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pedgito · 9 months

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𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄, 𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘, 𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐇 | BFD!Joel x Fem!Reader

summary | the rich father of your bestfriend, sarah — joel miller, was a mystery to you until one day he isn't and you quickly find that your interest in him isn't one-sided. [12k]

pairing | joel miller x fem!reader

content warning | 18+ content, as always: no use of y/n, au/no outbreak, bfd!joel, ceo!joel, mentions of reader growing up poor/absent parents (joel is ridiculously loaded, it's fic y'all let me live lol), sneaking around, age gap (not explicitly specified, but reader is in final year of college and joel is probs late 40s/50s), vacations, gift-giving, unprotected piv, come swallowing, daddy issues if you squint, one (1) pussy slap, oral (f receiving), semi-public fucking

author’s note | anyways, here’s this. big age gap, some power dynamic stuff but not really. if you don’t like, don’t read & all that jazz. love you babies. xo.

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There was no hiding who Joel Miller was to the town of Austin—a pioneer in the community for rebuilding and building upon the surrounding shopping areas and neighborhoods to save the town from complete gentrification. He owned three companies at this point—one manned by his brother Tommy who dealt with larger businesses, handled the biggest amount of workload when it came to dealing with customers. The other was handled by his wife Maria, more often communicating with smaller businesses in the area. Mom and Pop shops, family owned and locally sourced shops. And Joel dealt with the community directly, building houses at an affordable rate that kept his business booming and well above the surrounding competition.

He was so sought after that the idea of him felt like an enigma.

But, to you—he was just Sarah’s dad. For years you never had the pleasure of meeting him, with his constantly busy schedule he was often away when you came to visit Sarah on their massive—almost too comically large piece of land on the outskirts of Austin, Texas.

A large two-story farmhouse that seemed like something right out of a storybook—pristine and in perfect condition, surrounded by what felt like miles of grassy land and fencing. Horses, chickens, goats, growing piglets that were taken care of by Sarah and Joel themselves.

You’ve known Sarah since you were fourteen, aware of her upbringing and the type of family she came from, but it never deterred her from being the kindest friend you’ve had. And your shared, similar interest led to an easy friendship that lasted well into college. Sarah was also aware of your…less than ideal family situation, living under the roof of a single parent household, given you were an only child it wasn’t horrible—but your father was a drunk and didn’t manage his money well and that often meant going without. It didn’t matter what, but there was always something lacking that you wish you didn’t have to make up for with your already overwhelming amount of college work and lingering debt.

You didn’t have anywhere to go, unfortunately.

But, Sarah was always there.

And it isn’t until your final year of college that you find yourself finally meeting the once mysterious Joel Miller, remembering that Sarah told you something about how he was trying to take a step back, allowing more responsibility on his trusting employees to head the company while he took a step back and managed everything as a whole from a distance—less involved, more time at home around Sarah, it was a win win situation.

With both of you working toward similar degrees, it was helpful and convenient to share notes and study as often as you could, especially as your final term papers were nearing and looming like a dark cloud.

It’s an unsuspecting Thursday night when you and Sarah are pausing the heavy studying to cook a quick dinner when Joel walks into the kitchen, approaching the island and nearly tilting your entire existence on this earth on an axis. Your breath catches briefly, eyes dragging over his figure. You’ve seen pictures—family vacations that Sarah has shown you when they were flying across the country over summer breaks and you were stuck at home.

But, nothing compared to the real thing.

His hair is grown out, curling around his ears. A warm, soft brown that is styled and shaped so perfectly it seems unreal—but the loose curl that falls over his forehead gives it away. There’s a deep cut in his silk-pressed shirt that hangs loosely on his frame, some abstract pattern that shouldn’t work as well as it does on him, but his tan skin compliments the deep tones and varying designs. The faint dusting of chest hair is obscured by the chains that hang in the space the silk-button up creates where he lacks the ability to fasten them, or rather chooses not to.

And you try not to let your gaze linger on the cut of his jeans as they cling snug to his legs, cuffed at the ankles and showcasing a pair of—what you can only suspect are new loafers. A dark chocolate brown accented with a gold metal piece along the center to complement his jewelry around his neck and the few rings placed meticulously on his fingers.

It’s no secret his ring finger sits untouched, lacking the heavy weight of a significant other's mark. Sarah mentioned her mom dying young, much like your own—maybe that’s why you two bonded so easily.

“Got enough for your old man?” Joel questions curiously, tapping away at his phone meticulously before pocketing it, eyebrows raised in question.

“You hate boxed mac and cheese,” Sarah argues flippantly, flicking the empty box at her father across the counter, “so no, I don’t.”

“No, babygirl—I just hate the powder kind.” He flicks it back just as easily and you note how easy their relationship feels, like this is how things should be.

Sarah laughs, scrunching her nose up in amusement. “Charming, isn’t he?”

Oh—she’s talking to you? You look at her for half a second, confused, before you’re quickly nodding in agreement without fully listening to what she had asked.

“It’s alright, you don’t have to lie.” She assures, stirring the noodles in the pot over the stove.

Your gaze lingers selfishly, catching the faint twitch of a smile on Joel’s face as he catches you looking. It’s nothing more than a friendly smile, comforting rather than disarming.

“You know—Sarah never brings her friends around.” Joel starts begrudgingly, eyeing Sarah down before switching to you, “Seein’ as I’ve been hearing all about you for years now and I’m just now meetin’ you in the flesh.”

“Dad, stop scaring her.” Sarah gripes, searching around haphazardly for a couple of bowls, “seriously—just ignore him. He doesn’t know how to act now that he’s home more.”

Joel rolls his eyes dismissively, extending his hand in a kind gesture. You grab it hesitantly and he senses it, pointer finger dragging along the underside of your palm as he holds it delicately and bows his head.

“She’s just mad she can’t get rid of me now,” Joel tells you softly, nodding toward Sarah over your shoulder, “how’s the studying goin’?”

He doesn’t let go of your hand immediately and you don’t try to escape either, allowing the brief moment of lingering contact before you slip it away, shoving your hands into your back pockets.

“Fine.” Sarah’s response is clipped.

It’s stressful, if you’re being honest. But, you could see that Sarah didn’t want to relay that to her father, side-eyeing you wearily.

It’s the first of many interactions that led to the tiny crush you began to have for Joel Miller. Your once a week studies eventually turn into two or three times a week, desperate to spend as much time away from your own home situation as possible.

Eventually, it’s nearly an everyday thing. You and Sarah would finish your day of classes and drive the short distance to her house and spend most of the night studying. Gradually, you were introduced into their own routine. At first, Joel would offer to buy dinner and leave things be, allowing you the space you needed. But, it eventually delves into weekly dinners and sitting down as if you were a part of this pseudo-family situation you’ve interjected yourself into.

Sarah knew you didn’t like it at home, so it was never a problem. Joel caught on after a few weeks—noticing how you avoided any questions about yourself, your family, anything that would allow him any glimpse into who you were outside what Sarah had told him, which wasn’t much at all. He’s trying to make you feel welcomed and you can appreciate that.

You’ve offered to help pay for meals on multiple occasions, but it never works. Quickly thwarted off by Joel’s extended hand as he shoves your cash away, assuring you that it wasn’t your responsibility. This was his house, his gesture, and he didn’t want you to think you owed him anything.

Yet, something in you yearned to do so.

You wanted him to know just how grateful you were.

His curiosity about you comes to a head on a night after a few beers with friends, poker table trashed and the kitchen a mess. You were bringing down the trash from Sarah’s room, the shared dinner you two had had as a treat for your first day without studying—it was relaxing, mostly because your day had been spent here rather than home.

Joel gathers a few bottles in his large palm, slipping the lips of the bottle through spread fingers. “You two enjoyin’ yourselves?” He asks, looking at you casually. It was a question you’ve heard often, a simple conversation starter. And talking to Joel was much easier now.

You nod, lips pulled into a tight smile. “Yes, Mr. Miller.”

“C’mon now,” Joel jests, dropping the bottles into the trash, “none of that—it’s Joel. Shit makes me feel old, darlin’.”

The nickname wasn’t new either. He often called Sarah by her name or babygirl.

Darlin’ though, it was all you.

He takes the dirty plates from your hands and places them in the sink, palm extended against the ledge of the counter while he rests his other hand against his hip.

“How are you doin’?” He asks, voice softer but still gruff. “Not that you have to tell me, I just want to make sure you’re feelin’ comfortable here.”

“I’m okay,” You say through an unsure smile that Joel notes but doesn’t press on, “it’s just easier to study here—I’m sorry if I spend too much time around here. Feels like you should be charging me rent by now.”

“Not a chance in hell, darlin’.” Joel grins, shiny white teeth showing behind his smile. The small bit of his shirt that was tucked in came loose by the rub of his fingers at his hip and drawing your eyes to the skin briefly, “you’re always welcome here.”

And you hate the way you crave even an inkling of physical contact from him. A pat on the shoulder, a hug, a fucking kiss on the forehead. You weren’t his daughter, you didn’t want to be. But, there was something about Joel that you couldn’t pull away from, trying your best to keep it at bay.

“You know what,” Joel says suddenly, pulling your lingering gaze back on his face, feeling guilty as you chewed on your bottom lip, “why don’t you come on vacation with Sarah and I next month?’

“Mr—Joel, that’s—” You’re quickly silenced by his hand actually pressing against your shoulder now—and fuck, when had he gotten so close?

“Sarah was thinkin’ about asking you anyways. We’re gonna take a trip to the Keys,” He rubs gently at the junction in your shoulder, the thick expanse of his thumb pressed against bare skin, “—just consider it, alright? Lord knows you both need a break as much as I do.”

The thing about Joel is that he was such a good father, something you haven’t been privy to in the couple decades and some few years you’ve been alive. You want to feel jealous and angry, spiteful that this was something you couldn’t have naturally. But, it feels nothing like that.

The crush you had on Joel was dangerous. But, that was all it was. A craving to be around Joel, to seek his approval and gain his trust. And bask in the care he provides. A simple case of daddy issues that you couldn’t admit to yourself was actually happening.

You shouldn’t entertain the idea.

You shouldn’t even consider it.

“Oh—okay. Yeah, as long as Sarah is alright with that.” You nod, a genuine, soft smile stretching across your face. Joel squeezes your shoulder tighter and you swear you feel it moving in closer, like he wants to hold you closer, cradle you in his hands. But, then the touch is gone and his fingers are running through his hair, curls separating through his fingertips.

“Alright then.” Joel says triumphantly, “You gonna be okay gettin’ home tonight?”

Sarah was driving you home soon, like usual. You nod.

“Good,” Joel nods, “Goodnight, darlin’.”

“Goodnight, Joel.” You say sweetly, patting your hand against the countertop softly, unable to spare a look his way as you walk in the opposite direction.

But, he can’t help his own fleeting and inappropriate thoughts, eyes dragging along your figure as you walk away, hands gripping the countertop like a vice, internally kicking himself how indecent he was allowing himself to think about you. Still, it didn’t stop the thoughts from flooding in and if he found himself spread out on his sheets that night, cock held tight in his hands as he fucked himself into his fist—well, he could repent for it some other time.

You touch down in the early morning on a Sunday, still riddled with anxiety from the plane ride. Joel had tried his best to accommodate, even buying first class tickets despite his usual tendency to go business. He didn’t care much for amenities but he wanted to treat Sarah and you, making you feel guilty with how quickly your face lit up at the sight. Spacious seats stocked with gifts and snacks, a tiny television molded into the area, it felt like too much.

It was. But, Joel assured you it wasn’t.

There was little planned for the week you had to spend there and you had tried to scrounge up a little cash within the month you had to save, picking up a few extra shifts at your job and stowing it away for this—hoping you could treat yourself to something, anything. Even if it was just a stupid tourist shirt that cost an egregious amount of money.

Joel quickly snuffs out that idea, putting his foot down as he assured you that this trip was a treat. Not just for himself, but for all of you. You never asked how much money the Miller’s had, but it was clearly more than you could ever fathom to be imaginable. He yanks the black Amex from his wallet and hands it off to every waiting server and store owner you three come across.

It’s abundantly clear that they don’t worry about money in the sense that you do—it wasn’t unwelcomed, but it was an adjustment that took a couple days to get over, feeling shame for enjoying it. He’d paid for the plane fare, booked the hotels and the activities you had planned, made sure meals were paid for and then some, even allowing you and Sarah some spending money to go shopping for clothes or whatever you needed.

He didn’t ask, it didn’t matter. He just wanted you to feel welcomed. Like family…or something.

The trip is fairly harmless fun, a few swimming activities that tire you all out and lend to an early turn in on a couple nights, dinners that lended you to learn a lot more about Joel. Still, as much as Joel tried, you weren’t as open. Vague answers, sidewaying the conversation. He didn’t try to pry, though. And you were thankful for that.

But, with fairly harmless came a few instances that didn’t feel so.

The first comes in the deep end of the ocean, floating on a shared longboard in the midst of the calm waves, humid heat sticking to your skin. Fingers fiddling with the loosening tie around the back of your neck as Sarah wades off to the shore for a brief minute to reapply sunscreen. And maybe you shouldn’t have asked, but you see the lingering look Joel gives you, fingers curling subtly against the edge of the board.

“Can you help me?” You ask, slowly edging around the board until you’re beside him, turning before he has the opportunity to answer. “It’s hard to get it tight on my own.”

Joel clears his throat and offers a smile, “‘Course, chin down for me?” And you follow his lead, feeling his fingers brush against your neck and guide your head down, untying the loose not completely and feeling your swim top go slack, covered by the safety of the water and your back turned to him, but it doesn’t stop the touch of his fingertips against your skin as he ties the knot and tugs slightly, assuring that it was secure to his liking. You lift your head slowly when you feel his palm press flat against your back, fingers curling around the point where your shoulder meets your neck.

“Thanks, Joel.” You turn your head over your shoulder to look back at him, earning a small nod as his touch lingers, only loosening when you rescue your grip on the longboard in front of you.

“Enjoyin’ yourself so far?” He asks, always able to ease into steady conversation without missing a beat. “Any complaints?”

“Definitely,” You smile wide, huffing soft laugh through your nose as you shake your head, “I guess I do have one complaint, actually.” You tell him honestly, a subtle nervousness to your voice.

“Well, I’m all ears, darlin’.” He responds, leaning his elbow onto the board as it bobbed slightly.

“I just…you don’t have to pay for everything, Joel.” You find yourself rushing out the words, hoping that it wouldn’t cause an adverse reaction, but instead, Joel smiles wider.

“Look, I invited you on this trip,” Joel explains, “and that means you aren’t paying for a damn thing. Alright?”

You nod meekly, quieting down as Sarah waded back into the ocean toward you both.

With Joel, it was something you would have to learn to accept.

You try to ignore the lingering touch of his fingertips on your neck, but now it feels like a burn in your skin that would only get worse as time went on.

The second instance isn’t as much of a thing, rather than a moment.

Eyeing a sundress that resembled some of the similar outrageous patterning that Joel wore, shapes and blobs morphed around the material yet somehow managing to look chicer than anything you’ve ever come across, strappy and long and deep cut down the center. It wasn’t for modesty, you could assume that much. You run your fingers along the creases and stitching in the fabric, admiring it as you flipped the tag in your hand, immediately gawking at the price.

Joel had been lingering by, browsing the various knick knacks and souvenirs lining the shelves off the small store—all hand-made pieces that he could appreciate, but didn’t find any use for himself. And he’s watching you, has been for a while, noticing the way your eyes kept flicking back toward the dress despite your path around the store.

Joel casually follows the same path, taking a subtle peek at the tag. It was a few hundred dollars, but given the silkiness of the material and him being very familiar with the tone of pricing around the area, it wasn’t an outrageous ask. He slips the dress off the rack, careful as he removes it off the hanger and finds you separated from Sarah as you peruse down a wall of jewelry—some cheap and some not, looking around with no real want, just admiring.

He slips the dress into your hands, rough, overworked palms cupping your own as he makes you physically wrap your fingers around and claim the garment, chest to your back as he speaks, lips a hair's breadth away from your ear.

“It’s a pretty dress,” Joel says calmly, much calmer than your rapidly beating heart and the sudden uptick in your breathing, silk material spread out over your fingertips, “shame for it to go to waste, darlin’.”

“It’s expensive.” You argue, voice soft as he locks eyes with you in the mirror nestled in the nearest corner, “It’s nice to want things Joel, but I don’t need it.”

“I dunno,” He responds, unconvinced, “and—maybe I’m speaking out of turn but I think it’d look great on you.”

And you’ve never been more thankful of Sarah’s obliviousness to certain things, so wrapped up in her own shopping across the store that you two remained unsuspecting, eyes still locked on one another through the shared mirror.

He can see the way your body twitches at the comment, responds, but what he doesn’t understand is how it makes your cunt throb, solid body pressed against your back as he squeezes the backside of your hands with his palm. The willingness of contact was still fresh and new but it never made you feel unsafe—in fact, it had the opposite effect entirely.

Joel speaks again, directly to you in the mirror.

“I might just have to buy it for you, darlin’.” He says quietly, “You alright with that?”

You hesitate for a moment, but nod shakily. “Thank you, Joel.”

“Don’t need to keep thankin’ me.” Joel assures, “I know it’s implied.”

But, the instance that had you reeling for days after, still replaying it vividly in your mind, was a night near the end of your trip. Sarah had long gone to bed and you, riddled by insomnia, find yourself at the hallway vending machine, looking for a snack to cure your growing hunger.

Though, it seemed that Joel had the same idea—fork halfway into his mouth as he turned the corner, a sizable piece of chocolate cake inside of a small to-go tray, looking even guiltier as he caught sight of you, feeling like he really didn’t want to get caught like this. It makes you laugh into the palm of your hand. Joel is acting like the kid that got sneaking cookies in the middle of the night, still not hesitating to lick the fork clean as he tucked it away in the styrofoam box.

“Don’t tell Sarah,” He swears you to secrecy, “she’s already on my ass enough about my sugar intake.”

“You’ve got a sweet tooth,” You shrug, “nothing wrong with that.”

“What about you, huh?” Joel’s eyebrows raise in question, watching as you peruse the various snacks but not finding anything particularly appetizing. “Late night snack?”

“Somethin’ like that.” You chew at your bottom lip, feeling that this was useless.

“Wanna share it?” Joel asks suddenly, pulling your attention to him immediately. “That way I feel a little less guilty about it.”

“Oh—and then bring me down with you?” You tease lightly, “Of course.”

It’s how you end up in Joel’s room that night, no other intentions than to share that stupid piece of cake, lacking a fork so you trade off for a few bites until it slowly delves into you both feeding each other as you talk, one of you hogging the fork more than the other. You curled up in one chair and Joel relaxed out in the other, styrofoam box held to his chest and forcing you to lean closer to assure you didn’t drop crumbs everywhere.

Maybe it should feel weird, but it doesn’t.

“You know—if there’s anything you do need—” Joel begins after a while, meaningless conversation having died out.

“I know—Sarah tells me all the time. I just have to ask.” It feels pointless, rehashing things again. But, Joel feels the need to reassure and comfort. It didn’t help that he was finding himself, at his age, attracted to you in such a depraved way. “I will—if I do, I mean.”

It’s forbidden territory he couldn’t cross. But realistically, that only made him want you more.

Joel feeds you a slow bite, lips catching over the fork but smearing a copious amount of chocolate frosting on your chin. Before you have the thought process to wipe it away Joel is already there, leaning forward in his chair as he uses his pointer finger to clean you up, eyes following his movements carefully after the first initiation of touch.

Your breath catches in your throat, expecting him to use his own mouth to disallow wasting the frosting, but instead he raises it to your mouth in a split decision, his eyes dilating slightly under your shy gaze. Your lips press against the side of his finger in a gentle kiss that quickly spreads, taking the full length of his finger into your mouth as you lick away the excess frosting, feeling the pulse of desire in your belly as it grew, knowing that if Joel wanted to keep you there he could, locked under his gaze with his fingers stuffed into your mouth and you’d let him.

It was despicable. Inappropriate and wrong. But, you couldn’t help how badly your body wanted him, despite your brain telling all of this was a horrible decision.

You pull your mouth away with a soft pop, watching as Joel curl’s his hands into tight fists as he pulls them back to his side lazily, seeming more tense now.

“I should go.” You say softly, terrified to disturb this moment and the tension that blanketed it.

“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea, darlin’.” Joel says reluctantly.

Things only get worse from then on—and maybe worse is a strong word. But, it soon turns into a game that neither of you can stop, waiting until one of you finally makes the wrong move.

A few weeks later and your laptop takes the shit on a random Tuesday, head buried in your hands as Sarah tries to console you, but it isn’t much use. You knew it was a stretch to think the laptop could last you through the entire semester, and with just a few short months left, it couldn’t be worse timing.

Joel walks in at your inconvenience, keys jingling in his hands as he slips off his leather peacoat, glancing at Sarah who didn’t give him much to go off of. He folds the jacket over the back of an empty dining chair and rests his hands against the top of it, eyes scanning over the both of you at the table, one looking a little more distraught than the other.

“Everything alright?” He asks curiously, earning a subtle head shake from Sarah. He clears his throat, “Or—uh, well, how is the studying going? Feel like that’s all you two do.”

You rub a frustrated hand over your face and sigh, “I’m gonna see if I can get a ride home or something,” You tell Sarah, sliding your phone off of the table, “I’ll deal with this later.”

Joel and Sarah share a quick look of communication, her hand waving toward you sharply, forcing Joel to speak up before you make another rash decision and spend money on a long ride home when had the perfect opportunity standing right in front of you.

“I can give you a ride home.” Joel offers, much to your surprise.

You’ve been alone with Joel a lot now, though inadvertently.

Sarah would sneak away in her room for longer stretches of time just to call her boyfriend—which wasn’t a bad thing, but it felt odd when Joel would come home and there was no one to greet him but you. Still, you stretched your lips into a smile and welcomed him sweetly.

Even if this was his home.

Or times when you just happened to cross each other's path, even in such a large space. Sometimes the front porch when you were taking a break to stretch your legs, his watchful gaze dragging along your figure as he sipped on a hot cup of coffee in the evening, foot stabilized on the deck as he rocked in the wooden swing he sat on, crickets chirping loudly as the sun set.

Or just a simple trip to the bathroom, his bedroom across the hall and a couple doors down, often shut, but there were moments when you opened the doors, nearly face to face, and neither of you could look away. Joel would clear his throat, excuse himself, and kindly gesture for you to walk first. It happened often, too often—but neither of you addressed it. Instead, the tension grew. And grew. Until it felt like poking a sleeping bear. So it hibernated in both of you quietly.

Part of you expected things to change, that the small moment shared in his hotel room would make things hard to navigate, but if anything—it’s easier.

“Okay.” You agree easily, not having the proper energy to fight him over it.

The ride is quiet for the most part and Joel doesn’t need the step by step directions as he knows this town like the back of his hand, but he makes a wrong turn somewhere between his house and yours and you don’t feel like something is wrong, but it definitely feels off.

“Joel, you missed the last left.” You speak up as he continues down the road, glancing around leisurely as you soon delve onto a main street, lined with several shops. “Joel—”

“I’m gonna make a quick stop,” Joel attempts to ease your worries, fingers tapping against the gear shift positioned in the center console, “if you don’t mind.”

The moment he pulls into the parking lot of the electronic store, you know. You can see it in his eyes as he squints, checking that the store is still open and pulls into a parking spot near the front of the store.

“Joel, no—” You grab his wrist suddenly, his free hand reaching for the door handle and he looks down, eyes connecting where your skin touched before slowly flicking up to you, “look—just, I don’t need you to buy me a new fuckin’ laptop. I can handle it.”

Joel’s shoulders shrug in his obnoxiously patterned shirt, like he’s working out a kink in his neck as he repositions himself in the seat but doesn’t pull away from you. In fact, his hand gradually pulls toward your knee, fingers squeezing around your kneecap comfortingly.

“Considering it a loan then?” Joel tries to bargain, “Let me help you out now so you won’t have to worry about it and you can pay me back as you get the money? I see how often Sarah uses her laptop, it doesn't make sense for you to go without when I can help.”

You chew on your bottom lip thoughtfully, staring intensely back at him. You could put your foot down and deny his offer, but the idea of suffering through the rest of the semster without your sole life line to surviving through college—well, that was actually torture.

“I’m paying back every single penny.” You tell him forthright, waiting until he nods in agreement.

“Sounds like a deal to me.” Joel responds.

Joel spares no expense, which doesn’t come as a surprise. He buys you the highest, top notch laptop they have to offer—and even as you stare daggers into the side of his face, there’s an inkling in your mind that tells you he isn’t going to allow you to hold up your end of the deal.

Joel liked to party too—not giant parties that felt overwhelming and unwelcoming. But, he did have a close group of older male friends that he liked to play poker with on the back deck of the Miller household.

Sarah learned to block it out early on, knowing that at some point things would get just a little too loud and not as easy to ignore. But, Joel never made you feel out of place within any of these instances. You were welcome here all the time and Joel was clear about that.

He’s showered you with gifts and accommodation and you hate the way it makes you feel special, wanted—beyond the night in his hotel room it was only innocent glances. It felt like you were misreading things, making something out of nothing.

Things aren’t great at home and you like it here—love it, even. And you feel your mind nagging away to make a stupid, spur of the moment decision. You could ignore it, but then your eyes catch Joel’s through the slight crack in the door, trapping you in his gaze like you’ve been caught doing something wrong.

He squints slightly, lips curling around his beet bottle as he takes a long swig, fist uncurling against his jeans as he rubs out his palm and smiles—he has you hooked in so fucking easy it feels pathetic.

This is wrong. You inhale a shaky breath and turn away, busying yourself with literally anything else—a scuff on the table, the chipped nail polish on your fingernails, something.

Eventually his friends filter out—and Sarah had invited you to stay over the night barring that it was the weekend and she enjoyed your presence just as much as you did hers—if only she could understand the now huge, harboring crush you had on her father. It was harmless, but it felt like a betrayal.

And the feeling only increased as the night creeped along, your burdening insomnia keeping you awake, shifting and turning in the sheets beside her as you tried and failed miserably to fall asleep.

It was quiet out here, less commotion from the city. It was eerie, in a way.

You slip out of the bed quietly, walking barefoot on the hardwood as you tiptoed until you were outside of her room, closing the door behind you. You weren’t hungry, so you didn’t bother with the kitchen, rather heading toward the front door that was already halfway open.

Part of you expected Joel to be sitting on the porch, no real rhyme or reason. But, even he is out of sight. The soft, well-kept grass welcomes the press of your feet as you wander outside slowly, the hug of the warm spring air on your skin even this late at night. You catch one of the Miller’s horses hanging out around the edge of their enclosure, wondering if they managed to nudge their way out of their stable. You approach slowly, still not as accustomed to them as you’d like to be.

But, they were friendly. So, you raised a careful hand and rubbed gently at the horse’s mane, smiling at the soft huff it offered in return, leaning its snout over the fence more.

“Sunshine is always friendly,” Joel says from somewhere you don’t see, startling you out of your body as you jump, whipping your head around to look for him, eventually landing on his approaching form as he left the barn that held the stables, “—sneaky little gal, though.”

You laugh softly, finding it hard to believe that such a sweet horse was capable of escaping.

Joel whistles softly, beckoning her toward him. “Come on.” He nods, silently asking you to join him. You follow eagerly, watching as he unlocks the entrance to the fence for you to slip through, locking it behind you as you pass the threshold, catching up with Joel in a few steps.

“Don’t sleep well, do you?” He asks, heading turned over his shoulder briefly to look at you. You nod quietly, leisurely approaching Sunshine’s stable and watching as Joel locks her back up, rattling the gate for safety this time, ensuring it was secure. “Seems we have a few things in common.”

Joel stays quiet for a moment—in his own head, a deep moment of contemplation, carrying and safeguarding these thoughts he knows he shouldn’t have, wondering how your skin would feel against his palm, how the pulse of your heart would feel as he pressed his hand to the center of your chest and kissed you, full tongue and consumed your essence, this unignorable aura you had around you.

He feels sick, distraught. But, he can’t force himself to avoid you either.

“There’s somethin’ that usually helps me,” Joel tells you, hand pressed wordlessly against the center of your back as he guides you out of the barn and locks it up as well, “just goin’ somewhere quiet—lot of the time it’s just my thoughts keepin’ me awake.”

God, if only he knew.

He did, but that wasn’t the point.

Joel quiets for a moment, stuffing the ring of keys into his pocket as he glances over at the house briefly.

“You wanna go for a quick drive?” Joel asks suddenly, forcing it out before he can find a reason to stop himself.

“As long as it doesn’t end with you buying me another laptop, sure.” You chide deviously, watching the smirk grown on Joel’s face, knowing he still hasn’t taken a dollar from you.

And vehemently refuses every time you offer.

Joel drives you the path further into the land of property he owns, most of it still unexplored by you, eventually finding a clearing near the east edge, right on the edge of a body of water and a dock nestled near the shore. There’s a small boat tied to a post, big enough for a few people.

Under this light, as you exit the truck, Joel looks different.

He’s free of the weight of jewelry he wore, comfortable in his worn shirt and soft cotton shorts. For a while, Joel had been such an enigma that you weren’t sure what to make of him. Sure, he was just Sarah’s dad—but he was also Joel Miller, backbone of the town. His face was plastered everywhere. There wasn’t a single street you could traverse down that didn’t have him nestled away somewhere.

He spots a small mud puddle under your feet as he rounds the truck and quickly catches you before your feet get stuck, hands locked in yours as you jump over the small patch of wet dirt.

You let out an exasperated sigh as you look up at him, silently thanking him with your eyes.

“Can you swim?” He asks casually.

“Yeah…” You respond hesitantly, eyes locked onto the boat several feet away.

Joel releases your hands, but it doesn't matter. His touch still lingered painfully and you want nothing more than to pull him back in. But, now Joel is asking to go on a midnight boat ride with you and—really, how could you turn that down?

Joel rows you toward the center of the lake, your eyes locked onto the mesmerizing sight of the stars in the sky, so much clearer out here and away from the city.

“Pretty, ain’t it?” Joel asks, not bothering to look his way.

You smile slightly, leaning back onto the palms of your hands.

“Yeah, it really is.” You miss the way Joel’s gaze lingers, admiring you.

“Now—sometimes I just come out here and talk to nothin’,” Joel explains when the boat comes to a full stop and he rests the oars inside the boat, knees spread as he resting his elbows on them, “then other times I just sit and enjoy the quiet.”

Your choice—that’s what he’s implying.

You clear your throat softly, finally changing a glance his way.

“I just—I don’t wanna say I’m jealous of what you have here,” You say quietly, “but, it really is a bitter reminder of without Sarah or you, I’d have next to nothing.”

Joel stays quiet, allowing you to marinate in thought and figure out how to convey how you were feeling.

“And—I don’t know. Selfishly, I like it.” Liked him. “But, I don’t want to rely on it and you make that a little impossible. I do have money, Joel. I can pay for things. I just don’t want you feeling like you have to do any of this out of necessity.”

“I’m not,” Joel admits, “Now—what makes you think that, darlin’?”

“I just—I don’t want anyone thinking I need to be fixed, I don’t.” You tell him, “I don’t need charity, either.”

Joel waves his fingers in a come closer motion, taking your slowly extending hands in his own, thumbs rubbing over soft skin tenderly, boring his eyes into your own.

“I’m gonna tell you this once and I need you to listen,” Joel says softly, but his voice feels so loud in the silence of the night, breeze hitting your skin and sending a sharp chill up your spine—but, you’re not how much of mother nature is responsible for that, “really listen, alright?”

You nod slowly, blinking a few times as you feel yourself shrink under his gaze.

“What I give you isn’t charity,” Joel tells you seriously, “and—maybe this is crossing a boundary I shouldn’t but, you’re somethin’ close to family. I take care of people I care about.”

Not family—he couldn’t conitate that with the feelings and thoughts he was having toward you.

“Close to family?” He was praying you wouldn’t harp on it, but you needed to confirm the underlying layer of tension that lingered between you two all the time. It was driving you insane, keeping you late into the night—he was the reason for your insomnia.

Joel smirks slightly, covering it with a quiet chuckle. His hand gradually cradles your face, rubbing along your cheek with a delicate touch, “I think you know, darlin’.”

God, he hoped you did. His thumb dragging along your plush bottom lip, eyes lingering for a brief moment before he pulls away, immediately missing his touch as he reigns himself to the idea that he may have crossed a line, quietly rowing the way back toward the dock.

Neither of you get much sleep that night anyways.

More time passes, lingering touches grow, and Joel is terrible at hiding his affinity for you now. Finding that those few words burned all regards he had toward keeping himself restrained around you. He had enough of a mind to keep it private—but there were comments, sweet little words that he’d whisper as you walked by or he caught you alone.

Nothing scandalizing, but just enough that it had your heart fluttering in your chest.

Until there is a small slip up, helping the Miller’s with dinner one night as Sarah escapes to the bathroom for a brief moment, your arms outstretched into the cabinet to grab for something just out of reach.

“Use the stool, darlin’,” Joel sees your struggle, “safer that way.”

You look around observantly before you find a folded up stool tucked into the only open corner in the kitchen, taking it back to your spot and unfolding it.

“Good girl.” Joel comments quietly, catching the startled look on your face as your head snaps back toward him. And he has the nerve to smile, noticing the hitch in your breath.

And it only grows in intensity until you can’t stand it anymore, cornering him in the kitchen on a night where Sarah is already upstairs gathering herself for bed, thinking you had come down for a couple bottles of water.

Joel is nursing a small glass of whiskey and he’s silent, but his gaze tracks your movement. You move toward him.

There is a belief in you, fully realized, that something is up here.

"Joel," You lick your lips hesitantly, squaring yourself up against the counter, standing straight, trying not to seem like you were teetering near a dangerous edge of delirium, wondering if you were imagining all of this, "can I ask you something?"

There's a severe lack of distance between you two, knees knocking against each other gently from where you both stand, eyes searching out cautiously even though you know there's nothing to worry about. You were alone, something that has happened far too many times over the past few months. Lingering moments of wandering gazes, eyes connecting from across the room even if Joel was surrounded by people, partying with friends while you're tucked away in the corner while Sarah talks to you about the boys at school that you can't be bothered to give the time of day.

Because of Joel. Because your mind is so tainted by the idea of him.

His palm is flattened out against the counter, adorned with a couple golden rings that clack against the marble, gold chains to match that sat perfectly against his chest, framing the small patch of hair that peeked out over his unbuttoned shirt, silk-pressed and adorned in a silly design that somehow always managed to work perfectly with whatever Joel paired it with.

"Course," He assures you, "You need somethin'? 'Cause you know if things aren't alright at home you're welcome to stay with us."

He’s not amiss to notice just how much time you spend here and no one bothers to come around and check on you. Given you were an adult, it was still glaringly obvious you escaped here for a reason.

Joel reaches out to touch your cheek, the warmth of his skin melding with your own as your breath catches in your throat.

Touch wasn't new, but it never got old. Like a brand against your skin that screamed out for more. You look down briefly, mouth opening slightly to say something, but quickly resigns back to its previous position, lips pursed under a soft scowl.

"I can take care of you," Joel reminds, like you could ever fucking forget it, written all over your features and the outfits you wore now, the dainty gold chain that he'd leant to you as a gift when you pointed out how much you liked it—he'd bought it for himself but there was no resistance in offering over it over to you, bright smile stretching across your face in the moment that Joel felt a sickening addiction to, "—if that's what you need, sweetheart."

You nod instinctively, though you’re not sure what you’re answering too.

“We’ve got a spare room,” Your bottom lip pulls between your teeth, the huskiness to his voice shouldn’t feel intimate speaking such meaningless words, “plenty of room for you, alright?”

“Mhm,” You answer weakly, feeling the distance start to close as Joel tries—really fucking tries to fight it, but he can’t help the way his eyes track the way your body responds to his teach, lip trembling when you release it from it’s hold between your teeth, “thank you, Joel.”

“For?” Your heart is racing, terrified of being caught but also enticed by how openly Joel is admiring you, eyes wide with adoration and curiousness, something undiscovered and new to him.

“Taking care of me.” You echo his words, but you’re both quickly retching away at the sound of a door creaking upstairs, separating in an instant.

This was all you had—fleeting moments that would never be.

The logistics are complicated to figure out at first, but finishing up the last few weeks of schooling away from the stress of being at home and somewhere where you could actually focus outside of school made the most sense. You pack a big enough bag to last you through the month, clothes and personal belongings you care about, and make the small guest room your new home.

At least, as much as you could.

Luckily, your final classes are a breeze—thankful that most of your discipline with studying had paid off, you and Sarah would graduate in another couple weeks and allow yourself a real break over the summer before deciding how you both wanted to continue. More schooling or not, you would handle that later—for now, you let your mind rest.

And Sarah, well, she escapes the first chance she gets—the first official day free of responsibilities she’s running off for a weekend vacation with her boyfriend, assuring she didn’t mind you tagging along if you wanted to come, but you could see it on her face—she wanted privacy.

So, you had no problem staying back.

A weekend alone—with Joel? Who could barely keep his eyes off of you know that you were around constantly, even in the early mornings when he’d walk through the kitchen shirtless and fumbling with the old coffee pot he refused to get rid of. It was a side to him you hadn’t seen much of and it was slowly etching itself into your memory.

Everything implodes the first night that Sarah is gone, unknowingly yet not unwelcome. But, it’s a turning point neither of you can come back from.

It’s undeniable the amount of boiling sexual tension that has stirred between you both between Joel’s heated gaze and scandalizing comments, stuff that he tries to hold in but fails when he sees how easily of an effect it has on you.

So, as luck would have it, your restless minds meet again.

Joel stops between his open bedroom door and the wall, watching as you approach quietly, smiling kindly as you reach for the door to the guest room, bidding him a soft goodnight.

He could spend his night writhing in bed, hand around his cock as he jerked himself to the thought of you a few feet over, nestled under your sheets—unbeknownst to him, relieving yourself in a similar way and yearning for the stretch of him rather than your measly fingers. It used to relieve the ache and help you sleep, but now it made things impossibly worse.

His fingers encircle your wrist quick, but carefully, silence your ultimate downfall as you stare over at him curiously, his eyes pleading something so desperate it roots itself into your own mind. Like an invisible string tethered to your bodies, it pulls you both together instinctively.

He doesn’t hesitate with touch now, slowly barricading his hands against the side of your neck, gradually working to cradle your head, tipping your head back as he leaned in, not willing himself to cross that line unless you allowed it. He knew the second you stepped over he was done for, similarly, you knew that to be true for yourself.

“Tell me to stop,” Joel begs, “—tell me and I’ll give this up.”

You double down, pressing your face against his own, nose pressing against each other, speaking against his lips in a venomous tone that seeps into his bloodstream.

“No,” You tell him, steadfast and unwavering, “I don’t think I will.”

Joel breathes in sharply before his reverence is breaking, pressing you up against the solidness of the guest room door and crashing his lips against your own, his grip bruising as he palms at your thighs, hooking a leg around his hip as he grinds into you, the feeling dulled out by layers of fabric but you can still feel him. He’s hard and straining against the soft fabric and making no attempt to hide how much you affected him.

“We’re makin’ a big mistake,” Joel says into your mouth, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth to prove his point, pulling a sharp moan from your chest at the slight sting, “you realize that?”

You find your courage and part from him briefly, open palm rubbing against the line of his cock, slowly trailing up and under his shirt, blunt nails clawing into the stomach, the muscle tensing under your skin, “I’m well aware—are you gonna stand here and have a moral dilemma about it or are you going to fuck me, Mr. Miller?”

It ignites a fury behind his eyes, ravenous and wild. He grips your face tightly, tilting your head up at a slightly uncomfortable angle, pussy clenching around absolutely nothing from the show of dominance, the grin spreading across your face all Joel needed to confirm his suspicions about you.

You enjoyed this—him, the little game you’ve allowed him to play over the past few weeks. And just as he’d said before, he wanted to take care of you—in as many ways possible.

“Say it again,” He warns, squeezing your cheeks together between his tight grip on your face, “—fuckin’ say it.”

“Mr. Miller,” You drone sweetly, best you can through his sturdy grip, “—hm, is that what you want to hear? Is that what gets off at night?”

Joel’s eyes squint slightly, attempting to read your expression. How would you know?

“Always want me to call you Joel because Mr. Miller is just too much, right?” You tease, “I guess you could lie to me, but the look on your face says otherwise.”

The back of your head drops softly against the door, nowhere to go as Joel has you crowded, hand tight on the doorknob and unmoving. You’re trapped and you can’t be bothered to care.

His hand trails to your neck gradually and squeezes, eyes rolling into the back of your head briefly as his jaw clenches, teeth gritting together as he bares them and speaks, “Should’ve guessed you’d like it like this, huh?”

You feign cluelessness, eyes half-lidded and staring back defiantly, swallowing against the solid hand he held against your neck.

“Tell me you want it,” Joel presses, feeling how mutely you attempt to press against hold and fail, “need to hear you say it first.”

“What? That I want you cock, Joel?” You say vivaciously, grinning at how his mouth twitches at your words, cooing out a soft, “Because I do.”

And that’s all the confession Joel needs before he’s breaking the barrier and shoving you inside the guest room, slamming the door closed behind him with a foot as he tracks and approaches you, hauling you from the back of your thighs as your ass hits the bed, scooting back slightly and spreading your legs to allow him to slot perfectly between them.

The fabric of your shirt bunches in his hands as pushes it up and away, lips pressing hotly against your stomach, mouthing at the skin greedily, quickly forcing the shirt up your shoulders until you get the idea and rip the shirt over your head, bare breasts bouncing against the jostling of your body. Joel has half the mind to gawk before he’s latching his mouth around your nipple, biting gently at the flesh despite his choice to be more aggressive than you expected. It’s the right amount of too soft and too much, your fingers curling into his hair at the root and pulling, earning a soft groan in response.

His curls fall freely over his eyes from where he’s looking up at you, lips lingering against your breast tantalizingly, “Let me taste you.” He tells you, his fingers dancing along the hem of your bottoms, his body descending as you find yourself nodding absently, helping him in the impatient push and pull until he has you naked and bare before him, his cock straining prominently against the thin material of his pants, rubbing himself through the fabric as he uses his free hand to spread you wide, marveling at the sight of your slick over the lips of your cunt.

Joel settles against the sheets, broad shoulders supporting your thighs as he adjusts them over him and hovers closely of your cunt, waiting for your eyes to connect in a brief moment of confirmation

You wanted this. And so did he.

He remains wide-eyed as his lips connecting with your cunt, straight for your aching clit as he sucks, flicking his tongue over the sensitive spot with a precision that has you falling slack against the sheets, mouth open in a blissful agony as Joel works away at your pussy like he’s had a million years to study it, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs as you continue to pull and twist at his hair, selfishly grinding yourself against his face.

He never breaks his gaze on your face, even when you find yourself with your head thrown back, staring up at the ceiling mindlessly, admiring the hurried rise and fall of your chest as you moan out something intelligible, slowly beginning to make sense in his hazy mind, “Oh—right—right there, Joel. Fuck, please—” You beg sweetly, feeling weightless as he lowers his mouth to your neglected hole and licks inside, his nose pressing perfectly against your clit.

“C’mon, baby,” He murmurs against your pussy, “keep talkin’, let me hear you.”

You sigh in exasperation, feeling the burgeoning ache of your impending climax, “Faster—” Joel is an astute listener, never missing a beat as he picks up his pace and adds more pressure, “–shit, I’m gonna—”

Joel silences you with his eagerness to make you come, words falling flat as he assales your clit with a determination to have you coming against his mouth, feeling the muscles spasm as you crying out his name in desperation, orgasming over his greedy tongue as he laps you up synonymously, forcing your body into overstimulation until you have to physically force him away.

Joel doesn’t have half the mind to speak, eyes darkened to near black as he rises to remove his shirt, pants and underwear following quickly after, undressing under your hazy gaze as you try to calm your rapidly beating heart before he’s fisting himself tightly, tip of his cock rubbing against the line of your pussy and catching your entrance, using the last bit of restraint he had left.

He should be courteous and ask about protection—but there’s a heat behind your eyes when you see his thoughts wandering, quickly snuffing out any worries. You reach gently for the hand not fisting his cock, cradling your knee gently, “We’re safe.” You assure him, the first moment of deep, unsettling reality as he realizes the weight of his choices before him—he’s already committed a few atrocities he knows he can’t come back from, so, what was a few more?

And he couldn’t say no to you, not with you staring up at him so wantonly, eyes pleading something desperate and meek, curious if this was all just a heat of the moment thing. Partly, it was—but this was months upon months of built up tension finally spilling into reality.

Joel isn’t sweet either, as he presses inside you. It shouldn’t surprise you, his impatient nature as he pulls you in close, hands gripping under your thighs and manhandling you until your folded nearly in half, hips pistoning sharp and rough, his gaze locked on the sight of himself disappearing inside of you, the sheen of your slick over his cock as you suck him in greedily.

“Come on, baby,” He grunts roughly, “keep showin’ me how good I make you feel. Show me how grateful you are.”

As if it wasn’t already obvious, obscene noises, feeling the quiet air as you sob out, feeling the angle change as he shifts his knee by your ass, angling your hips up slightly.

“Thank—thank you,” You say softly, broken as he snaps his hips roughly, hitting something sensitive inside of you, the coiling heat in your stomach rebuilding quickly, “thankyouthankyouthankyou,” You ramble mindlessly.

Mesmerized, you watch his curls bounce freely over his forehead, overgrown hair sticking to his skin from the soft sheen of sweat, the muscles in his broad shoulders straining as he holds your legs prisoner in his grips, hips aching dully from the unusual angle but you ignore it. He’s locked onto your pussy for a long stretch of time, entranced until he hears your soft moans, realizing you’ve been admiring him this whole time, eyes locking on you in a moment of vulnerability as he speaks directly to you, hips slowing to a manageable, but still slightly overwhelming pace.

“Always—know how to appreciate things, isn’t that right?” Joel asks, the redundancy not lost on you, “Take everything I give you and never ask. Never greedy—just lettin’ me spoil you.”

“Joel—” You whine, his hand slowly trailing the path to your joined bodies, thumb circling slowly over your clit briefly, “—harder, fuck me—harder.”

“But, look at you now—so fuckin’ greedy for my cock,” He’s speaking through a slight groan, releasing the straining hold on your thighs as he falls, spreading his legs out and using his arms for support as he holds himself over you, hands fisting into the sheets beside your head, “gonna make me cum, baby.”

You find yourself desperate for touch now, wrapping your arms around his neck until he’s nearly chest to chest, forehead resting against your own as you whimper into his open mouth, “I want it.”

Joel makes a small noise of question, “Want what, baby?”

“Your cum,” You reply softly, watching the way his pupils dilate at your words, “—please?”

Joel groans involuntarily, feeling the dignified squeeze of your walls around his cock.

“Where?” He asks slightly breathless, panting into your mouth.

You reach blindly for his hand, using his pointer and middle finger to breach your lips, pressing flat against your tongue, “Right here.” You mumble around the thick digits.

It’s the first thing you’ve ever explicitly asked for and who was Joel to deny that.

Joel pulls out quickly, rising on his knees as you push up to rest on your palms, his head hung back as he fucks himself into his hand harshly, a few short pumps and he’s pressing the aching tip of his cock over your tongue, spilling into your mouth with a deep growl, forced through clenched teeth, working himself through the aftershock as he squeezes out the last bit of cum he has to offer into your waiting mouth, forcing your mouth closed with his opposite hand and watching as you tilted your neck up and swallowed, tongue peeking out playfully as you show him your empty mouth.

You have half the mind to think he’s finished, but instead he’s swatting your thigh as he maneuvers your hips until you realize he’s silently asking you to turn over, quickly situating your ass in the air with his strong, domineering grip—burying his face into your cunt without a moment of hesitation, a gasp ripping from your throat. Your hips pull away instinctively out of shock, earning a sharp slap by Joel’s hand against your oversensitive cunt.

“Stay still.” Joel demands.

You answer softly, a pathetic acknowledgement and nod, obeying his order.

“Good girl,” He coos, muffled against your cunt, “Come for me, baby—you’re right there, I can feel it.”

There’s little resistance as his tongue swipes over your clit, sending you into a shorter but immensely more consuming second orgasm, feeling yourself lose consciousness for a brief moment as you sob into the sheets.

“Fuck.” Joel sighs as he rests back on his calves, cock softening between his thighs as you roll onto your back gingerly, thighs shaking from strain, feeling Joel’s comforting touch on the aching muscles as you close your eyes, letting the reality of the situation set in.

You laugh giddily, “Yeah, fuck.”

Neither of you address the glaring issue of what just took place and somehow, that feels like the biggest atrocity to be committed.

Secrets weren’t something you used to harbor, but it seemed like that was all you had now.

Sneaking off with Joel, lying to Sarah—it was the last thing you wanted to do. But, you and Joel had each other in an equally debilitating grip that neither of you could loosen up on.

And with secrets came gifts, more and more outrageous as time went on—big ticket items that had you fearing that, at some point, Joel would drop something like a new car on you—and that, for what it was worth, would help you. But, it was nothing you wanted.

Sex started to feel transactional after a few more weeks, graduation creeping on you.

Joel never lacked in care and attentiveness, but there was this nagging feeling in the back of your mind, like you were this unattainable prize he was paying for and you were eating right out of the palm of his hand.

But, then graduation day approaches and Joel is acting odd.

So odd that it unsettles you. He’s there, along with his brother and his small family, cheering as loud for you as he does for Sarah, the obvious absence from your own family never lost on you or him. Then, night approaches.

He’d decided that throwing a party for the both of you in celebration was a good idea, just a small party with very few friends and he swore—swore that there was nothing else up his sleeve until he’s pulling you and Sarah off together, away from the party and there is a pair of matching, new cars parked in the driveway.

Sarah, given she already has everything she wants, is still thankful. It’s the one thing she had been trying to save up for herself, without the help of her dad. So, while she could be upset, she isn’t. She knows Joel’s intentions are good and that he’s just trying to be a good father—which is all he’s ever been for her.

But, for you, it stings.

You linger, settled a few feet away against his beater of a truck, staring at the car like it was an eyesore.

She doesn’t like it. She hates it, Joel thinks.

You thanked him regardless, but refused the keys. Joel had stuffed them into his pocket and allowed you the space you wanted, eyes pleading quietly. Sarah had hugged you gently, kind words left in your ear before she departed back inside.

“You’re like family,” She says with genuine love, “and he has more money than he knows what to do with—so honestly, just take it. You deserve it more than anyone.”

And that hurts worse, knowing that you’ve been lying to her for months.

You weren’t family. Not to Joel. You were something much more convoluted and dangerous.

A drug. A trap. Something he couldn’t rid himself of, not that he desired to. But, he knew—once you were embedded into his life, it would be nearly impossible to get you out.

–

Joel finds you a while later, away from the party and beyond eyesight from the house, curled up against the front end of the truck and picking away at some of the ripped denim of your jeans, counting the frayed pieces. He takes a similar position, sitting next to you silently.

“You don’t have to take it,” He tells you, “but, it is paid for—”

“Joel, please—”

“What?” Joel asks suddenly, his own annoyance getting the better of him, “What am I doing wrong?”

“Joel—we have sex, you buy me something ridiculous. Or, you buy me something ridiculous without my knowledge and then we end up having sex, how does that look to you?”

“Now, I’m not doing that because of sex—”

“But, you see how it looks? How it makes me feel?” You argue with him, “Joel, I can’t help how I feel about you, like—it feels physically impossible, but the constant gifts makes this seem transactional. I don’t want that. I’m already a secret, I don’t need to be bought either.”

Joel shakes his head in silent disbelief, “You really think that’s how I view you? That’s it?”

“You haven’t tried very hard to make me think otherwise, Joel.” You tell him honestly, “I don’t need you showering me with cars and clothes and shit that I don’t need—and if that’s what you feel like you need to do, I don’t want to do…whatever this is anymore.”

Fucking him, sneaking around in secret. You weren’t dating, but it sure fucking felt like it. One intimate moment from a love confession that would seal the deal on your perception of him.

Joel kicks at the gravel as he rises to his feet, pulling you up by your forearm, an immediate look of both confusion and frustration crossing your features as he turns you and presses your chest against the front of his truck, shadowed by the cover of night. His belt clanks together loudly as he undoes his jeans behind you, tucking them far down enough he can pull his cock from the confines of his underwear, lifting up the hem of your dress and yanking your own underwear down your legs and off, and you should stop him—but you don’t want to.

This was the problem. You couldn’t get enough of Joel.

He slips inside of you with ease, pulling a sharp gasp from your chest that he stifles with his hand, clasped over your mouth, fucking into you with a reverance that was new.

“Joel—we’refuck—we can’t here,” You try to say, yanking his hand away from your mouth, “we’ll get caught.”

Joel grips the base of your neck roughly, fingers curling around the sides as he tilts your head back and looks into your eyes, other hand coming around the bottom of your chin until you’re forced to look up and back at him, not a single speck of warm brown in sight. He looked angry.

But, it didn’t feel like it was directed toward you. Regardless, he fucked you like he was.

“I’ll return the fuckin’ car,” He starts to ramble, “I’ll return everything if that makes you think differently. God—” He snaps his hips harshly, earning a broken sob from you as you reach behind you blindly for something to anchor yourself on, fingers twisting into the fabric of his shirt, “—never want you to think this is transactional, baby. It never—never was.”

Never would be, you want him to say.

“Whaddya want me to say?” Joel asks before you can speak, “That I care about you—baby, I fuckin’ do. I thought that was obvious. Know—know I shouldn’t, that it’s wrong, but I knew—”

You gasp raggedly, his hand leaving your chin to find your clit, just the right amount of pressure to have your hands clawing at his skin, head resting back against his shoulder as he fucked into you.

“And I’ll keep this a secret if—if it means I can have you but this isn’t transactional,” He continues to speak, despite your inability, tipping over the edge of your orgasm as his hips stutter slightly, “it never will be.”

That—that was what you needed to hear. Pulling him taut against you as he buried his mouth into the junction of your neck and nipped, biting at the skin roughly but not enough to break skin.

“Come inside me,” You gasp, chest rising and falling quickly, “please—Joel, please?”

“You like when I fuck you like this, don’t you?” Joel teases, “Never ask for anything but my cum—greedy girl,” You moan at his words, spurring him even further, “tell me baby, tell me how much you want it.”

“So bad,” You whine, “Joel, please give it to me—fuck—all of it, please?”

Joel snaps his hips a few more times before his hand is releasing your neck, crossing over your chest and squeezing tightly at your breast as he pulses inside of you, pumping his hips and filling you full of his spend.

Joel kisses at the exposed skin of your shoulder, pulling out with a soft grunt, the slow jingle of metal sounding behind you as you reached for the underwear he offered you, slipping it back up your legs and into place, despite how Joel’s cum dripped out of you, something he makes point of as his fingers drag along the material, causing you gasp softy at his touch, swatting his hand away. He chuckles lowly at the annoyed glare you shoot his way.

Joel shifts your hips until you turn in his grip, back pressing against cool metal. He crowds you in again, leaving you feeling breathless as he grips your face, but his touch is surprisingly tender.

“What do we say?” He says softly, lips pressing against your own.

“Thank you,” You retort sarcastically, capturing his lips in a quick, bruising kiss as you card your fingers into his hair at the base of his neck, pulling gently, “this doesn’t change anything—I don’t want the car.”

“You don’t have to take it,” Joel settles, “but it’ll be here if you need it.”

You pull away further, looking at him endearingly, watching as his eyes flick briefly toward the house.

“What do we do–about this?” You ask quietly, afraid someone might be listening in despite being alone, “About…whatever this is.”

“Hey,” Joel assures gently, “don’t worry about that—not tonight.”

“Joel—” You plead, eyes searching desperately into his own.

“I care about you, that’s all you need to worry about.” Joel speaks truthfully, his thumb rubbing along the line of your jaw as you swallow, muscles tense under his touch.

And you’re wondering if he’s just saying what you want to her—that maybe this was still a game to him and he was letting you feed into it, nodding to his confession. Joel is all in, offering you his metaphorical hand.

You sigh shakily, “Okay—I trust you.” So please, don’t let me down.

And you know things will eventually implode, but you intend to hold on the brief moment of hope you have now, safe under his gaze as he leads you back to the house, everyone blissfully unaware of the moments you’ve shared, leaving you resigned to appreciate the greedy looks his shares with you across the room.

It was a dangerous game, but you were willing to take the risks.

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #bfd!joel #pedro pascal characters #pedrostories #my writing

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snickerdoodlles · 8 months

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one of my most formative fandom experiences was a comment i had gotten on a fic i wrote for a halloween themed fandom event.

this was for a manga/anime, so the fic was a general ghost story obviously set in Japan. the beginning of it involved a pizza delivery and while writing it, i had spent like 30 minutes just double checking tipping customs and the types of pizza they serve and even fell down a wikipedia rabbit hole looking up the history of pizza in Japan.

now, i just like the research part of writing, i do stuff like this because i have fun doing it. and while i was writing this particular fic, i had laughed at myself for my 30 minutes of googling that amounted to 2.5 offhand lines in a 3500 word fic. i didn't think anyone would care about or even notice those particular details except for me, especially since none of them were relevant to the ghost part of this ghost story.

except, when i had sent this fic to a Japanese friend, the first thing she said to me about it was "OH MY GOD YOU GOT THE PIZZA RIGHT"

and that was the moment when it had really clicked for me. what had just been 30 minutes of effort on my part had become a moment of relief for her. my friend was far more used to reading ethnocentric fic that ranged from unintentional ignorance to outright superiority against part of her culture (the original story's culture no less). and even with the "innocent" ignorance (heavy quotes on that) far outstripping any outright maliciousness, that's still so many people saying her culture was not worth learning about. the pizza in my story was a small detail, but i had cared enough to put in some effort to check it. and for her, coming from a fic experience where her norm was bracing for hundreds of inaccuracies born of ignorance, especially at that time after a flood of stories centered around "Halloween as a cultural holiday in the US" premises instead of the "Halloween is a commercial gimmick in Japan" reality, seeing someone put in some effort even for minor story details meant something to her.

this also throws me back to the discourse that arose in a french show fandom a few years ago because there were a lot of fic authors that wrote 'dollars' instead of 'euros'-- but when people brought this up as a prevalent issue across the fandom but an easy one to fic/watch out for, many of these writers instead pushed back to complain that they were posting stories for free and it wasn't that big of a deal. which really upset a lot of people, but then this upset was met with a new wave of indignation that people needed to 'get over it' because they're writing fic ~just as a hobby~. but, even if 'dollars' instead of 'euros' wasn't a big deal, by digging in their heels about the issue, they were saying "your culture isn't worth even five minutes of my time or effort."

I've been thinking about these things lately because the ethnocentrism in Thai drama fandoms is...staggering. just over the turn of the year, there were waves of Christmas fic for Buddhist characters. and just. Christmas in Thailand is a tourist thing at best. sometimes a pop culture gimmick for international audiences or maybe an offhand high school thing to blow off steam between midterms. it's not a cultural thing. and even if a character is a part of the Christian minority, a Christian Thai's holiday customs and culture are going to be vastly different than a Christian's customs in the Americas or Europe. and while the Christmas fic is at least finished for now, I'm already bracing myself for the Easter fic wave that also seems to pop up for Thai dramas. it's so frustrating to see this sort of cultural overwrite all the time, especially since most Thai drama holiday works aren't about Thai holidays.

but the thing that really got me bristling about all of this again was i saw a post the other day where op said that they weren't going to write [thai drama] fic because they don't know much about thailand.

what an absolutely appalling statement to make.

google is right there. wikipedia is free. you don't even have to leave tumblr or AO3 to learn more because there are Thai natives in fandom who write essays to explain common elements of their culture. hell, even just watching these Thai stories and considering the values and messages imparted by the narrative framework and story lens tells you something about that culture. the audacity to look at a culture different from your own and say "this is not worth my effort or time to learn anything more about," are you kidding me?!?

the messages and values of a story tell you about the writer's values, which are going to carry their cultural values, beliefs, and biases. Thai culture is going to be heavily relevant to any Thai story, even the ones that aren't explicitly about Thai culture/customs/etc. (hell, Thai bl/gl as a genre alone-- just the fact that queer Thai writers are making these stories in Thailand's current political climate is highly political, even the "fluffy" ones that don't seem to make outright political statements.) to approach any story like it was made in a vacuum is to remove the writer(s)' culture and values and to overwrite them with your own.

especially because this is fandom. these are the lowest stakes to learn! it sucks to see people say things like "but i'm scared i'll get something wrong" and hold up that fear as a shield to justify their ignorance. no one's expecting anyone to get every detail right, especially not for a culture that isn't theirs, just make an effort to learn something new about it. pick out something that caught your eye as different to learn more about and see where it leads you.

and for the record--making a mistake trying to broaden your horizons is a far, far better thing to do than to superimpose your culture on everyone else's because you're scared to confront your ignorance.

edit: check out this reblog thanks

#fandom

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threepandas · 3 months

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Bad End: Hidden Heir

Next ->

The Duke's family had very distinct eyes. It was genetic. An aggressively dominant trait at that, though it tended to die off, after a few generations out of the family. Supposedly a "blessing of the Gods". Spring to be exact. Bounty and luck. And the family certainly WAS bountiful.

In all the best and worst ways.

Wealth, corruption, children and bastards. It was a family so aggressively ALIVE, it could only be Spring's blessing that made them so. Pouring mania and madness into their veins like sweet sunlight. Whispering glory and riches, into power addled ears. They burst with life. Even as they endlessly destroyed themselves.

They were fictional.

Fascinating set dressings, for the stage play of someone else's story. Unimportant beyond their role in world building. As the origin story and power base of a character lead.

The Story ITSELF didn't even occur here. But rather, in the capital. Where the players of significance had gathered.

And I? Oh I was some minor antagonist, so insignificant to the plot, I genuinely could not remember which of seven different women I actually WAS. It had been an ongoing series. Otome Isekai. Reverse harem.

And I was either in the ORIGINAL original novel, the isekai'd plot novel, the anime adaption, OR a horrifying fever dream. My memory was largely useless. But? I did remember the characters. The archetypes.

And the fact, that the author had clearly been going though a Yandere phase.

My region of the Reverse Harem collect-o-thon? Horrifying! Red flags everywhere! No one here should date, leave room for fantasy Jesus, have we considered the joys of being a NUN? Yes. Yes I HAVE thought about it.

I was pretty sure I'd never make it. End up dead or captured by some sort of Nun Yandere. Or God Yandere. Possibly both. Assuming the bandit yanderes don't get me first. It... it was very stressful, living here.

Luckily? I knew when I could leave.

Or so I thought.

Because my house? The Dukedom? Had the "yandere butler who is secretly an heir." Who starts out with loyal dog behavior. A little highly possesive master and servant play. Then rises to become a Duke. Presumably? That is when I die. Or am disowned.

Death is most likely. Since my role was "minor antagonist" and I was to be mean to the sweet, earnest, Harem possessing Protagonist. Don't see WHY I would. Live and let live. Good for her etc etc. But regardless? Best to avoid, just in case.

The problem? Who do you think Mr Illegitimate Heir serves before she gets here? The OTHER possible heirs? Of course not! They'd "oops! Hunting accident~☆" him in a heart beat. Father isn't stupid. And my sisters? Issues. Violent, violent, issues.

He ends up with ME.

Father, WHY.

Obviously, I ignore him. I see nothing. I hear nothing. There is no war in Ba Sing Se. Mmmmm, tea. Good book. Ignore his creepy staring. His creepy, creepy staring.

Thankfully? I never really ran out of Totally Legitimate reasons to send him away to learn or do something. Proper tea making. Door maintenance. Eastern embroidery. Something, anything, and off you go! Bye bye~☆!

Unfortunately. He got faster. Better and better at learning. Mastering skills. Coming BACK. Showing up to stand in the corner, silent and looming, like an omen of death. Those damn eyes. The fucking family eyes!

I don't have them. And NOT as, my Father would have me believe, because I "take after my Mother". But because I am not genetically related to the Duke. I have GOLD eyes. When I wear the right shade of green? I pass. So I am condemned to forever wear green. Don't even really like it much. But?

I am pretty damn sure? I was just... pretty.

A lovely, orphaned, golden eyed child that COULD pass as his. So why not? It was a whim that payed off. Unlike in the original stories, I imagine. Since I am by FAR the best behaved child in this entire house. Ha! Suck it, bio-kids, the adopted one's the favorite! Maybe should have been less lil bitchs.

....I carefully do not say.

Those are INSIDE thoughts.

Fuck. He's still LOOMING. Isn't he? Go awaaaaaay. Where is Protag-chan? Come be doe eyed and busty! Trip adorably! Go "kyaaa~" or something! I feel body heat and freeze. He's leaning over my shoulder to pick up the teapot, pour me another cup. I can FEEL the barest graze of his knuckles against my back, from where he's gripped my chair. The smell of his aftershave almost hauntingly pleasant.

Like he KNEW exactly what smells I liked most. Went out of his way to find one that best suited my preference. Coincidence. Please, PLEASE be a coincidence! I do not turn my head. Keep my eyes locked straight ahead. Barely breathing.

He steps back.

The new pot is sharp and herbal. Almost bitter. I force myself to drink. Can't see a sugar dish, and REFUSE to turn around and ask for one. Ignore. IGNORE. My pounding heart calms. My muscles slowly start to relax.

It... it IS weird, though, now that I think about it? That Protag-chan hasn't reached the Dukedom yet. She should have. God only knows I sent Creepy to the capital enough times, with enough highly specific instructions, that he should've had his meet cute's and dates by the dozen. Been half way in love. So... why...?

Huh.

Dizzy.

The taste of tea sits wrong on my tounge. I stop drinking as the world sways. Letting the cup fall from my hand. Splatter, roll, and shatter. I try desperately to stand. A gentle gloved hand catches my elbow, supporting me. I turn. Giddy eyes. Triumphant, wide, spring green eyes. Too green to be gold, too gold to be green.

An almost cruel, mocking, yet loving grin.

Another hand slides around my waist, braces me against his side. Gleeful little murmurs, too pleased to be reassuring. You. You did this! You DRUGGED ME!

I can barely move, body relaxing against my command, going limp, as he draws me close. Presses his face against the side of my head, against my temple. A deep, shuddering breathe, that he savors like wine. I try to pull free but can not. Feel his lips pull into a vicious grin against my skin. Hands begin to run in gentle, claiming, exploration.

And at last the drugs kick in... the wo..rld..

G..oes..

Dar..k........

#threepandas #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere otome isekai #yandere x you #yandere duke #adopted reader #they are not half siblings #yandere oc #yandere otome #just wanted to clarify cause it be like that sometimes in otome #bad end au #bad end hidden heir au #hidden heir au

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spockandawe · 1 year

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Double edit: actually, that's enough of that.

Edit: I was expecting maybe thirty notes tops. This is a surprise, and one that doesn't delight me. If I hear about any harassment stemming from this post, I'll be more pissed at the harasser than the person this is about.

God. Dammit.

I hate this, let's just out that out there! I'm unhappy that I'm talking about any of this, I'm unhappy there's an issue that's come up at the intersection of media preservation, respecting authors, and one of my favorite book series. And I'm unhappy that I've censored the names in the screenshots I'm about ti post! I'm not happy that I'm helping to slide consequences away from someone who thought this was an acceptable thing to do to a modern working author. But I'm even less happy this is something that happened in the first place, and I'm VERY unhappy the original post has been deleted without a whisper of accountability or apology.

And here's a partial screenshot of the IA page, which has since been removed. I get the excitement to share something you love with a new audience. This isn't the right way to go about it.

First, if Martha Wells' patreon is still in place, I encourage everyone in the strongest possible terms to go sign up for it. It'll charge you one dollar. I've been a member since probably 2018, and I mistakenly believed it was locked to new members (it's labeled 'Currently Closed To New Patrons') until I had reason to look it up last night, when I tripped across this reddit post from earlier this year.

Now. I was looking it up because of this sudden patreon message:

Even if the patreon goes away, I still recommend that people sign up. Explore the stories! They're very fun! Even though the patreon has been dormant for years, I've loved having that repository in place.

In fact, in the interest of full disclosure, what kept me from immediately reblogging last night is that I've felt the same archival urges! I bound a hard copy of these stories earlier this year, and let me quote my own words from that post:

I live in a state of perpetual low key stress over the impermanence of digital media and that goes extra for sites that aren’t designed to work well as archives. I hope, desperately, that someday Martha Wells publishes more raksura, maybe even including these stories! I will buy it immediately. No thoughts, wallet empty. I own all her other raksura books in literally three formats, fingers crossed that by printing this, I can actualize a formal official printing of these stories by the author 😂

So. Archiving, yes. But especially with a living, working author, I would never DREAM of posting a public free-for-all with IA and mediafire links. My most charitable interpretation is that OP thought it was fine since the stories were "free," even though the writeups acknowledge that access costs a dollar. Ao3 is also free. Reposting someone else's fic is still understood to be a dick move.

Last night i was left kind of stunned, and I was hoping to see some kind of response from op this morning taking responsibility, and was... disappointed to see that the post was just deleted. The IA listing was deleted too, and I hadn't actually looked up the mediafire post yet but I'm guessing it's also been nuked. Out of curiosity, I wanted to see if there was anything more in the comments, so I found a surviving reblog. And there was!

So I'm writing this post because I'm... frustrated. Taking down the files is a good step. Posting them publicly was a worse step, but hey. I still more than understand if Martha Wells still deletes her patreon. I don't understand what sending her files of her own stories is meant to accomplish, but whatever. Ascribing a profit-driven motive is driving me up a wall, though. She's financially stable. I read her email, and what i see is frustration that even though it only cost a dollar to access 62k of her work through her own chosen location, control of her writing is being forcibly removed from her. I'm sure that seeing copies sold by third parties wouldn't help, but I don't think that's the root issue.

This is a fandom-heavy website, I'm sure most of us have seen posts about not reposting art when you can share directly from the artist's blog. I've seen posts about stop copying your ao3 faves over to wattpad just because you like reading there better. At a fundamental level, I read the message from Martha Wells as a deep frustration at having no way to share her creative work without someone removing control of it from her hands. And I don't know if there's any way to really take back that damage.

#long post #the books of the raksura #archiving

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pessimisticpigeonsworld · 6 months

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On the "Choose a Side" Discourse

With HBO leaning veryyyy heavily into "pick a side" for their promos, the "no team" people are crawling out of the woodwork. I want to preface this post by saying that I'm not saying people shouldn't have favorite characters who aren't mine, nor that people should just be totally invested in fandom discourse.

I already made a post about the issues with the arguments of the "no team" people, so I'll just summarize my thoughts from that real quick. A majority of their arguments and metas are thinly veiled anti Rhaenyra thoughts. That's still true of this new wave of this group.

Now, one thing I will agree with them on is: GRRM did not write this story to be one of choose a side. However, that is not because the Blacks and the Greens are equally bad or the Targaryens are all evil. No, it's because the Greens were always in the wrong and GRRM makes this abundantly clear to us in F&B.

Let's look at some facts from the Dance. While male primogeniture is tradition, it's not the law; the king's word is law, something ASOIAF has established time and again. The Greens took the throne through underhanded ways. They left Viserys' body to rot for days while they prepared for Aegon's coronation to prevent Rhaenyra from learning and coming to KL. They forced the smallfolk to attend and most didn't cheer for Aegon, with some even calling for Rhaenyra while most were confused and angry.

Aemond drew first blood by killing the unarmed thirteen year old envoy, Lucerys Velaryon. A majority of the realm declared for Rhaenyra; 53 houses supported her, while only 28 supported Aegon. The Greens committed the greatest atrocities of the Dance: Aemond burning the Riverlands and Daeron massacring Tumbleton. They also committed the greater number of atrocities.

The Greens also lost the war. The Blacks weren't just fighting for Rhaenyra, they fought for her heirs as well. This is why they swore to her and Jacaerys; later for Aegon III after the deaths of his older brothers. The Black forces continued to fight after Rhaenyra's murder and took KL. Aegon was murdered by his own men when the Blacks were marching on KL; in other words, the Greens knew they were beat, so they killed Aegon in an attempt to save themselves. Since Aegon left no heirs aside from Jaehaera, Aegon III was crowned and married to Jaehaera. The Blacks won the war.

Aegon the Usurper's bloodline is destroyed with the deaths of Jaehaera and Gaemon Palehair. This is the final affirmation of the Greens being in the wrong. GRRM's books punish usurpers by wiping out their bloodlines; Maegor and Robert Baratheon being the most obvious examples. Aegon and all the Greens have no descendants, their bloodline is dead.

Rhaenyra's bloodline, on the other hand, continues all the way through to the main series. Daenerys Targaryen, the most powerful character in the series, is her descendant, as is Jon Snow (unconfirmed as of now in the books) who is another of the key five. Rhaenyra may have died, but her faction won the war and her bloodline will save the world through her two greatest descendants (alongside the rest of the key five).

The Dance of the Dragons is, ultimately, a story of the damage the patriarchy does and how misogyny is destructive to the world. The Dance caused the death of the dragons and a great loss of power for women in the realm. Queen consorts after Rhaenyra had markedly less power and there was a drop in female leaders of the great houses. The loss of the dragons caused the weakening of magic in the world as a whole.

The Dance isn't about who your favorite war criminal is, nor is it about the evil of the Targaryens. It's about misogyny; something HOTD seems to have forgotten. Even before they started pushing TB vs TG so hard, they still missed the point.

It doesn't matter that Rhaenyra isn't a perfect, or even a good, person. It doesn't matter that Rhaenyra is non-conforming, plays the political game, and exploits her father's favor. Rhaenyra could have been as pious and well-behaved as Naerys and the Greens still would have usurped her. Rhaenyra could have had children with Laenor, and still the Greens would have usurped her. HOTD tries to paint the usurpation as partially being on Rhaenyra and her choices, but nothing Rhaenyra could have done would have been good enough.

The Blacks are the protagonists of the Dance. Are they perfect? No. Are they heroes? No. GRRM loves his gray characters, the Blacks are no exception. If you people want a story with black and white morality and perfect protagonists, go read another book. Just because people aren't perfect and don't operate exclusively in what's right according to our modern standards doesn't mean they aren't the protagonists.

In conclusion: there isn't a TB vs TG discourse in the Dance because the Greens are the antagonists and completely in the wrong. The point of the Dance is that the misogyny of the Greens damaged the realm. Rhaenyra is the rightful queen, there is no actual argument for Aegon or any of his allies.

Rhaenyra is the rightful queen to Westeros, go cry to George if you don't like it.

#rhaenyra targaryen #queen rhaenyra #asoiaf #house of the dragon #team black #anti team green #anti team green stans #anti aegon ii targaryen #the blacks #dance of the dragons #hotd s2 #anti hotd

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hellwantfuckme · 9 months

Text

shameless.

summary: she hates solstices, but Azriel has his own way of making her liking the solstices.

warnings: smut, fingering, oral (f receiving)

words: 4.7k

author's note: I'm not sure if I like this or I hate this. English isn't my first language and is my first time writing smut after years of reading it😭. Just let me know if you want a second part:).

Every solstice, since Eclipse was of use of reason, had been the day on which she had kept herself the furthest away from her family, from the paranoid mother, who was a ticking time bomb that when exploded burned and scorched forests, dried up oceans. From the exhausted father, who still maintained his mocking humor from his younger years, when he still had his youth, when the weight on his shoulders was light, unaware that the burden would increase over the years.

In reality, for years she had had a flame of hope under layers of sharp ice, that someday, they could spend the holidays in a somewhat normal way. But over time that flame had done nothing more than extinguish, leaving in its wake smoke. Smoke that filled her lungs and didn't let her breathe, smoke that oppressed her chest, that made her so overwhelmed that her eyes clouded with tears.

That smoke hadn't disappeared to this day.

The warm room by the fireplace, the orange light, gave her a perfect view of everything that was happening throughout the large, lively living room. She heard Cassian's laughter and Mor's insults towards him. The more or less trivial conversations among the rest that spread throughout the room like grains of sand in the sea.

Eclipse just knew she didn't have enough wine.

In reality, she hadn't wanted to be here, it was Feyre, who with puppy eyes, had almost begged her to attend. Just for one year, to try to see what they did, how they did it. And she promised that if she felt too overwhelmed she could leave.

Eclipse had been thinking of leaving since she had walked through the door and greeted every member of the inner circle, even those who didn't sit so well with her as Mor. She couldn't help but feel that, in some way, the smell of her anxiety would become thick enough for everyone present to smell it, even through the glamour she had put on the scent of her emotions, and ruin the party for them.

The glamour was a band-aid on the crack in the earthquake floor, it did nothing to help her mental state. She just took another sip of the expensive wine, if only she didn't have that suffocating predestined feeling rooted in her chest, she would have admired the taste of the good, very expensive wine.

The warmth in the room was probably just right to keep them comfortable in the cold winter, but Eclipse felt it was too much, even the thin dress with an opening that showed her leg and a tremendous neckline felt like too much.

Everything was too much.

But she could leave, right? She could get up from the corner of the couch where she had been sitting for the last half hour, leave, and no one would judge her. She had her issues with some people in this court, but everyone had matured enough not to judge her if she suddenly left, end of story.

The place next to her on the couch sank slightly under the weight of an Illyrian who smelled like cedar and mist. Some of the tension in her shoulders left her. Just a little.

He didn't say a word, just glanced at her. Eclipse knew that was enough for him to know everything she was wondering about; after all, he was the Spymaster.

But the look wasn't heavy on her, it wasn't overwhelming. Eclipse looked at him too, turning her head just slightly to meet his gaze.

He seemed relaxed; it was one of the few times Eclipse saw him without his usual Illyrian leathers, without the bright siphons. Eclipse knew he enjoyed these festivities, the solstices. She could understand why, his family, probably the most precious thing to him, all in one room. No problems or anxieties or fights. Just them.

Another reason why Eclipse didn't feel like part of all this. She looked away.

Azriel drank in every expression of hers, hated the tension in her shoulders and back. Hated the way her brow furrowed slightly, her fingers squeezing the wine glass. Something inside him urged him to provide her with comfort of any kind.

Maybe it was because he had already consumed a reasonable amount of wine, maybe it was because he couldn't bear to see her so uncomfortable, especially in a time when she was supposed to be happy. Each of his cousins had managed to overcome whatever was haunting them because something was still threatening them, and Eclipse seemed to be doing the same, until the solstice. Where everything fell apart. Azriel wondered why and only remembered the firm, somewhat sad words Nesta had once said about Eclipse:

"We all demanded too much of her," Nesta had begun, speaking in the past, her voice tinged with regret. Cassian's hand had rested on hers, offering support for whatever she was feeling. "And she accepted it, she dealt with it as best as she could. If she still can't handle the festivities, if they're still too much for her, no one will demand that she heal quickly, get over it all at once, and fit into this too."

Azriel wondered if her words were, in addition, a reflection of how she would have liked them to behave around her when she was still struggling with constant bad habits.

He thought for a second, just one more look at the anxiety dancing in her eyes was enough fuel. Azriel placed his hand on her exposed knee.

Eclipse froze, her gaze slowly dropped to where their skins met, looked for a second, two. Insecurity filled Azriel; he was almost sure she was looking at his scars, and his own shoulders tensed.

But just a second later, as though she had sensed his intention to pull away, her hand settled on top of his. A gesture so natural, comfortable even, that it made his heart skip a beat.

Eclipse leaned back against the couch's backrest, bringing the edge of the dark red wine glass to her lips for a slow sip. She looked at him again, with a half-expectant look, bright with what, if he didn't know any better, he would describe as innocence, and the touch went from simply resting her hand there to a gentle, firm grasp.

Firm enough to keep her grounded. To keep her from wandering in whatever was tormenting her.

Eclipse refrained from licking her lips, definitely not wanting to ruin the lipstick.

"You know, maybe you should stop wearing those leathers so often, you look good, more than good." The comment escaped her lips with such naturalness, sincerity, that Azriel couldn't help but feel his cheeks redden slightly. The words stuck in his throat.

"I don't mean you don't look good in that outfit either, just that..."

Eclipse's hesitant words stopped as she noticed the color in his cheeks, a tiny smile pulled at Eclipse's lips.

"I'm sorry, I think I've had too much wine."

"No," Azriel hurried to reassure. "It's okay. You look... splendid, absolutely."

His eyes drifted away from her face, roved over the exposed collarbones, the particularly tattooed one underneath. "Born to die." Then over the neckline of her dress, and he couldn't help but linger there a fraction of a second, no more than what was appropriate.

Eclipse, it seemed, hadn't noticed the way his eyes had moved. Her cheeks had a barely noticeable blush, her gaze slightly lowered, embarrassed, he recognized quickly. Then it was Azriel who couldn't help the amused little smile that tugged at his lips.

His hand moved up her exposed leg slowly. Her heart skipped a beat as Azriel continued to raise it almost too slowly, her own hand still on top of his. It climbed until it was on her thigh, moving his hand so that it was on the inside, burying his fingers minimally.

Eclipse held her breath, her cheeks turning a darker pink. Her eyebrows arched just slightly, looking at Azriel out of the corner of her eye, but he looked straight ahead, as if nothing was happening, as if her pulse wasn't racing, her heart hammering against her chest as the contact burned.

Eclipse swallowed, and took a sip of wine, her head spinning.

I probably should be thinking that they were in a room full of people, and Azriel had his hand buried in the middle of her. But as she glanced around the room, and felt Azriel's hand moving inch by inch upwards, so slowly that she felt like she was going crazy, no one was really paying attention. Mor and Cassian laughing at something Nesta had said, and Rhys with a furrowed brow. Eclipse thought she heard something about the smaller wingspan of the three Illyrians in the background. She didn't really pay attention. Feyre and Elain were chatting quietly across the room while Amren was sitting in Varian's lap, the heir of the Summer Court leaning in to whisper something in her ear.

Azriel buried his fingers more forcefully. Eclipse crossed her legs with the intention of pushing Azriel's hand away, feeling the soft wetness between her legs increase.

She thanked every existing entity for the glamour to her emotions that she had put on before entering, and thanked Rhysand for teaching her how to put on and take off glamours months ago, because otherwise the smell of her arousal would be out there, mingling with the air particles.

Azriel looked at her, although she didn't dare to look back at him until his hand slipped between her crossed legs and separated them, resting the back of her thigh against the couch again, guiding her leg to spread further than before. Her heart skipped a beat, and she looked up at him.

There was something shining in those hazel eyes, something primal well hidden. Heavy eyelids as she swore he was devouring her with his gaze. His hand dug deeper, higher, until it was inappropriately close to her center, and he squeezed the tender skin.

Eclipse looked around the entire room again; she really didn't want anyone to see this interaction, especially because she was aware that she was blushing. Azriel seemed to understand, leaning in, his body blocking out hers. His mouth mere inches from her ear, as if about to whisper something. His wing engulfed them, darkening what she saw, giving her only an illusion of privacy that she didn't fall into so easily. But at least it hid the direction of his hand.

A musky smell, carrying Azriel's essence, softly reached her nostrils. The almost imperceptible scent of his arousal. She might have sighed.

His hand continued its path, shamelessly upwards, until the pads of his fingers brushed the skin extremely close to her panties. She heard Cassian's voice in the background, slightly louder.

"Azriel," Eclipse gasped, with a soft warning tone, but Azriel just let out a soft growl.

His fingers touched the damp fabric of her panties, more roughly than he had been fondling her thigh. His fingers pressed onto the wet patch, and Eclipse grabbed his wrist, stopping him instantly.

"All of this for me?" Azriel purred. Eclipse didn't miss the subtle amusement in his voice. His hand stayed still, but his fingers were still pressed, right above her nerve.

"I think you're the same or worse, Azriel," she didn't need to look down at the bulge in his pants to know what was there.

A shadow curled into Azriel’s ear, and he tensed. He immediately pulled away, returning to his previous position, his scarred hand on her knee.

Eclipse looked at him, totally confused, wondering what had caused his attitude to change so abruptly. She sighed through her nose, her gaze wandering around the room again.

Feyre had a little smile tugging at her lips, one she tried to hide ridiculously while looking at her, in particular.

A gentle caress against her mental barriers, ones that were still not very strong but were on their way to, Eclipse reluctantly let Feyre in.

"So close Azriel was just a few seconds ago..." her cousin's voice, amused, curious, and eager for gossip, sounded in her head. Eclipse refrained from rolling her eyes, feeling Azriel's gaze on her.

"I had forgotten how absolutely nosey you are."

A giggle sounded in her mind.

"Cassian has been teasing Morrigan, didn't understand why until I looked where he looked for a second."

Eclipse inevitably cast a glance at Cassian, who was now listening attentively to something Nesta was saying. She looked back at her cousin.

"I think Azriel felt me looking, that's why he moved away."

"You think, Feyre? How do you know?" She sarcastically replied, sweeping Feyre out of her mind, raising her mental barriers again. Feyre just chuckled, Rhys then looked at her, as if he wanted to know where the source of her amusement was coming from.

Eclipse sighed, taking another sip of her almost-empty glass of wine at this point.

At the end of the night, they had decided to go to Rita's. Neither Eclipse nor Azriel had wanted to go, although Mor gave them both a suspicious look, with some tension on her shoulders. She insisted a little more than everyone, a little more on Azriel, to go to that club. Eclipse wanted to ignore it, really wanted to. But she couldn't, especially not when their gazes connected, and Eclipse didn't like what she saw. The glint of jealousy in her eyes appeared and disappeared, barely a millisecond, but she saw it clearly.

She had never particularly liked Morrigan, or at least not since Eclipse started exchanging words with Azriel and she tensed every time they had the slightest interaction.

Eclipse made sure to keep the real, and somewhat venomous, opinion to herself.

Azriel's hand had moved very little from her knee the whole time they were sitting there, although his thumb traced circles. And he gave gentle squeezes every time Eclipse seemed to get lost in her own, hurtful, thoughts.

Eclipse felt a ghostly touch on her calf, she didn't have to look down to know it was one of his shadows. They swirled around her soft skin, and at one point, they seemed to bite her, only gently. Her cheeks took on a pinkish hue as she found herself looking for a way to lean into the contact that wasn't quite a contact. Eclipse had the feeling that the bite was just to see how she would react.

The dark irregularities crept up her skin, slowly, torturously. They crawled, sending shivers all over her skin, climbing and climbing until they caressed the inner part of her thigh. Eclipse had the impulse to close her legs, but Azriel kept a firm grip on her knee, preventing her from closing them together. The shadows explored what they wanted, all the skin they had available, without really reaching what was the desired center of her.

Eclipse found his gaze, fixed on her as if he were studying every reaction, memorizing every small expression with dilated pupils, heavy eyelids.

Eclipse opened her mouth, ready to make a comment, but before any sound could come out of her mouth, the ghostly sensation danced over her panties, swirling in circles above the fabric. Her teeth found home on her own lip, refraining from moving closer. The touch was hesitant, curious. But not enough, Eclipse had an idea of what would be enough.

"Azriel." the plea escaped her lips before she could contain it, before she even wanted to contain it.

"Yes, darling?" his raspy, lust-filled voice filled her ears.

The shadows pressed more firmly against her, pushing the fabric aside. And they roamed all over her wetness, revolving around her clitoris, probing her entrance.

A gasp escaped from her lips, her hips involuntarily moving forward, the shadows retreated, the touch becoming lighter. Eclipse refrained from groaning. Her hand found Azriel’s still resting on her knee and almost desperately pulled it towards her center, but his hand refused to move past the middle of her thigh.

Azriel smirked.

"Needing, darling?"

Eclipse glared at him, he leaned towards her until he was millimeters from her lips.

"Tell me." he told her, ordered her. "Tell me what you want, and it's yours."

The shadows circled tightly against her clitoris, Eclipse let out a shaky breath.

"I want you."

Those words were enough to make him lose his mind. In one moment they were separated by millimeters, and then his mouth was on her. There was nothing gentle in the way Azriel kissed Eclipse, punishing lips against hers. The shadows probing her entrance dove deeply, and Eclipse whimpered.

Azriel took advantage to slip his tongue into Eclipse's mouth, his hand finding its place on her nape as his tongue explored Eclipse's mouth, swallowing every sound she let out while his shadows, teasing, barely satisfied the desire that made her dizzy, that made her unable to form a rational thought. His tongue took control almost instantaneously, perhaps because Eclipse was too excited to reciprocate the kiss in the same way, or maybe because naturally she submitted to him.

Azriel's hands found their place on her hips, and then lower, until he could lift her and sit her astride his lap. His mouth didn't leave Eclipse's, every time their tongues brushed, Eclipse felt as if she was dizzy and the wetness in her pussy increased. As if Azriel felt it, he drew her closer to him until her center was against his hardness. Eclipse moaned. But then, Eclipse felt everything around her disappear. Everything. And she felt herself in freefall, instinctively placing her hands on Azriel's shoulders, holding on. But a second later, reality reappeared around her again.

The smell of him was all around, Eclipse glanced at her surroundings and quickly realized where they were; Azriel's room. He was sitting in the middle of his bed, his back against the headboard, and she was still in his lap. The smell of him was all around, Eclipse glanced at her surroundings and quickly realized where they were; Azriel's room. He was sitting in the middle of his bed, his back against the headboard, and she was still in his lap.

"You didn't expect to stay in the living room, did you?" Azriel teased, one of his hands finding its place on the nape of her neck as he pulled her back to his lips, and the other on her hips, he guided her forward, and then back, the command was clear: rub against me.

Hesitant, Eclipse moved her hips against him, finding herself needing that delicious friction that made her delirious. Eclipse broke the kiss to breathe, but his lips didn't leave her. They kissed the corner of her mouth, the jaw, all the way down to her neck and stopped there, deciding to take his time adorning her neck. Eclipse rubbed against him again, more needy, less hesitant, managing to elicit a growl from him. His teeth sank into her warm skin in response, her eyebrows arched as she murmured his name like a prayer.

He licked the small mark, his tongue soothing the sting. He kissed and sucked and bit a little more, all the way down. Down to her collarbone. He licked the letters tattooed underneath, and if it was possible, she felt herself harden underneath him.

His hand moved up to the straps of her dress, and he looked at her, asking for permission. Eclipse nodded, granting him permission. More than enough permission for him, and he slowly lowered the straps, freeing her breasts and pausing for a moment. Admiring her.

"You are beautiful." he breathed. "The most beautiful thing I've seen in my life."

Sincerity dripped from his voice, and as if he wanted to prove it, he took a hardened nipple into his mouth, sucking on it.

Eclipse rolled her eyes at the heat her nipple was receiving, her back involuntarily arching. Her hand buried itself in his black hair, feeling his teeth graze her sensitive nipple as his fingers caressed the other, giving it the same attention.

"Azriel." she moaned. The need between her legs was almost painful.

Azriel pulled away, releasing her nipple with a small "pop". The same hungry need from her reflected in his eyes. Azriel dragged Eclipse's mouth back down to savor her once again. Kissing her hungrily.

Eclipse felt pressure against her center again, but it wasn't the shadows this time, but Azriel's fingers. They pushed her panties aside and slid between her folds, spreading her wetness. Eclipse let out a moan against Azriel's lips as the pad of his finger rubbed tight circles on her clitoris, needed after all the teasing of his shadows. Azriel smiled into the kiss, his tongue delving into Eclipse's mouth once more.

Azriel used his other hand, his grip on her hip, to keep her from moving for greater friction.

His fingers traced her entrance, and he inserted two fingers, the gentle touch of before forgotten in a corner of his mind, after craving this all night. Eclipse let out a small tortured sound, the stretch producing a slight sting, and Azriel noticed how incredibly tight she was. He couldn't help the slight furrow in his brow, not when the evidence of the slight pain was as clear on her features as water.

"Eclipse." he called, her eyes fixed on him once more. "When was the last time you did this?"

The question caught her off guard, Eclipse blinked.

When was the last time she had had sex? The answer quickly reached her. Years. It had been years since she had touched anyone in this way, and she hadn't wanted to either.

As if anyone could blame her, with everything she had experienced to get to this point.

Eclipse didn't open her mouth, but she was sure that Azriel could see the clear answer in her eyes. He didn't hesitate, he brushed some strands away from Eclipse's face, his hand cradling her cheek and kissed her again.

He swiftly maneuvered to sit Eclipse on the edge of the bed and position himself in front of her on his knees. Eclipse looked at him with curiosity, expectantly. He just smiled at her, his mouth attacked her neck again and made his way down, leaving marks along the way. Marks that would last until tomorrow.

His scarred hands found the back of her knees and pushed her forward. He didn't bother with foreplay.

He lifted the fabric of her dress until it ended up bunched up around her waist, and took the edge of her black panties and removed them, throwing them somewhere in her room that he really didn’t care about.

He pressed his swollen lips against Eclipse's inner thigh and listened to her pant, taking a slow, torturous path upwards. And just before reaching her needy, soaked sex, his lips found the skin of her other thigh.

"Azriel." Eclipse whimpered, a complaint. His teeth sank softly into the skin in response.

"Patience." was all he said as he pressed kiss after kiss, each one closer to where she needed it most, each slower. He stopped for a second to observe her, his cock throbbing painfully against his pants as he saw her. He raised his gaze to find Eclipse's flushed face looking at him, her lipstick ruined, probably he had the remnants of the red tint on his own lips as well, but he couldn't care less. He just lowered his gaze back to her wet pussy, begging for his attention, and licked his lips before placing each of her thighs over his shoulders and burying himself deeply between her legs. Devouring her as if she were the elixir of life.

His tongue licked between her folds, from her entrance to the apex and back down until his tongue was soaked from her essence and went back up, easily finding her clit and using the tip of his tongue to draw tight circles, her taste intoxicating him, making him eager for more. He sucked the nerve a second later and Eclipse trembled under his expert mouth. His hand rested on her lower abdomen, keeping her in place as his tongue played over her clit. Eclipse let out a moan from the depths of her chest. Her head thrown back, sensations engulfing her, ravishing her.

His tongue felt so, so good against her that her moans were almost whimpers as he devoured her, like a hungry man. She didn't know how much, how much, she had longed for this until she had it. And there wasn’t a part of her that he hadn't licked, nibbled, or sucked. The tension in her lower stomach became more prominent, the knot tighter, her hips moved involuntarily against his face, his hand pushing her down, the grip firm.

"Azriel." she breathed, her face contorted by pleasure as she felt her legs tremble. Barely able to process a rational thought, unable to contain the sounds that came out of her mouth again and again.

Azriel inserted a finger, slowly this time. Her soft walls welcomed it eagerly, urging him to go deeper. He pumped gently and when he was sure she could handle it, he inserted another finger. The rough touch from his scarred hands made her roll her eyes.

Eclipse felt a ghostly touch on her breasts, then circling her nipples. She let out another whimper, feeling like everything was too much and nothing at the same time.

His name came out of her lips frantically, the tension building barely bearable.

"Are you going to come on my face, sweetheart?" Azriel murmured, sending vibrations through her core. He only heard a moan, or a whimper, in response. He caught her nerve between his teeth, a gentle pressure.

"Words, dear. Use your words."

"Y-yes." Eclipse breathed, Azriel curled the fingers he had inside of her, looking for that sweet spot that would make her see stars. Azriel knew he had found it when another moan, one that made his cock ache with how hard it was, came from her lips.

"Then do it, come for me."

His lips found the sensitive bud and sucked it, hard.

Eclipse felt the knot in her stomach tighten until she couldn't take it anymore, her eyes filled with tears as she came, the climax hitting her faster than she would have believed possible. Her legs trembling, waves and waves of pleasure breaking her into a thousand pieces and making her whole again as Azriel continued working on her tender center, more gently, to carry her through her orgasm but not overstimulate her.

A thin layer of sweat rested on Eclipse's skin.

The sounds she let out were the most exciting thing he had ever heard in his life, music to his ears.

"Do you think you can handle another finger, darling?"his hesitant voice filled her ears when she had calmed down, come down from her height. She hummed an affirmation, her breath irregular.

Azriel knew he would need a third finger inside her if he even hoped she could handle it entirely. Although the primitive need to taste her was much greater, the need to bury his tongue deep into her and taste everything she had to give him, he vowed to himself that he would. At another time, he would devote himself to testing her limits, to taste the essence of her climax. But for now, he simply added another finger.

Eclipse felt so full and sensitive, her internal walls inevitably tightened against the three fingers, which expertly curved against that spot.

Azriel ran his tongue gently over the swollen bud, reminding himself that she had just come, stopping himself from being rough against her sensitive clit.

Eclipse whimpered, Azriel's fingers entering and exiting, and the shadows curved over her nipples. Biting gently.

"Azriel." Eclipse begged, composing herself on her elbows. The sight of him, kneeling in front of her, with his mouth working on her pussy, was enough to send her to the edge again.

The only thought in her mind, as her entire world fell apart around her and there was only the devastating pleasure that ruined and repaired her at the same time, was that a long, very long night awaited her.

And perhaps, just perhaps, she wouldn't hate solstices so much from now on.

#acotar #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #azriel x oc #azriel x original character #azriel x reader #azriel smut #azriel fluff #azriel x reader smut #azriel x reader fluff #acomaf #acowar #acosf #cassian acotar #feyre archeron #elain archeron #rhysand

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rosietrace · 5 months

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This is a personal rant about my thoughts on Greek mythology retellings, and just the way Fantasy books and the publishing industry is at this point 🧍‍♀️

I have nothing against Greek mythology retellings, or just anything Greek mythology related in fantasy in general!

However, I have certain gripes about the way Greek mythology is portrayed in media, specifically in the way its interpreted in Fantasy.

[ More under the cut! ]

I love Percy Jackson, and I think that Uncle Rick did a wonderful job at expanding the world and making Greek, Roman, Egyptian, and Norse mythology entertaining and easily digestible for young audiences. Genuinely, he does a better job at writing children's books than R*wling could ever be capable of.

However, as much as I can love PJO as much as I do, I still find certain bits of the world building and character writing as... Very hit and miss.

To start, I don't like the way Ares was written in the series. I can understand that it would make sense for his personality to be that way, because he's the God of War and it helps with Clarisse's character development; but I find fault in it because Ares in the myths is nothing like PJO Ares. (He literally killed one of Poseidon's sons because he raped his daughter, Alcippe, and he's one of the only gods who doesn't hump anything that can breathe in air. At least Ares has the courtesy of asking for consent 💀)

The Gods being the reason behind WWII and Hitler being a child of Hades. All I must say.

The portrayal of the Aphrodite cabin

The fact that Athena can have children. Annabeth, pjo fandom at large, I love you are, but you gotta admit it must've felt weird when you first read the books and you find out Athena — the maiden Goddess of Wisdom — can have offspring. Regardless of the reasoning, I still find it weird 😭 (EDIT: I've now just remembered that it was a reference to how Athena herself was created 🤡 I'm a clown)

I get that the Hermes cabin is also the cabin for the unclaimed, but couldn't have Hestia's cabin worked too? She doesn't have offspring, sure, but it probably would've made more sense for the unclaimed to go to Hestia's cabin so that the Hermes cabin wouldn't be so crowded

This isn't really a world building issue, but I think I should bring it up: I'm not saying this against the Kane Chronicles fandom, but... Sadie and Anubis. Why. Like you can't convince me that no one WASN'T weirded out by that.

Less of a complaint and more of a question because I can't remember if the question was answered in HoO or not, but when Percy told the Gods to start claiming their unclaimed children and be more decent parents (as he should, go off king), did that request apply to the Romans at Camp Jupiter too? Because that's gotta have been confusing when the unclaimed kids at CP suddenly started getting claimed 😭😭

I could go on a whole ass tangent about PJO, but that would make this post longer than it needs to be 😭😭 and any of the points might not make much sense, since I haven't read the books in a LONG time

Off to the YA Fantasy segment... Hoo boy.

The oversaturation of Hades/Persephone retellings makes me SEETHE. Why is it always Hades and Persephone why can't it be something else 😭

I just don't like the “modern feminist” retellings of Greek myths in the YA Fantasy genre, in general. They tend to completely miss the point of the original myth, and it's the case with a lot of Hades and Persephone retellings where they try to paint Hades as the good guy taking Persephone away from her control freak mother, Demeter.

Because that wasn't what the myth was about. The myth isn't a love story, at least, not a romantic one. It was about Demeter's love for Persephone and how much she wanted her daughter back after Hades stole her away. Keep in mind, in the historical context of the myth, the daughters of women in ancient Greece never really get to see their mothers after their engagements are solidified.

If they wanted to make a “feminist” retelling of the myth, they'd have it centered around the love Demeter had for Persephone to almost doom the mortal realm to an eternal winter to get her back.

I love the myth of Hades and Persephone, truly, I do. I understand the appeal it has on people, the appeal it has one me. I can see why people adore the myth in the way they do because Hades is one of the better husbands in Greek mythology (a low bar, but my point still stands).

Personally, I blame Lore Olympus and especially the video of the myth by Overly Sarcastic Productions for the way the myth is portrayed in mass media. And I say this as a former LO fan and a fan of Overly Sarcastic Productions 😭

I'd also want to go into my many, MANY gripes about “Crown of Starlight” by Cait Corrain, but in all honesty? I don't think I can properly convey how much I DESPISE Cait and their book. So I'd highly recommend y'all to check out the videos about Cait Corrain by Reads With Rachel, WithCindy, and Xiran Jay Zhao on YouTube if you're interested in going into more detail about the controversies, especially for those who weren't made aware of it.

I feel like the publishing industry just... Isn't good anymore, after Booktok went viral. Reading has been “hot girlified”, and all Booktok seems to ask when they get recommended a book is: “Is it spicy??”

Reading is like fast fashion, now. It's all based around certain popular tropes that that's how books are promoted now. Not for the plot — or sometimes lack thereof — but for the tropes the book has.

The only thing I can thank Booktok for is that they helped me discover The Cruel Prince. And even then, it's marketed as romance on there, when it's a political fantasy with a romance subplot.

‼️ Woah! A secret bonus section! ‼️

I, personally, don't read — nor do I like — Sarah J Maas. (Especially considering the problematic aspects of her storytelling, character portrayals, and is (apparently, correct me if I'm wrong) a Zionist)

However, that isn't to say that I don't like some of the characters she makes. A lot of them have potential, actually! From what I've seen, I think Nesta, Gwyn, Azriel, Eris, Tamlin and Lucien from ACOTAR are the only characters I actually like, based on what I've heard — and seen — on anything in the SJM critical tag on this hellsite.

And while we're at it, let's discuss the elephant in the room with ACOTAR, right? Rhysand.

By all that is good and holy, I hate Rhysand so much and I think I'd hate him even more if I actually READ the books. I don't get why Booktok is so invested in him when Maas retconned Tamlin's character to make him look better as Feyre's love interest.

Also, from what I recall, didn't Rhysand sexually assault Feyre? And he didn't bother to apologize for it, and justified it with his sad tragic backstory??

I can't with y'all, istg 😭 the fact that “Feysand” is apparently a Hades and Persephone retelling too makes me even more mad about it because it isn't even a GOOD retelling. It just takes away what ACOTAR originally was— a Beauty and the Beast retelling, with Feyre and Tamlin as the leads.

Didn't Maas dedicate ACOTAR to her husband because “He would go under the mountain” for her??? BECAUSE IT CERTAINLY WASN'T RHYSAND WHO SAVED FEYRE FROM UTM, I'LL TELL YOU THAT

I think, out of all the series Maas has made thus far, Throne of Glass is the only one I ACTUALLY kind of like, based on what I've heard. Crescent City seems to be too complicated to understand, and even though I've never read it myself, I miss what ACOTAR could've been. (My hope lies with Nesta, Elucien and Gwynriel, at this point)

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hmslusitania · 1 year

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Ted Lasso is a portal fantasy

I know, I know it's not in any way a speculative fiction show. I know. Bear with me for a second. Ted Lasso is a portal fantasy, but the real question is whether this is the story we know from the Wizard of Oz, or Mary Poppins. Ted himself is at once Dorothy and Mary, and I think my reaction to the end of Ted's story, specifically, depends on whether you take the show at it’s title, that it’s about Ted Lasso (Dorothy) or take the show at Ted’s word that it was never about him (Mary Poppins).

To Ted, he is very literally Dorothy.

He’s away from Kansas, he’s surrounded by the reminder that “there’s no place like home”, and he spent the finale wearing honest to god ruby red sneakers. The evil wizard stalked down from his curtained owners box and was removed from power. The lion got her courage, the tin man for his heart, and the scarecrow got his brain, and Dorothy went back to Kansas (leaving Toto behind). But unlike Dorothy, we didn't really get the build up that Ted had to go back to Kansas to get what he wanted -- Henry back in his life. Rebecca even offered him the choice to stay, and the means to bring Henry and even Michelle back to London with him. Exactly zero compelling reason was offered to explain why Ted wouldn't take that offer. But he's Dorothy, in a portal fantasy, and that's what Dorothy does -- she goes home. It is the ending of the vast majority of portal fantasies, no matter how much it will fuck up the protagonist (there's a whole series detailing that damage and undoing it by tumblr's own Seanan McGuire which I highly recommend btw). To me, this is an unsatisfying ending for Ted himself, since no reason was given for him to turn down Rebecca's offer.

However.

To the Richmond family, Ted is Mary Poppins.

One of the complaints I’ve seen about this season is that we don’t know where Ted is, emotionally. Much like Mary Poppins, whose internality as a character is, at best, an afterthought. Mary Poppins is not the point of Mary Poppins. The children she helps are the point of Mary Poppins, and when she leaves at the end, although you’re sad to see her go, you know the kids she left there have grown as people and will continue to grow by her example and her benevolent Julie Andrews ways. And by and large, you don’t really worry about the place Mary Poppins goes to. She’s Mary Poppins and she’ll do what she does and ours is not to question etc. ("Mary Poppins isn't a portal fantasy" yeah, I know, technically, but it's kind of an inside out portal fantasy since there's a character who came from another kind of realm, who swept in to be the answer to some problem, and then went home {or, wherever}; it's just we're seeing it from the pov of the locals rather than the person from the other realm.)

The Richmond Team have all grown as people under Ted's stewardship. As we’ve seen in the character progressions particularly of Roy, of Nate, of Rebecca, they will continue in the Richmond way that they’ve developed. Forever changed by Ted sailing in on his parasol, missing him certainly, but able to continue. More narrative weight is given to the Mary Poppins side of the story, and in this scenario, I take much, much less issue with Ted's the character's ending.

In conclusion, Ted Lasso is the story of Mary Poppins staring Dorothy Gale in the titular role.

#Ted lasso #Ted lasso spoilers

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nyrtopia · 7 months

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Because there's SO LITTLE of my bf Teylan,

Could we pretty please have some dating headcanons with Teylan 💜🫶

Of course I can, Teylan is so underrated and one of my favorites. :]

｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡

ﾟ。 Dating Teylan ✉

ﾟ･｡･ﾟ

Teylan x Gender Neutral Reader | Avatar Frontiers of Pandora | Fluff

➛ His favorite place to kiss of yours, is your wrists. Not sure why, he enjoys paying attention to the weakest parts of your body.

➛ When you go on missions, Priya literally has to PULL him away from the communication device. Or else he'd be buzzing in every 5 seconds making sure you're okay.

➛ He is really self conscious, after everything with Mercer he has issues trusting that you truly love him.

➛ Thus coming to his love languages: Words of Affirmation and Physical Touch. If he could hold you forever, he would.

➛ Since he doesn't have an Ikran (yet) he often goes out looking for Berries to bring you. Or he'll trade something with one of the cooks so that when you come back you'll have something delicious to eat!

➛ He absolutely worships the ground you walk on, he truly feels like you're his saving grace. He always felt out of place with the Sarentu, but you made him feel as if he was the only Na'vi on Pandora.

➛ You two have matching warpaint, it's a mix of Sarentu & Your Clans colors!

➛ He is always talking about you around the resistance camp, whether it be to Ri'nela when she's teaching him how to craft arrows. Or Raj when he's looking at new gear.

➛ He is respectful of all your boundaries, he himself has some so he is easy to understand how you feel. All he wants is that you're comfortable within the relationship.

➛ Hand kisses!!!

➛ You taking him for rides on your Ikran, he's never flown before so he's nervous. But he's thankful that his first experience on an Ikran was with you.

➛ Always calling you “tanhì” or “ma’tanhì” which means star / my star. Because no matter what he will always follow you home.

➛ You always tease him by stealing his hat, although he thinks it looks way better on you than it does on him.

➛ You help him understand the Na'vi traditions by telling him stories, taking him to new places, introducing him to your clan (if you're not Sarentu.)

➛ If you're Sarentu you'll sing your people's songs to him when the two of you are alone. Before, he was scared he'd lose that part of him. But you're always there to remind him it's not going anywhere.

➛ When he goes for walks around Pandora, he always picks the most beautiful assortment of flowers for you. Your favorite too, he remembered after hearing you talk about it during dinner.

➛ You're his protector, mostly in the beginning when he's new to Pandora. But as he becomes more comfortable you two protect one another and things become balanced.

➛ He's less afraid when he's with you, he doesn't feel the need to be someone he isn't or to succumb to what others want him to be. He's just himself with you.

➛ The courting process was so sweet, he was very intentional when it came to his tactics. If you needed something but wasn't sure how to acquire it, he'd search high and low to be able to gift you what you needed. His favorite gifts to you were handmade bracelets, he learned to weave from one of the Aranahe weavers. They taught him when he went to visit their hometree.

➛ Ri'nela is so supportive of your relationship, she saw how Teylan was alienated from her and the other Sarentu. She's glad he finally has someone who truly cares about him, and isn't just manipulating him like Mercer.

#avatar fandom #sarentu #teylan #teylan avatar frontiers of pandora #frontiers of pandora #afop #afop fanfic #teylan fanfic #avatar headcanons #avatar fanfic #avatar fic #avatar frontiers of pandora #Aranahe #Teylan x Reader #teylan x you

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linkspooky · 3 months

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Spinner ending kind of confirmed for me that even if Horikoshi does bring back Shigaraki/Tenko, it won't be so he can heal the League, and they can reform together. I get the sense that we are even supposed to feel like all of the villains *deserved* their fates, that it isn't something they deserve saving *from*. It's like he couldn't decide between having them be evil + getting punished for it and having them be sympathetic to an extend + humanising them. I'm seriously trying my hardest to wrap my head around this, it feels so cruel??

I already talked about it in this post, but Obito's death is a much better example of how to "save the villain's heart" then what MHA is trying to sell us.

It's this excessive focus on whether or not the league's crimes are forgivable that's really the problem, because it comes down to the implication that once the league has crossed a certain line into unforgivable territory they're "no longer human" and therefore not deserving of human empathy for what they've suffered.

The main characters constantly use that line "I can't forgive them" so they don't have to think about the league as human beings who have suffered greatly.

What does it matter if they're forgivable or not? My Hero Academia is not a work that analyzes moral philosophy. I'm not reading Crime and Punishment here.

The theme they brought up is "Are heroes obligated to save the villains too, even if those villains have done unforgivable things."

I've stated this before but whether their crimes are forgivable or not is irrelevant to that question, because it's about the heroes obligation to save everyone not pick and choose who to save. They are government servants who are supposed to use their quirk to stop villains and save lives, but at the start of the story heroes only focus on the brutally beating down villains part of the job. The central theme of the manga is that the greatest hero wins by saving, and saves by winning, therefore Deku must save even his enemies.

The worst part is that despite bringing up the topic of forgiveness, MHA basically has nothing to say about the issue of what should be forgiven, what shouldn't, and how justice should be applied in this situation. It is wildly inconsistent because the villains are all held to task, whereas characters like hawks are never held accountable, and Enji while put in a wheelchair suffers way less consequences than his son and victim Toya.

Since MHA has like nothing intelligent to say about accountability, redemption and what merits justice and what merits forgiveness it might as well have just swept everything the villains did under the rug and thrown them in prison because we would have gotten the same result regardless. The story never addresses anything it brings up or applies consequences to the heroes so why do villains need consequences too?

I'm reading another comic right now Gunnerkrigg court, which actually discusses these themes of morality, and whether victims should be saved even if they've harmed others in the past.

Zimmy is a character being used as a human battery for the court's (a shadowy organizations) plan to create a new world without the Ether, which is a chaotic force that warps reality. Omega is a character who is for this plan, because she is 1) a semi-omniscient being who sacrificed her own bodily autonomy in order to help the court by giving them predictions of the future that furthered it's plans.

(Therefore, she does have the understandable perspective of, Well I sacrificed myself for the greater good so why can't Zimmy?)

and 2) Zimmy is kind of a jerk, who has an incredibly dangerous ability that puts everyone around her in harm's way. Therefore if you're going to sacrifice someone for the greater good she makes sense.

Zimmy isn't a perfect victim. She constantly gaslights her girlfriend by telling her that everyone hates her except for her so she'll never leave. (A girlfriend who is rather selflessly devoted to I might add). She is like, a walking bomb ready to go off at any moment.

At the same time the story never minimizes Zimmy's suffering with the idea that she "deserves it" for being a bad victim. The main character is consistently advocating for her, which also SHOWS the main character's empathy rather than MHA's habit of continually INISTING upon Deku's empathy without ever showing it.

I don't think the author expects us to side with Omega, but it does entertain her argument so it's a two sided discussion. To cap this off I hope this demonstrates the difference between what I think is a thoughtful depiction of a bad victim and to what extent the main characters are responsible for saving them, and a completely thoughtless one and why one is more entertaining to read than the other.

#mha critical #askspookies #the mha critical tag is just entirely my posts by this point #sorry about that guys #at least i add in text citations to my bitching

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ahgasegotarmy116 · 9 months

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He Doesn't Deserve You | A Jeon Jungkook Series | Chapter Two

Summary: You decide to finally do something for yourself and ease your mind Pairing: Noona reader x Jeon Jungkook (She's 28 and he's 22) Word Count: 3.5k Warnings: Not too much for this chapter in particular besides mentions of domestic violence BUT yändere, manipulation, self harm, cheating, explicit language, smut, angst throughout the rest of the story a/n: Since you guys seem to be really liking this story I worked hard to get chapter two out quickly! Let me know what you think! p.s. Fuck me y'all I literally deleted chapter 2 but luckily I write on wattpad and I was able to restore it. I was literally about to cry Requested by the lovely: @kkusadmirer 💜

We had another fight.

Honestly I don't even remember what it was about, something stupid like I left the door open after I came in with the groceries and forgot to lock it. Or maybe it was the fact that I actually left the house and got them instead of just ordering them to get dropped off on the doorstep.

He always tells me it's too dangerous out there or that I should just wait for him to go with me instead. If I did that though we would never have any food here and I'm not about to order takeout for every meal.

I don't understand why leaving the door open would be such an issue. We live in a relatively nice complex and our neighbors always make sure to look out for me so I don't understand why something as simple as that could set him off.

But then again it doesn't take much to set him off these days, I guess it was something I should've expected.

He hasn't been home for two days and at this point I've decided that maybe it's time I went out for the night. Nothing crazy or anything but just, out.

Putting on yet another turtleneck I make sure that the old and new marks are covered. I've taken it a step further and put some makeup on to make sure that no one will notice. Although I doubt anyone would notice me anyways since I usually fade into the background.

But tonight isn't about feeling insecure in myself. Tonight is the night where I finally do something on my own and get out of the house.

Taking out my phone I look up the address for the local pub I've decided to go to, making sure to wear comfortable boots since it's a little ways away. I'm luck that it's winter right now so bundling up is normal, making my outfit even less suspicious.

Taking a couple of deep breaths I reach for the handle, unlock the door and step outside.

'Should I really be doing this?' I question but before I'm able to second guess myself I hear our next door neighbor unlock her door as well and step outside her door.

"Oh, y/n. What a pleasant surprise! It's been a while since I've seen your pretty face" she says scanning my features, clearly having heard the fight we had had the other day and making sure that I look okay.

"Hi Mrs. Mitchell. How have you and Mr. Mitchell been?" I ask, returning her warm greeting but feeling awkward talking to someone that isn't Taehyung or my editor.

"As well as we could be I suppose. Harry just turned 73 last month so he's been complaining about how old he his and how his knees don't work the way they used to. What can you expect when you get to our age?" she says, chuckling at her husband who is a few years younger than her.

"Seems like no matter how old men get, they still whine and complain whenever they get sick or injured" she continues, clearly trying to lighten my spirits. "I guess so" I say, not daring to bad mouth Taehyung since he's probably already gotten a pretty bad reputation around here with everything we've been through over the past few years.

Sometimes I'm surprised by the fact that we haven't gotten evicted with all of the noise complaints we've gotten.

He always makes me answer each and every call from our building even though he's the one responsible for a majority of the noise but he always makes sure to stand close by to make sure I don't ask them to send help no matter how severe things have gotten.

"Where are you off to?" she asks taking note of the fact that it's getting late in the evening. "I figured I might just head over to the pub a few streets down and see if I can clear my head for a while" I say, not bothering to give more information than necessary. Not that there would be any more information to give.

"Good for you dear! It's always good to go out and get a new perspective on life. Let me know anytime if you need any help alright? Oh and I'm so excited to read your next book!" she says and with that last part catching me off guard. "You've read my books?" I question, taken aback and almost embarrassed at the fact that a woman of her age would be reading the type of genre I write, let alone my own.

"Of course dear! As soon as I found out that you were a writer I went straight to the bookstore and bought all of them! You really are very talented" she finishes, with a glimmer of admiration in her eye.

"Thank you so much, your support means the world to me, truly" I finish and she quickly shoo me off, apologizing for holding me hostage.

"Next time I see you I'll sign your copies if you'd like" I offer and the look on her face is absolutely priceless.

"I'll make sure to have them sitting by the front door with a pen in hand!" she beams and I wave one last goodbye before I make my way to my destination.

~~~~

Walking in the doors of The Blue Pearl I'm greeted by the sound of soft rock being played in the background and a low murmur of the small amount of people spread through out. This pub seems to be a little old fashioned so I guess it's not a big draw for the younger rowdier crowds. Which was exactly what I was looking for.

Just a slow night to clear my head and a strong drink to drown my sorrows. Knowing me though I'll probably stop after one or two drinks.

I decide to sit at the bar on the stool closest to the wall and wave the bartender over.

"Surprise me, something sweet but something strong" I say trying to sound as confident as I can. "You got it" she says and comes back soon with a pink drink of some sort a few moments later. "What is this?" I ask after taking a sip, already dying for another one at the fruity but subtly sweet drink.

"I like to call it The Slut Puppy" she says with a proud smile. I tilt my head when I look at her, confused as to how she came up with the name. "I'm still workshopping it to be honest but your reaction to the name definitely played true to the puppy part. I laugh realizing that I subconsciously played into her game and she laughs right along with me.

"Long night?" she asks after I've settled in, using her bartender powers to see right through my act while walking away a bit to clean up the shaker she had used to make my drink.

"Try long life" I say, rolling my eyes before taking a sip of my drink again, sighing in contentment. "That bad huh?" she laughs bitterly, knowing one way or another that what I'm dealing with is beyond fucked. "Let's just say the best part of my week so far has been this drink" I and steal a quick glance at her, embarrassed that my words are flowing so easily to a complete stranger.

"But it's Saturday night" she say with her brows pinched together. "Exactly" I say and before I can even ask she decides to grab another shaker and makes me another drink which I accept with a somber smile. "I put some extra ice in this one so don't worry it's not gonna go straight to your head" she says, looking out for me as if she were someone I had known for my whole life.

"I'm y/n by the way" I say, hoping to move from strangers to acquaintances at the very least. "Rae" she answers before tending to another patron.

"So y/n" she starts as she makes her way back over to me "what do you do?" she asks, maintaining conversation but not trying to pry when it comes to what I'm clearly upset about.

"I'm a writer" I answer and her interest is immediately peaked. "A writer? Really? What do you write about?" she asks, leaning up against the counter so she can hear me a bit better.

"To be honest my stories are pretty fucked up romance novels" I say scratching the top of my head feeling a bit awkward at the confession.

"Sounds like my type of book" she laughs. I let out a breath, thankful that I won't have to explain myself to her since this genre isn't everyone's cup of tea. "So what are some books that you've written? Maybe I've read one before" she says going back to cleaning up a few things, making sure to use her time wisely.

"Well 'Trials of the Broken' is one of them. It's my best seller at the moment. I'm actually working on writing the sequel right now" I respond, embarrassed but proud of my achievements all the same.

"I think I've heard of that one! My friends have been trying to get me to read it but I never got around to it" she says, surprised at her chances of meeting me.

"If you ever get around to it then let me know what you think" I say, now kicking myself for putting on the pressure for her to read it. "I definitely will" she says and makes her way over to the other side of the bar to serve some more patrons that just made their way inside.

Glancing over at them I notice one that is a few steps behind the crowd, making me question if he's come here alone but I go back to looking at my drink, trying my best not to stare.

My eyes somehow manage to drag themselves over toward him as he places his order and waits for Rae to make it.

He takes off his hood and I'm met with first, the sight of his sharp jaw, then his shaggy hair he ruffled as soon as the hood dropped and finally his lips, the bottom one pierced twice rested in a soft smile. I realize though that the only way I would be seeing his full on smile would be if he was looking back at me and I make somewhat panicked eye contact with him before quickly turning my head in the other direction.

'Great job y/n, drooling over the first hot guy you see. He's probably going to think I'm some sort of creep now' my thoughts thought are interrupted with the sound of what I believe to be is a drink set down on the counter a few seats away from me.

"Is it alright if I sit here?" a smooth baritone voice says, making butterflies fill my stomach.

"Um yeah sure" I say, taking a sip of my drink before glancing at him, quickly looking away again before I start to stare again.

"So how's your night going?" he asks, clearly in an effort to make small talk.

"It's going. How about yours?" I question back and see that he's no longer looking at me, instead watching as he swirls his mystery drink around in his cup. "About the same" he chuckles, clearly amused with both of our lack of effort to divulge any details.

We sit there for a second or two in silence before Rae walks over and gives me another drink. I watched her make it and I can tell she she went even easier on the alcohol this time and makes sure to question nonverbally if I'm alright to which I nod.

"What are you drinking?" he asks, smiling at the visual of the bright pink drink with two cherries placed on top. "You're gonna laugh" I say, brushing a piece of hair behind my ear, feeling a little apprehensive saying words like this to a complete stranger (a hot one at that).

"It's-" "It's called a Slut Puppy" Rae interrupts from the other side of the bar, not even bothering to hide the fact that she was clearly listening. "Um yeah, that" I chuckle, taking a big sip of it to hopefully calm my nerves.

"A slut puppy?" he asks, flashing an amused smile at me, sending my heart beat into overload. "Her name, not mine" I laugh awkwardly. Trying, but failing at sounding normal but from the looks of it he doesn't seem to mind. "Right" he says dragging out the first syllable before taking a sip of his drink.

"Do you guys know each other?" he asks, curious as to who our not so secret eavesdropper is. "Kinda. We just met. Although it almost seems like I've known her my whole life" I say smiling at her, thankful for the fact that she was able to lift my spirits so easily.

"It's nice when you meet people like that" he says and when I bring my attention back over to him I can tell that he's been looking at me for a while, making me shy all over again.

"Oh, I'm Jungkook by the way" he says holding out his hand, and I turn my stool towards him and shake it, fixing what would've been an awkward angle if I had stayed in place. He after seeing what I had done decides to turn as well, angling his body towards me and I notice now that there's only one seat between us. A respectful distance, making me feel a bit more comfortable talking to him.

"I'm y/n" I say and he gives me a soft smile, whispering my name under his breath, almost as if he were trying to keep it as a secret all for himself. "So y/n, what's your story?" he asks, withdrawing his hand at almost the same time I do and goes back to taking another sip of his drink, making sure to keep his sparkly eyes trained on me.

'Sparkly? Y/n you are a married woman. You shouldn't even be talking to this guy'.

"My story? Well to be honest there's not much to tell. I grew up and went to school in the city and now I'm a writer. There's not much else to my life if I'm being honest" I say, doing my best to maintain conversation but also not give away too much.

"That ring on your finger says otherwise" he says, nodding towards it and playing around with his straw. Not in an abrasive way but more as if to remind me of something else that I might've forgotten.

"Oh, um yeah" I say, showing him the ring up for a second to confirm his suspicions but pull my sweater down to cover it up a second later, hoping he won't ask anything else about that aspect but unfortunately luck is not on my side in that department tonight.

"Is that why you're here? Needed to get away for a while?" he asks, curious but not insinuating anything that I would expect a guy of his age would be asking me. "I guess you could say that" I say taking a deep breath deciding that if he's asking I might as well get the male perspective while I can.

"With being a writer and everything I'm pretty much cooped up in the house all day. Which for me is fine and it's been like that for a few years" I say, taking a second to try and figure out how to formulate my next words carefully, not wanting his to worry or judge the situation too much.

"I'm sensing there's a 'but' here" he chuckles and takes another sip of his drink and waves at Rae in an effort to get both of us both another drink without me noticing to avoid protest. "But" I start out, confirming his suspicions. "with my husband being used to me doing that all the time he tends to get a bit, how should I say this..." I trial off, still not sure how to phrase it.

"Controlling?" he offers, a bit more blunt than his other responses. "Worried" I counter, although his word is more accurate than mine. He nods a bit, clearly not believing my words but doesn't press in hopes that I will continue. "He's worried that something might happen to me if I go out alone. That someone might recognize me because of my books and try to do something like kidnap me" I say, fully confident in my words.

I hear Jungkook snort beside me a second later, leaving me looking over at him with my brows scrunched up. "What's so funny?" I ask, confused and almost annoyed by his reaction. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry continue" he says doing his best to calm down. "No, what about that is so funny?" I press as I can clearly see that he's still trying to hold his laughter in.

"I'm sorry y/n it's just, well isn't kidnapping a little bit of a stretch?" he says, clearing his throat and breathing through what he thought was a ridiculous excuse. "Woman and children get kidnapped everyday! Look up the statistics!" I retort, trying to convince him that there's truth to Taehyung's argument.

"Yes, I know that it happens a lot, but you can't let that keep you from going outside and living life. It's a horrible thing and I don't understand why anyone would do such a thing but you can't use it as a way to cripple yourself from ever leaving your house" he says, this time being completely serious and trying his best to convince me that I shouldn't be living like this.

"I'm out now aren't I?" I argue, and to that he nods his head but presses further. "How long has it been since you've been out like this though?" he asks and I just let my head droop a bit in response before taking a sip of my new drink.

"Well I'm proud of you for coming out tonight and doing this for yourself. And look, you're completely safe. Plus seems like you've already made two new friends tonight" he laughs motioning to himself and Rae and when I look over at her all I can see is her bright smile, happy to see me getting more comfortable.

"Who knows though, you might just be acting nice to me just so I'll let my guard down so you can kidnap me" I tease and at that he acts like he's offended, throwing his hand over his heart as if I had shot him.

"You hurt me with your words. It's a shame though, I was just in the market for a new best friend" he says, wiping away a fake tear. "Or in the market for some fresh meat" I continue laughing at his act. "Twist the knife why don't you" he says, now resorting to pouting.

"Aw, it's okay I didn't mean it" I say patting his shoulder in an effort to apologize. "You better not" he says looking at me, still pouting. "Come on, let's turn that frown upside down. Why don't I buy you a drink?" I ask as a way to make amends.

"No that's alright, I've actually gotta get going" he says, pulling out his wallet and placing some cash on the counter to more than cover his drinks. "Let me get you some change" Rae steps in, quick to help since she is otherwise unoccupied. "No it's okay, use it to cover us both and then keep the change" he says as he straightens out his jacket a bit.

"No you don't have to do that" I argue and go to take some cash out of my purse as well. "It's okay I got it. But if you want to make it up to me I'll always take your number as payment" he says with a cheeky smile.

"Just as friends of course! I would never want to seduce a married woman" he says, jumping over himself, making me sure I know his intensions are pure.

"Can we do email? I spend most of my time on my computer so it's easier for me" I say, making excuses as to not giving it to him. "As long as you promise not to mark my messages as spam" he jokes and hands me his phone so I can add it in. "I promise. It was really nice to meet you Jungkook" I say handing it back to him, our hands touching a few moments longer for it to be seen as something with the promise of being platonic.

"Take care" he says giving me a soft smile and then waves at Rae, clearly seeing her not even bothering to hide that she's staring at us.

"Bye" I say under my breath, not knowing how to feel about anything now that he's gone.

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