlin'? C'mere.” His finger travels down to your chin, pushes your face up to look at him.

His expression is worried, brow furrowed and forehead creased, a frown playing at his lips. You feel your heartbeat slow, the weight on your shoulders decreasing just a little bit as safety settles in your bones. He cares.

“I had a horrible day,” you whisper, feeling tears trickle down into the corners of your mouth, “I know you want to...want to...” you shake your head, “Whatever we were gonna do. But I don't think I can tonight, Joel. I don't feel good.”

“Oh, babygirl,” he breathes, releasing your chin and immediately wrapping you up in his embrace, arms tightening around you as he pulls you against his chest, “We don't have to do anythin', don't even worry about that.”

You bury your face in his chest, breathe him in. His flannel underneath your mattress is nothing compared to the real thing, the real smell of him overtaking your senses and filling you with a true feeling of warmth and safety. His arms are so big – he's so big – and without meaning to you find yourself going completely limp in his arms, bones turning to jelly. It's like finally breathing in the fresh air after holding your breath underwater, a natural reaction to finally being where you belong.

He doesn't question your body's response, almost seems to understand completely as he pulls you up from the floor and adjusts you slightly to cradle you in his arms, carrying you past the living room, past the kitchen, up the stairs and to his bedroom. You just close your eyes and bury your face in his shirt, inhale the scent of sawdust and sweat and cedar and Joel.

He tips you gently onto his bed, presses a gentle kiss to your forehead before settling in beside you without saying anything. You feel his arm wrap around you, tug you in closer beside him as he noses your hair and lets you just exist.

Minutes pass before you finally break the comfortable silence, voice quiet and small - “I feel so ashamed.”

You feel his brow furrow in your hair and you turn around to face him, bringing your arm up around his torso and pressing your hand firmly against his back. He looks at you with confusion, concern.

You tell him everything. About Bethany, your friendship with her and Alice before you left for college, the way you'd already begun to lose your faith even then. You tell him about your mom, about the silent treatment and her reaction to the white lie, the lie that's practically nothing in the grand scheme of deceit you've been weaving these past few weeks. You talk about church and Sunday School and all the guilt you'd felt in that little room growing up, how being there again felt wrong and uncomfortable. You tell him how free you'd felt in the bathroom with your camera, the power you'd felt, reclaimed, and how all of it had been snatched away from you the second Bethany had entered. How she'd destroyed any semblance of confidence you'd been able to find today, how she'd shamed you for the crucifix that you don't even want to be wearing. It's the most you've ever told him, the most you've ever talked to him about anything.

And he listens.

He doesn't seem put out by your venting, annoyed or irritated or ready to send you home at any minute. He just nods, frowns at the right moments, strokes your arm and your cheek, kisses your forehead when you start to cry. Wipes the tears away when you apologize for crying. He stays with you and remains present and attentive, lets you talk and talk until you start to apologize for how much you've been talking.

“I know this isn't even what you signed up for,” you blubber, shaking your head and bringing your hands up to cover your face, “I'm sorry I keep bringing so much- so many complications into your life.”

“Shh,” he soothes, placing his large hands on yours and pulling them away from your tired eyes, leaning in to brush his nose against yours, “Stop apologizin', baby. Stop. You've got nothin' to be sorry for.”

You suddenly sit up in bed, leaning back against the headboard and bringing a hand up to touch the crucifix still clasped around your neck. You hadn't taken it off like she'd told you to do; you'd felt like doing so would have made you weak, would have been like giving up, even though you'd never wanted to even wear it again in the first place.

“Why does this little thing have so much fucking power over me?” you ask aloud, not directed at Joel but more-so to yourself, “My whole life, no one has ever seen me, they've just seen this.” You shake your head, squeezing the tiny cross in your hand. “And wearing it again has just brought all that shit back, it's done absolutely nothing good. Wore it for my mom and she still gives me the silent treatment. Wore it for Bethany and she still treats me like garbage, tells me to take it off. It's just a fucking necklace.”

Joel sits up beside you, places a warm hand on your thigh and peers at you with those soft brown eyes, lulling you back into a sense of calm, of serenity.

“Give it to me,” he says quietly.

Your brow furrows in confusion. You stare at him for a moment, then watch as he carefully brings his hands up to graze his callused fingertips against your neck, brushing the chain.

“I'll take it off your hands for a bit,” he murmurs, “Outta sight, outta mind. And if you want it back, I'll have it ready for you. How's that sound?”

You nod slowly to yourself, feeling your eyes begin to sting again at his words, “...Good. Th-that sounds good.”

Without saying anything else you hear the sound of the clasp being undone, feel the chain slip away from your skin as Joel takes it from you. You turn your head to watch as he fists it in his palm for a moment, gaze thoughtful and faraway as he traces the shape of the cross with his thumb. A few seconds later he opens his bedside table and carefully places it inside, then shuts the drawer.

And just like that, the weight is gone.

--

You take a shower in his bathroom again, wanting to wash this day off you and start over, clean slate. You could have had one when you got home from the meeting earlier but you'd instead opted to just lay in bed feeling sorry for yourself for much longer than you'd needed to. Now you close your eyes and let the hot water envelop you, wash yourself with Joel's body wash and allow yourself to become his again, picturing him laying in his bed in the other room, waiting for you. This is what matters. This moment. Right now.

You enter his bedroom wrapped in one of his towels, drops of water still spilling down your skin onto the hardwood floor. He's sitting up in bed, shirtless with his legs hidden under the covers. He's seemingly deep in thought as he stares at his phone screen, brows scrunched together. You watch as he pulls the phone away from himself, eyes squinting and lips parting a bit, then pulls it back, like he can't see what he's looking at properly. You realize that's probably the case.

“You need glasses,” you say with a soft giggle, and his expression relaxes when he sees you standing there, phone going back on his nightstand.

“I have glasses,” he admits sheepishly, giving you a tender smile, “Just hate wearin' 'em.”

“Of course,” you roll your eyes and take a few steps forward, still gripping the towel around yourself. His eyes fall to the parts of you that are bare, revelling in the way the lamplight reflects on your wet skin. You feel tingles erupt through your senses under his gaze.

“Are you naked?” you ask softly.

He shakes his head, “Wearin' pants, don't worry.”

You stand there for a moment, staring. He just stares back, eyebrows going up a bit while he waits for you to say something else. When you don't, he tilts his head slightly, appraising you.

“Do you want me to be naked, babygirl?”

You're answering before you even really know what you want, "Yes."

Without needing to be told twice he reaches under the covers with both hands and shimmies his way out of his pajama bottoms, staying hidden under the sheets as he tosses them out onto the floor. You bite your lip, still just standing there staring at him without moving. You're still dripping everywhere, a little puddle of water forming at your feet the longer you stay frozen.

He raises his finger and playfully curls it toward himself with a smile, "C'mere, baby," he murmurs, "Be naked with me."

You don't need telling twice either.

The towel drops from your body, landing in the puddle of water on the floor - easy cleanup. You feel heat radiating through every inch of your bare skin as you walk toward the bed, avoiding Joel's eyes and quickly slipping in beside him. You really don't know what you're doing - you'd said when you got here that you didn't want to do anything, not tonight, and it's still true. But part of you just aches to be close to Joel, to feel his warm heat, his rough skin, be connected to him somehow. It's what you've wanted all week.

You inch in beside him, back against the headboard, your bare thigh touching his lightly beneath the sheets, and you find yourself tensing up unconsciously. He clocks your reaction immediately.

"You don't gotta be nervous, angel," he tells you softly, soothingly.

You swallow and take a deep breath, "It's hard not to be," you whisper, though there's no reason to, "I'm just... I'm so..."

"What?" he asks, brown eyes seeking yours in the dim light. His hand comes up to cradle your face, thumb swiping beneath your eye again like he's checking for more tears - luckily you're feeling much better in that department.

You sigh, shrugging slightly, "I don't know what I'm doing," your eyes fall down to the duvet, knowing that if you pulled it back you'd see your bodies touching underneath, his rough and tan skin pressed against yours, soft and untouched, "I mean, I don't even know why I came tonight. I knew I didn't- that I didn't want to-" you sigh again in frustration, unable to find the right words, "I just... I missed you," your eyes travel back up to meet his, "I just wanted to be near you."

His expression softens, still stroking your cheek as he peers into your eyes, "You feel safe with me, don't you?" You nod. "You know I won't do anythin' you don't want me to do, right?" Another nod. "So it's okay to just relax when you're with me."

You grimace, "How can I relax when we're naked in bed together?"

He chuckles, dropping his hand from your face and shuffling down into the bed a bit, away from the headboard, "Okay, time for another lesson."

You feel your heart sink again, worried that he's not understanding - probably because you can't explain it right - but he smiles reassuringly at you and curls his finger slightly, urging you to follow him downwards. With a quiet inhale you slowly inch away from the headboard and further down into the bed, beneath the duvet. You both stop moving when your heads hit the pillows, laying down fully beside each other.

"Gettin' naked doesn't always mean there has to be sex," he says softly, and you watch as he very slowly brings his hand down beneath the duvet; you know where it's going before it touches you, but you still shiver when you feel his fingers brush lightly against your bare arm, "Us bein' naked in bed together doesn't mean anythin' has to happen."

"But earlier today I said..." you trail off, shaking your head, "I promised that-"

"Earlier is earlier," he brushes your arm again, tender and comforting, "Circumstances change, your day got shitty. Mine was no better. It happens."

His hand travels downward, toward the skin of your hip. He curls his palm around your bare flesh and gently massages it, thumb stroking the edge of your tummy. It's intimate and new, but somehow it feels more safe and comforting than sexual, like he's simply doing something casual, normal.

"Sometimes you just wanna lay in bed with someone" he murmurs, still touching you tenderly, "No expectations, no pressure. No nothin'. Sure, it's fun to touch each other and be together like that, but if you just wanna sleep..." his fingertips brush your back gently, then press firmly into your skin as he pulls you a bit closer toward him, "If you just wanna lay here with me, that's okay too."

You're not sure what to think, staring at him with a million different thoughts flooding your mind. Your interpretation of what men want has always been a bit of a grey area, but you've heard enough from both your family and your friends to know that most of them are just after one thing. You'd heard it from your parents your whole life who always warned about non-Christian boys and their sinful thoughts, then from the girls at college who dealt with disrespect and catcalls, men who turned on them in an instant the second they realized they weren't getting any.

Joel isn't like that. Sure, he wants sex - that's been obvious since day one, when he'd invited you inside his house within minutes of meeting you. He'd only had one thing on his mind, just like your parents had always said. But he hadn't thrown a fit when you'd said no, and up until this point he's made it abundantly clear that the ball is in your court, that it's up to you what happens between the two of you.

"I know all this stuff can be scary," he continues softly when you don't reply, "I know you're embarrassed about bein' so inexperienced, but you don't need to be. I'm here to make it easier for you; I want you to be comfortable."

He nudges forward a bit and slowly begins to wrap his arms around you, warm and inviting. You let him, body going loose and comfortable in his grasp as you feel your eyes close; safe. You feel so safe.

"You're so warm," is all you can think to say, loving the way it feels to have his broad and hairy chest pressed up against your bare breasts, his big and strong arms winding around your smaller form.

He chuckles softly and you feel him press a gentle kiss to your cheek, beard scratching your skin in your favorite way. You bring your arms up and hug him back beneath the blankets, feeling your naked thighs press firmly against his. You're aware of his cock - it's hard not to be, not when it's pressed gently against the base of your tummy, soft against your skin - but he doesn't rub himself against you or do anything to initiate more than this, more than just being together like he'd said.

He really means it, you know he does.

"I can't wait to have sex with you," you hear yourself whisper in his ear; it sounds dirty but you don't mean it to be, "I just...I'm really glad it's gonna be you."

And I'm pretty sure I'm falling for you.

--

You wake up the next morning to a firm and solid presence at your back, bare and warm and comfy. You're surprised you're awake before Joel's alarm, wondering what exactly woke you up in the first place - and then you feel it. Something wet and sticky against your lower back, something pulsing and twitching every so often against your skin.

Good morning.

He hadn't pressed his cock against you like this last night when you were cuddling, hadn't asked you to touch it or even acknowledged its presence. But sleeping Joel is an entirely different person, his big arms wrapped around you tightly, one splayed across your belly while the other holds your right breast, cups it like it's meant to fit there. He holds you in place firmly, breath at your neck, nose in your hair.

You're not sure how much time you have left before his alarm goes off. The sun is only barely starting to come up outside the window, so it could start ringing at any time now. All you know is that the sensation of having him so close to you like this, his most intimate part so close to yours, so wet and warm, it's making you all wet and warm. Your skin almost feels itchy, especially at your neck where his warm breath leaves a damp spot beneath your ear, a spot you're suddenly longing for him to kiss, to lick.

"Joel," you breathe, unable to wait any longer, scared that at any moment he'll have to leave the bed and start getting ready for work.

No response.

"Joel," you repeat, a bit louder this time, and with his name you carefully grind back against him a little bit, the wet head of his cock trailing back and forth against your warm skin. He makes a grumbling noise in his chest, pulls you in a bit closer, "Joel, wake up," you moan, painfully aware of the shape of his balls against your ass, big and heavy and suddenly the hottest thing you've ever felt in your life.

"What?" he groans, rousing from sleep, "What is it?"

It's all the confirmation of awareness you need to suddenly turn in the sheets, bring the duvet down to expose your naked bodies to the both of you. His eyes are bleary and tired as he watches you from beneath heavy eyelids, sees where your gaze has settled.

His cock lays long and thick and loose against his tummy, round tip drooling precum into the hair smattered above his belly button. God, he's so big. Your lips part, saliva filling your mouth like it had the last time you saw it, like somehow your body knows exactly what the next step is.

"I wanna put my mouth on it," you whisper, pushing your hair back behind your ears and turning your gaze back to Joel's face, "Please."

His eyebrows go up in surprise, eyelashes fluttering with sleep. He's probably wondering where this is coming from, how the girl in his bed right now is the same one who just wanted to be held last night, but he doesn't seem to be complaining. He nods quickly, stretches his arms above his head and tries to rouse himself even more from sleep.

"Of course you can, baby," he mutters huskily, voice deep and dripping with arousal, "Go ahead."

"Tell me if I'm doing something wrong," you murmur softly, and before you can even fully process what you're doing or question if you'll even be good at it, your lips are pressing against the warm heat of his wet tip.

He hisses immediately and you pull back, frightened for a moment that you've already fucked up somehow. He shakes his head quickly at you, "No, no, you're good baby, that's good," one of his hands comes down to settle against the back of your head, fingers tangling gently in your hair, "Give it a kiss, just like that."

And you do. Time is already not on your side - you feel like there's a countdown clock hanging over your head as you press another kiss in the same spot, his precum sticky on your lips. You'd thought it might be gross, had heard lots about blowjobs from your friends and how unpleasant they can be, but when your tongue darts out to carefully prod against where he's leaking, you find that it doesn't bother you that much at all.

"Tastes funny," you murmur softly, peppering a few more kisses around the wide head and then down to his shaft, thumbing the prominent vein on the underside as you do it.

"Kinda gross, huh?" you hear him say softly above you, a strained edge to his voice that makes you smile against him.

"I think I like it, actually," you admit softly, tongue darting out once again to slowly lap up a bead at the tip. You're not lying; there's something masculine and sexy and inherently Joel about it, something you hadn't been expecting.

"That's good, sweetheart," he murmurs, stroking the back of your head gently, "That's so good, angel." You don't know whether he means your opinion on the taste or simply a reaction to the things you're doing with your tongue, but either way you keep going, hoping that the alarm doesn't interrupt you.

You wrap your lips around the tip carefully, pulling it into your mouth and sucking it gently - very gently. He makes a breathless sound above you and you can't help but bring your gaze up to his face, your eyes meeting his as you swallow him down.

"That's it, that's a good girl," he breathes, thumbing a strand of hair at your temple and pushing it behind your ear, eyes dark, "Look at you."

You swirl your tongue around the tip, still making sure to keep eye contact with him as you carefully slip more of him inside your mouth. He's so big, there's absolutely no way you'll be able to fit all of him inside, at least not without some practice. He doesn't seem to mind that you can only take a little bit of him, his thumb coming downward to stroke gently at the corner of your mouth. He wipes away a bit of drool pooling there, brows furrowing.

"You're doin' so good, angel," he whispers, nodding slowly to you in reassurance as you very slowly begin to lift your head up and down, up and down, eyes going hazy, "Takin' that cock so well."

His words spur you on, encourage you to take a little bit more. You've got about half of him in your mouth and you already know you won't be able to take anymore, the spongey tip pushing dangerously close to your gag reflex. You absolutely do not want to choke, don't want to ruin this in any way. You want him to feel good. Feel better.

"Oh, honey," he groans softly when you begin to palm his balls, rolling them gently and feeling their fullness, round and heavy, "This mouth," he touches the corner of your lips again, a bit harder this time, trails his fingers downward to grip your chin, "Made to have my cock in there, huh?" his eyes are boring into yours, pupils blown wide, "You like havin' your mouth full like that, babygirl?"

You nod and whimper around his length, speeding up a little bit and never breaking eye contact with him, obsessed with watching his eyes get darker and darker, filling more and more with lust as he watches you pleasure him.

"Yeah, you do," he murmurs, voice soothing again like last night, calm and safe, "What a good girl you are, wakin' me up to suck my cock. Couldn't wait, could ya, baby?" you shake your head and the head of his cock slips past your throat a little too far, so much that you have to pull off him quickly to be sure you don't gag, "Aw, baby, that's okay," he reassures you gently, "It's a lot, I know."

Your eyes are hooded and your jaw is already starting to ache - you're not used to doing something like this and he knows it, strokes your cheek gently as he takes his cock in his hand and carefully pushes the tip against your lips.

"You just kiss it, baby," he whispers, dark and deep, "Kiss that cock 'til I come, okay?"

You do as you're told, lips parting slightly as he rubs the head of his cock against your lips and strokes himself a few more times, bringing himself close to the edge. He's so gorgeous like this, so rugged and almost animalistic as his chest heaves, groans escaping his mouth as he watches your lips. His hand is still in your hair, grip getting tighter and tighter as you lean down a bit so he can gently fuck the tip of his cock back into your mouth. Your eyes close involuntarily and you can feel your pussy throbbing against the mattress with every thrust, lips tight around him.

"Ah, fuck," he grits out suddenly, then pulls his cock away from your mouth and releases all over his chest and stomach, thighs tensing up as you watch his eyes practically roll back into his head. Your eyes are wide and attentive, locked onto the white ropes of come that spurt against his bare skin. You find yourself wondering what it would feel like at the back of your throat instead, on your tongue, what it would taste like...

Your thoughts are interrupted by Joel's alarm going off, loud and obnoxious. Before he can pull himself up to turn it off, you lean over to the nightstand and do it yourself, swiping it off and turning back to his blissed out form. He lies there panting for a moment, eyes closed. You can't help but smile, feeling pride swell in your chest again at the knowledge that you made him feel like this.

"Don't go back to sleep," you whisper softly, "You gotta go to work."

He groans then, but opens his eyes and gives you a crooked smile and a wink, expression still sleepy and satisfied, "Who needs an alarm clock when I got you, huh?" He gestures with his finger for you to move closer and you do, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his lips, "Mornin', darlin'," he murmurs against your mouth.

"Morning," you whisper back, and you revel in the smile on his face when you pull away, "Sorry for jumping your bones so early."

He just shakes his head with a wide smile, "Never apologize for jumpin' my bones, baby." His eyes fall to your naked body, settling on your pussy, still wet and aching against the sheets, "Aw, sweetheart, lemme take care of that for you."

You shake your head, pointing to his phone, "We don't have time, you gotta get to work and I gotta get home before my parents wake up," you slip out of bed and reach down to pick up the clothes you'd stripped yourself of last night before your shower. He starts to protest but you put your hand up with a soft laugh, "It's okay, Joel. I wanted to do this for you, start your day out right. Give you a chance at a good day."

He peers up at you from the bed, face smooshed into the pillow as he watches you get dressed, "Doesn't seem fair."

You just roll your eyes, pulling on your panties and shorts and pointing to his phone again, "Really, we need to hurry," you bite your lip as you slip your t-shirt over your head, "I have keys this time but I still don't wanna risk it."

"Okay, okay," he grumbles softly, "I'm goin'."

He slips out of bed and stretches, tilting his body back and forth. You both hear the way his bones crack, the noise that emits from his throat when he bends his back a certain way. You watch his expression change, going from content and sated to embarrassed and grumpy in seconds.

"And just like that, the illusion is gone," he mutters to himself, limping away from the bed and toward the door without so much as a side glance to you, clearly upset by the sudden reminder of his age. You frown, watching him go and feeling an ache in your chest that makes a home there for the rest of the morning.

--

He'd made you breakfast last time, so it's only fair that you make something for him today. Unfortunately cooking has never been your forte, so about fifteen minutes later you're waving a dish rag at the fire alarm while the sausages you'd managed to burn are smoking in the sink. Joel comes running down the stairs after his shower with a look of concern on his face, only for it to fade into one of amusement when he sees the situation.

"Now why am I teachin' you guitar when you clearly don't know how to even use a stove?"

"Oh, shut up," you can't even pretend to be mad at him, grin spreading across your face as you shake your head and breathe a sigh of relief when the alarm stops going off, "Help me clean this up."

You end up making toast instead.

"You know, we've still got about ten minutes," he says across from you at the table as you eat, peering down at his watch quickly.

"Yeah, 'cause I fail as a cook," you mutter, making a face at your slice of toast, "I was gonna do eggs too, you know."

"Let's not reach for the stars too quickly now," he says with a sly smile, putting his hand up quickly when you prepare to retort, "Anyway, that's not what I meant."

"What did you-" you look up from your toast and see him beckoning you toward him again like he had last night, finger curling toward himself with a sly smile on his face.

You look at the clock on the oven, biting your lip.

"It'll take five minutes tops," he says, and you raise your eyebrow at him.

"Really?" you challenge, "Five minutes?"

"Five minutes."

That, you'd like to see. Dropping your toast back onto the plate, you stand up and walk to the other side of the table, unsure what exactly he wants you to do. He spreads his legs a bit, points to his thigh.

"Sit here, babygirl," he says, voice low and hypnotic, "Wanna show you somethin' new."

Yes please.

You situate yourself on his lap, one leg going between his thighs while the other dangles carefully off the other side of the chair. He pulls you down, big hands coming up to palm your hips and hold you there firmly. You swallow tightly, unsure exactly what he has in mind.

"You know what feels really good?" he murmurs, thumbs slowly stroking the bare skin between your shirt and your shorts.

"What?" you whisper, peering down into his eyes with intrigue.

"This," he says softly, then very slowly begins to move your hips, dragging you carefully back and forth along his thigh. Your eyebrows shoot up, lips parting as you feel the ache in your core immediately return, the pressure of his thigh and the movement of his hands setting your nerves alight.

He looks down at his own handiwork, watches as he moves you back and forth, back and forth, rocking you over and over again until you're whimpering in his lap, your hands coming up to grip his shoulders. He just smiles up at you, doesn't stop his movements.

"Yeah, that feels good, doesn't it?" he breathes, watching your expression closely, "Feels good to finally have somethin' touchin' that pussy, huh baby?"

You moan at his words, hands slipping from his shoulders to wrap around him as you lean forward to bury your face in his neck. He just starts to move you faster, chuckling softly to himself when your hips buck against him. It's amazing how such a simple action can feel so fucking good, the constant stimulation against your clit through layers of material making you writhe and whimper.

He removes one of his hands from your hips and slips it inside the leg of your shorts, fingertips tickling your inner thigh gently. You grapple onto him even tighter, hugging him like a koala as his thumb slowly begins to stroke you through the wet spot of your panties.

"Couldn't stop thinkin' about this pussy yesterday," he murmurs, thumb rubbing your clit over and over in little circles, "Those pictures were so filthy, baby."

You moan against his shoulder, gripping him tighter as his thumb begins to pick up speed. He presses a kiss to your neck, wet and hot; it makes your eyes roll back.

"And this little hole," he murmurs in your ear, suddenly adding a finger inside your shorts to circle your entrance slowly, "Kept thinkin' about this tiny little hole, all open for me."

God, when he talks like that you can't even fucking think, brain running on autopilot as he pulls you impossibly closer and lets you bare down on his thigh, his finger and thumb trapped under your weight, pressed firmly against your core.

"Who's gonna fill up that hole, babygirl?" he whispers in your ear, soft and secret, "Huh? Who's that hole belong to?"

"You," you whimper into his shoulder, eyes shut tight as he strokes his finger up and down through the fabric, adding even more pressure to the overwhelming sensations you're already feeling "It's yours, Mr. Miller."

"And what's gonna go inside it, sweetheart?"

"Hnhng," you can't speak, inhaling shakily as Joel's other hand presses harder against your hip and continues to guide you, fucking you back and forth against his thigh. He just watches you, eyes dark, lips parted, brow furrowed.

"Words, babygirl," he reminds you softly, "Use your words. What's gonna go inside that tight little hole? Huh? Tell me."

"Y-your cock."

"That's right," he murmurs, the tip of his finger prodding inside you gently, taking the damp material of your panties with it, "Gonna fill you up so deep with my cock, honey. You're gonna feel it right here," he moves his hand up and places it at the base of your belly, pushes against it softly, "Gonna be so big inside you, sweet girl."

Oh fuck.

"I want it so bad," you groan, wrapping your arms even tighter around him, "I need it Mr. Miller."

"You do need it," he agrees softly as he kisses the top of your head, bringing his hand back down from your belly to guide you again, moving you back and forth "Need to be fucked so bad, don't you baby? Til you can't even think straight."

You nod frantically, continuing to grind yourself down against his thigh over and over and over, "Please," you whimper, almost a squeak, "Please, Mr. Miller."

"Shh," he soothes, pulling you in closer and moving your hips against him, looking at you with those big brown eyes full of lust and safety, "I will, babygirl. Soon. I'll fuck you so good, honey. I promise." Your body hitches in his lap as you near the edge, eyes going wide and mouth popping open as your orgasm starts to hit you, "Yeah? You like thinkin' about that, huh? Me fuckin' this soaked little pussy into my mattress? Fillin' you up so deep you can feel me in your stomach?"

You can't hold on anymore, eyes shutting tight and high pitched whimpers flowing past your lips as you start to come. He pins you against his thigh, holds you there tight and firm as your pussy pulses and throbs through his pants. You lean forward to bury your face in his neck as you ride it out, feel his hand press against your back.

"Oh, good girl, that's it, baby," he murmurs, kissing your temple gently and stroking your back in little circles, "Come all over my lap, sweetheart. Show me how wet she can get, there you go. Good girl."

After a moment of catching your breath and willing yourself to pull your face away from his neck, you both bring your attention to the clock on the stove - five minutes have passed.

"Told ya," he murmurs, pulling you into one more hug, hitching his chin over your shoulder and rubbing your back gently as your head lolls against him.

You're too blissed out to tease him back.

--

The arrivals gate isn't as busy as you'd expected, thankfully. You lean against your car a few hours later, still reeling from your morning with Joel as you wait for Tasha to show up. You'd told him about your weekend plans before you'd left, insisting that despite spending time with Tasha you'd still be attending your Saturday lesson.

"Can't wait," he'd murmured to you, low and deep in your ear after giving you one final kiss at the door, "Got somethin' real special planned, babygirl."

You'd practically melted down his front steps.

"THERE'S MY FAVORITE SLUT!!" you suddenly hear someone shout, and you look up to see Tasha at the sliding doors, bags dropping to the ground as she sprints at you head on and collides with you seconds later, wrapping her arms around you tightly.

She's just the same as she was the last time you saw her, high spirited and excitable and sweet, practically vibrating in your arms with joy. Only she could rock a bright purple cowboy hat and sweatpants, not to mention the lime green flip flops.

"Oh my god," you gasp in her ear, hugging her back and spinning on the spot, "You're insane."

"I'M EXCITED!" she squeals, pulling away from you and clapping her hands together, "We're going out tonight!!! Together!!! For the first time ever!" She brings her hands up and places one on either side of your face, lips turning down into a pout, "My baby bird is leaving the nest," she sighs dreamily, shaking her head, "I never thought this day would come."

"Please get in the car," you laugh, popping the trunk and gesturing to her bags, "before I change my mind and send you back."

--

You give Tasha the complete run-down on Joel as you get ready at the Airbnb, updating her on everything that's happened since you'd last checked in. It feels so good to actually talk about it, not text or simply mull it over and over in your head. She gasps at all the right spots, makes ridiculous faces in the mirror as she curls her hair, nearly drops the curling iron on the floor when you tell her about this morning.

"AND YOU LIKED HOW IT TASTED?" she practically screams, running out of the room and then running back in like she has no idea what to do with herself, "Oh my god, you are down bad. Jesus Christ," she makes a face, "Sorry, I mean- uh, fuck."

"Tasha," you roll your eyes, "You can say Jesus Christ."

"I can?" her eyes widen and she sighs in relief, picking up the curling iron from the floor, "Thank god."

You're going clubbing tonight for the very first time; a night of dancing and cocktails and flirting and living out all the college dreams you still have yet to experience. You're a bit tentative about the flirting part though, a concept that floors Tasha immediately.

"You can't go clubbing and not flirt," she says with faux shock, spinning in front of you as she assesses her dress in the mirror, "It's the best part!"

"I have a-" you cut yourself off, making a face at your reflection.

"You do not have a boyfriend," Tasha says immediately, "There has been no definition, babe. You need to keep reminding yourself of that."

"But it's not just fucking," you argue with a grimace, "I mean, it's not even fucking at all, we still haven't taken that step yet."

"I know, I just don't want you to get your heart hurt, honey," she frowns, leaning toward the mirror and applying some lipstick, "Boys are mean."

"Well, Joel's not a boy," you say quietly, fingering the hem of your own dress, a short and cute pink number that Tasha had brought specifically for you to wear, "He's a man."

"Mmhm, so you keep telling me," she raises an eyebrow, "I think I need to see this man for myself. Give you my honest opinion, see if he's really this gorgeous, perfect hunk you make him out to be."

You bite your lip, trying not to smile as you think back to this morning, how he'd looked in the early morning light, naked and sleepy and beautiful. And all yours.

"He is," you murmur softly.

--

You're supposed to be going clubbing, supposed to be out dancing and drinking cocktails and living out all your college dreams for once in your life. But where are you instead?

"O'Neil's!!" Tasha says excitedly, pointing to the red neon sign outside the bar you've just arrived at, throwing you a shit-eating grin that just makes you playfully roll your eyes.

You never should have told her the name of the bar Joel frequents, because she's now made it her mission to find him, get a good look at him and judge for herself if he's really all you're making him out to be. It's your own fault, you suppose, considering that you don't have any pictures of him or any frame of reference to articulate exactly the way he looks. For Tasha he's shrouded in mystery, but not for much longer.

Your ears are already ringing when you get inside the bar, the chatter and buzz of other people's conversations flooding your thoughts. You're not used to being out like this, being around drunk people or high people or literally anyone whose ideal night out is spending time at a bar. It's nerve-wracking and you instantly feel like a fish out of water, gripping onto Tasha's arm after showing your ID to a man who ogled both of you way more than he needed to.

"So this is where he hangs out," Tasha says, assessing her surroundings and leading you towards the bar where most people seem to be gathered, "Quaint. Little divey. Definitely not for our crowd but hey, we're learning new things tonight." She taps the counter and tilts her head toward the bartender with a smile, "Watcha got on tap?"

You wrinkle your nose, "I thought we'd be having cocktails."

"Oh we will at the club, don't you worry. But if we want the authentic dive bar experience, beer is necessary," the bartender lists the options and Tasha orders, though you barely hear what either of them are saying over the loud music and conversations. Your eyes scan the bar for any sign of Joel, but people are packed so tightly in here that it's hard to really see anybody, faces and bodies melding together.

The bartender hands Tasha the drinks and she throws him a wink, "Thank you, darling."

You envy how easily she navigates a situation like this, so natural and graceful despite her surroundings that are anything but. She hands your beer to you with a smile and holds hers up in front of her, tilting it toward yours until they clink.

"To you finally coming out with me," she toasts with a grin, "It's about damn time."

You smile back and take a sip, trying your hardest not to wince at the bitter flavor. It's not like you've never tried alcohol before, you just already know that you hate beer.

"Delicious," you lie, and Tasha just laughs and gestures toward a suddenly empty booth in the corner of the room.

"Let's sit there while we suss him out," she mutters to you, pulling you along with her and slipping inside, "Now, what's he look like? You've been pretty vague about those details." She waggles her eyebrows, "Be honest, is he bald?"

You almost spit out your second sip, shaking your head furiously, "No, he's not bald. Full head of hair."

She puts her hands up in defense, "Hey, it's not that crazy to assume!"

You just shake your head and laugh, turning back toward the bar and the people and trying to get a gage on where he might be. You know he usually comes here with his contracting crew, but what the hell does a contracting crew even look like?

"Help me out, gimme a description!" Tasha says eagerly, wiggling in her seat a bit and following your gaze, "He has facial hair, right?"

"Yes, it's kinda messy and scruffy," you bite your lip, squinting a bit as if that'll help you.

"And what's his hair color?"

You don't look at her as you reply, "Um.. grey."

Tasha's hand slaps down on the table and you jump, eyes going wide as you turn back to her, "What?"

"Grey? Girl, how old is he?" she doesn't sound angry or judgmental - she sounds intrigued. And almost... impressed? You gnaw on your lip, scrunching your eyebrows together as you look back toward the crowd of people.

"Um... he's..." you stop short, freezing when your eyes land on a familiar shirt near the bar, a red and black plaid button down that you'd seen only hours ago, "There! He's there!" You point at him quickly, ducking your head a bit and motioning for Tasha to lean in closer to get a good look.

"Oh... my god," she breathes, and you feel a rush of pride at her response, unable to stop the grin from plastering itself to your face as you peer at him.

There's something different about him that you can't place - maybe it's just because you haven't seen him in a public place like this, aren't used to what he looks like when it's not just the two of you. You try to put your finger on it, and while you're doing so he does something that makes your heart positively swell in your chest.

He smiles. That beautiful crooked smile that pulled you in the day you met him, set your skin on fire and brought you to the point of no return. Those crinkly eyes, the grey in his beard, the softness of his eyes, they send that familiar feeling of safety rushing through your bones. And you realize there's nothing different about him at all. That's your Joel, sitting on a bar stool after a long day of work, nursing a glass of whisky and chatting about his day. He's the same Joel who you'd woken up with this morning, just in a different setting.

You're so distracted by his rugged beauty out in the open like this - overwhelmed by his charm and his smile - that it takes you a few seconds to see who exactly he's smiling at.

You feel your heart in your throat.

There's a woman sitting beside him. Not just beside him, but so close their stools are touching, so close her legs - long and lean and beautiful - are brushing his. It's not subtle the way her ankle moves against his calf, up and down, up and down. She's wearing jean shorts and a halter top, skin dark and gorgeous and exposed in all the right places, beautiful brown braids cascading down her back and shoulders. You can't see her face but you already know she could be a model. She probably is.

No. No, something isn't right.

Maybe it's not him.

Time feels like it's frozen, like everyone in the bar has stopped moving except the two of them, like a giant spotlight is shining directly on where they sit, where they touch, where they smile at each other. Because it is him. It's him in all his gorgeous Joel glory, peering into the eyes of a woman who isn't you, a woman who's probably more his type, closer to his age, a woman who's somehow making him smile like that when she shouldn't. That's how he smiles at you. That's your smile.

A woman who's now leaning in for a kiss.

No. Please no.

A woman who he kisses back.

This isn't happening. This isn't real. This is just some sick and twisted nightmare you're about to wake up from at any second.

His hand comes up to cup her face.

"I'm gonna throw up," is all you manage to gasp out to Tasha as you yank yourself from the booth and sprint out of the bar, hand splaying across your belly as you bend over and release the contents of your stomach all over the sidewalk.

You feel Tasha's hand on your back, pulling your hair behind your ears. She's saying something but you don't understand it, ears continuing to ring despite being outside in the cool air, away from the loud music and chatty conversations, away from them.

"Oh honey," you finally hear her say, soft and kind as she rubs circles into your back, a comforting action that brings no comfort to you, not now, not after what you've just seen. "I'm so sorry."

[catiuskaa]

had to make sure you’d catch it.

SUMMARY: no one expected jeongin to be the first to marry in the group, but furthermore, no one expected minho to be the one to ask you first, and certainly not like that.

REQUESTED! by a pookie anonnie right here. fluff!!! minho!!! yess!!! we love to see it. tysm for this, hope you like it as much as I did! <3

CW: use of sarcasm (because yes?), use of very stupid humour (because it makes everything better), one (1) mention if hyunlix (just for funsies) the one and only beyoncé is mentioned once (yes this is a warning because it’s a silly joke but it’ll make sense i promise) and welp, WEDDINGS MENTIONED 🗣️🗣️🗣️ WTF IS A COMMITMENT 👹👹👹/jkjk

WC: 2.1k

A/N: can someone tell jypapi that now I need more of Lee Know in suit and tie? thanks ^^

[☆◽️💐◽️☆]

Weddings.

Ah, yes.

That motherfucker.

It’s not like you had anything against the people that were marrying each other —God, no! Good for them!—, but rather how seeing husband and wife looking flawless and so in love made you feel.

Lonely.

As fuck.

But it all changed when you went to a wedding with a plus one for the first time. Well, he had been invited to a wedding, and you happened to be around and free.

It had been not too soon before you two started dating, but a small part of your brain knew that if you hadn’t seen Lee Minho in that gorgeous tuxedo that evening, or maybe before, when he blushed as he asked if you were free, then perhaps your choices would’ve been different —which was a blatant lie, because you were and still are head over heels for him, but we’ll keep it for comedian purposes—, because damn did that man look good in a suit.

It was when you entered the venue with him by your side, the flutters of going with your friend and crush to a wedding, of all places… the flowers, the setting, and, oh, the couple.

Everything was beautiful. It almost made you feel like you were the main character, the bride, despite the obvious knowledge that it could only be that gorgeous woman dressed in white, unlike you, in a short and fitted dress in a dark blue hue, matching your companion’s tie.

“I never would’ve thought you liked weddings so much.” Minho whispered in a soft snicker, as teasing as always, eyes fixated in the way you seemed to glow.

But you two were sat next to each other as the officiant spoke, and he was leaning close to you, his lips right by the shell of your ear, and Jesus Christ in motorbike, because he looked outstanding, and oh my god, because his hand was resting on your leg, warming up your body, that was also covered by his suit jacket because poor you had underestimated how cold a church could be, even in the end of summer.

‘Liked’ weddings? You would have cackled loudly if the setting had been more appropriate. If it meant that Minho would treat you like that every single day, you’d fucking marry one.

But instead, you chuckled softly, laying your hand on his, the one that still rested right above your knee, and you leaned too, silently reeling in the smell of his cologne.

“Never thought you’d take me to one.”

And it was not like you were going to know too soon, but to Minho, in that moment, time seemed to freeze as he stared at your features.

You smiled at him, and it had been like always, but to him, it was the most gorgeous smile he had ever had the pleasure to see, let alone cause, and it made his heart feel tight on his chest, a blush that ran to his cheeks and ears, as red-tinted as your lips, so sweet-looking that Minho had to hold back not to kiss you, keeping him from checking if they’d taste just like how they looked.

He didn’t just want to take you to weddings.

And with that thought in mind, months later, after several dates going coffe shop to coffe shop, falling in love with you, with the soft and soothing tone you spoke to his pets and how beautiful you looked like in his house, happily petting Soonie, he knew then and there that his house wasn’t his home anymore.

You were.

And he kissed you tenderly that night, struggling to find a way to express these feelings with words.

So it made both of you feel very giddy when years later, another wedding showed up.

“You’ve gotta be fucking with me.” He had mumbled, reading the mail as he entered back home. “Jagi, I’m home!” He stated loudly, the cats meowing him welcome.

You came from your study room, leaving an email half written to welcome him back for the day. He handed you the mail, but not before pecking your forehead.

“What’s going on?” You smiled softly in slight confussion, to which he grinned at you, head tilted to the first letter in the bunch.

You stared at it, your eyes turning wide, and read the sentence a couple times.

“There’s no way.” You covered your mouth, laughing in disbelief. “Our little Innie is getting married?”

“I think I lost a bet to Hyunjin.” Minho chuckled.

“Have you called him?” You smiled, excited, cheerfully going back to your study to pick your phone.

“I just saw that idiot back in JYP, he didn’t even tell us!”

Two months. Yang Jeongin, little baby bread, was marrying his now fiancé in two fucking months.

Minho couldn’t believe it, nor could you.

And then, as soon as autumn started to arrive, the first leaves turning different tones of red and yellow, falling to the ground.

Then, the wedding date came by.

[☆◽️💐◽️☆]

You embraced Jeongin’s wife in a tight hug.

“How does it feel?” You mumbled giddily, feeling Minho’s arm go back to your waist as soon as you let go of the beautiful woman dressed in white.

He’d been extra clingy the whole venue, and you had loved and cherished every moment of it. You both knew what that first wedding had meant for the other, all those years ago. It made your tummy fill with butterflies, ones that had been there ever since Minho swooshed your way.

The bride grinned happily, trying hard not to cry so she wouldn’t ruin her makeup.

“It’s like a dream I’m about to wake up from.” She snickered, cheeks covered in a pink hue that couldn’t be hidden with the light foundation she was wearing. “But you’ll get it quite soon, right?” She muttered with a smile, as if in confidence, like sharing a secret you were supposed to know.

“Ah?” But you were clueless.

Before realizing she could’ve fucked up a major canon event, his husband called her from affar, busy dealing with all the guests and the photographer, a tall man with little to no patience and lots of angry italian gestures.

“C’mon, quick.” Minho grinned next to you. “Let’s get to the chocolate fountain before someone eats all the strawberries.”

You two chuckled, sprinting towards the large set of tables and the main table, filled with different types of fruits and cheeses.

“Mmhhm!” You hummed, the warm chocolate melting on your mouth, mixing with the sweetness of the strawberry. “We really need one of these back at home.”

You two giggled and ate a couple more strawberries.

“You have chocolate in your mouth.” Minho mumbled.

You turned to face him, and he snickered, his hand traveling to your face and kissing the corner of your lip, cleaning it.

The chocolate tasted better like that anyways.

You felt your face flush, and you tutted at him playfully.

“You can look, not touch,” you mumbled with a toothy grin. “I spent so much time pissing off the makeup artists back at their place, I can’t have you ruin my lipstick, sir.” You chuckled teasingly.

“I can’t?” Minho raised his eyebrows, and you felt small under his stare, like a little prey. “Really?”

You blushed, pouting. “Minho, not fair.”

He laughed loudly at you, and then back hugged you.

“We should move before they realize we ate half of the strawberries.” He mumbled next to your ear, and cheekily nibbled on it for a second.

You giggled at his antics, and went back to where everyone was settled, joining and taking a couple of pictures with the group.

Your smile widened looking at them, groom and bride, who casually rambled about something you couldn’t hear.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Your boyfriend grinned curiously next to you.

You looked at him, your heart fluttered.

Weddings didn’t feel lonely anymore.

“They look so cute together.” You sighed. “So beautiful.”

Minho sighed too, his arm swiftly going back to your shoulders.

“Very.” He muttered softly. He wasn’t talking about the couple.

Laughter and conversations filled the air as guests, dressed in their finest, mingled beneath the gentle glow of twinkling lights.

“It’s time for the bouquet throw!” A loud voice announced.

You looked at Minho and winked teasingly.

“Hold my purse.” You smirked in between giggles. “This one’s mine.” He blushed at your determination.

It wasn’t that you had forgotten what catching the bouquet meant, rather just casually left that thought at the back of your mind.

Minho almost shivered, barely cathing your bag.

Marrying you?

Something felt heavier on the pocket of his jacket.

You settled in the group of women that stood a couple of feet away from the bride, who was laughing and pointing at someone in the midst of the girls.

“Good luck, ladies!” A low voice made you cackle loudly.

“Good luck, Felix!” You chuckled. “Good one, Hyune!” You sent a thumbs up to Hyunjin, and he laughed, blushing.

With excitement bubbling in the air, the moment arrived slowly, almost painfully so. A hush fell over the gathered guests, their eager eyes fixed on the radiant bride. She held the bouquet, a bundle of beautiful daisies, like a symbol of wishes waiting to be granted. With a grin, she turned around, and a playful spark lit up her eyes.

Full of anticipation, she raised the bouquet high above her head. Time seemed to pause for an instant, and then, with a joyful toss, she…

She… stopped?

You didn’t have time to frown in confusion when she turned around again.

The guests that had been crowded around you moved away, and the bride giddily walked towards you.

She squealed. “This is so cute. Here, girl. It’s yours.”

And she handed you the bouquet.

You blabered confused sounds of vowels, not quite understanding what was happening yet.

Gasps and other surprised reactions filled the venue, and you looked around, wondering what was all the fuss about.

“Sorry to ruin the fun, jagi.” A known voice sounded tenderly behind you, and then he giggled. “I had to make sure you’d catch it.”

With your eyes wide and your features displaying a soft grin of surprise, you turned around to face him.

“I fell in love with you in a wedding.” He started. “Not really, considering I had been pinning for you long before, which Felix never hesitated to say how down bad I was for you and how blind I was for not addmitting it.”

Your eyes swelled with tears, your hands covering your mouth. “M-Minho…”

He sniffed, holding back his own, a blush deep on his face.

“I fell in love with you over and over again, in every date we went to and every time you came by my appartment to say hi to the cats, claiming that you felt like they missed you, when it was most likely me who did.” He stared at his hands, fidgeting with them, his palms feeling sweaty.

He raised his head then, and stared deeply into your eyes. He chuckled, falling in love with you once more.

“I have a feeling that, over the course of our lives together, I will fall in love with you as many times as there are stars in the sky.” Minho smiled tearfully, a lump on his throat. “Over and over again.”

You started laughing as tears fell down your cheeks. He bent down on one knee, and your pulse faltered for a moment.

“Will you marry me?”

Because in your first wedding together, he did’t just want to take you to weddings and see other people getting married.

He wanted to marry you.

“Minho, I-” you sobbed, smiling. “Yes! Please!” You chuckled.

He hugged you tightly, and of course, just to make sure you knew who you were getting married to, he teased you.

“Like the one and only godess, Beyoncé, said once,” he mumbled in your ear, “if you like it and you’re sure, put a ring on it.”

“Minho!” You squirmed in between chuckles. “That’s not how the lyrics go!”

He shrugged. “English is hard,” he giggled. You laughed too, pulling him into a kiss.

You sure loved an idiot. But it was your idiot fiancé, soon to be your idiot husband.

Yours only.

[☆◽️💐◽️☆]

~Kats, who hasn’t been in a wedding since 2018, and i think it kinda shows lol

[hellfirenacht]

Wing Man: Epilogue

Fic Summary: Steve ‘the Hair’ Harrington is your best friend, and is constantly striking out. Sick of this, you two make a deal; you’ll wing man for each other. Hooking Steve up with dates is easy, but he finds himself struggling to find you a date. At least, until Dustin starts talking about his new cool friend Eddie.

Chapter Summary: Corroded Coffin takes flight, and you're on air.

1.4k Words

(Master List 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15)

“Oh, is it on? Sorry about that everyone! You’d think after a year on air I’d get this cue right, but apparently we’re still working out some of the technical bugs for getting that timing right. Anyway, welcome back to LTRD, The Right Road to Good Music.” 

That was a lie, you hadn’t missed the cue. You had only ever missed the cue once on your first week on air, and the few listeners had found it so funny that you had been instructed to keep it as a bit. The radio persona you put on was a bit more air-headed than you might have picked out for yourself, but you had fun with it. 

In all the time you had tried to be on stage, who knew that you’d do better when no one could see you? The sound mixers not-withstanding, of course. 

“In studio today we actually have Eddie Munson of Corroded Coffin fame here to tell us about their new studio album.” You smiled across the table at your boyfriend, who was leaning back casually in his chair, as if he’d done this a hundred times.

And he might as well have with how many times you two went over everything the past week to get ready for this interview. 

“It was going to be a garage album, but it turns out the studio doesn’t want everything recorded on a tape recorder.” He gave you a winning smile that still gave you butterflies, even now a little over a year later.

“With the way your popularity has taken off in the area, I’m sure more than a few people would be willing to shell out for that.” 

“Maybe, but we aren’t shell outs.” Eddie looked at you with the biggest grin and you had to take a deep breath. That had NOT been in your practice, and you were so mad that stupid joke almost made you laugh. 

“Welp, this has been a good interview, but we’re gonna have to cut it short- I’m joking, Merv.” You said to the station director who was shooting you a look. “So, tell us about the new album.”

“Thanks for having me on to talk about this.” Eddie said, fiddling with one of his rings. His hair had grown even longer in the past year, falling down just passed his chest now. His arms had a few more tattoos, and you knew from up close and personal experience that his thighs now had a few very nice pieces. You tried not to think about that while you were on air. “The new album is coming out this October, and it’s called Fire Shroud. The whole album is heavily inspired by a Dungeons and Dragons campaign that we all played together a few years ago.”

“Dungeons and Dragons?” you asked, pretending to know less than you did for the sake of the interview. “Pretty brave to say that on air. I think we had a few people storm the phone lines a few weeks ago for dating to mention the game.” 

Eddie grabbed the mic and pulled it closer to him. “I want people to know that enjoying fantasy, using your imagination, and learning basic math isn’t even close to the Satanic bullshit people say it is- wait, can I say that on air?” 

You looked at the clock, it was just passed 1 am. “Fuck no.” you smiled at him.

“Good.” he continued. “Listen, whatever freaky sacrificial rituals I do, happen in my off time when I’m not playing music or running a game.”

“I take it that the blood just gets all over the game board?”

“I spend so long painting my game pieces, so I don’t like getting blood on my hard work.” 

The interview went on like this for a while, and you and Eddie effortlessly went through the basic points that you two needed to hit. The albums release, how excited Corroded Coffin was to be working on this, and how excited they were to hopefully put the game that meant so much to them in a better light. 

“So, if anyone wants to come see Corroded Coffin live, where can they go to see you?” 

“We’re actually playing a few venues and theaters in the Indianapolis area next month, we’ll be sharing the stage with a few other bands. We are also going to be helping out with one of the shows at the latest Rocky Horror Picture Show revival soon.” 

Columbia (you were sure Robin told you her real name at some point, but she would always be Columbia in your mind), had staged a coup after the theater had been handed over to Left Turn. She had taken the remaining members and had gone to another theater. When news about Corroded Coffin’s graduation take-over hit, she had Robin reach out to you and you had talked to Eddie and everything came together pretty easily from there. It would only be for one night, but you found yourself really looking forward to seeing the show again. 

Merve signaled at you to wrap it up, and when the light went off you sighed and sagged in your seat. Eddie got up to get you some coffee, and you were thankful for that. Being a late night radio host had made your sleep schedule a bit weird, but you wouldn’t change it for the world. 

“Are we still on for breakfast when you get off?” He asked. “Still doing a double date with Steve and his latest girlfriend?” 

You snorted. “As far as I know. He might sleep in again and miss it.”

“Well, if he does then we’ll just get breakfast to go and I can keep you to myself then.” Eddie said. “I’ll need a nap after this.”

“You know, you don’t have to stick around. You can go home and get some sleep.” you suggested. “Just because I’m here all night, it doesn’t mean that you have to be. You already spend most of your time down the hall with the rest of the boys.” 

“I gotta make sure no creeps call in and try and flirt with you.” he said. “Not while I’m here.” 

“Eddie, I do this five nights a week, and I’ve only had, what, maybe 3 creeps call in and most times Merv is able to catch them before they make it on air.” You reached up and scratched at his scalp. “I appreciate the concern, though.” 

Eddie yawned and closed his eyes. “I’m not leaving.” he mumbled, his eyes closing. “If I go home, I know I’ll miss picking you up.” 

“We drove here separately.” you laughed. “Go take a nap on the couch in the break room. I’ll wake you up when it’s time to go.” 

“Fine, but I’m taking your blanket.” He said, grabbing the fleece that was draped over your chair. Eddie leaned in and gave you a kiss. “Knock ‘em dead, baby.” 

“Only if you bury them.” you smiled back at him. 

The night went on with music, call-ins, news, and weather. When the first rays of morning light peaked through the windows of Left Turn Studios, you signed off, got your notes from Merv, and went to the break room where your boyfriend was already nursing a room temperature cup of coffee.

“Let’s get you some real coffee.” you took the flimsy cup away from him and tossed it in the trash. 

Eddie stood up and leaned in and kissed you, his hand cupping your jaw. You hummed against his lips and wrapped your arms around his waist. 

“What was that for?” you asked as he pulled back. 

“It’s a better wake up than shitty coffee.” He said, kissing your forehead. “But now I want mediocre coffee.” 

It was a surprisingly cool morning as the two of you stepped out of the studio. You said your hellos to the morning shift as they filed in, and Eddie walked you to your car. “See you at the diner. If Harrington doesn’t show up within fifteen minutes, we’re taking our food to go.” 

“Can’t argue with that.” You agreed. 

Within an hour, you were dozing off on Eddie’s chest in bed together. Your leftover breakfast pushed to the side as MTV played some song that you were glad you didn’t have to put on your show. Eddie’s arm was around your shoulders and tracing patterns absently against your skin. 

There had once been a time where you felt like a fish out of water, and then later you could breathe. Now, so long after making the dumb little deal with Steve you realized you weren’t meant for the land or sea. 

From now on, you could fly.

a/n: The End

Dividers by: @strangergraphics

Tag List @k8loo @terrormonster55 @sp1dyb0y1008 @crocwork-clockodile @ali-r3n

@mxcheese @josephquinnschesthair @gagasbee @peaches-roses-sins @witchwolflea

@vintagehellfire @royale1803 @cumslutforaemond @prestinalove @browneyedgirly93

@perpetualmessmachine @thebook-hobbit @cultish-corner @grishaversecaptivated @sortagaysortahigh

@siriuslysmoking @huffledor-able541 @pookiesnatcher @eddiesguitarskills @browneyes-8288

@sheneedsrocknroll92 @kores-mun-son-n-more @eddiebuttcheeks @kirsteng42 @dreamerjj

@moonisu @em022O @cosmorant @kurdtbean

[ladykailitha]

Do You Know What Shovels Dig? Graves Part 5

Welp, fuck. Yeah this is going to be six parts now. This story just doesn’t know how to end itself so I’m putting the cutting point here and then finish the rest with BBQ idea.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

*

The remaining trio arrived after dinner. Jonathan, El, and Will had stayed over, order pizza.

“California really does have the superior pizza,” Jonathan hummed around his slice.

Steve scoffed. “Even better than Chicago? You’re crazy, man.”

“That isn’t pizza,” Jonathan argued. “That’s an open calzone.”

Will snickered as El cocked her head to the side as she tried to puzzle it out.

The doorbell rang and Steve wiped his hands on his jeans as he stood up to get it.

He opened the door to reveal Eddie with Lucas, Erica, and Max.

“Look what I found skulking around my place,” Eddie said proudly.

Lucas and Max looked at each other as Erica rolled her eyes.

“We figured that you would be over at Eddie’s,” Lucas explained quietly.

Steve shrugged. “I probably would have been if Dustin, Nancy and Mike didn’t stop by earlier.”

“Damn,” Max cursed. “I hoping to beat Dustin.”

Erica rolled her eyes again. “Can we get this over with?”

Steve just shook his head. “Me and Will and them are just finishing up dinner.”

Lucas frowned. “Will’s here?”

Steve smiled and then turned to lead them back to the kitchen. “Apparently Team Steve decided that they were going to monitor each apology to make sure they were actually apologies and not just excuses.”

“Wait, really?” Erica asked.

They entered the kitchen and Steve called out, “Look what Eddie dragged in.”

Eddie grinned.

“Come have pizza!” El said. “There’s plenty for everyone. Steve likes to get a lot.”

“That’s because I know that I will have people grazing the leftovers for the next couple days and I won’t accidentally get eaten out of house and home.”

El giggled.

They all settled down to eat. Happily chatting and laughing as they consumed all of the pizza.

Once everything was cleared away Will asked. “All right who’s first?”

Max and Lucas exchanged a glance.

“Um...” Lucas said.

“Because we did our shovel talk together, can we do our apology together?” Max asked.

Jonathan furrowed his brow. “I think that’s up to Steve.”

“I’m down if you guys are okay with that,” Steve said to everyone else.

There was nodding all around.

“I’ll handle this set,” Eddie said, “if you want to stand guard?”

Jonathan and Will nodded, but El shook her head. “I’m staying. I haven’t got to do one yet. You can chose to stay if you want, but I’m not moving.”

“Fair enough,” Eddie said. “How about this, we double team with Max and Lucas and then I can do Erica?”

El tilted her head to the side as she thought about it. “Agreed.”

Erica threw her arms in the air and left with the Byers boys.

“Is there a reason you have monitors?” Max asked once they had gone.

Steve laughed. “Apparently they think I let you guys get away with too much shit and wanted to make sure that didn’t happen with these apologies.”

Eddie grinned at them.

“Right...” Lucas said slowly, nodding his head. “So it started out as a joke...”

Steve held up his hand. “I’m going to stop you right there. No it didn’t. I don’t care if that’s what you thought. It did not start out as a joke. I will not take ‘it was a joke’ as an excuse. Because it’s starting to sound like you guys knew that other people were giving me the shovel talk and wanted to do it too. And if that is that case, I’m done.”

Eddie let out a low whistle. “I don’t know, Supergirl. I think our Stevie is going to be just fine.”

She giggled again. “Maybe, but I want to stay for the verbal beat down, don’t you?”

Eddie tilted his head and looked up. He pursed his lips and nodded. “No, no, you’re right. Should we get popcorn?”

Steve laughed.

Max bit her lip. “We knew Mike and Erica had done it,” she admitted. “But we didn’t know about anyone else we swear! Ten is too fucking much.”

“That’s good to hear, I guess,” Steve said. “But seriously, a joke? Shovel talks aren’t funny. Not the first time and definitely not the tenth.”

Eddie frowned. “Who was the first?”

Steve cocked his head to the side and leaned against the counter. “Mike.”

Everyone boggled at Steve.

“Mike was the first?” Lucas asked.

Steve shrugged. “It’s why I believed him when he said he had been joking. Because no one else had done it at that point.”

“Were there other people between Erica and Mike,” Max asked, “and us?”

Steve folded his arms and nodded.

“Yeah, okay,” Lucas said. “Yeah, I get not accepting ours as a joke at that point.”

Max nodded. “We are sorry, Steve. I understand that saying we didn’t know won’t cut it, but we really didn’t know. We also...” she looked over at Lucas and blushed. “We also thought that Eddie was getting them, too.”

Lucas nodded. “Like we thought Dustin and Robin for sure would have given Eddie the shovel talk. But when we found out that no one had? That really put the nail in the coffin for all this.” He hung his head. “We’re really sorry, man.”

“Yeah,” Max agreed. “We should have known better about the shovel talk to begin with. I wouldn’t want one and I wouldn’t want Lucas to get one either. Our relationship is no one else’s business. And getting into yours and Eddie’s business was wrong. We’re sorry.”

Steve sighed and glanced at El and Eddie to see if it was good enough. They both nodded. “Okay, I accept your apology. Especially since it seems like you learned your lesson. And if you do something like that to someone else, make sure they know it’s a joke. Because I sure the hell didn’t.”

They both winced and then nodded.

Lucas came up and gave Steve a hug. “We’ll try to be better friends too,” he whispered. Steve nodded.

He walked out and Max stood there for a moment. She looked at Eddie and El for a moment before she launched herself at Steve. He caught her and held her tight.

“You’re the big brother I always dreamed of,” she said softly. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m so sorry, Steve.”

Steve kissed the top of her head. “I love you, too, Max.”

When she pulled away, she wiped her face. El held out her hand and Max took it.

“Come on,” El said gently. “Let’s go wash your face before we go back out to the boys.”

Max nodded gratefully and let herself be led away.

Erica came in a couple minutes later and sat down at the counter and stared both of them down. But when Eddie and Steve didn’t back down, she nodded.

“Good,” she said. “I don’t deal with bitches.”

Eddie scoffed. “Does your mother know you kiss her with that dirty mouth?”

Erica batted her eyelashes. “My mother thinks I’m an angel.”

Eddie threw his arms in the air. “Because of course she does.”

“I still haven’t heard an apology,” Steve said after a moment.

“You aren’t going to get one,” Erica said primly. “What you are going to get is why Steve and not Eddie that got the shovel talk.”

Eddie and Steve shared a confused glance.

“Come again?” Eddie asked.

Erica shrugged. “I mean I’m sorry everyone else had sticks up their ass, but I’m not sorry I gave Steve the shovel talk. He’s the badass of the pair of you and needs to know that I will defend my DM to the death if required.”

Steve ran his tongue over his lips and rolled his eyes. “So what I’m hearing is that you think I’m too badass to be protected?”

“Duh,” she said. “I’ve seen you in action. This little bitch nearly died.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide and he tilted his head forward. “Excuse me?”

“You clearly need to be protected from dying again,” Erica said.

“And why can’t I be the one protecting him?” Steve asked, furrowing his brow.

Erica paused for a moment. “You know, I didn’t think of it like that.” She cocked her head thoughtfully. “No, are you absolutely right. I commend you to service in defending Eddie the Banished. Don’t fuck it up.”

She hopped off the barstool and walked out.

“Does–does that count as an apology?” Eddie asked more than a little stunned.

Steve jutted out his bottom lip and nodded. “Coming from her? Yeah.”

Eddie nodded back. “Sounds about right. She certainly is something.”

“I fear for any boy that tries to break her heart,” Steve said. “She’ll break their knees.”

“Provided anyone can find the body,” Eddie agreed.

***

Part Six

Tag List: @justforthedead89 @zerokrox-blog @ihavekidneys @didntwant2come @thelittleclare @liorereshkigal @estrellami-1 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @telidina @stevesbipanic @paintsplatteredandimperfect @a-little-unsteddie @jonesn4coffee @resident-gay-bitch @obliosworld @croatoan-like-its-hot @evix-syne666 @emly03 @wonderland-girl143-blog @bookworm0690

[pro-memoriia]

Can I get some sweet Dew/Rain please? 🤭💕

Welp

🧡❤ Swiss x Dew ficlet ❤🧡

Dewdrop sighed and rolled onto his side, internally cursing at Aurora. She needed to do laundry earlier but Dew's didn't get done drying. She didn't care, or just didn't notice, though. So Dew's bedding got thrown out of the laundry room, damp and cold. He didn't have time to fix it, and he wasn't really in the mood to yell at her, so he just grumpily accepted it.

His blanket was wet. His sheets were wet. His pillowcase was wet. His stuffed animal was wet. Wet and cold, that was all he felt in his bed. There was no comfortable position, no comfortable spots, it was all just wet. Dew hated it, he felt disgusting, and he was freezing.

Eventually, he grew sick of it. He got up and walked out in just his boxers. That probably wasn't helping his problem, but it was how he usually slept. He hugged himself and stomped to Swiss' room, giving a firm knock on the door.

He opened up in a moment, to no surprise. It was only 10, and Swiss was usually up fairly late. "Hey, firefly."

He noticed Dew's appearance and was confused. "What happened?"

"Aurora."

"Aurora?"

"Can I sleep with you tonight?"

Swiss nodded and moved aside so the smaller could get in.

Dew wasted no time getting into bed. He rushed over and flipped the comforter up to bury himself underneath it. He laid on his back and pulled the covers up to his chin.

It was comforting. It wasn't cold. It wasn't wet... And it smelled like Swiss. And it came with Swiss... It was perfect.

The multi ghoul watched it all with humorous confusion. He laughed and dropped onto the bed with Dew. "So, what happened?"

"Aurora switched my bedding before it finished drying so now my bed is damp and cold."

Dew's expression was neutral, but still slightly angry. Swiss chucked and sighed. "In the morning, I'll help you get it off and put it back in to dry." Dew nodded.

Swiss crawled under the covers and opened his arms to offer a hug. Dew accepted, eagerly shifting over to be held by his mate. Unfortunately, he was still tense and a little shaky, zoning out at the wall.

"Hey."

Dew's eyes snapped towards Swiss when he heard his voice. "What?"

"You okay? What's wrong?"

Swiss looked worried. He had that look on his face, that smile that offered comfort but was useless with the look in his eyes. It was a sweet expression, but Swiss pretty much always had a sweet expression. Dew liked that. He was originally jealous of the positivity Swiss was always able to express and the sheer emotion in his faces. Dew could never do that, which is why he learned to appreciate it. Because in some of his worst moments, Swiss' face was the only one to look at him.

"Nothing," Dew replied. "Just tired."

He looked a little grouchy, but he always did when he was sleepy. Swiss wasn't entirely convinced his mate was okay, but he'd leave it be and check up on it if it pursued in the morning.

"Alright..."

"What?" Dew knew Swiss didn't believe him.

"Just making sure you're okay. I don't want my firefly losing his flame."

Dew didn't smile for a second. He just gave Swiss a look. But after a second, he grinned and turned his head with a soft laugh.

Swiss sighed and rolled his eyes. "What? A ghoul can't be corny every once in a while?"

Dewdrop just shook his head and laid it on Swiss' shoulder. "I love you," he said quietly.

"I know."

Dew lifted his head and narrowed his eyes. "Well, fuck you too."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Nope. Already done it, didn't live up to my standards," Dew replied.

"Well then, maybe you should lower your standards to your own level, tiny."

Dew sighed. "Maybe squatting down would give you a better ass."

"My ass is perfect, thank you very much."

"Is Aurora the one feeding you these lies or is it Mount?"

"Neither, Dew. It's myself."

"Yeah, that adds up."

"You can't do math, firefly."

"And you don't understand figures of speech. Guess we both need to go back to elementary school."

Swiss chuckled and cupped Dew's chin, bringing him in for a kiss. The two smiled against each other's lips, giggling when they accidentally bumped teeth.

"Aren't you glad Rory took out your laundry too earlier?"

"This is nice, but no. I want my bedding to be warm and dry again."

"I know," Swiss said, nodding in acceptance.

"Can we sleep now?"

"Sure. Want me to turn off the lights?"

"Fuck do you think I am? An animal? Yes, turn the lights off."

Swiss scoffed and got up, shutting off the light. He came back over to the bed and turned off the lamp on the side.

He crawled under the covers and hugged Dew. The smaller ghoul curled up with his head on Swiss' chest.

Dewdrop didn't care about his wet bedding now, he was just eternally grateful for the warmth of his mate's familiar body that embraced him in his sleep.

[apenguinbird]

Animal familiars in NRC

So, you know how Master Trein is the only character in the entire school with an animal familiar? (If we don’t count Yuu having Grim)

Welp, I started to think which animal would fit the best for each NRC student along with some headcanons about them, such as:

Familiars have a special magical connection with their respective mages, which is like an invisible bond.

Not every magic user gets a familiar.

Having a familiar is similar to unique magic, they can arrive at any moment and they make your magic stronger.

You don’t need them by your side 24/7.

They can’t talk unless you use magic like the one in Animal Linguistics class.

Think of some of the animal sidekicks of some Disney movies like Cinderella’s mice, Mula’s horse, or better yet, think of the villain’s companions like Maleficient’s crow, Shang Yu’s Falcon, Iago, etc.  

The magical bond allows for things like the animal having a bit of a longer life span (more on that later) and adapting better to other environments.

NRC has measures in place to take care of the familiars and fit things like good living places, health, and diet requirements.

Here are the headcanons! We began with Heartslabyul along with some headcanons of their dynamics with their respective familiar, the other dorms will come in later posts (Savanaclaw and Octavinelle, Scarabia and Pomefiore, Ignihye and Diasomnia)

Riddle: Hedgehog.

I decided to name the little hedgehog Quinte.

Riddle met her as a kid some days after the incident with his mom happened.

He was looking out his window wishing Trey or Che'nya would appear again when he saw something moving in the bushes of his house. Against what he would consider his better judgement he decided to go and check what was there.

That's when he found Quinte! He knew about familiars and he also felt something special when he saw the little hedgehog but at that moment he just wanted to make sure she was going to be okay so he brought her inside and although hesitantly, told his mom.

I honestly think Mrs.Rosehearts wouldn’t have approved of Riddle having a “distraction” but she realized her son had found his familiar so she allowed it. 

In NRC everyone treats Quinte with the same respect they have for Riddle. Quinte legally can’t break any rules.

One time a student confused her for one of the normal hedgehogs the dorm has so he put her in the same place as the others go. 

Cue Riddle desperately looking for his familiar and worried sick for something bad happening to her until he finally found her with the other hedgehogs, cue absolute relief but also a student losing his head for like a week.

I can see Cater getting her a little crown to match Riddle.

Trey: Rat

Hear me out! This works both for an Alice in Wonderland (I know the animal there is a mouse but still) reference AND a Ratatouille one!

Did you know rats are actually pretty clean animals?

I was so tempted to name the rat Remi, but I won’t. I was thinking of the name Peres, let’s call him that for now, but I’m not sure, if you have any ideas let me know.

Yes, Trey’s parents weren’t thrilled when he found his familiar, probably in his mid to late teens. But you can’t do much about it so they made sure Peres was well-cleaned and groomed, also he wasn’t allowed inside their bakery, a bit mean but they couldn’t afford to have customers seeing a rat. 

Once in NRC however, Peres helps Trey in the kitchen with things like getting ingredients or tools. The sub-chef who takes his work seriously.

Say something rude about Peres and your pastries will taste like clams.

Cater: Dog

He was a difficult one, I might change it later

A caterpillar jk

Probably a race like a terrier or a bloodhound, I have no idea why but I think his name would be something like Princess/Prince.

His magic cam is full of photos of his familiar along with cute accesories which his familar uses willingly and like a diva.

I can see him getting the dog right before entering NRC or maybe in his first year.

The dog is lucky because there is always someone taking care of it, either Cater himself or one of his copies.

Deuce: Rabbit

Was planning on giving him a chicken ngl

Deuce loves him with all his heart.

I can see Deuce naming the rabbit something like Carrot, don’t worry, he investigates and soon realizes the appropriate diet for a rabbit.

His mom was so proud.

The two found each other the same week Deuce decided to turn his life around, he took it as a sign he was going in the right direction.

Do anything to scare the rabbit and he will throw hands.

The bunny is very willing to bite and kick. Unfortunately, that also includes some furniture damage.

Also, he brought Carrot with him to the White Rabbit Fest. “Carrot, give me your rabbit wisdom.” “...” “Thank you.”

Ace: Hare

Please help. I have no ideas for the name and I don’t think Ace would call his familiar March.

Yes, he and Deuce see the irony too.

Ace insists his familiar could beat Deuce’s in a fight.

His brother probably teases him for an animal such as a hare but Ace's comeback is that his brother doesn’t even have a familiar yet.

That hare is as teasing as Ace, a nightmare duo. If you find bite marks or missing things you know who is to blame, Ace will insist his familiar is innocent and if it isn’t c’mon is just a cute hare.

If Riddle could he would collar them both.

[t0ast-ghost]

Umm STAR TREK: THE MOTION PICTURE THOUGHTS!!!!

You thought this series was dead and buried? Well maybe it is. This may stay in my drafts forever. But I suppose if you’re reading this it’s not.

Warnings for a flashing gif

and spoilers (obviously)

So enjoy and forward we go:

- They kinda just make you watch stars with nice background music for *checks time* two minutes and fifty seconds (no, there are no credits during this time)

- I’m so hyped for this, the credit music is so nostalgic and amazing

- Tron ass graphics <3

- Evolved Klingon design! Let’s go! Also they’re speaking Klingon which I think star trek is super proud of creating

- It’s so alien (as in the movie alien)

- Is that the lizard head rock from the Apple? No it’s Vulcan- damn what’d they do to Spock?

- It’s giving the dark crystal or labyrinth

- THEYVE GOT A VULCAN LANGUAGE?! I mean I knew they would but they created one for the first movie???

- When the Vulcan Master (it’s what imdb calls her) is reading Spock’s mind then the shot goes back to her face and she looks down and there’s a fucking vine boom and she smiles slightly at him like ‘THIS FUCKER IS HAVING GAY THOUGHTS’

- Jim is calling him <3

- It’s interesting how they pronounce Spock’s name differently

- Life is a Dream is my favourite song (It’s the one with the horns)

- Omg hi Kirk hi

- They gave him another Vulcan? Kirk must miss his husband so much

- imagine ten years after your favourite show ends, they make a movie and there are all your favourite guys again! I would have screamed

- Hiya Scotty

- Kirk looks so unhappy. Hmmm wonder why

- Aww this is such a cute conversation between Kirk and Scotty

- KIRK GETS TEARS IN HIS EYES SEEING THE NEW ENTERPRISE OMG. HE LOVES HER SM

- This is the slowest fucking shuttle ever

- I like how there’s just guys floating in spacesuits around

- ….Welp that’s over now. The ship has docked. Finally.

- oh the elevators are just voice controlled now. No handles.

- OMG HI UHURA!!! HI CHECKOV! HI SULU!!!

- Kirk’s about to go fire someone. This’ll be fun.

- Yeah Decker does not take this well. Kirk is just a petty bitch who loves his ship too much and definitely misses his husbands

- WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT? Wha- who- no wonder people don’t like using transporters that’s horrifying

- OMG THATS JANICE RAND!!!

- Kirk has turned into the idiot admiral that he used to hate dealing with

- OMG HIIIII BONES HES GOT A BEARD. They drafted him???? Wait no. JIM BROUGHT HIM BACK hehe

- “Damn it, Bones. I need you. Badly!” He missed his husband so he made him come back to fight a war

- That was such a normal moment between Kirk and McCoy. Sooo normal. I’m normal about it. Sooo normal.

- THAT LITTLE DUDE IN SPACE JUST DID A FLIP

- hi bones hi

- “Jim. You’re pushing.”

- They gave McCoy a better perch, he’s got a railing that’s closer to Kirk now

- time to ask: what is happening

- “Tor-pe-do away!” The slow voice really added to that

- Why is McCoy just there on his knees?!?

- Bones is NOT happy to be here. This is why he divorced Kirk (he’s still married to Spock though)

- McCoy can see that Jim is being unreasonable. But what is that stance and why aren’t they looking into each others eyes? (Edit: not sure what stance I’m talking about but yeah, why aren’t they?)

- It’s been 50 minutes literally nothing has happened except reintroductions

- HI SPOCK HIII HES SO HOT WHATS HE DOING HERE?

- damn why’d Spock just ignore Chekov like that

- Jim is so desperate. He wants this man so bad. He’s like literally starry eyed

- For Chekov this is like the worst high school reunion ever

- HI CHAPEL HAIII

- damn why is Spock ignoring his husbands :(((

- Bones looks so sad. He missed Spock

- Kirk and McCoy are about to interrogate their long gone ex husband. “Will you please sit down.” This is pretty much exactly what it would be like if they got divorced and didn’t see each other for awhile. Spock is trying to separate his emotions from the situation, McCoy is trying to be playful but sneaks in a question about what he’s been doing, and Kirk just wants them back he’s so desperate

- Not gonna say what I’m thinking cause I think that would be disrespectful

- “I believe they may hold my answers.” “Well, isn’t it lucky for you that we just happened to be heading your way?” “Bones! We need him. I need him.” Jim if you say that while staring into Spock’s eyes it’s a bit queer (happy pride month)

- They got the new Apple watches

- Spock is pulling a Deanna Troi

- They brought back Spock to wear the finest eyeshadow and serve silent cunt

- Shapes and colours by the likes of which I’ve never seen!

- I like how Bones just came onto the bridge FOR NO REASON but to kinda look shocked when Kirk was about to do something silly

- Most of this movie feels like, ‘look at this cool set/effects thing for a very long time’ and they are cool

- I now truly understand what a ‘long shot’ is

- Uh oh Kirk. Your husband got zapped!

- huh? whuh? Why’d it take Ilia?

- Everyone that comes onto the bridge takes a second to go what the f-

- Wow that’s just a pussy- *gets schmacked*

- Did Spock just fucking blue screen?

- just noticed Kirk in short sleeves <3

- ILIA BURST THROUGH THE WALL

- Why did they replicate her into high heels

- I love Star Treks idea that love can bring anyone back. Like if anyone is dead and someone loves them enough there’s no way they’re staying dead. And if you bring up Tasha, technically she didn’t die right there and then. And if you bring up Jadzia, fuck you

- What is Spock doing, why’s he mutineering

- They successfully contacted Ilia. There’s something so sad about it being her but not her at all

- Omg. Spock why would you do that?

- “That’s Spock. Damn him! Bring him back here.” Gotta wrangle your husbands

- I was going to say something about pussy and then Spock said “penetrated” so-

- Pussy so good you get blasted backwards- I’ve got to stop

- Spock laughing omg omg

- jaw dropped. That was gay. That was so gay!

- I like how Kirk just has these two guys around to explain things to him

- “It knows only that it needs, commander, but like so many of us, it does not know what.” Do you need something, Spock? What are you trying to say? Do you need the love of your husbands?

- HES JUST GONNA BLOW UP THE SHIP???

- I got legitimately jumpscared by Spock’s tear

He’s really pretty tho and they’re observing him

- “Is this all that I am? Is there nothing more?” This is the greatest moment in the whole movie thus far because it goes back to really what star trek is about. Talking about life through aliens.

- He’s bringing his husbands with him awwe

- woah how are they on top of the enterprise?!Okay I guess this is happening now

- VOYAGER??????????? Oh wait this is a real ship, isn’t it?

- So Decker is going to sacrifice himself to join with V’Ger, isn’t he?

- He rolls back to his husbands

- “As much as you wanted the Enterprise, I want this.” Jim did really want the enterprise, but he also just wanted love, same with Decker, they both just want their loves back.

- Shiny

- Kirk and McCoy staring, jaws dropped like, ‘What is this shit?’

- “And a lot of foolish human emotions, right, Mr. Spock?” “Quite true, Doctor. Unfortunately we will have to deal with them as well.” THEY’RE FLIRTING AGAIN YES!!!!

- It’s a little funny that Spock definitely arrived on the ship ready to stay. Like he cut his hair and everything just to see his husbands.

- “The human adventure is just beginning” what does THAT mean?

Well okay. Time to watch Wrath of Khan, I guess. I hear it’s better…

Masterpost

[ryuichirou]

Replies

Skipped the day yesterday because my PC died, but I’ll try to write more replies today!

Starting with the ones related to our recently posted drawings~ But there are also some about twst characters and ships: Malleus, Riddle, Sebek/Jamil and many many more.

hipsterteller asked:

*sees Azul and Idia making out* welp someone better take a picture

I’m pretty sure Jade and Floyd are already on it. Maybe Ortho too, but for more wholesome reasons than the tweels…

hipsterteller asked:

Dang it Kalim…

He just HAD to ask Jamil to come back as soon as possible!

Anonymous asked:

~ 🎵 There goes the vizier hauling ass, like always 🎵 ~

Lmao thank you for the mental image of Jamil racing through the streets of Silk City in his big-ass robes. Looks like he forgot to get the food though... Maybe he and Kalim could have some fish for dinner?

You’re welcome~ Poor Jamil, getting food from the store isn’t even his job, but he was nice enough to go, and for what? To race right back through the streets of Silk City in his big-ass robes 😭

If Azul, Jade and Floyd didn’t bring them a pizza this time, they’ll have to have fish for dinner…

Anonymous asked:

Jamil is gonna murder these people, he doesn't care if he gets in trouble. That reminds me, does the...oh who am I kidding, of course they knew Jamil is acting like a snake by using Kalim again.

Jamil is so sick and tired of them, it’s been 30 seconds and he is already done LOL

They probably haven’t seen each other in quite some time, and Jamil isn’t planning on doing his subtle-Kalim-seduction thing in front of these three, but I have a feeling they’ll still notice that there is something going on between them. They know a snake when they see one…

Anonymous asked:

We seen the mafia Octavinelle often visiting Scalding Sands, but what about the Shrouds visiting there since they are often with the mafia?

Oh Ortho would love to visit, but he doesn’t usually get to go with the Octavinelle trio and stays by Idia’s side; and Idia probably hates the idea of visiting Scalding Sands, because it’s way too hot, and Kalim and Jamil are there, and Kalim is annoying and Jamil is scary, and the whole thing is going to be awkward, what is this really, a college reuinon? Yada-yada, mumbling Idia noises.

But still, they’ll visit them at least once. Even if Azul isn’t persuasive enough, Ortho’s puppy eyes are going to break Idia’s will for sure.

snowblub asked:

Whenever I see a post of yours and I know it's yours btw I look at what's there then forget I'm following you then go up to press follow and then realise that I do follow you. Short memory struggles... The amount of times this has happened is a bit embarrassing ngl.

But at least now you know that you got someone who would follow you a hundred times if possible?? I just thought to tell you.

AHHH This is so sweet of you?? Thank you so much. The fact that my drawings give you an urge to press follow despire already following is such an amazing thing to hear! <3 <3 <3

Anonymous asked:

I made the mistake of showing a newer friend your twitter account, I did warn them...😭😭😭

Like yes I like you BEACUSE your problematic, someone has to speak for us :(

~Anon &lt;3

Ohh, I hope you didn’t have a bad fight with them, Anon. Having arguments and even falling-outs with friends because of ship-related content is always unfortunate :(

We can only speak for ourselves, but if you feel seen/inspired by the fact that we have the audacity to post our problematic stuff, I’m very happy to hear that!! <3 Thank you for supporting us.

Anonymous asked:

I've also been thinking about how Malleus threw off the dom/sub radar, and I think it's funny if he throws off everyone else's radar too and even himself guesses whether others are doms/subs wrong like 90% of the time LOL that's how we got rollo & mal flirting with each other, both convinced the other is going to rail them later that night, only to be met with disappointment😔 it's okay boys, there are plenty of gargoyles in the sea....

Anon THIS! I COMPLETELY AGREE lol Especially with Rollo and Malleus; I don’t know if Rollo expected anything from Malleus (he was being a tsundere, that’s for sure), but Malleus clearly read the room in… his own way…

We like to joke that this happens because Malleus learned the art of flirting from Lilia.

Now I can’t stop imagining Malleus’ confused blinks when he learns about the dom/sub positioning of some of the couples.

Anonymous asked:

Do you think Epel would like Heathers?

I don't know, Anon, I think Epel wouldn't really get Heathers 😭 But he'll appreciate the fact that it's less "girly" and more intense.

Anonymous asked:

"azul is only hot when he's angry" anon here. i changed my mind. i saw the light. im a redeemed soul.

Ah Anon! It’s good to hear back from you and see that you are no longer a hater of Azul’s natural immeasurable sex appeal. I’m sure Azul would be very pleased to hear that (and sexy) <3

(But in all seriousness I do wonder what made you change your mind…)

Anonymous asked:

I don't know if he's ever expressed a desire to become one in canon, but occasionally I cone across fics and fanart that portray Riddle as a Prosecutor. Every time I end up imagining him as an Ace Attorney rival and then end up laughing because I picture Phoenix thinking 'I thought I was done with the Von Karmas.'

Anon, he fits the role of an Ace Attorney Prosecutor PERFECTLY, and he would be SUCH AN ANNOYING BITCH TO PLAY AGAISNT LOL We love Ace Attorney very much, so we also joke about Riddle being a prosecutor from time to time. I have at least one sketch related to this topic but we posted it on ko-fi.

Our go-to is usually to give Ace the Attorney role, not only because of his name, but also because him being confrontational with Riddle is always a fun thing to imagine.

Imagine Riddle’s angry sprites as a prosecutor… he’s even worse than some of the Von Karmas… at least he doesn’t use a whip I guess lol

Anonymous asked:

i saw this sebejami doujin on pixiv and Sebek is my favorite boy along with Ortho so, what do you think about their dynamic?

They’re intriguing! It’s always interesting when someone who isn’t Malleus gets Sebek’s kind-of-sort-of-approval (a very important achievement I know), and Jamil somehow managed to do it. Maybe it’s because he managed to sit through Sebek’s hours-long rant about Malleus’ grateness in that one vignette, but it honestly shows just how interestingly their personalities play based off each other. Jamil is constantly done with everyone’s bs, but he’s unfrotunately tolerant enough to take a passive role and listen. But he is also enough of a tease to enjoy Sebek’s “cute” and silly moments, like when he watched him almost fight a goat during the Glorious Masquerade event. So I feel like to him Sebek would be a massive pain in the ass (and let’s be honest, with Jamil – who isn’t?), but also have his surprisingly endearing moments.

But this is based on their interactions in the Glorious Masquerade event + that one vignette in which Jamil promised to listen to Sebek’s odes for Malleus lol

blackbutlerfandomnerddomain asked:

Do you have any headcanons of if it's revealed Lilia and Malleus are married or at least SHOULD be? Cause, again, the idea of Silver never questioning kisses and what not until NRC when they said I Love Yous and kissed in public and someone pointed it out is so funny to be

The thought has never occurred to me because to be honest, just like Silver, I never question anything that Lilia does lol

But I can picture some people from the NRC being confused about Lilia and Malleus’ relationship, because they’re definitely closer than just being friends… so while I’m not sure if they would think about them as a married couple(or who should get married), some people definitely think they’re banging lol

And Silver is very chill about it… if only these people knew the whole truth about Lilia’s relationship with both Silver and Malleus… marriage is the last thing that would come to their mind lol

blackbutlerfandomnerddomain asked:

Hot take: Deuce gives Jack boob-jobs aka when you put a boner between the pectorals aka breasts/boobs and either the person receiving would move against the chest or the one who's chest is being used would squeezed their chest together and bounce. Thank my cousin for this random headcanon, never needed to know this was a thing but here we are

This 100% should be a thing, and Deuce 100% should do that, because Jack deserves it!!

This also 100% wouldn’t be Jack’s idea, so… I’m looking at Deuce knowing that he has seen this before. What are you reading/watching in your free time, Deuce?

[meeludrawz]

SO I RECENTLY FINISHED READING "Sooner or Later you're gonna be mine" by Staringback on A03

Since A03 keeps refusing to let me in, I downloaded it as an Epub to read it on my kobo

Anyways, for the one who knows, it was sadly unfinished And my brain thought about some headcanons of what happens next >:3 The hc's under the cut (I tried to follow the story as much as I could)

After Sans learns that Frisk is Asgore and Toriel's "prisoner", he gets fucking pissed, because why wouldn't he? Jerry then reminds him that he can't fight them on his own

So Sans goes back to his home in Fell City, with Grillby, and tells Wingdings about it

He doesn't have any other choice but to go to sleep for his plan, to fully gain his magic back. (Wingdings promised him he could kill both Goats if HE WENT TO SLEEP) Sans of course despised to go to sleep while his little lady was captured but he knew better than to piss his older brother

Next morning, he teleports to his home in Surface City and deals with the angry humans who tried to kidnap/interrogate Papyrus

Sans and Pap then go back to Fell City to get his older bro

Before leaving, Wingdings has fun torturing and FINALLY killing Grillby (because THAT'S WHAT HE FUCKING DESERVE)

The three Gaster brothers, Sans, Pap and Wings teleports right into the Dreemurrs home and fight the Goat couple to save Frisk!

Undyne, Asgore's guard, decides at the very last moment to join Frisk's side

Alphys is unable to fight due to her asthma but still helps Undyne and Frisk escape this hell of a house while the skeletons and the goats fight

Even thought the fight was difficult, the skeleton brothers won

Sans was really fucking pissed and disgusted when he learned that Frisk had to act like the goat couple's child. So he killed them. No MERCY (They deserve it too)

Wingdings then completely has control over Fell City and now, no one will stop him from taking control over Surface City

It will take time before the plan would be a success

For now, Frisk, after telling Sans about Whisk/Burgerpants, they save the kitty

Whisk and Tops/Nice cream guy eventually become a couple again :D They'd also move in Surface City

After longs days of rest, because they CLEARLY deserved it, Frisk and Sans get their official date

Over months or years, Wingding's territory in Surface City gets bigger and bigger. He still works for Don Dee but that's only a matter of time >:)

After lots and lots of dates later, Sans and Frisk gets married. And now she lives with the Gaster brothers. In the beginning, they all find it weird but hey, it makes the house lively so they don't mind

Frisk is pregnant! It wasn't planned but Sans and her are still happy about it!

Sometimes when Sans looks at Frisk's round belly, he regrets not having been able to save her from her ex. He still thinks that maybe he could have saved the baby and Frisk before Derek (her ex) causes de "miscarriage"...

Welp, and then they lived happily ever after! I guess? I ran out of ideas but I sill really love the ideas that I got And I really really had to share those hcs to get em out of my head

[shadow0-1]

After the campaign…are you, are you okay

I'm doing a lot better than my friend kjbdgfjb

Honestly, it was better than I expected but that's just because I came into it with my expectations on rock bottom and was hoping for the worst in everything. I had fun and uh. yeow

Thoughts, gripes, etc about the campaign below, MEGA spoilers, you've been warned (in no particular order)

This could just be me being insane about Graves but honestly I thought that they would touch into the Konni infiltrating Shadow some more since they did an entire event about it but they just got name dropped? Maybe they'll touch on it more in the next game or whatever but that was quite disappointing for me personally.

Graves, my wife, the light of my life. Cried when I first saw heard him and then I cried more when he was still in kahoots with Shepherd. Love him for lying to the court and love Price for finally stepping up to the plate and taking care of a loose end (Shepherd.) BUT that just leaves the question of what would happen to Graves. Would the courts believe him, or would they pin the blame on Graves (← more likely option)

Loved seeing Farah more, no additional notes

Gameplay was Fine, gun sounds were disappointing but movement overall felt a lot better compared to the beta, but tbh. You can still tell that this was originally supposed to be a DLC. Felt pretty short too but I played through it all in (mostly) one sitting. Not at all surprised at them reusing assets and animations but they could have tried a little with making new campaign outfits. The "open mission" played out a lot better than I had expected tbh. I personally only experienced a handful of bugs (other than the servers breaking) but again, to be expected

Julian did a good job as Makarov IMO. As a friend put it, he turned the game into horror any time he appeared on screen. I had wondered how they were going to handle no russian in this day and age and WELP. They made it way more gut-wrenching to play and sit through. Can't forget the casual racism too, "Are you a terrorist?" "No" "You look like one" LIKE OKAY WHAT THE FUCK. YALL CAN SAY THAT SHIT?

Very fun to see Nik again and play as Kate, but I'm mad that Kamarov isn't in it. Xitter has been a minefield and it seemed no one knew how to flag or tag their spoilers so I ended up seeing the Big Death™ and honestly, kudos to them for having the balls to off one of the main characters. Maybe it's just my delusions talking but Ghost was definitely super fucked up about it. Wonder if Soap is gonna be added to the multiplayer still and how they'll explain it if they do. CoD seems to have a habit of making everything canon so who knows

[m1d-45]

Welp, woe is me but i think i have had enough time to somehow organi- organize? Organice? Organise? Fuck it, CREATE ORDER in my letter.

To Diluc Ragvindr.

Though things are tough, families torn through tragedy, kept torn by mistakes made in rage and grief, it is important to remember that with time and effort you can stitch up the wounds, and one day make your scars fade.

Mondstadt may be a city of freedom, where no ties can truly ever hold you down, but everyone has their own place to return to, to rest from your long journey. Whether it be at a temple, your own room, a complete city or a friend.

My wish is for you to remember that. The fact that you have a place to return to, and even when the end has come, there are people here to welcome you. Death is not the end, but the next great adventure!

*from the letter, falls a single Gladiolus*

-🥘Stew

diluc paced through the grape fields of the winery, occasionally stopping to inspect a handful to check for any lackluster bushes or signs of a weed or bug infestation. the staff usually did a good job at keeping the vineyards clear of both, but he felt better checking them himself. it was getting dark, but he was almost done, and a carefully controlled flame in one of his hands was enough to light his way.

he stopped at one bushel of smaller than usual grapes, checking over them and their vine. he extinguished the fire in his hand so he could better check through for any colonies, only to pause.

the light hadn’t vanished.

he looked up, briefly wondering if it was adelinde or elzer coming to chastise him for being out so late, but the light wasn’t from a lantern. instead, a star-like object was floating above the wooden support for the vines.

diluc stared. the star did not move. after a moment, he reached for it, and it seemed to pop, vanishing into a puff of golden flakes. he blinked, adjusting to the light shift, and saw that a folded sheet of paper had dropped onto the grapevines.

…huh.

inside of the paper was a pointed array of flowers, their color lost in the dim light of dusk, but he simply brushed it aside, focusing on the words written on the page.

in truth, he should have known what was going on. you were the only one god that communicated through the stars, and you were one of the only ones who knew what had truly happened between him and kaeya.

and you… were the only one that could tell him he had a chance at mending what was torn and have him believe you in the slightest.

you wouldn’t lie, not about something so important, but… to promise him, him with the blood on his hands and darkness in his heart, that he could close a wound that had been opened for years… you wouldn’t blame him for being in disbelief, would you? your light encompassed all, your grace touched every corner of the earth, but surely this… could this truly be within grasp?

after a moments thought, diluc folded your letter again, picking up the flower you had sent him.

maybe, in the morning, with the light of dawn at his shoulders and a head not muddled with the stress of the day, he’d have a harder time believing you. maybe he’d be a bit more rational, and think about the time required to start such an endeavor, think about whether it we something kaeya wanted at all.

but as the last of the sun dripped below the horizon, he retired to the manor with the idea of a bond born anew in his mind.

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

So, after reading this post I noticed that the water motif always seems to pop up in Chuuya's character. The tank from SB, the ocean, him almost drowning, etc. WHAT IF, JUST TO PISS OFF ME SPECIFICALLY, DAZAI FUCKING DROWNED CHUUYA TO TRIGGER CRAZY PTSD FROM THE TUBE TO SNAP HIM OUT OF THE VAMPIRE THING. NOW, I KNOW THAT THIS IS PROBABLY NOT WHAT HAPPENED BUT. WHAT IF. IT WAS. WHAT BETTER WAY TO REMIND HIM OF HIS OWN AUTONOMY THAN TO MAKE HIM REMEMBER WHEN HE WAS HAVING AN EXISTENTIAL CRISIS ABOUT WHETHER HE'S A HUMAN BEING OR A FUCKING LAB-MADE CLONE. SEEMS LIKE A DAZAI THING TO DO.

Also, water=ocean=fish=mackerel=Dazai. Dazai is the water to Chuuya's fire. Like how he can "douse" Chuuya when his flames get a little too out of control, aka corruption. (Ouhghghghghghhg character foils and parallels.) Wait, since Fyodor is a greasy rat wouldn't he be like oil to Dazai's water?? Constantly at odds and literally impossible to combine??? Sus. Him using Chuuya, who's like fire. Using him to make him "stronger"????? Idk. Do with this what you will.

"WHAT IF, JUST TO PISS OFF ME SPECIFICALLY" <- Do you have ANY IDEA how hard I laughed at this?

Hello again, by the way.

Oh! That's @carrotkicks's Code 01 Stormbringer art! It's so good, huh? The tags on it got to me too.

I had been thinking along similar lines to you when I first read Chapter 101. See, I think I may have mentioned before, but that chapter was actually the first one I read when it came out - up until that point I had been frantically trying to catch up on everything I had missed. I think I had just finished Stormbringer maybe two days before? And then that happened. Yeah. :') (<- face of pain)

So, Stormbringer was still fresh in my memory when I read it and I instantly went "why would you drown him Asagiri??? why the hell would you do that to him?" And then I came to a similar conclusion. The last time Chuuya was entirely submerged was the lab tank, and that memory is distant, vague and associated with the violence of Corruption. So, that's what I seriously thought might happen, especially since Stormbringer all but confirmed Chuuya has PTSD, and trauma tends to activate fight or flight. Even more so because there was no way Dazai would just go "welp see ya Chuuya nice knowing you". Yeah, I really thought he was intentionally trying to piss him off (though I think the water trap was set in advance, before he knew Chuuya would be there).

I went online to see what people were saying and everyone was upset, and I was like "yeah! me too!" but then people were talking about how mad they were at Dazai for killing Chuuya and I was so confused because well. This is why I was upset.

Look at their faces! Both of them! They are both miserable.

Anyways, while I don't think the water was intentional on Dazai's part, I do think that whole "sorry there weren't any" with the big fake smile was done to make Chuuya angry enough to fight back and regain control. I'm pretty sure he's in control of himself now, but I'm not 100% certain how - Was it the water? Was it the words? Had it just finally been long enough for him to snap out of it himself? Had he secretly been in control the whole time (doubt it but don't want to rule out the possibility)? Guess we'll find out. Eventually.

Also WATER-OIL-FIRE galaxy brain! Nice nice nice! Water being our introduction to Dazai, the way it flows and can erode rock and soil, change the course of things. Oil being used to lubricate machinery, and power engines, so that every cog runs smoothly in Fyodor's plans. Wildfire that rages and burns and can go out of control but is also warm and protective for those in the night - the duality of Chuuya. Also with the idea of oil adding fuel to flames - I had just commented on how it seems likely Fyodor has something up his sleeve on the off-chance Chuuya shakes off the brainwashing; could be information on singularities, or skk's bond, or even Chuuya himself. It may even be part of the plan, honestly - he's seen how these two work before. For him to make the "mistake" of gloating to Dazai that he doesn't know how to "use" Chuuya's ability concerns me.

Hm. I will chew on this. Tasty.

[pikatjejen]

Decided to make a little fanfic. Main character is @anacharafan 's oc; Aster.

This is chapter 1

A new world

She closed her eyes. There wasn't much to see anyway. She was just hoping that Solar wouldn't let go, who knows what happens if they got separated here.

In a short moment she went from what felt like zero gravity to standing on (somewhat) solid ground. Aster finally opened her eyes, however it was bright. Too bright.

Once her eyes had grown used to seeing things again she could see that she was in a small forest clearing. The ground was a smoothie of mud and soggy dead leaves say for the miscellaneous patches of grass sticking up. All the trees were mostly baren say for a few buds. The sky was a depressing grey and the air felt heavy. At the edge of the clearing stod a statue. Plants covered the sides of the platform it stod on cracking the stone. The statue hadn't been spared by the growing plants wrath. Twisting vines climbed from limb to limb cracking the edges. The poor condition of the statue made it hard to see who it was supposed to resemble but she could see that it was supposed to be Wira.

"That. Was awful!" Solar exclaimed, he had still not let go of her arm. "It gets better once you're used to it." Wira chimed in. He floated to the side of the statues base, there was a big patch that wasn't covered on plants. "Welp, this is where we part ways. It's been a blast!" The ghost gave a little peace sign before he went straight through the side of the platform, disappearing from view. "Is he... possessing the statue?" Aster quietly asked Moss who was excitedly waving at the statues direction. "No, there's a cave under it!" He gave her a quick smile before continuing. "Where to go first..." "Parum, maybe?" Solar suggested.

---

The forest path branched of in many places, if they didn't have Moss with them they would probably been lost for days. Sometimes Moss stopped to point at thing or a path to talk about his little adventures from when ge was "a child". "Aren't you still a child?" Solar asked. "Not according to the guild!" Moss swiftly continued to talk about how he and his friend "Ross" had fallen out of a gigant tree down the path he was pointing at. "Um, how old are you?" Solar sounded very concerned. Moss paused a second before answering "14!" She looked at Solar and then back at Moss. Moss just had a innocent smile on his face, did he not think that was... Messed up?

---

Over the treeline a gigant tree was visible. It had what Aster thought was a tree house in it, but once there were no other trees in the way she could see there were in fact many little tree houses. It was another forest clearing, this one much larger than the one she first arrived at. The beaten path they had been following went trough the clearing meetings in a crossroad near the trees on the other side. A fence separated the clearing from the surrounding forest. There was also a small stone house at the edge, close to where she was. It was a tiny brick house, well taken care of (and probably old).

Moss said that Parum was close by but this walk had taken the entire afternoon. "This... Is this... Parum?" Aster knew that it probably wasn't, but she just had to ask... Just to be sure. "No, this is old home!" Moss pointed at the big tree excitedly. He had climbed over the gate that blocked the path forward. Aster hesitated before realizing that the gate was unlocked and she could just pass through. Good. She wasn't fond of the idea of climbing over it. "Hey, I'm back." Wira was behind her, floating as usual. "I thought you weren't coming with us?" Aster said. "Eh- Nara's having one of Those moons..." Wira started. "and I promised that she could use my bunker to hide away... So I'll stick around for a little while. "

---

Both Moss and Wira seemed to know the people in charge here and managed to get us a place to stay for the night. It was a small but cozy room. The two beds took up most of the space in the room with a tiny table (fitting only one chair) in between. Solar had already decided that one of the beds was his and were fast asleep. This meant that she either had to share her bed with Moss or Solar... Maybe she can sleep on the floor. Or maybe not... There was simply to little space for her to lay down.

------------

Ho boi! I am not writing anymore today! Bye! o/

[misterdeplume]

What if Simon's mad rambles was turned into a Magnus Statement?

"Hey, if there was any crossover you could chose, which ones would you want to see together?" - friend asks me as my mind completely blanks on all the different crossovers I've already rambled about.

So, I completely forgot I wrote this during the Fionna and Cake release! I still really like the concept, so in light of the Magnus Protocal release, here:

(slight spoilers for Adventure Time season 3+? unless you know the lore)

-------

John sat down by the desk, feeling exhausting already threatening to overwhelm his senses. In front of him was the peculiar tape sent in by an anonymous stranger regarding his old archaeology professor, along with an even more peculiar note that read 'if you find it- DON'T PUT IT ON'- whatever that meant...

Well, if the sender didn't want anyone to listen, let alone an institute designed to sort out any unexplicable occurences, they really shouldn't have sent it in the first place, should they?

Martin had already voiced his own ridiculous concerns about this particular statement, claiming it to be quote un quote "cursed", but of course that was as ridiculous as the interns incessant tea drinking habit.

While it was no more clear who'd sent the tape as the whereabouts of this professor in question, the tapes were new enough to certainly be a fabrication or a prank of some sort. Either way, someone would have to sort them - new tapes weren't exactly common unless they came directly from the witness.

And John as usual, had to be the one to take care of it.

He unpacked the tapes, put his mug down and pressed the button.

"Statement of Simon Petrikov, regarding the, in his own words, 'unforseen' inflicted and psychological damage caused by a…. 'magical' crown… right. One of those… Welp, this is going to be a long night."

"It was supposed to be a joke. Just a harmless little gesture, nothing more. I just wanted to make her laugh that's all. I just wanted to make her laugh. I didn't know what would happen. I didn't. know. I swear it. I should have never brought that stupid thing with me in the first place if I'd-… if I'd JUST known… "

"I never saw her again… and also my skin is blue now. My temperature is going down steadily. I… I would go to a doctor but, something tells me that won't turn out well either"

"I tried to let it go, to ignore it, told myself it wasn't real, that it wasn't real- I was real. I was… but I could still hear them. The crown… the voices.. They encouraged me, made me such wonderful promises. How could I just let it go? All that power..? The source of all my pain and yet… it lured me with such temptation, I don't know how to describe it. It's power its… euphoria."

"And then I was gone. When I woke up, the crown was on the floor and I did not recognize where i was. What I'd done, what I'd said. Just like with Betty. If I'd somehow hurt anyone… If I'd done something I- I I wouldn't even know of it. The thought alone, it made me terrified to even look at myself in the mirror. I could barely recognize him. I wasn't me anymore, that much was certain. But even now I choose to believe that part of me is not completely gone. I have to. I owe her that… I have to believe there is a way to save me still, to make things right!."

"I forgot her name yesterday. I barely even knew I'd done it. Apparently I'd started hanging missing person posters on the ceiling but I'd forgotten how I got up there in the first place. I forgot her name for some time…. I'm so sorry, Betty"

"I heard it whisper its secrets to me. How it would save me with its frost… I don't know why I believed it. The voices compelled me. And the crown… I can't let it out of my sight. Sometimes it felt like it knew me better than I knew myself…I'm… I'm really scared"

"I don't suppose you would believe me. And in some sense, maybe that would be for the better in the long run. The crown is my burden to bare. A cage of my own doing. Oh princess… what if I made it snow for you? I can do that.

Angels of snow all for you… freeze you in time if i have to wouldn't that be just the most wonderful feeling?

Frozen forever in etherial snow, together as one- to learn the secrets…

I'm sure you'd still love me if you just gave me another chance… where was I? Oh… he was writing something-"

"Princess… where are you princess? When will you come back to me? When will you come back"

"It's too late now… no one can save me anymore. DON'T LISTEN TO HIM!!! No one can save any of us anymore… just… snow. Snow and ice. No… you'll never leave me. Not again."

"Just watch over me until I can find my way out of this labyrinth in my brain and regain my sanity!"

"If you find her, please… tell her I'm sorry"

John puts down the recorder and lets out a long exhasperated sigh after the sounds of static pour out from the old tape. He rubs his temples, before turning it on again.

"Betty Grof was reportedly last seen leaving her apartment during a snowstorm near her and Mr. Petrikovs private residence. Neighbors heard her and her fiancee screaming, probably from an argument, though Miss Grof did seem particularly startled. Anything before or after is unknown. She's been missing ever since. As for Mr. Petrikov, there has been records of this 'crown' as well as an older artifact from his more famous exploits to find the 'enchirideon', but of course any suspision of supernatural conduct would probably go to anyone's head if they lost their fiancee. I don't think it's too far fetched to conclude that Mr. Petrikov must have suffered a psychotic breakdown as a result of losing his girlfriend and blamed the affects on his last recovered item. However, notably, the statement was delivered by an older gentleman of anonymous origin. Possibly a relative? Details are unknown. Mr. Petrikov has refused to show himself."

Hearing that familiar static sound come to a halt John leaned back and began to repack the tapes into proper filing assortments. He barely even noticed the small clanky piece of something wedged between the inside of the envelope and the tape.

"What.."

John quickly dumped it on the table, thinking it was a shard of glass. It wasn't until he touched it, he realized it was frozen ice. Still intact.

Still unmelted.

Perfectly frozen as if sculptured from the ice.

"Huh..." John muttered under his breath... "must be snowing outside"

[yourcarnevoreuspal]

An Imposter on Polus

Welp, ik I’m late to the party, but I like Am/ong/U/s. So I wrote vore inspired by it. Are you proud of me? This is also one of my first times writing vore, sooooo let me know how to be better. Warning: This is vore. The fatal kind. Also M/M, M/F (mentioned), unwilling prey. No Shipping (haha aside from y’know, the spaceship. I'm not apologizing.)  Also I wrote this kinda serious with some explanations for stuff. I may even write a chapter 2. #Carne’sImposter will be the tag for this series if I continue it. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------    Arriving to Polus undetected was a challenge for the Red spaceman. He'd successfully infiltrated the crewmember's ranks back at headquarters and dispatched in a new team headed towards an unexplored planet. During the trip he found himself struggling to keep his appetite in check and ended up devouring the Yellow crewmate, causing suspicions to arise far earlier than intended. With the disappearance of Yellow, safety precautions were implemented right away and all crewmembers were required to travel in pairs.      As far as the crewmates could tell, this method had worked and there were no other incidents. However, the Imposter knew that this was only because he was biding his time, in no hurry to eliminate each of them. After all, this was his all-you-can-eat buffet, why rush?        Staring up at the falling snow, pondering just how he'll go about getting his first meal, Red is suddenly pulled out of his daydream by Cyan- his current task-partner, "hey are you gonna help me with this node or what?"     "Hm…? Oh! Yeah… Sorry…" Red apologizes, sheepishly, carrying on with his friendly act. Red squats down, opening a panel at the bottom of the node and begins the setup for it to become functional.     "You seem so distracted lately…" Cyan comments, beginning his own task with another part of the node.     No way he's catching on, right? I haven't done anything yet… Maybe he's just still on edge from Yellow? Or I'm overthinking… "Yeah… I'm worried about what happened to Yellow… We still haven't found her."     "Ah… I think everyone's still thinking about that. I know I am. I think we should give the ship another once-over, there's gotta be clues somewhere!" Cyan has been adamant about looking 'just one more time' for weeks now, and each time there's never a single clue.      "Maybe we should… But now that we're on Polus we have so much to do, I don't think we'll have time for quite awhile." Of course, Red knows exactly where Yellow's gone to. Just thinking about it, it's hard not to lick the phantom taste on his lips, and shudder in delight.     Cyan sighs, "you're right… I just wish we knew what happened to her…" he notices Red's shivering and squints from behind his helmet, "you good, man?"     "I'm alright… It's just so cold here, even with my suit on! I might need to have it checked to make sure it's working properly… I don't want to freeze!" Red plays it off, sort of jokingly as he finishes up his task in the node and closes the panel.     "Dang, you're really cold? I'm sweating in this thing. After I'm done here maybe we should head over to the Medbay to check that out and make sure you're not sick from a suit breach or anything…" Cyan trails off, beginning to rush his task so they might head over sooner.     "I don't think it's that serious, but if you insist… I have a few tasks over that way anyways, so as long as we make sure to do all our tasks…" Red agrees, not worried about any medical examination uncovering his inhuman nature. Besides, this might be his chance to slip away and get a bite to eat.    The node lights up, signaling Cyan's successful task. With a 'follow-me wave', Cyan begins trudging through the heavy snow, towards the Medbay doors. Red decides to linger slightly, standing from his crouched position slowly. While Cyan walks ahead a few steps, he reaches his hand into the node where Cyan was working. Under the cover of snowstorm he slices at the wires, exposing them to the climate where they might eventually cause problems.      At the Medbay, Red and Cyan find themselves alone, having yet to see any of the other crew.  Red removes his suit, per Cyan's demands, and hands it over to be inspected. He then heads over to the scanner, where he requests Cyan stay outside the curtains- as one has to undress for the scanner to work properly. This is where Red makes his first move.      After ensuring Cyan is out of view- with him over at the table checking the suit- Red pulls a device from his pocket, something he got his hands on back at the base. It allows access into normally secure data that only captains and other higher-ups should have. If Red were to be caught with it, it would spell the end for him. Sticking it into a slot in the Scanner's computer, he quickly pulls up an old scan of his from his time on the ship and creates a copy of it onto this scanner, effectively giving him an alibi. Red sets off the Scanner, allowing it to create the copy and the noise it should be making to keep Cyan from getting suspicious, then- with a peak around the curtains to check if Cyan is looking- Red dashes from the Medbay into the hallway that creates the bathrooms and decontamination doors. Doing his best to stay silent, he darts to the far end of the bathrooms, where a vent is set to be installed, but at the moment is only a tunnel. He dives inside and the first step of his plan is in the clear.     Here in the unfinished vent Red is a little freer to show his alien nature and allows his tentacles to rise from his back. They’re decently long, fairly strong and he uses them to propel himself through the tunnel quickly. Once on the other side, he pokes his head out and finds he's surrounded by snow once more. This vent has led him to the outside of the medical building, near the pit of lava. Conveniently, he also spies two crewmembers, Green and Orange. He can hear them chatting, but can't quite make out what they're saying. Red watches patiently as they walk away from the thermometer device that tracks the Lava's temperature and towards the large boulder in the center of the clearing. It seems they have a brief confusion about which side of the rock they will be walking around, they laugh and split apart, Green goes left and Orange goes right.     A silly mistake, really, as this provides exactly what Red was looking for: an opportunity. Without hesitation, Red leaps from the vent and before Orange even notices him, he sends his four tentacles to wrap around Orange. He moves swiftly, knowing if Orange calls out to Green it could be over, but he also knows he shouldn't leave any trace in the snow leading this way. In one motion, he lifts Orange just off the ground, then towards him and down into the vent, which he follows.     "Ah-!?" Orange cries, unheard by Green due to the muffling snowstorm. It's dark in the tunnels and while Orange can't see a thing, Red sees just fine. "Wh-WHO'S THERE?" Orange demands, backing himself further into the tunnels as he tries to get away from his assailant.      "Oh, Orange… It's only me," Red speaks, crawling after his soon-to-be meal. His tentacles contract around Orange to pull him closer to his destination.     "Red…? What are you doing in the. . . Vent. . ." Orange trails off, he almost relaxed at first, once hearing it was his trusted companion, Red. But Orange was smarter than that and was quick to conclude what Red really was, "it was you…? You killed Yellow, didn't you!?" Orange's anger grew with each word, "what did you do to her!?"     "Well," Red yanks Orange closer a final time, now face-to-helmet with him, "you're going to find out, aren't you?" He grins madly, reaching his hands up to said helmet, pushing the buttons on either side and lifting it off of him. A hissing noise starts briefly as the cold air enters Orange's suit.      "No-!" Orange gasps, then coughs as his face is hit with freezing air. He tries to back away, but Red is practically on top of him, with some sort of appendages restraining him. "Let go! How could you do this-!?" Orange cries, trying to keep Red at bay with his hands.      Red, however, is just strong enough to get what he wants, "quite easily, dear Orange- I'm starving," he knows he needs to be quick about this, so he decides to simply go for it. Red leans close to Orange's face, one hand moving to the back of the Crewmate's head. The Imposter's grin widens as he opens his mouth, his smile growing jagged as his true self peaks through his disguise.    "Stop-! What are you doing?" Orange demands, only able to see an outline in the darkness. But Red has decided he's done talking, so with that he shoves Orange's head into his maw and begins to greedily lap at the flavor. He knows he doesn't have time to savor, so he gets on with it, using his extra appendages to rip away more of his prey's clunky space suit, then takes the first swallow.    Orange's panic rises as he desperately tries to free himself, but his adversary has overpowered him and there's nothing he can do as Red swallows again and again, getting around his shoulders, up to his chest. Orange doesn't know what sort of lifeform Red truly is, but he racks his brain trying to figure it out, hoping he might recall a weakness.     With the crewmate's arms pinned in his throat, his maw wrapped around his waist, Red lifts his prey as best he can in the cramped vent before grabbing onto Orange's flailing legs and swallowing thickly. He purrs in delight from his prey's struggling, enjoying as much as he can from this quick meal. Only his prey's legs are left and he's running out of time, so he ensures Orange's shoes have been removed then gives the last few swallows, sending Orange to his fate.   Red pants as his throat clears, but can't stop to rest or let his stomach settle and begins racing down the vent to return to Medbay before his absence is noticed. He could enjoy this properly later. His stomach sways as he rushes through the vent, but isn't nearly as large as one might think after his meal. This is because his anatomy is far different than that of a human's, and while his disguise does help with that, there is no hiding it after he's eaten. His stomach region starts from the top of his chest, down to his waist, leaving room for concealment so long as his prey isn't larger than himself, with only a small bump to show for it.     Pulling himself out of the vent, Red places a hand on his stomach, trying to help the weight and keep his prey quiet. He eyes the decontamination doors, checking that no one is coming out, then scoots to the corner to peek at Cyan. He finds that Cyan is still messing with his suit, facing the other direction, so Red takes his chance to slip back across the hallway, behind the curtains into the scanning room. He sighs with relief and finally gives himself a chance to catch his breath.     His prey has been struggling wildly the entire time, presumably trying to right himself and keep from being jostled. Red runs a hand down his stomach, enjoying the sensation for a moment. He chuckles at his prey, pushing down on him until his attention is caught by the sounds of the scanner completing.     Red removes the device from the scanner and tucks it safely into his suit, then waits a few moments longer to mime the time it would take to dress if he had really scanned. He grabs the scanner's tablet to show Cyan the proof, then walks out from the curtains.     "I've finished scanning, it says everything is normal," Red declares, walking up to the table where his suit lies and placing the tablet down for Cyan to see, "find any breaches?"    Cyan glances over at the tablet, reading that it is indeed normal, then looks back to the suit, "that's good, we don't want you sick. I haven't found anything unusual yet, but I'm still looking…"  "Ah, okay, thanks. I'm gonna do my tasks over here," Red replies, heading over to the telescope, away from Cyan, hoping he's kept his distance enough that the crewmate can't hear Orange. He brings his eye to the telescope, starting his search for anything unusual around the planet. Every few seconds Red is sure to adjust settings on the telescope as noisily as he can, really testing those squeaky knobs.     After a few moments, Cyan sighs loudly and looks up, "are you doing that on purpose?"    Red turns to his partner, "whatever do you mean-?"     His attempt to sound innocent is interrupted by a loud alarm blaring and a voice coming from their tablets attached to the suits, "EMERGENCY MEETING," it announces loudly in a monotonous voice.