#he even says in the series that he reminds her of his dead little sister??????

[givemebishies]

Girlfriends

Boyfriends

[honeyedmiller]

A Burning Desire part four

firefighter!joel miller x f!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist

rating: 18+, minors dni

warnings: joel miller au, reader's family members finally get names in this, a whole lotta tooth-rotting fluff, sexual innuendos, sexual tension, your (fictional) brothers are a pain in the ass, reader has a nickname given by the brothers, smut (unprotected piv, f!oral receiving, fingering, body praise, quick handjob), no use of y/n.

word count: 9.2k (i'm so sorry)

a/n: sorry it took forever. life has been so hectic after graduating. thank you for sticking around <3

synopsis: you and joel take a road trip to san antonio for your sister’s wedding, and with feelings at an all-time high, you find it nearly impossible to resist each other.

“So what time are you and Joel leaving tomorrow?” Your sister asks on the other end of the line. 

Tomorrow was the rehearsal dinner for her wedding, and you had to drive out to San Antonio. Joel promised you countless times that he was more than happy to accompany you to the wedding, even though you warned him countless times about your family. 

“Probably around ten. He’s spending the night tonight so we can just get ready and leave in the morning.” You’re folding the last of your clothes to pack, phone tucked between your shoulder and ear as you mentally double check that you have everything you need in your suitcase. 

“Okay, good. Mom’s kind of upset that she hasn’t met this ‘mystery man’ as she calls it. She’s been dying to know all the details.” 

You roll your eyes and sigh, already knowing this weekend was going to be absolutely exhausting dealing with everyone. 

“She’ll literally meet him tomorrow. I kept our relationship at bay because of how she gets. Not to mention Andrew and Cole, and god knows what they’ll say to Joel tomorrow.” 

Your sister laughs, “That’s true. Can’t imagine they won’t harass him about treating you right. I’ll make sure to keep them in check.” 

“Em, you know they will. They hovered when Christian and I broke up.” 

“I know. But Joel’s a good man. The whole family will love him.” 

“I really hope you’re right.” 

“Always am. Call it big sister’s intuition.” 

“Funny.” You scoff with a smile, closing your suitcase. 

“I know. Hey, Josh and I have to talk to the wedding planner about a few last minute details. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” She says. 

“See you tomorrow, Em. Love you.” 

“Love you too!” 

The line goes dead and you sigh, tossing your phone onto your bed. You were trying to mentally prepare yourself for the hellfire you were going to receive after keeping Joel a secret for awhile. You looked at your bedside table and the alarm clock on top of it, red numbers blinking at you to remind you you still had a few more hours until Joel would be coming over. 

Nerves settled in about him meeting your family, but nobody could resist Joel and his Southern charm. You couldn’t help but fantasize that your whole family loved him, welcoming him in with open arms. God, you hope that was the case. 

-

You killed time by cooking some dinner and watching some more of The Bachelor, feeding into the drama of the show. You were so invested that you almost didn’t hear the knock on your door. 

The feeling of giddiness took over your body as you opened the door, revealing your boyfriend. He had a small smile on his face, but his eyes were tired. 

“Hey baby,” You say, stepping to the side for him, “C’mon in. I made us some dinner. Figured you could eat after your shift.” 

Joel groans in appreciation. “Thank you darlin’.” He sets his bag down and closes your door, locking it before wrapping his arms around you. He buried his face into your neck, breathing in your scent for a minute. 

You could sense something was wrong, but you didn’t want to push him about it. Maybe a little shove wouldn’t hurt, though.

You run your fingers through his soft curls before turning your head to the side to kiss his neck, separating yourself from him for a brief moment. 

“You okay?” Worry was evident in your voice, and he couldn’t help but melt at the concern written all over your face as you took his in between your hands. 

He nodded, but you weren’t convinced. You could see it in his eyes, sensing that he was holding something back. 

“You can talk to me, you know. If you’d like. I don’t want to push you if you’re not ready, though.” You take his hand and lead him to the couch, coaxing him to sit down. You climbed behind him, sitting down to slot your thighs on either side of his. 

You start to rub his back, slowly putting pressure on any knots that you’d found. You kiss him between his shoulder blades, silence consuming the both of you for a good few minutes before you hear his faint whisper. 

“Rough shift. Had a call that didn’t go so well. Kinda shook up the whole firehouse.” 

“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry.” You wrap your arms around his torso, resting your cheek on his back. His hands cover yours and swipe his thumbs over you. 

You hear him sniffle and your head shoots up, attempting to turn his head toward you. He resists at first, but eventually melts into your soft touch and turns his face toward yours as you slightly lean over his broad frame. 

“It’s okay, Joel. You never have to hide how you’re feeling from me. If you need to cry about it, that’s fine. I’ll never think you’re less of a man for showing your emotions.” 

He offers you a small smile before leaning in to kiss your forehead, softly knocking his against yours as he sighs. 

“I’ve been so used to suppressin’ rough calls for years. Nobody to turn to except my coworkers n’ Tommy, and even then it’s not somethin’ we all collectively talk about. My ex,” He huffs an angry laugh at the mention of her, “Sarah’s mom. She– she always told me that cryin’ about how tough my job can be sometimes isn’t somethin’ a real man does. No man should cry over a job. So I just pretended. I pretended that the job didn’t affect me anymore, that I was fine every time I came home. I pretended to be okay when in reality I jus’ wanted to fuckin’ scream and cry.” He turns his head to the side again as more tears silently cascade down his beautiful face. 

“Hey, look at me,” Your voice is soft, as if you’re trying not to scare an already frightened animal. “I can promise you that you never have to pretend with me.” You wipe his tears with your thumb, kissing his cheek softly as you continue to gently rub his back. 

“Y’don’t know how much that means to me, darlin’. It’s not easy carryin’ the weight of this job on my shoulders alone. I don’t want to burden you with any of it–”

“Hey, none of that alright? You’re not burdening me. I can’t even imagine the terrible things you’ve seen and endured while on the job. I swear to you that I’m here to listen. Or just be a shoulder to lay on. We don’t even need to talk if you don’t want to, but just know that option is always there.” 

He turns his head to kiss your temple, squeezing his eyes shut before leaning his head back onto your shoulder. 

The “L” word rolled around in your mind for a split second. A month and a half ago, it would’ve scared you. But now, being here with Joel, it just seemed so normal and comfortable. He may have felt the same too, you think. Maybe it was too early to tell. 

-

You wish it was a morning where you and Joel could laze around and relax. Waking up beside him gave you a sense of comfort you hadn’t experienced in so long. You secretly study his face as he sleeps: tan skin glowing from the morning sunlight, eyelashes fanned over his cheeks, messy curls resting haphazardly over his forehead, and plump lips parted as he emits soft snores. 

He’s so handsome. 

You couldn’t help but bring your hand out to trace his face with your fingertips, leaning forward to gently kiss his cheek. 

His eyebrows scrunch together as he slowly begins to wake from his slumber, hands shooting up to rub over his face. His eyes find yours when he drops his hands from his face, a grin curling onto his lips. 

“Mornin’ baby.” His voice was deep and raspy, still full of sleep. It made something stir deep down inside of you. 

“Morning, handsome.” You kiss the tip of his nose before sitting up to get out of bed, but Joel pulls you back by your wrist and maneuvers you so you’re laying on top of him. 

You laugh as he wraps his arms around you securely, making sure you can’t move an inch or wiggle away. 

“We gotta get up and get going, Joel.” 

He groans loudly, the sound vibrating his whole body and yours. “Five more minutes.” His muffled voice says from underneath you. 

“Uh uh, cowboy. C’mon, I’ll make you a thermos of coffee.” You tap his stomach twice before he releases you to stand on your feet. You make your way into the kitchen, fighting the urge to look back at Joel, because you knew you’d give him more than five minutes if you did. 

You start up the coffee pot and lean against the counter, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Joel emerges in the kitchen shortly after, leaning against the wall as he admires you in your sleepy state. 

“What?” You ask, cocking an eyebrow up at him. 

“Nothin’ baby.” He smiles before coming into the kitchen, lifting you up on the counter and slotting himself between your legs. 

“Mmmhm.” You say, putting your hands on his warm chest. You feel his heartbeat beneath your fingertips and notice it’s slightly elevated, which you can’t help but smile at. 

Joel leans in to you and kisses your neck, and you can’t help but loll your head to the side to give him better access. His lips graze over your pulse point and you instinctively grip onto his biceps, trying your hardest to suppress a moan. 

“Joel—” 

“Hm? What is it, pretty girl?” 

“If you keep doing that, we’re never—fuck— never gonna leave in time.” He pokes his tongue out and drags it down your jugular, kissing the base of your neck before lightly nibbling on your soft flesh. 

“Doin’ what, baby?” He teases, smirking against you. 

“You know what, cowboy,” And before he could retort, the coffee maker beeps to indicate Joel’s coffee was done. “Saved by the bell.” You mumble, gently separating yourself from Joel. His honey brown gaze bores into yours as he chuckles at your flustered state before sliding his phone out of his pocket. 

He types in the address to the hotel the wedding party was staying at. Joel meticulously calculates the stops you may need to make along the way before looking at you again. 

 “Should take us about an hour and a half to get there. Two hours if there’s heavy traffic.” 

“It’s not too late to back out, you know.” 

“‘N why would I do that, darlin’?” 

“To save yourself from the chaos that the weekend will bring. I can tell my family you had to work instead. Nobody can get mad at a firefighter for working.” 

Joel tosses his head back as he gutturally laughs, shoulders shaking. The whole thing was a little ridiculous, but you know how your family is, and you were ultimately just looking out for him. 

His gaze meets yours, a glint of adoration in his eyes as he leans forward. You can’t help the stupid grin that curls onto your lips as he gently nudges your body closer to his, finally slotting his lips with yours. 

You’ll never get tired of those butterflies that rumble rambunctiously in your tummy every time you kiss him. 

He leans back a little, and with his irresistible charm, winks at you before he huffs another small laugh. “Wouldn’t dream of it, baby.” 

You hop off the counter and pat his abdomen adoringly before flashing him a grin. “Well then, cowboy, let's get to it.”

-

The drive wasn’t as bad as you’d thought it would be, pulling up to the hotel around one in the afternoon. Joel unloads your luggage from the bed of his truck and you wrap your arm around his bicep, walking toward the lobby after he locks up. It was a fancy hotel located right next to the Riverwalk with a huge ballroom for the reception. You had to hand it to your sister and Josh; this place was absolutely beautiful. 

You walked up to the reception desk with Joel in tow, and the spunky brunette smiled as you approached her. 

“Hi, we’re here for the Martinez wedding.” 

“First name?” The receptionist asks, typing something into her computer. You give her your first name and she pulls two keys out of a cardholder, handing it over to you. 

“Ah, sister of the bride! How exciting. You two will be on the seventh floor, third room on the right after you get out of the elevator. Enjoy your stay.” 

“Thank you so much.” You say, taking the card keys from her before you step away from the desk. You and Joel were heading towards the elevator when you heard a familiar voice call your name, and you turned around to see your brothers. 

Panic overtook your body for a few seconds, glancing at Joel who gave you a small smile. How was he always so calm? 

“Thought you could sneak past us without saying hi?” Cole says with a shit-eating grin, eyeing Joel as he comes up to you to give you a hug. 

“You ain’t slick, Shadow.” Andrew says, hugging you after Cole. 

“God, Andy, seriously? That nickname?”

”What, you afraid we’re gonna embarrass you in front of your boyfriend that you’ve been hiding from us?” Cole jerks his head toward Joel, who shifts on his weight as he lets go of his suitcase. 

“Shut up, Cole,” You roll your eyes, huffing a laugh. “Joel, these are my idiot brothers Andrew and Cole. Andy, Cole, this is my boyfriend Joel.” You introduce them, and Joel puts on his best smile before extending his hand. 

“Nice to meet you both.” He says, and it’s comical how both of your brothers try to come off as intimidating toward Joel. Joel keeps a calm demeanor anyhow; his steady, charming smile never wavering. 

“Uh huh. Nice to meet you too. Hey, let us buy you a drink, yeah?” Andrew says, jerking his head toward the bar located at the far end of the lobby. Joel glances at you as you give him a tight-lipped smile, wrapping your hand around his bicep once more. You turn back to your brothers before sighing. 

“Let us put our bags up in our room first before I let you harass him. Jesus.” You half-joke, and Cole claps Joel on the shoulder. 

“What makes you think we’re gonna harass him, Shadow? We’re just looking out for ya.” 

“That’s what I’m afraid of. Now please let go of his shoulder.” You roll your eyes and tug on Joel’s arm gently, coaxing him to follow you to the elevators. 

“Fine. See you down here in a few.” 

You wave your brothers off before getting into the elevator, hitting the seventh floor button. 

“Jesus, Joel, I’m so sorry. Thought we’d get a chance to fucking breathe before my brothers started literally harassing you.” 

He laughs and shakes his head, giving your temple a kiss. “Ain’t nothin’ to worry about, baby. They’re just bein’ protective. I get it.” 

“Just… take anything they might say with a grain of salt.” 

He chuckles and nods as the elevator dings and the door opens to the seventh floor. You stop in front of your room and open the door, gasping at how beautiful it is. The king bed in the middle looks absolutely heavenly, and your mind can’t help the  image flashing in your mind of you and Joel getting tangled in those very sheets. Heat rushes to your face at the thought, and you walk over to the window to distract yourself. The gleaming summer sun reflects on the calm waters below at the Riverwalk, giving it a mesmerizing gleam. 

Joel wraps his arms around your waist from behind and kisses your shoulder. “Beautiful,” He murmurs, but unbeknownst to you, he wasn’t talking about the water below. 

“We should go back down so my brothers don’t give you more shit than you’re probably going to get.” You grimace at the thought of what they’re going to say to him. 

Joel chuckles and playfully shakes you before loosening his grasp on your midsection. 

“Just promise me you won’t run for the hills if they get to be too much. I’ll put them in their place.” You offer, and Joel kisses your forehead. 

“I’d only run if you were right by my side, baby.” 

-

Joel didn’t know what to expect from your brothers. He could feel the nerves buzzing off of you as you both made your way back to the elevator to go down to the lobby again, and he wanted nothing more than to ease your erratic nerves. 

He knew from the very beginning that he’d be in the long haul of things with you, so he knew facing your family at some point was going to happen. Absolutely nothing your brothers say or do will make him ‘run for the hills’, as you’d put it. 

Joel thought the look you tossed his way when the elevator doors opened to the lobby was adorable. He could tell that you wanted this to go well, and who was he to let you down? 

Joel gave your hand a squeeze as you both made your way up to your brothers again. 

“Joel, how ‘bout that drink.” Andrew says, head jerking toward the bar on the opposite end of the lobby. 

“Sure.” He says, trying to keep his cool. He wondered briefly if this was the slight fear you might’ve felt when you met Sarah. 

“I’m gonna go find mom and Em.” You say, giving Joel a kiss on the cheek. He watches you walk out before your brothers tug him along to the bar area, ordering a round of Lone Star. 

“So I’m a real cut-to-the-chase type guy,” Andrew starts, settling into the barstool next to Joel. Joel nods and sits up straight before taking a swig of his beer to ease his nerves. “I’m sure you’re aware of our sister’s past relationship. Who’s to say you won’t hurt her like that asshole did?” 

Joel was taken aback at Andrew’s bluntness, but his expression never wavered or gave anything away. “I know what it’s like to be hurt in a way that ya can’t ever forget about. The mother of my child left when my baby girl was only a year old. Said she couldn’t handle bein’ a parent n’ left me to fend for myself. Bein’ hurt like that,” Joel shakes his head and looks down, “It ain’t right. I would never want anyone to feel the way I felt when she walked out the door. I know your sister’s situation is a bit different, but my feelings toward it are all the same. I like your sister a whole lot n’ the last thing on God’s green Earth I’d ever wanna do is hurt ‘er.” 

Andrew nods, weighing Joel’s answer in his head. Joel was telling the truth. He’d never want to hurt you. You deserve to be happy, and he knows you can do that completely on your own, but he loves to be the reason behind it. He loves seeing you smile knowing he’s the reason it’s there in the first place. 

“What do you do for work?” Cole changed the subject, and Joel shifts his gaze to the younger brother. 

“I’m a firefighter for the city of Austin.” 

“I’ll be damned. Shadow always said she loved a man in uniform,” Cole teased, and the three men chuckled in unison. 

“How come y’all call her Shadow? She’s never told me anythin’ about that story.” Joel says, and the brothers can’t help but smile at the opportunity to tease their little sister.

“She was afraid of her shadow when she was younger, maybe around like two or three years old. We’d always tease her about it and the nickname just stuck.” 

“‘S actually really funny.” Joel said, thinking about how he’d be able to tease you later on with the newfound information. 

“So how did you meet our sister? She hasn’t told us a damn thing about you.” Cole grimaces, taking a sip of his beer. 

“I met her at a local coffee shop near her apartment. She actually made the first move,” Joel recalls, and he can’t help but smile at the memory. “She paid for my coffee.” 

“That’s pretty out of character for her. She’s usually pretty shy.” Andrew said. 

“Believe me, I was surprised. She was so sweet… after I caught her checkin’ me out. I was in uniform.” Joel laughs, and the brothers join in with him. 

“Told ya she loves a man in uniform.” Cole nudges Joel. 

“You said you’re a firefighter,” Andrew repeats aloud, wheels turning in his head. “Shit, the accident,” He says, looking at Joel. Joel nods, not quite sure where he was going with this. 

“Wasn’t pretty. Got the call and I saw her car—”

“Wait, so you were on the scene? You’re telling me you’re the one who got our sister out of her car?” Andrew was bewildered, blinking rapidly in complete disbelief. 

Joel furrowed his brows and looked down at his knotted hands, reliving that moment in his head. 

“Yeah. I’d only known her for hours at that point, but all I knew was that I needed to get her out of there. Scared the hell outta me.” 

“Unbelievable. Can’t believe she left out that huge detail,” Cole chuckles and shakes his head, but looks up at Joel in all seriousness. “Thank you for saving her.” 

Joel gives them both a soft smile. “I’d save her all over again in a heartbeat.” 

“You’re a damn hero, man. To our sister and to Austin.” 

Joel never knew how to accept compliments that well, let alone the hero compliments. He just saw it as doing his job and getting to help those in need. 

“Well, cheers to you. We can both tell you’re an honest man and anyone who’s willing to literally—and figuratively, I guess—save our sister is a man who has our utmost respect.” Andrew says, holding his beer bottle up in the air. 

Cole raised his bottle and Joel followed suit, an echo of ‘cheers’ being thrown around. Joel’s nerves dissolved like cotton candy in water, relief flooding through his bones that your brothers approved of him. He knew meeting your dad was going to be an even bigger deal, so he was holding onto hope that it would go just as well. 

-

“So when am I meeting this Joel of yours?” Your mom says, perching her glasses on the bridge of her nose as she took a sip of her margarita. You found her and Emily poolside as they sipped their drinks while talking about last minute wedding details. 

“He’s at the bar in the lobby getting harassed by Andy and Cole.” You roll your eyes, and Emily laughs. 

“He’s a good man. I’m sure they’re all buddy-buddy now. Men are simple when it comes to meeting new people.” Emily waves her hand dismissively, easing your nerves a little. 

“Where’s dad?” You ask, looking between Emily and your mom. 

Your mom scoffs, “He’s upstairs taking a nap. Told him he wouldn’t be tired tonight but he seemed to think otherwise.” 

“He’s probably overwhelmed with all the wedding stuff.” You offer with a shrug, and your mom huffs. 

“He isn’t the one planning the damn thing.” 

“There you guys are!” Cole calls out to you three, Andrew and Joel in tow. Your eyes lock on Joel’s gaze and you’re relieved to see he made it out of the interrogation unscathed. 

He makes his way over to you, leaning down to give you a chaste kiss. 

“So you must be Joel.” Your mom says, eyes alight at the exchange you and Joel had. 

“I am. It’s so great to meet you, Mrs.—”

Your mom waves her hand to dismiss his formalities. “Oh, none of that. Just call me Alexandria. It’s nice to finally meet the man who’s been making my youngest daughter so happy.” She grins up at him, and it was easy to clock the blush that spreads over his tan cheeks. 

“I can argue that she makes me the happiest I’ve ever been.” He looks down at you and shoots you a wink, and you can’t help but roll your eyes playfully. 

“Touché, Miller.” You say, warmth filling your body as he wraps his arm around your waist. 

Everyone got into chatting about the rehearsal dinner and the bar of choice afterwards, scampering off to their respective rooms. 

It only took a couple of hours for everyone to get ready and head down to the lobby, being shuffled into the courtyard by hotel staff. Sage green and cream decorations adorned the spacious place with rows of chairs neatly lined up for the big day tomorrow. The gazebo at the end of the walkway was strewn with fairy lights that gave a soft glow that added to to romantic ambience. 

For a split second, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander to what your future wedding would look like… with Joel. You may have been presumptuous in thinking such a thing, but you truly felt deep down that this was the man you were meant to marry. 

The wedding coordinator lined all of the bridesmaids and groomsmen up, and you took your respectable place next to Karina who was your sister’s best friend and maid of honor. 

After two full run-throughs of the ceremony and placement adjustments, the wedding coordinator took everyone to the ballroom where the reception was being held.

It wasn’t long before everyone finished their dinners, polite conversation being held as the night went on. 

“So you’re the Joel everyone’s been buzzing about.” Your dad says, and you give him a stern look to say go easy on him. Not that Joel couldn’t handle himself, but because your dad could get a little out of hand at times. 

“Yes sir, that’s me.” He says, grabbing your hand underneath the table to give it a squeeze. 

“I hear you’re a firefighter. Good man.” Your dad nods in approval, and proceeds to ask Joel about some calls he’s gotten in the past. Everyone at the table was listening intently to him, curious as to what life as a firefighter is really like. 

Your gaze roams to your mom, who’s already looking between you and Joel with a sparkle in her eye you’d never seen before. She gives you a wink and sips her wine, turning her attention back to Joel. 

It seems his Southern charm and calm demeanor had won every single one of your family members over, and relief floods through your body at that. That’s all you wanted, and you couldn’t have been happier to see it become a reality. 

-

After dinner, Josh and Emily told everyone that they weren’t having a ‘traditional’ bachelor and bachelorette party. Instead, they wanted to go to a bar together and have a few drinks with everyone as one last celebration before they both say I do. 

It wasn’t surprising to you. Your sister had always been the homebody type and Josh was right there with her. You thought it was romantic in a sense, knowing that they really didn’t need anything big or to spend time apart before their big day. 

The bar was a few buildings down from the hotel, with a huge dance floor in the middle and patrons singing along to the mix of music that was playing as they drank. 

Your dad ordered a round of shots for everybody, making a toast to Josh and Emily. 

“To the bride and groom to be.” Your dad says, and everyone clinks their glasses together before throwing back their liquor. 

You shudder at the taste, setting the cup down onto the sticky bartop. 

“May I have this dance?” Joel asks you, holding his hand out for you to take. You grin and grab his hand, grip steady as he leads you out to the dance floor. 

You steadily sway to the song as you lean your head on Joel’s shoulder, letting him guide you to the beat. You glance up to see your family members have joined you both on the dance floor, and you smile in content as you squeeze Joel’s hand. He kisses your head before separating you, spinning you around so your back is against his front. 

He rocks you slowly, resting his chin on your shoulder before kissing your cheek. 

“‘M real happy you let me tag along this weekend, sweetheart.” Joel says, and you turn your head toward him and quirk an eyebrow. 

“Yeah? And why’s that?” 

“‘S nice to get out of Austin every once in a while. Your family is real invitin’, too.” 

“Before or after they interrogated you?” You ask with a smirk, and he laughs before spinning you again so you’re face-to-face. 

“Mostly after.” He confesses with a softness to his voice. You study his features unashamedly, the soft smile he has on his lips making your heart skip a beat as he looks at you with half-lidded eyes. 

There’s a certainty behind them that you can’t exactly pinpoint, but it made your whole body feel warm and fuzzy inside and you honest to god never wanted to forget the feeling. Joel is the only man who’s made you feel things you’ve never felt. He’s the only man who’s ever kept you on your toes yet has this overwhelming sense of comfort to him that just makes you want to give it all to him. 

And by the way he was looking back at you, you’d bet his thoughts are similar to yours. 

“You two are so in love it makes me sick.” Andrew sidles up beside you, nudging you in your ribs. 

Your eyes go wide and you look at your brother in panic, pleading him to shut the fuck up before you kill him with your bare hands. 

“Fuck off, Andy.” You roll your eyes, trying to play it cool. You didn’t deny the painfully obvious fact, though. You didn’t want to deny it. 

Was it fast? Yes. But you couldn’t help how you felt. You were tired of running from something that was great for you. You were tired of running from solidity and peace and patience and love, all of which Joel gave you without having to say a single word. 

And then you realized—Joel never denied it either. He didn’t deny it when your brother’s loud mouth said that sacred word. He didn’t deny it when you looked at him again, that familiar look in his eyes returning as he just smiled at you, seemingly content in every possible way. 

Before you could say anything, Cole comes up to you while waving a crisp twenty dollar bill in your face. 

“Betcha one Jackson that you can’t ride that bull over there and stay on for more than a minute.” He’s got a mischievous glint in his eyes, and you’d take any opportunity to prove your brother wrong. 

“Oh, I will. After this song though,” You grin at Joel as Boot Scootin’ Boogie plays over the speakers. “C’mon cowboy, I wanna show off my new moves.” 

Joel easily obliges as he takes you deeper onto the dance floor. You’re slotted in a mix of a sweaty and drunken crowd, too far gone to care if they’re too off-beat or embarrassing themselves. 

You follow Joel’s lead and you two easily end up in sync with one another, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Somewhere between the spin in the chorus and the two-step move he’d taught you, you catch your family members staring at the two of you. Your mom whispers something to your sister, and you hope to god she didn’t change her opinion of him or something after seeing you two dancing like this. 

Emily knows you better than the back of her fucking hand, though, and she instantly reassures you with a smile and thumbs up before panic settles into your bones. 

Although it seems everyone in your immediate family approves of Joel, it would devastate you if they changed their minds about him for whatever reason. He wasn’t your ex. They at least knew that much. As much as you loved them, they were overbearing sometimes when it came to protecting you after what’d happened with Christian. You didn’t need that to drive a wedge between you and Joel, no matter how much of a forewarning you give him. 

The song ends and reality trickles back around you, as Joel spins you into him, giving you a chaste kiss. Your eyes flutter open after you pull away in the slightest, and there it is — that look — unwavering, and clear as day in his eyes. 

“Go show ‘em how you ride it.” He remarks, shooting you a wink. Your face heats at his obvious innuendo, and he can’t help the sly smirk that grows on his lips. 

Without another word, he releases you from his grasp and urges you toward your brother, still waving the twenty in his hand around like a flag. 

You roll your eyes at him and climb up onto the mechanical bull, the DJ timing you into when the machine will start to move. 

It was slow at first, and you easily found a rhythm to keep steady on its back. It started to jerk around and spin faster, and your thighs burned as you clenched onto the sides for dear life. You wanted to give a little show though, so you placed your hands behind your back and looked up at your brother with a wicked grin. 

His face deflated as he knew he’d been beaten. Your eyes flicker to Joel and you want to laugh at his expression—it seemed to be a cross between lust, admiration and astonishment. 

Oh, cowboy. You have no idea what you’re in for. 

The DJ announces your victory and the patrons of the bar cheer you on as you hop off of the bull. You walk up to Cole and snatch the twenty bucks from his hand before leaning into Joel, pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

“Wanna go back to the hotel room? I’m beat.” You ask Joel, and he nods. You say goodnight to your family and other members of the wedding party before you both head back in a comfortable silence. 

Exhaustion settles in your bones as you fall into step side-by-side, and Joel pulls you into him as you walk into the lobby of the hotel. You make your way onto the elevators and Joel presses the button of your floor, looking at you with a softness in his eyes as he settles his hand on your shoulder. 

“Thank you again for doing this whole wedding fiasco with me.” You say, voice full of exhaustion. He shoots you a soft smile and pulls you in, wrapping his arms around you securely. You mirror his actions as you look at him, an adoring gaze sparkling in his eyes. He leans in and kisses your forehead, giving your body a small squeeze. 

“Of course, darlin’.” 

You went to bed that night with Joel’s arm wrapped around you and a mind of racing thoughts, all consumed by that feeling again—the terrifying, wonderful feeling that kept playing in your mind as if it was the most obvious conclusion you’ve ever come to. 

-

The next morning was a blur. You got up early, trying not to disturb Joel because he looked so peaceful in his sleep. It was chaos amongst the bridal party with everyone getting ready and your sister revealing her final look to the girls. Tears sprang in your eyes as you saw her with the biggest smile on her face, unwavering as she twirled around in her dress that fit like a glove. 

“Emi, you look so beautiful. Josh is going to lose it when he sees you.” You say, sniffling as she gives you a tight hug. 

“I love you sis. Thank you for being a part of my big day.” She says, rubbing your back before pulling apart from you. You grin at her and blow her a kiss, turning when you feel your mom slightly nudge you. 

“Speaking of losing it, Joel’s gonna be head over heels seeing you in this dress,” Your mom says, “Wonder what he’ll be like when it’s your guys’ wedding and he sees you in a bridal gown.”

“Mom,” You stop her, but you can’t help the way your heart stutters at the thought of marriage with him. “Please don’t.”

Way too fucking soon. Right?

Your mom throws her hands up in defense, giving you a knowing look. 

“That man is in love with you, baby. He looks at you like you’re the sun, moon and stars.” 

That feeling tugged at you once again. You began to internally panic, but luckily the bridal party got called to an area in the hotel to take pictures. You needed a distraction, because knowing you and your mind, you’d unintentionally start self-sabotaging your relationship with Joel. 

Fuck, your ex really did a number on you. 

The day seemed to run by in a blur. Watching your sister say ‘I do’ to the love of her life made you glance over at Joel in the crowd, and to your surprise, his focus was already on you. 

There was this undeniably soft look in his eyes that said a million words without him having to utter a single one. He winks at you with a small smile and you mirror his grin, heading back down the aisle after Emily and Josh made their way down. 

A few hours later it was well into the reception, and Joel offered you his hand so you could slow dance with each other. 

“You know this thing drives me crazy, right?” You say, tapping the brim of his Stetson. He looked at you with a smirk, raising his eyebrows. 

“Really? Couldn’t tell.” Sarcasm dripped from his voice and you rolled your eyes as you huffed a laugh. He was wearing an emerald green button down with black slacks and black shoes, and his black cowboy hat tied the whole look together. He’d been getting stares all night by various family members and friends from both sides of the parties. 

You thought jealousy would’ve brewed its way into you, sinking her claws into your flesh—but it was the complete opposite. Pride blooms in your chest as you slow dance with this handsome man—your handsome man. 

“You look absolutely breathtakin’ tonight though, baby.” Joel whispers in your ear as you lean your head on his shoulder, taking in his addicting scent. 

You smile against him and bring your arm up over his other shoulder, gently wrapping your fingers around the base of his neck. Your index finger twirls the curls peeking out of the bottom of his hat absentmindedly, swaying with him with total ease. 

“I can say the same for you.” You murmur, and he squeezes your waist softly. 

“Yeah?” 

You lift your head off of his shoulder to meet his gaze, light and playful. A glint of mischief flashes in his eyes and you bite your lip in anticipation, the bubbling arousal having never left you since the previous night. 

You nod, hesitating for a second to find the right words. You knew you wanted to take the next step with him and finally go all the way without being interrupted. That is, if he’d have you. 

“I’d love to show you.” You whisper as the song ends. An upbeat tune plays immediately after, everyone crowding on the dance floor. It was the perfect time to make an escape. 

He links his fingers with yours, leaning forward to kiss you. You can’t help but smile as his lips press to yours, and you can’t help yourself—you take the hat off of his head mid-kiss, plopping it onto yours. He separates himself from you with a soft smile and a daring glint in his gaze. 

He tsked at you teasingly, adjusting the hat to sit straight onto your head. 

“What was that about the ‘Cowboy Hat Rule’ again?” You feign innocence, and he can’t help but laugh at your antics, ultimately deciding to play along. 

“How ‘bout I show you rather than tell you?” He says, and that’s all you need to gently tug him away from the crowd and toward the lobby. You make your way to the elevators, nerves buzzing through your veins at the prospect of what’s to happen. 

After what feels like forever, the elevator doors finally open and you both step inside. The doors close after Joel hits the seventh floor button, and the tension radiating off of both of you in such a confined space was nearly unbearable. 

Joel takes his hat off of your head and gently pushes you against the elevator wall, crowding you with his broad body. Your heart is beating a million miles a minute as you stare at him, gaze never wavering. 

You open your mouth to say something, but Joel crashes his lips to yours in fervor. You moan into the kiss as you tangle your hands through his curls, tugging on the base of them. 

His free hand finds your hip and squeezes, rutting his hips into yours. You can feel his bulge through his slacks, and you can’t help but whimper into the intense kiss as one hand travels down his back. 

Before you can touch him any further, the elevator dings and he separates from you, locking eyes with an elderly couple. 

The woman has a knowing smile on her face and sighs, “Oh, to be young and in love.” Joel takes your hand and leads you out of the elevator and to your shared room, fumbling with the key. It almost calms you in a way to know you aren’t the only one filled with nerves, anxious about finally being able to have this time to yourselves. 

Joel tossed the keycard onto the side table when he finally got it open, putting his hand on your lower back to guide you into the room. The soft glow of the lamp illuminates his handsome features as he stares at you admirably, tossing his Stetson onto a chair next to the bed without looking. 

Joel steps closer to you, grabbing your hips gently before leaving a trail of kisses from your forehead, nose, cheek, and finally, your lips. The kiss was softer this time—full of emotion, saying a thousand words with one simple gesture. 

His hands skate up your back and to the zipper of your dress, parting his lips from yours as he looks into your eyes. 

“Can I?” His voice is soft but hopeful, and you instantly nod. He drags the zipper down your back with ease, slowly removing the straps from your shoulders. The dress pools to your feet below you, and you’re left in a lacy nude and black bra with black panties. Joel’s eyes rake over your body hungrily, hands twitching at his sides. 

“You’re so beautiful, baby.” 

You can’t help but feel shy for a second, but Joel wasn’t having any of that. He grips your chin between his thumb and forefinger, kissing your lips a few times before he nods his head to the bed. 

“On the bed, baby. Spread your legs for me.” His deep, commanding tone sent a shiver down your spine. You didn’t know what to expect, but it definitely wasn’t this. 

You do as you’re told, settling your head onto the plush pillows as you let your legs fall open. Joel moves to untuck his green shirt. He unbuttons the shirt slowly, never breaking eye contact with you. You bite your lip teasingly as you watch him undress, and his thick, tan torso comes into sight. 

“Fuck, you’re so sexy, you know that?” You say, but it nearly sounds like a whine. Joel flashes you a smirk before climbing onto the bed, slotting himself between your legs. Your arms grip his shoulders before grabbing the green material, sliding it off of his arms completely before tossing it onto the floor for him. You kiss his shoulder and neck, hands moving up to tangle themselves in his curls once again. 

He ruts his hips into you, and the pressure of his bulge catches perfectly onto your aching clit. You moan his name softly, moving one hand down to gently palm him through his slacks.  

“Can’t believe we finally get to do this without any interruptions.” Joel chuckles, moving down to kiss your neck. 

“Let’s not hold our breaths.” You say teasingly, fingers moving to unbutton and unzip his slacks. He allows it, not stopping you from eagerly undressing the rest of him. 

He separates himself from you, sliding the slacks down his legs before moving down the bed, kissing your body as he goes. His tongue traces lines down your thighs, dangerously close to your aching core, before he kisses your skin. He continues the assault of kisses until his mouth is hovering over the only thing that separates your most intimate part from him and his line of sight. He kisses the lace fabric once, then pokes his tongue out to drag the strong muscle from your entrance to your clit. 

You can’t hold back your moans anymore. You need him so bad. 

Your body was nearly shaking from the buzz of anticipation coursing through your veins, aching to have his hands and mouth all over you. 

He finally hooks his fingers into the side of your panties, tapping your hips twice to silently instruct you to lift them. You comply once more, and Joel drags the lace material down your legs. 

He comes back up to you, kissing your lips once before settling his face between your legs again. 

You feel so exposed and almost embarrassed, but the carnal need for this man outweighs the shyness a thousand times over. 

“So perfect, baby. So goddamn perfect. ‘N all mine.” He says, looking up at you before separating your glistening folds with his middle and forefinger. You gasp and whine his name as he just stares at you, mesmerized by the way you squirm under his touch. 

You try to beg and plead him to do anything, but the words won’t come out. 

He seems to have decided he’s teased you enough, because the next thing you know, his tongue licks a long stripe up from your entrance, through your folds, and up to your clit. Your moans only spur him on as he solely focuses on you, eating your pussy like a starved man. 

Nobody has ever turned you on the way Joel Miller has, and you cannot for the life of you believe this man is yours. He’s yours, and he’s here, very present and very meticulous when it comes to pleasing you with that beautiful mouth of his. 

Joel moves his tongue down and prods into your entrance, fucking you with the muscle. Your back arches off of the mattress and he has to use both of his hands to hold your hips down, locking his fingers down into your flesh. 

“Fuck, Joel—” You squeak out as his tongue moves up to your clit, circling it a few times before sucking it into his mouth gently. The pressure is just right, and your brain is getting fuzzy—you knew you weren’t going to last much longer. 

Joel takes one of his hands away from your stomach before separating his mouth from you, coating his digits in your slick. He sends a wicked smirk your way before going down again, and this time, his middle and ring finger enter you. 

It stings so good, mainly because you haven’t had this in a long time. He pumps his fingers in and out of you at an expert pace, curling them up to hit that sweet spongy spot. 

You immediately crumble. Your hips are writhing wildly beneath his half-soaked face as you cry out his name over and over again. You’re gushing all over his fingers, desperately gripping onto the soft comforter beneath you as you ride out your intense orgasm. 

“Atta girl,” Joel breathes, mesmerized by the way you clench around nothing after he removes his fingers from you. “Taste so fuckin’ good, darlin’.” 

He moves up to kiss you, and you can immediately taste your slick arousal on his lips and tongue. You hum into the kiss as you palm him through his boxers, tugging on the band as you separate from him. He knocks his forehead against yours gently before sliding the material down his legs, now completely bare for you. 

His hand moves to the clasp of your bra and unhooks it easily, breasts spilling out as he tosses the material on the floor with the rest of the clothes. 

He looks down at you with a soft smile, and you can’t help but mirror his actions. It’s pure bliss and you selfishly never want this to end. His hand travels down your body and in between your legs, swirling the tip of his middle finger through your arousal. You gasp at the featherlight touch, clenching around nothing as he never breaks eye contact with you. 

You decide to return the favor, licking your hand before skimming your fingers over his torso before looking down to see them slide through the dark hairs that appear below his navel. You take in the sight of his cock; it’s girthy and the perfect length. You just know it’ll feel divine. You thumb the pre-come leaking from his tip, popping your finger into your mouth. 

You moan at the slightly salty taste, moving your hand back down to finally grip him with care. He feels heavy in your palm, warm and pulsating and fucking desperate for you to start rythmically moving your hand. You twist your wrist and start to pump him, and a guttural groan rumbles from the confines of his chest. 

“Fuck, baby—yeah, just like that. So good.” He groans softly, brows furrowing as he leans down to kiss you. 

And you spend the next few minutes like that—making out with Joel while he teases your swollen clit, fingers briefly delving into your entrance before moving back out, and your hand slowly twisting up and down his silky flesh. 

Something about this was so sweet to you, albeit the act being promiscuous. You were taking your time with each other, savoring every moment you have now. God knows when you’ll be able to do this in peace again once you get back to Austin. 

Joel’s body tenses for a second before he pushes your hand away, chuckling in defeat. 

“Don’t wanna come yet, sweetheart.”

You nod in understanding and he slips his fingers away from your dripping heat, bringing them up to your mouth. You eagerly suck on his fingers, staring up at him in a way to say I want you. I’m ready to have you—if you’ll have me. 

Joel climbs on top of you once more, kissing your forehead. He nudges his nose against yours before looking at you again. 

“Wait, I didn’t bring any protection.” His shoulders deflate at the realization, and you can’t help but softly laugh. 

“I have an IUD, Joel. Only if you’re comfortable with going through with this, I’m right there with you.” You reassure him. 

He looks concerned for a second, hesitating as if his mind is running a million miles a minute. 

“You sure about this, baby?” He asks, cupping your cheek in his hand before kissing your nose. You nod with no hesitation. 

“Absolutely sure, Joel. I’m yours.” You whisper, and he can’t help the grin that spreads across his face before he leans down to kiss you. He swipes the head of his cock through your folds, stopping at your entrance. 

He separates his lips from yours once more, “Tell me to stop if it’s too much, okay?” He says, and you nod. He hums in content, pushing himself into you slowly. 

You gasp at the stinging feeling, fingertips digging into the back of his shoulders. 

“There you go baby, that's it. Doin’ so well, pretty girl.” He praises, kissing your lips repeatedly as he reaches the hilt. 

The feeling is cosmic. The stretch is absolutely delicious. You whisper his name to him, threading your fingers through his hair once more in desperation as your meek voice finally found its way aloud. 

“Move, Joel. Please.” 

And he does. He starts off slow, rocking his hips into yours. The slide of his velvety length in and out of you is otherworldly. 

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he held onto the back of your neck, picking up his pace. He leans down to capture one of your breasts in his mouth, swirling his tongue expertly around your pert nipple as he continues rocking his hips into yours. 

Your moans are increasingly louder, not exactly giving a fuck who can hear you anymore. Your mind was solely consumed about the man ravishing your body in such a way that had you seeing stars. 

The weight of his body on yours, his soft groans, the heavy feeling of his cock, his scent, his curls—everything about him was all-consuming, and you loved it. 

“So pretty, baby. Feel so fuckin’ good. All mine.” Joel babbles, dropping his forehead onto your shoulder. You try to grind your hips in sync with his expert thrusts, creating an almost unbearably pleasurable friction. 

Your hands fly to his back and you scratch down his skin, head flying back onto the pillows as you arch your back into him. 

“Joel, fuck, I’m so close.” You cry, eyes squeezing shut as the familiar flame burns bright within your core. 

“Me too, baby, fuck—where–where do you want me?” He asks, chest heaving as his thrusts become impossibly faster. 

“In me, Joel. Please.” Your plea is breathy and desperate, and you feel yourself teetering over the edge, devastating euphoria ripping through your body as your cunt convulses around his cock. 

You bury your face into his shoulder, crying out his name. 

“Fuck, sweet girl, I—” 

His spend is warm as he comes, buried in you as he groans your name breathlessly. He slumps down onto you, wrapping his arm around your waist as he rolls over on his side, taking you with him. He slips out of you slowly and you both groan at the loss of contact. 

You nuzzle into him as he kisses your forehead repeatedly, running his hand up and down your spine as you both come down from the high. 

“Fuck, that was—” You pause, and Joel chuckles. 

“Yeah, it really was.” He agrees, tipping your jaw up so he can kiss you chastely. 

Your eyes were heavy now, tracing his hairline down to his jaw and to his lips. He kisses your fingers as exhaustion consumes you both. He throws the comforter over your bodies and he gives you one last kiss. 

“Goodnight, sweet girl,” And if you weren’t in such a comatose-like state, you would’ve heard him softly whisper the words “I love you.” 

And if you would’ve heard those words, you would’ve said them right back. It might’ve scared the hell out of you, but you could no longer deny the fact—

You were, in fact, in love with Joel Miller, too. 

taglist: @ilovepedro ; @nostalxgic ; @endlessthxxghts ; @punkshort ; @pamasaur ; @clawdee ; @pascalpvnk ; @bensonispunk ; @merz-8 ; @darkblue-tennesseee ; @typewriter83 ; @lizzie-cakes ; @sawymredfox ; @keylimebeag ; @nandan11 ; @pedropascalsbbg ; @pimosworld ; @yxtkiwiyxt ; @anoverwhelmingdin ; @kikaaauu ; @buckyispunk ; @untamedheart81 ; @picketniffler ; @fluffygoffpanda ; @paleidiot ; @survivingandenduring ; @party-hearses

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[radioactiveparker]

The Breakfast Club - Eddie Munson X F!Cheerleader!Reader

Part One - These Children That You Spit On

Chapter Summary - We meet five unlikely teenagers who have to spend the next eight hours in detention together. (A retelling of The Breakfast Club, written and directed by John Hughes.)

Chapter Warnings - Characters are all 18+ / Strong Language / Illusions to Abuse/ Abusive Relationship / Dysfunctional Families / Kleptomania / References to Demonianism and Satanism / References to Religious Beliefs / Sexual References / Stereotyping / Angst

Word Count - 6.6k

(Series Masterlist) (Masterlist)

(Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three) (Part Four) (Part Five)

-----

Saturday.

October 25th, 1984.

Hargrove Residence.

6:30am.

~~~~~

"Billy, c'mon, I have to go."

You reluctantly pulled away from the warm embrace of the covers, or at least attempted to. Billy kept the dead weight of his arm slung heavily around your waist, trapping you to the mattress. He released a groan of annoyance as he curled it around you and pulled you into him. You spared a few minutes to stay in his warmth and shed the sleep from your brain. The grey hues of wintry light cascaded onto the room through the gap in the curtain. The room was otherwise obscured from light, making it effortless to close your eyes and fall back asleep. You refrained, deciding to focus your ears instead. The familiar chirping of birds and the quiet hum of unfortunate morning commuters on their way to work on a Saturday morning had you sinking back into your pillow. The smell of brewing coffee reminded you to stay awake. Your eyes blinked open again, and you shuffled from underneath Billy's grasp. He groaned again, this time burying himself into your neck. You giggled, planted a kiss to his cheek, and rolled him off you.

You quickly jumped in the shower, saying good morning to Billy's little sister Max, who was making her way into the kitchen, along the way. You dressed in the bathroom, checking your watch before heading back into Billy's bedroom to say goodbye.

He lay on his front, eyes still closed, but his breathing told you that he was awake. You placed a gentle hand on his arm, leaning in to kiss his cheek again.

"Billy, I'm going now, but I'll see you on Monday, yeah?"

He said nothing. You couldn't suppress the disappointment that swept through you. You turned to leave when he softly grabbed your wrist. You smiled, thinking he was going to ask you to stay, or to give you a goodbye kiss, but his gripped tightened. Your heart dropped.

"Billy, you're hurting me."

"Where do you think you're going?" He stared you dead in the eyes.

You tried to pull away. "I told you yesterday, Billy. Mrs O'Donnell gave me a Saturday detention."

"No, where do you think you're going dressed like that."

You looked at your outfit. You wore the signature green and white of the Hawkins High cheerleading squad. A sleeveless modest style vest, worn with a turtleneck layer underneath, and a green pleated skirt with yellow striping around the hem. It rested just above your mid thigh, so you pulled your socks all the way up to your knees to keep warm. "I told my parents I had cheerleading practice, so they didn't think I had detention. You know this, Billy."

"Do I? Or are you going to see your precious King Steve again?" His grip tightened even further.

He had that crazy look in his eyes that made your entire body freeze. You stopped struggling. Your chest went tight, and suddenly, it was like trying to breathe in a sauna room.

Billy Hargrove was not fond of Steve Harrington, and last Thursday night, you had snook out to go to a party as his house. You had cancelled your plans with Billy last minute after Carol begged you to go with her (not that it took much convincing). It turned out that Billy had been invited to the party by one of his other friends, unbeknownst to you. And you made the mistake of lying to Billy and told him that you were sick. 

The biggest mistake of your life.

He saw you there and started an argument that had the entire rooms eyes on the two of you. He had the same wild look in his eyes as he had now. He ended up punching Steve when he had come over to ask if everything was alright. 

"I only went to that party for Carol. I didn't even speak to Steve."

"No? Because he seemed real friendly with you."

"He wasn't! Billy, please, I don't want anything to do with Steve. Just please let me go."

He released you harshly, and you immediately brought your wrist to your chest, rubbing the sore skin.

"Get out of my sight."

You scurried out the door with tears in your eyes. 

Your first steps outside felt as though you were walking into the worlds largest refrigerator, though you were thankful it wasn't raining. You could do without the frozen shrapnel soaking you to the bone this morning. It had already started bad enough.

The sun had only just begun to rise, not having a chance to warm up the earth yet. Not that it would do much good. The temperature had been dropping more and more as the days went on, this morning being the worst yet. It had turned tomb-like silent outside with the exception of the crunching salt under your feet that had been newly laid to stop people from slipping on the first of winter's ice. A storm had come and gone the previous night, but the sky still hung sadly as a woollen grey shawl, bringing threat of another. The cold, however, was enough to calm you down. It felt refreshing after feeling suffocated in Billy's room.

You checked your watch again. You had twenty minutes to sneak back home and pretend that you had just woken up and got dressed for cheerleading practice.

You started running.

~~~~~

Saturday.

October 25th, 1984.

Hawkins High.

7:55am.

~~~~~

You had made it home just in time before your parents woke up. You explained you were doing stretches in your room, which was why you were red-faced and slightly out of breath. They didn't seem to buy it, but the alternative presumption was far too embarrassing for them not to take your word for it.

Your father offered you a ride to school, but after that rather awkward first encounter with them this morning, you thought it best to walk. And you were glad you did because it didn't take long before they were arguing. Your mother red-faced and clutched onto the cross around her neck while your father rolled his eyes. To the outside world, it would seem that you had the perfect family, but that couldn't be father from the truth.  A lot of the times when they argued, it would be over something petty, but all of a sudden, your name would be roped in, and the entire point of the argument seemed to vanish. You see, to them, you were leverage. As soon as you got a mention, they got the upper hand. They used you to get back at each other: a means to an end. Not intentionally, of course, but that didn't make it any less frustrating. It was nothing uncommon in your household, but that didn't mean you could stand to listen to it. You grabbed your coat and left as quickly as you could, neither of your parents noticing that you were gone as they continued to scream in each others faces.

By the time you made it to the schools entrance, you wished you had brought a change of clothes as ice shot through your veins and goose-pimpled your skin. You drew your coat closer to your chest, clenching and unclenching your gloveless fingers to keep the feeling in their tips.

As you bound up the schools steps like a heat-seeking rocket, the rubber tyres of a coffee brown BMW screeched to a stop. The sudden sound echoing across the empty school premises caused you to turn quickly. Through the windshield, you saw a man in a business suit at the wheel. Beside him was his eighteen-year-old son, Steve Harrington. Your heart raced when you saw him. You weren't expecting to see him here. 

Billy isn't here. You told yourself in an attempt to calm your jangled nerves.

His hands gestured animatedly as he argued with his father. Their words were suppressed by the metal walls of the car, but you could surmise their level of volume by the thick vein protruding from Steve's neck. Then, their words exploded like a bullet from the barrel of a gun, piercing through the stillness of the morning as the door opened and Steve stomped out. Something along the lines of "No school's gonna give a scholarship to a discipline case!". And just like that, their poor version of a conversation seized to exist by the single slam of a car door. Almost immediately, the car sped off, swerving around the parking lot like a maniac before disappearing. You stood in shock as Steve held his two middle fingers up at the abandoning vehicle. It was not a home life you would have pictured for King Steve. It was a rather unexpected display you had witnessed, but to Steve, it seemed like any other day. He jogged up the stairs, hands in his jacket pockets and sporting a healing split lip, looking so unaffected by the argument that you almost convinced yourself that you had imagined it.

He paused on the step behind you, finally noticing that you were there, but only for a split second, barely sparing you a glance before moving straight past you and through the doors. You felt heaviness in your chest. No "hello." Even a simple smile would have done. But you supposed they were reserved for his real friends. Sure, you and Steve knew each other - you had friends from the same group, and you had been to a few of his parties, but you hadn't even held a proper conversation with the guy - just dribs and drabs of small talk here and there, but he was nice.

Thoughts of Billy flashed through your mind. It seems as though Billy's appearance at his party the other day had left him wanting nothing to do with you. You understood why, Billy had caused quite the scene over nothing. But there was no reason why you should be punished for his actions. You shook the thoughts out of your head. It was nothing that you should dwell on, so you continued on into the school.

The halls looked strange without their usual morning bustle. The squeak of your sneakers against the freshly waxed floor echoed as you made your way to the school library. You could hear Steve's fast pace ahead of you. His blue, straight-legged jeans and pristine Nike sneakers strode out of your sight until you were left in silence. The silence felt so loud that it rumbled from the high ceiling. You were so sure it was the cause of the last light flickering at the end of the hall. Continuing forward, you took the first left and proceeded straight until you reached the double doors at the end. A flimsy banner hung from the tiled ceiling, "HAWKINS TIGERS ALL THE WAY," with a decent enough illustration of the school mascot, threatened to fall. You treaded lightly as you moved beneath it, holding your breath in fear that any sudden movement would cause it to fall down on you. You released it when you made it safely to the other side.

Your fingers traced along the lockers as you walked, reading the bits and pieces of graffiti as you went; 'Fuck this shit, I'm out' in scrawled handwriting, 'I hate Mondays' with drips of black paint streaking down some of the letters, and a cartoonish depiction of a weed leaf smoking a blunt which made you chuckle. You walked past a trophy case, eyeing the splendid totems of athletic and academic prestige alike. A picture of the basketball team in all their glory on the top shelf, another of the cheerleading squad, yourself included, and a grainy image of the physics club haphazardly chucked on the bottom. Your white sneakers squeaked once more as you pivoted to the right before making a final left to the pine doors of the library.

Before you were six tables placed into two rows of three, with three chairs sitting snugly behind each one. You were surprised to see Nancy 'goodie two shoes' wheeler sat at the front table, with her perfectly permed hair and fur-lined jacket still on her shoulders. You didn't think it was possible for Nancy Wheeler to get detention, but then again, the same could've been said about you. Steve had strangely enough sat on the same table as her, despite every other seat being completely free, leaving an empty chair between them so as not to make it weird. Neither of them spoke to each other and instead opted to sit in silence, fiddling with their finger nails or a loose thread on their jumper. As you took your first foot in, a tall, lanky girl with short, dirty blonde hair sped past you, mumbling a quick sorry when she nearly knocked you off your feet. This unorthodox first impression of the girl, who you had only ever seen around the school halls, had commenced quite the distaste for her already. She was red-faced and sweaty, carrying her thick winter coat over her elbow, undeterred by the chilly weather. The whites of her eyes almost blended with her rosy cheeks, bloodshot like she was holding back tears. She had been in a rush to get here and away from whatever had made her upset. You imagined that's what you must have looked like this morning, and you almost started to feel a little sorry for her. She took the middle table on the left side, dumping her coat on one chair before hiding her face in her arms. If you hadn't known any better, it looked as though she was trying to fall asleep on the table.

You made your way to the table to the right of hers, taking the seat on the furthest side. You kept your coat on for now but dumped your bag on the chair beside you. With a huff, you rested your head in the palm of your hands, watching the back of Nancy and Steve's heads.

The heavy weight of the library door forced its hinges to fold and close impulsively, and Eddie slipped through the crack before it closed all the way, because god forbid he wasted his energy on something as measly as opening a door. The pride in his face when he reached the other side was as if beating the door was life or death. Like he was Indiana Jones rolling under a trap door to avoid being impaled by spikes. All he needed was a wide-brimmed fedora.

You tensed at the sight of him. You had heard rumours that he was a Satan worshiper and that he would do casual rituals on the weekends. You didn't believe it, of course, Eddie was all bark and no bite, but that didn't make you feel any easier around him. Eddie was not a good person. He had been caught one too many times trying to sell weed to freshman because they were 'naïve and easy to upsell' or trying to get them to join his little Hellfire Cult. He would spit and hiss at the teachers, setting up traps in unsuspecting students' lockers, or even straight up stealing their locks so their personal belongings were out for anyone to see. He was like a snake. Once he caught his prey, he was coiling around it, pulling himself into it. Constricting, suffocating, waiting to ascertain it was truly dead before taking a bite. His scales came in the form of clinking enamel badges, and his words were the venom dripping from his tongue. To put it lightly, he was one big bully - a miscreant.

His kleptomaniac fingers touched practically everything he walked by: picking up flyers and not even bothering to read them before dropping them to the floor, unhooking the phone from the receiver so it dangled limply from the checkout desk, and pocketing a few pencils that are no doubt going to end up missing because Eddie Munson has never brought a pencil to school a day in his life. He walked slowly, confidently, giving everyone in the room time to become aware of his presence. You could feel him eyeing you up when he walked by. You met his stare like an owl, following until you couldn't turn your head any further. You weren't going to let him intimidate you and you wanted him to know it. It was the first time you had seen him wearing something other than his usual hellfire shirt and leather jacket. He had the same dark, denim jeans with the holes in the knees and once white reeboks, only this time he wore a black t-shirt with a thick winter coat in a matching colour. Red, plaid fabric peaked out from the confines of his coat. Sensibly, he had worn a shirt over top as an extra layer to keep warm. His footsteps were wide and languid as he moved to his seat, dumping himself on the table behind you and untangling his scarf from around his neck.

Just as everyone settled in, Principal Richard Higgins strode in, stopping dead centre in the mouth of the passageway between the two rows of tables. You tried not to laugh. Principal Higgins was a sight to behold, swapping his usual grey suit and tie for flamboyantly bright pink t-shirt a size too small for his pot belly, a casual white blazer, a pair of jeans and bold coloured sneakers. You didn't notice until now that he had the figure of a lollipop, round on top, but stick thin on the bottom. You understood now why he always wore a suit; it evened him out a bit. Though he did confirm the rumour that teachers were definitely not normal.

He glanced at his fancy watch. "I would first like to congratulate you all for being on time." Though it sounded more sarcastic than sincere.

He seemed to be looking straight at Eddie as he said that. Eddie only responded by kicking his feet up on the desk.

"Now, it is 8:02am. You have exactly eight uneventful hours to spend in each others company." He began pacing up and down the aisle with his chest puffed out in intimidation (well, as intimidating as a lollipop shaped man could be), slapping Eddies feet down as he did.

"You many not talk, you may not move from your seats -" He stopped at the weird girl who had nearly knocked you over and slapped a hand on the desk. She shot up with a gasp. "And you may not sleep."

"Today," He continued, marching to the front, "we're going to try something different. I want all of you to - uh?"

Principal Higgins dropped a stack of notebook paper on the nearest table and then made his way for the pot of pencils on the checkout desk. He paused in confusion when he saw the pot was empty; every pencil hiding snuggly in Eddie's pocket. You rolled your eyes as Eddie snickered behind you. There was a long pause of awkward silence as Principal Higgins made his way around the desk in search of more pencils. There were a few quiet grunts of effort and then a "Ah ha" before he appeared back in front.

"Right, I want all of you to write me an essay of no less than one thousand words describing to me who you think you are." He began handing out paper and pencils to everyone. "And when I say essay, I mean essay. Not a single word repeated a thousand times. Do you understand, Mr. Munson?"

"Mr. Munson understands, Principal Higgins." Eddie said.

Higgins ignored him. "Maybe you'll learn something about why you're here, and perhaps you'll decide whether or not you care to return."

Silence.

"I'll be across the hall in my office. Any monkey business is ill-advised. Questions?"

You saw Steve shake his head and catch Nancy shaking hers like she couldn't believe this was happening to her.

Principal Higgins gave one solid nod to confirm that question and answer time was over before making his way towards the library doors.

"Yeah, I got a question."

He took a pause, hand clenched firmly on the door handle as he twisted around. He raised his brow at Eddie, already sick and tired of his antics.

"Does Don Johnson know that you raided his wardrobe?"

There were a few snickers, including you, trying to discreetly cover your mouth to hide your smile. Principal Higgins was undisturbed. There wasn't a thing Eddie could do or say that would insult him. At least, that's what he wanted him to think.

"You'll find out the answer to that next Saturday. Mr. Munson. Do you have anything else you'd like to say to impress these people?"

Eddie smirked, leaning across the table and clasping his hands. He accepted the challenge, staring the Principal dead in the eye. "You got any naked pictures of your wife?"

The Principal's face turned red, and he referred to him with a hateful look in his eyes. "You've just earned yourself another Saturday detention, Mister." He pointed.

His eyes scoured the room, looking for anybody else who would challenge him. "Does anybody else want to join him?

The laughing stopped.

"Didn't think so."

And with that, he left, leaving the door wide open to give him a straight view of the library through his office window. Eddie chuckled, resting his feet back on the table, clearly proud of the reaction he had gotten.

Then silence.

A lot of silence.

Eddie placed his hands behind his head and closed his eyes like he was going to sleep. Nancy began fiddling with her pencil, thinking about how she was going to start her essay. Steve cracked his knuckles, and the other girl (who you had yet to learn the name of) just stared at her paper. You simply sighed, took off your coat, and began daydreaming about all the other ways you could've chosen to spend your Saturday.

The library was by no means modern, but the faculty seemed to have no appreciation for the sort of library they've been given and ungraciously added touches of their own. There was an ugly mix of deep mahogany and grey sheet-metal bookcases, a couple of fake plants collecting dust, and old academic trophies that probably haven't been touched since the sixties. There were posters, some painted, some printed, but most were horrifically Halloween themed, and a rather provocative David Hasselhoff calendar behind the front desk, which the librarian thought no one could see. 

Those few times that you had actually stepped foot in the library, you noticed it was never truly quiet. There were always whisperings of students, the whirring of printers, and the clicking of keyboards and typewriters.

But today, a Saturday, with only five students bored out of their minds, it was truly silent.

The library was so quiet that you could practically hear the books ageing. The books consumed the noise, leaving you all in a suffocatingly awkward space of ineloquent glances. Broad daylight struggled to reach the room. Not that the sun was trying to, but the blinds sought out to fight against it anyway. Instead, it was the hanging lights above that lit the maze of a room. The soft lights were enough to put you to sleep. Your eyes were fluttering softly, your head drooping--

"Master of puppets, I'm pulling your strings

Twisting your mind and smashing your dreams

Blinded by me, you can't see a thing

Just call my name, 'cause I'll hear you scream

Master, master!"

Your peaceful almost-slumber was rudely interrupted when Eddie opened his big mouth to sing that god-awful song. You had never listened to it in your life, but would gladly never listen to it again if it meant that Eddie would shut the hell up. You turned around to give him a glare of annoyance, and when you turned back, you noticed that the others had done the same. He peeked out through one eye, smirking at the look on everyone's faces, before continuing, only this time he was humming instead. Thank god.

"Shit!" Eddie sprang up, feet down, sitting up straight and alert. He startled you, and you turned again. "What are we supposed to do if we gotta take a leak?"

He pretended to undo his zipper, the childish act making you roll your eyes. "If you gotta go, you gotta go."

"Oh my god." Nancy looked like she was going to throw up. She turned and shielded her eyes.

"Try it, and you're dead before the first drop hits the floor." Steve threatened.

Eddie laughed, accomplishing his mission of upsetting the others. "You know, you're pretty sexy when you're angry, big boy."

He turned his attention to the quiet girl sat adjacent to him. She shifted under his gaze.

"Hey Buckley," She turned with a look of boredom, like she was used to his antics, "why don't you go and close that door so I can get our little cheerleader here naked?"

You almost gave yourself whiplash with how quickly you turned to glare at him. "Don't even think about it asshole."

"Why you a virgin?"

"Fuck you."

"You're disgusting." Nancy added.

"Awe, I'm sorry, you feeling left out, Princess? There's plenty of me to go around. But I suppose if you don't want to wait your turn, I wouldn't say no to a three-way."

"Ugh, you're such a creep!"

"Listen, man, if you piss me off, you're totalled." Steve defended the two of you, though you felt it was more for Nancy's sake than yours.

"Totalled?"

"Totally."

"Just ignore him, Steve. Maybe he'll go away." Nancy suggested, placing a hand on his shoulder to turn him to face the front.

There was a pause. Their shoulders relaxed when they had thought Eddie had given up.

"Oh, so are you two like boyfriend/girlfriend?" Eddie teased.

No reply.

"Steady dates?"

Silence.

"Lovers?"

Nancy continued to ignore him, but Steve smouldered with anger.

"Tell me, Princess, have you two played hide the sausage yet?"

"GO TO HELL!"

"Hey, keep it down in there!" Higgins called from across the hall.

He rolled backwards on his office chair until the five of them came into view. They were all seated exactly how he left them. He rolled back out of sight.

Everybody visibly relaxed.

Eddie hid the shock of Nancy's outburst behind another annoying smirk.

"Just ignore him, guys." You advised. "He's only doing it to get a rise out of you."

"Sweetheart, you couldn't ignore me if you tried." He gave you a confident wink.

You hated that it made your cheeks flush with heat. You quickly turned before you gave him something else to tease you over.

"We gotta close them doors. How are we supposed to party with the old pinhead checking us out every two seconds?" Eddie stood from his seat and moved towards the doors.

"I don't think that's a good idea. The doors are supposed to stay open." This 'Buckley' opened her mouth for the first time since she's got here. Everybody looked at her bewildered.

It was only Eddie who didn't seem phased by this, but he still paused. "What do you mean 'supposed to'?"

"Vernon said, Dingus, and I really don't want to get on his bad side. I mean, Mrs. Clickety Clackety is already threatening me with suspension, and I can't afford that. How am I supposed to get accepted into any sort of college if I get suspended. They'll think I'm a horrible student, and I'll be one big massive reject and--"

"Whoa, Robin, slow down." Steve interrupted her breathless rambling. You were struggling to keep up with each word. She was talking so fast. Just total word vomit, like she'd been trying to keep it down since she got here and suddenly just projectiled everywhere. It didn't even occur to you then that Steve knew her name.

"So?" Was Eddie's only blunt reply.

"So, why don't you just shut up." Steve scowled. "There's four other people in here, you know? Stop thinking about yourself for once."

"Wow, you're a math wiz, Sporto. I bet you know your ABCs, too. See, I knew you were smart. You hide it well, Harrington." Steve grimaced at that. "I mean, let's face it, you gotta be smart to play basketball."

"Who are you to judge?" Steve challenged. "You don't even count. If you disappeared forever, it wouldn't make any difference. You may as well not even exist at this school."

There was a twitch in Eddie's eye. He hated how that got to him, but he recovered swiftly. "Oh? Well, maybe I'll join the basketball team or the wrestling team? Or better yet, the student council, I think you'd like some of the ideas I have in mind for this place."

He moved slowly, intimidatingly to Steve's table, stopping in front of it before leaning down so he towered over Steve. He reminded you of an adult reprimanding a little boy. But Steve wasn't a little boy. He could hold his own.

"You could try, but they'd never take you."

"Damn, I'm hurt. truly." Eddie was definitely not hurt.

"Will you just stop? If you keep this up, Higgins is gonna come storming in here. I've got a game next Saturday, and I'm not gonna miss it because of you."

"Wouldn't that be a bite? Missing a whole game." Eddie feigned sympathy.

"You wouldn't know anything about it, Freak. You've never competed in your life."

"I know, and I feel all empty inside because of it." Eddie puffed his chest as if his heart was swelling with pride. "I have such a deep admiration for guys who toss balls into laundry baskets."

"Whatever, man. You don't have any goals."

"See, that's where you're wrong, I do have goals." Eddie paused in suspense, and Steve perked up a little in his seat. "My goal is to be exactly like you."

Steve slumped back and rolled his eyes. "You're worthless."

"I compete." Robin added after a beat. All eyes turned to her. You could tell she didn't like that much, but she continued anyway. "I'm in band, and I'm on the debate team, and I'm in the Latin club and chess team. This one time, with the debate team, we had this big banquet at the Hilton and we had to get dressed up. And, uh, I didn't have any shoes so I had to wear my mom's shoes. It was kind of weird because my Nana doesn't like when I wear other people's shoes. But, yeah. It's not athletic, but I compete in a lot of stuff."

"That's not the same, Rob." Steve sighed.

"You have to be a jock to compete?" Eddie confronted.

"I was talking about athletic competition."

"What's the difference?" You questioned. Everyone turned to you this time, but you kept your attention on Steve. You could see the proud smile on Eddie's face out of the corner of your eye.

"What do you mean?"

"What I said."

Eddie's eyebrow raised in amusement, enjoying someone else putting Steve in his place for a change. If he was being totally honest, Eddie didn't really have anything against Steve. Steve's friends, on the other hand, were a different story. Eddie found himself being hounded by Steve's friends more often than not, but Steve didn't actually do anything. But he didn't stop it either. Of all of them, he was the easiest to rile up, and Eddie couldn't help but cease the moment whenever he could.

Steve scoffed but bowed out of the conversation. "You're all fucked."

"Hey man, watch your mouth. There's ladies here remember? They don't appreciate you using a word like FUCK! in front of them." Eddie gestured to you. "I don't know if you know this, big boy, but her mother is a nun!"

It was true that your mother was a religious person, but she was certainly not a nun. "No she isn't."

"Sorry," He turned back to Steve. "Her father is a nun!"

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't stop the chuckle that escaped your lips. The sound caused a mischievous glint in Eddie's eyes. You hated it.

"Higgins is leaving." Nancy proclaimed suddenly.

Eddie paused with wide eyes like a deer in headlights, not wanting to get caught out of his seat. Everyone looked down the hall in time to see Principle Higgins exit his office, not even sparing them a glance. Eddie proceeded to the doors, peeking his head out to watch Higgins drink from the water fountain at the other end of the hall. 

Eddie came back in the room. "We gotta move fast, the scumbag's just filling his tank."

Steve sent Nancy an annoyed look that said 'why did you have to tell him that?', causing her to shy away. She was already thinking the same thing herself. Eddie pulled a chair to the door, stood on it and took a guitar pick out of his pocket. With the guitar pick, he removed a screw from the door spring assembly. He jumped off the chair and the door closed behind him. 

"That's not funny, man. Fix it."

"Please fix it." Robin pleaded.

"Am I a genius?" Eddie asked, though it was more of a brag than a question, as he quickly pushed the chair back to its rightful spot.

"No, you're an asshole." 

There was a muffled "Hey!" from behind the door and everyone rushed to act as casual as possible. Eddie quickly took his seat, only this time he sat next to you. You tensed uncomfortably, smelling the faint cigarette smoke on his coat. You wanted to smack him for being so stupid. You just prayed that Higgins wouldn't notice he swapped seats. 

The door busted open. 

"Why is this door closed?" There was fury in his eyes.

Everyone remained silent, avoiding meeting his eyes. Steve turned to look at Eddie as if deciding the best way to rat him out. 

Eddie jumped in before he could say anything. "How should we know, we're not supposed to move, right?"

Higgins singled out Steve, obviously noticing how he had looked at Eddie. "Why is that door closed?"

Steve looked to Eddie once again. You were cringing at how obvious he made it. You could feel Eddie shaking his leg under the desk. A nervous habit? Perhaps Eddie was afraid to get caught. Or he was just furious at Steve for even thinking about being a snitch. He lowered his eyes at Steve, a glare that said, 'Go on, I dare you'. Steve backed down.

"We were just sitting here. Like we're supposed to." Nancy answered for Steve, who was taking a suspicious amount of time to reply.

"The wind must've blew it." Robin added.

"It just... closed, Sir." Steve reluctantly agreed.

Principal Higgins eyed Eddie anyway and pointed a thick sausage finger. "This looks like the mindless sort of crap you'd find amusing, Munson."

"I think a screw fell out of it. I heard something that sounded like a screw falling out." Eddie tried to persuade.

"Yeah, right. Give me the screw."

"I don't have it."

"Am I going to have to turn you upside down and shake you?"

"I don't have it, Sir. Screws fall out all the time. The world is an imperfect place."

"Give it to me, Munson."

He smiled suggestively. "Where do you want it?" 

"With all due respect, Principal Higgins," you interrupted before he made things worse for himself. "Why would somebody steal a screw?"

Eddie looked at you in surprise, but you made it clear to him that you didn't do it because you liked him. Higgins walked back to the door.

"How do your parents put up with you, Munson?"

"They gave up on me a long time ago, Sir." He said it with such sincerity that your heart actually ached for him.

Higgins opened his mouth to say something but decided against it. He realised how pointless it was to go after him. Instead, he went to the door, trying his luck at opening it and hoping it stayed that way. It didn't. He tried again, this time grabbing a chair to hold it open. 

"That won't work. The door is way too heavy."

Higgins ignored Eddie. He pushed the chair against the door and let go. It threw the chair across the room, and the door slammed with an echoing bang. There were a few gasps of surprise and snorts of laughter. 

Higgins fumed, eyeing the room for a solution. "Harrington, get up."

Steve unwillingly got up from his seat as the Principal directed him to grab one end of a bookcase.

"How come he gets to get up? If he gets up, we'll all get up. It'll be anarchy!"

You elbowed Eddie's side to shut him up. He wasn't making this better for himself, which would no doubt end up with all of you getting punished. The two of them heaved together, and Steve actually ended up doing most of the work. The odd book fell to the floor, nearly tripping them up as they hefted it along slowly. They struggled for a few more minutes to slide the bookcase over to the door. Only when they finally got it in place did Eddie open his mouth again. 

"That's very clever, Sir. But what if there's a fire?"

Higgins hadn't thought of that, but he didn't let it show.

"I think violating fire codes and endangering the lives of children is unwise at this juncture in your career, Sir." Robin chimed in and then sunk back in her seat under the Principal's stare.

Higgins turned back to Steve. "Alright, what are you doing with this? Get this outta here, for God's sake! What's the matter with you? Come on!"

Steve wanted to kill Eddie for opening his big mouth and then Robin for supporting him. The two of them struggled again to move it back to its original place. Once done, Steve sat back down with bated breaths. 

Principal Higgins started towards Eddie, sweat dripping from his forehead, despite barely lifting a finger. "You're not fooling anybody, Munson. The next screw that falls out will be you."

Eddie muttered under his breath. "Eat my shorts."

"What was that?" Higgins barked.

"Eat. My. Shorts."

"You've just bought yourself another detention, Mister."

"Ugh, I'm crushed." Eddie faked a wince.

"You just bought yourself another."

"Well, I'm free the Saturday after that."

"Another."

"Hmm, beyond that, I'm gonna have to check my calendar."

"Another."

You looked at Eddie fearfully. He was getting absolutely slaughtered by Principal Higgins. Although, no matter how much you dislike him, you couldn't help but be moved by his defiance. 

"Cut it out." You whispered to him.

He ignored your plea, keeping up his front. He wasn't going to let this scumbag of a Principal break him. Not in front of the others, and, for reasons Eddie didn't quite understand yet, certainly not in front of you. He dared Higgins to give him another. 

"Okay, Munson, your ass is mine for the next two months."

"I'm thrilled." 

"You sure would like everybody to think that, wouldn't you? Maybe if you spent more time trying to do something with yourself and less time trying to impress people, you might be better off." Higgins brought his attention back to everyone else. "I'm not gonna put up with any more crap from any of you. Next time I have to come in here, I'll be coming to crack skulls." 

He set his threat with a hard, angry glare and finally left the room. 

The silence set in once again.

~~~~~

<<<Masterlist // Next>>>

~~~~~

Taglist: @cruwushes @the-ch0sen-on3 @namelesshumanperson @ali-r3n @cadence73 @munsonssweets @ahoyyharrington @mewchiili @yourdailymemedelivery @httpsunflowers @b-irock @coolglittercornbae @sav12321 @cumslutforaemond @siriuslysmoking @learninglinesintherainn

[thewritersaddictions]

(TWD) The Law: Daryl Dixon- Holy Innocence

Pairing: AU!Priest!Daryl Dixon x Virgin!Fem!Reader

Pov: Reader

Summary: You first meet Father Daryl while in confession, by the second time you go you can't help but expose your deepest secrets, and the third time Father daryl helps you with your secrets.

Warnings: Smut, AU, virgin! Reader, innocent reader, a teaching moment, dirty, rough, sex, pinv, unprotected sex, blowjob, (M Receiving) (F receiving), a little dirty talk, Masturbation, nicknames, Father Daryl kinda hot, confession, the church of god, godliness is next to cleanliness.

A/n- @ firefly-graphics for dividers, this came from watching the new AMC series The Walking Dead (Daryl Dixon) when one of the characters says that Daryl is a father Daryl from far away. (I don't really know how confession booths work, so work with me here)

WC- 13.1k

The Walking Dead Master List // The Law Master List

First Meeting 

The pure girl had nothing on you. You were refined to the bone, with white lace on the edges of everything you wore around town. Your small town knew all about you. You were the good girl who worked in the soup kitchen and helped your mother with the PTA at your younger sister’s catholic school—the sweet girl with a good life ahead of her. You were adorable. There was nothing against that, and your parents were just so happy with how your life turned out that when one of the choir boys had asked to take you out for a church together, your parents had let you walk out of the house with the boy’s hand interlocked in yours. 

That had been months ago. But every person has a different side, and that other side has made its first appearance in your relationship. You were sitting together on the loveseat in your living room. Bible study with your boyfriend while your parents were out of town. You’re so highly in tune with your reading of Leviticus that you first don’t notice the slight touch of his hand on your knee—pulling the cap off the highlight and holding it between your teeth. You read back to ensure it’s the line you want to highlight. The brush of his fingers on the tops of your thighs indeed should have pulled you from the page at hand, but it doesn’t, so he advances even further. You cap the highlighter and flip the page to make sure you haven’t caused a bleed of yellow highlight through to the next page when you feel the edge of your skirt pushed up past your thigh and a heavy hand resting on your warm skin. 

You swallow thickly before gathering your voice, “What are you doing?” You ask, still timid, “Don’t worry about it, baby.” Your boyfriend mutters softly as he inches his hand up further; he’s nearly touching where your hip dips into your stomach. “You should stop that.” You say, “We are together, aren’t we?” He asks, almost sounding offended that you don’t like how he’s touching you. “We are together, but.” You close your bible with the bookmark as a reminder of the page you’re on and wiggle your finger in your lap. The shine of the purity ring caught the light of the overhead light and the sunshine coming in through the window.  “Oh, the purity ring, I see.…” You think you’re in the safe at his words, but then he grabs your hand and slips the ring off your left ring finger. Letting it clang onto the side table next to him. “It’s off now, baby, so no harm done.” He murmurs into your heart. It sends a round of shivers down your spine. 

You just get out of his hold, pushing yourself off the loveseat and standing with your hands behind your back. “I think we are done doing bible study. You should leave. My sister and parents will return very soon.” You blubber out. You are swallowing hard when he gets up with a rage you’ve never seen behind his eyes. You lick your lips and watch as he angrily shoves his bible into his backpack and walks out the front door. He was slamming the front door behind him. You stand there with shaky hands. Slipping your purity ring back on your left ring finger. You smooth your skirt and slip on your shoes before grabbing your keys and driving down to the church. 

You need to go to confession and talk to your priest.

The drive to the church is a short one, having that you practically live right next to the church. You’ve been coming here for years. Good Word Catholic Church, your childhood church, and now the church you go to for confession. You’ve never been to the confession booth before, never really had anything to confess to god back. You were the good girl, the one that stuck to her road—towing both sides of good and evil, staying neutral through almost everything in your life. 

You parked the car, turning off the engine. Were you scared to go to confession? Was it a good idea? Had your boyfriend been proper, if you had just let him… Your thoughts are drained out when your eye catches a new priest—bounding out of the side door of the church. Shaggy brown hair that looked like he hadn’t brushed it in years, a beard growing whiter by the second. Shaking myself from the thoughts of this priest, I finally manage to get the courage to get out of the car, slamming the driver’s door as I lock the car and walk inside. 

A few pews have people sitting in them towards the back of the church. People sitting on their knees praying and hoping for the words they speak to god to become the much-needed reality to save their lives. Your small kitten heels click on the marble floor of the church confession booth. That’s what you’re eyeing for. You’ve never had to go looking for it, but you gather it would be in the front of the church, away from prying ears. 

An older woman stands at the front of the church. Lighting a few small candles, “Oh sweetie, what are you doing here?” She asks. Her voice is calm, and she’s always been like a second mother to you at the church. “I’m looking for the confession booth?” You ask her, and the shock is visible on her face. She swallows hard as if pushing back what she wants to say. Pointing toward the booth, “You’ll take the first right and then a left, alright, dearie.” You can just imagine the rumors that will spiral around your church. “Thank you so much; I just needed to talk to someone who could help me with my sister’s issues.” You say the relief is also visible on the woman’s face. 

Your sister was the trouble child; you only ever got one good kid, is what you had heard around town. She was a part of all the wrong things: boys, parties, and everything else that seemed to have a lousy mark stamped on top. “Well, I’ll pray for your sister.” You nod and thank her again as you move through the halls to the confession booth. But now that you’re standing infront of the booth, you’re starting to get worried; the hesitance is just on the nips of your heels. It told you just to get back in your car and drive home. Forget about all of it together. Forget how your boyfriend touched you, how much you liked it. How it had sent shivers down your spine, and you weren’t sure what it meant at all. You swallowed hard and opened the door to the confession booth. 

The booth is small, no bigger than a phone booth you used to see has a young child. You sit on the plush multi-colored cushion, and the door shuts behind you. You put your pocketbook down on the floor. That’s when you hear the click of the other door before you say a word to the priest on the other side. You form the cross against your chest. Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath, and through the mesh window, you hear a heavy sigh. “Is this your first confession?” The man asks you, and it doesn’t sound like the regular priest you see every Wednesday and Sunday. You don’t ask the question that’s now poking your thoughts, “Yes Father.” You answer the mysterious voice on the other side of the mesh. “That’s okay. Do you need a moment?” The father asks you. You shake your head and then remember the mesh between you. “No, Father.” You answer him. “So tell me why you are here.” You swallow, “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned; this is my first confession.” Your voice feels like it’s echoing in the wooden booth. 

You twirl your purity ring on your finger. “I have… well, I need some advice, Father,” I tell the Father on the other side of the booth. He hums, “Tell me what worries you?” His voice is so soothing to the bone that I can’t imagine anything else. “I have been with my boyfriend for less than a year. He was so sweet and godly, but today… oh, Father.” You mutter over your words, “He touched me, and I… he took off my purity ring. I don’t know if it felt wrong and so right at the time. I think, no, I know that I’m scared. I don’t want to do anything wrong in God’s eyes. Please, I just need help with how I’m supposed to feel about these feelings?” You beg the Father. 

He hums once more, and the sound calms you. Your ring still takes swirls and twirls around your left finger with ease. You worry for a moment when the silence is too grave for you. “Don’t worry about your purity; you will stay pure as long as you resist the urges that your boyfriend is pushing onto you. But don’t forget to trust in God’s plan.” The Father says gently.  “Yes, Father.” You mutter, and before you can get up to collect yourself and your purse on the floor, the Father says something else that settles in your stomach in an oddly comfortable way. 

“Before you go, Miss, I’d like to see you in my office after Sunday’s service. Don’t worry about repenting just yet.” His words tickle your skin in a new and exciting way you’ve never felt. You nod and gather yourself. You grabbed your purse quickly before leaving the booth and the church altogether. You barely manage to get to your car before the heavy breath you didn’t realize you were holding let go. That heavy sigh made your shoulder lighten. 

His voice flits in your mind for hours after you visit the church. ‘Don’t worry about repenting just yet.’ It bounces from one side to the other. It makes you dizzy as you sit there in your kitchen with a glass of ice-cold water soothing you out of your thoughts. Your mother and father will be back with your sister in hours, so for now, you’ll push his words out of your mind. 

You shift off the small bar stool and hop into the kitchen, ready to make dinner. At least once a month, you make your family dinner to show appreciation for everything they’ve done for you. You get to work immediately. You were slipping on your apron and tearing through the fridge for fresh vegetables and a good hearty piece of protein. It doesn’t take long to get in the groove of the night. And while you wait for the last of the dinner to finish in the oven, you even manage to set the table with the fine china that your mother and father had received on their wedding. 

You even make a sweet treat for your family before they enter the driveway and park in the garage. Your mother is the brightest person you’ve ever met. Nothing dims her shining, happy light. The one that burns just like you in your chest. “Oh, sweetie, you made dinner for us.” Your mother says if she doesn’t know, it’s always on the same day. “And she even brought out the good china from the cabinet.” Your father adds. Coming around the island to place a sweet kiss on your forehead. “Thank you, sweetheart.” He says warmly before setting his bags down at the bottom of the stairs. “It smells wonderful, baby.” Your mother mutters as she repeats her husband’s steps. 

“So, what have you been doing while we were away?” Your mother asks sweetly before cutting into her food. The four of you sit around the table, mostly enjoying each other company. Your sister is the only grouch at the table. She’s the opposite of you, and sometimes you question if she’s even your sister; her only saving grace is the baby pictures in your family album. Black, filthy, and dirty to the bone. “I went to the church today.” Your mother lights up with excitement as she asks about people there who are her friends. “No, but I did bump into the older woman who lights the candles for afternoon mass.” Your mother hums, “What were you there for, darling?” Your father asks, his eyes boring into you. 

“I went to ask the priest for some help. I just…” “For help with what?” Your parents ask in unison, worried about their first and best daughter. “I’m just getting a little worried about um…” your eyes skit over to your younger sister. She rolls her eyes. “Oh, sweetie. We know you care a lot about us, but let us deal and worry about your sister.” Your father says as his knife digs into the china, earning a slap from his wife.

--

Second Meeting

The full-length mirror on the back of your bedroom door shows your outfit off—the pink mesh flare of the sleeves and the pink bodice. The gold cross sits underneath the bow that is tied around your neck. Your hair is pulled up and away from your face, showing off the little makeup you’ve placed onto your face: light mascara and a tint of pink lipstick. You can hear your mother yelling from downstairs in the early morning. “Coffee is ready, and we are leaving in ten!” She screams from the bottom of the stairs. 

You don’t scream back like your younger sister, her voice echoing through the upstairs hall. You grab your purse and slip on your small white kitten heels. Take one last look at yourself in the mirror before going downstairs. Your mother hands out a coffee as the three of you wait for your lazy sister. You can hear your father scrambling around in the living room, “Honey, where’d my jacket go?” He yells to your mother; she sighs and rolls her eyes with a faux annoyance. “It’s on the coat rack.” There’s a pause and a few loud footsteps before you can hear your father’s voice again. “Thank you, honey.” He says as he walks into the kitchen. 

“Is she still not down from her room?” He asks us, “No, Daddy, she hasn’t come down yet.” He groans with frustration and walks out without another word. The loud, hammering footsteps as he climbs the stairs are my mother and I’s sign to gather ourselves before he can even come down. 

Your mother takes one last sip of her coffee before rinsing her cup, grabbing her purse, and getting her coat. “Come on, honey.” She says to you. You repeat her actions, sipping your last coffee drop, grabbing your purse, and slipping into your black coat. Your father and sister both have the same look on their face. Annoyed, bothered, and irritated. Your sister is rolling her eyes with frustration. 

The slam of both the driver’s and back passenger doors tells your mother that an argument was most definitely had. With that out of the way, the car is reversed, and your whole family goes down the driveway. The further you get from your house, the more the usual chatter between your mother and father begins. You aren’t listening, but the music fills the rest of the silence. 

That is, until your phone dings within your purse. The smile on your face disappears; in large text, your boyfriend’s name is on your screen. You click on the text message and unlock your phone to see the entire message. Which is shorter than you think it probably should be. “Look, I’m sorry, but you’ve got to work with me here.” You roll your eyes. ‘Work with you like that will never happen again.’ You think to yourself; you scramble to finish your message as you see the car lot of the church just ahead of the stoplight. 

–

It had only been two days after your family had come home, two days after your confession to the new and mysterious priest. Your boyfriend was back at it; it happened in your room this time. Somehow, it felt filthy and unholy. Not a bible in sight, not that there wasn’t one stuffed in your side table. It starts innocently, the knock on your door. “Hey, baby.” His voice is laced with sugar, sending a smile onto your face. “Your dad said I could walk up.” He says as he stands there at your doorframe. Waiting to be let in. You eye him up and down. A blue polo shirt, a pair of dark-washed jeans, and some black socks. You watch as he wiggles his toes on the hardwood floor. “Come in.” You say, opening the door and moving out of the way. He takes a seat at the edge of your bed. 

He’s been in there once or twice, always with the door open. But now, with the door closing, he climbs onto your bed to sit next to you. It doesn’t seem like that big of a deal. It seems like hours pass between you as he sits there with his arms draped ever so nicely over your shoulder, legs tabled as you press your hand and head into his chest. The air is calm all around you. You can even feel a hush heartbeat, a slow and steady beat against your ear. The movie plays with the words filling the bottom of the screen. 

Everything is copacetic. Nothing out of line happens as you give the remote to him to select a new movie. For a fleeting moment your mind travels to the week prior. Maybe his actions were one out of yearning. Perhaps it was just one little outlier in your relationship; everything is going on just fine, so there’s no reason to believe it would go awry. You snuggle deeper into his chest, breathing him in with every breath taken. 

Then, the bubble you have so extensively created shatters like a stained glass window pane. All your thoughts pause, your mind frozen in the blimp of time, your heart skipping a steady beat with your breath. The hand resting on his chest so nicely is being picked up and transplanted. You barely even registered it at first; you focused on the movie. It’s not until his giant hand is pressing your smaller, softer hand into the fabric of his jeans. The zipper leaves indents on your skin. It doesn’t hurt by any means, and when you finally look away from the screen, the shock is written on your face. “What are you doing?” The beautiful glass wall you’d built was crumbing rather quickly once you made eye contact with him. An evil grin was present on his features, a different sparkle in his eyes—a wicked grin.  Making you shriek and run away, or worse, not move at all. 

“Nothing, baby. Don’t worry about a thing, sweetheart.” He muttered into your hair, never once looking down at you. His eyes stick to the TV screen, but when you try to move his hand away. The veins within his hands popped, and his grip on your hand worsened. “Don’t. Move. Your. Hand.” His words are sharp, and you know for a fact he means every single word, even if you weren’t not looking right at him.

“You can’t go running, Daddy, and you can’t yell for him to come up here. What would he think about seeing you with your hand halfway down your boyfriend’s pants?” His tone sets it all. Fear boils in the back of your throat as you try desperately one last time to pull your hand from his grip. He looks down at you for the first time. His eyes are dark, and the fear at the back of your throat comes up. Squeezing your throat, making you mute and malleable to all of his actions. “Unzip my jeans.” His voice is controlled and quiet. It sends an uncomfortable shiver down my spine, shooting throughout my body. “Be a good girl and do what I’m tellin’ you.” Your boyfriend’s demands. You swallow hard and wiggle your hand out of his grip, cold metal touching the tips of your fingers as you drag down the zipper. 

The bulge your hand had been sitting over was even more prominent now. Hot even through the jeans and boxers that protect you from the inevitable, dangerous thing you are being pushed to do. “Now pull my cock out, baby, I know you wanna.” He whispers into your forehead. “What… I don’t….” The words get stuck—the air passing through your lips. “You don’t what? You don’t know how to jerk a cock? You need me to teach you, baby?” He sounds so cocky. 

You don’t say anything, so he takes it as a hint. He moves quickly, shifting just enough to pull down his jeans and boxers. Then he manhandles you and places you on his thighs. You’re staring. What else does he expect you to do? “Oh, you like what you see. I knew you would like what you saw once you saw it.” Your thighs burn as you try to balance yourself upon his lap. He grabs you sweetly, cupping your much more petite in his large one. “We’ll take it slow, baby, I promise.” His voice is slick with honey as you lean into the touch of his warm hand against your skin. “Okay.” You whimper out, and he grins like the Cheshire cat. “I’ll take of you, and you’ll take care of me, right?” He asks you; you bite the inside of your cheek. You were trying to understand his meaning for the last time and nod your head. 

It’s only until you’re walking down the stairs with him two hours that night that the horrible feeling begins to pit at the bottom of your stomach. You’ve done an awful thing. Your boyfriend had promised that nothing wrong had happened. Had you thought that because all you did was touch him and content that you were in the clear? But when he kissed your cheek and walked down to his truck, his words left no comfort in his wake. That crumbling sense in the pit of your stomach only grew as you washed your hands in the bathroom. The sticky feeling of his release is still all over your hands. As you slipped your purity ring off, the pit grew larger, threatening to swallow you whole. The banging on the bathroom door was the only thing that managed to drag you out of your quicksand thoughts. “Are you almost done in there? Mom said… oh you don’t give a shit, just can you move quicker.” You can hear your sister through the door and dry your hands off before slipping the ring back on and taking one last look at yourself in the mirror. 

You don’t look any different, but the feeling in your stomach and mind has you feeling differently. You feel like the minute you get downstairs, everyone will know because, well, doesn’t Christ already know you’ve sinned? 

– 

This Sunday church service starts like any other, gathering with the many of you through the doors. Your mother sets her purse down as if anyone will steal her spot and goes to talk with her friends before mass starts. Your father does the same, gathering to speak with his golf buddies in a small circle. Your sister and you sit side by side in utter and complete silence. The squeeze of your mother and father alerts you that the service is about to start. 

“I know I’m not your typical priest, but I hope I’m a suitable replacement. I’m Father Dixon. Most of you will worry about Father McPhobe; he has taken ill but is doing great. If you want to send anything to him, take that up with the director at the end of this service. Now let us get into today’s sermon.” The new priest spoke, his voice echoing off the walls. I opened my bible and went to listen. You heard your mother, for a moment, whisper to your father. “I hope Father McPhobe is okay, but I already like Father Dixion.” Your father hummed and looked down at his bible in his lap. 

You don’t think about it now. It’s just muscle memory for you, the standing, sitting, standing and singing, the sitting. At the same time, you pray with your family, the collection bowl going around to collect for whatever the church is sponsoring, and the eventual blood of Christ. Regardless of sitting and standing, you always get up to take the blood of Christ. You squeeze past your sister and a few others before getting in line. It’s not until you’re standing in that line that the voice bouncing off the walls and stained glass windows hit you like a freight train in your mind. 

It’s the same voice. The same voice from the confession booth. He knows your little secret and wants to see you today—your heart races against your breastbone. And when you’re finally in the front of the long line, the father gives you the cup, his finger grazing over yours, sending shivers down your spine and your sipping. His eyes never leave yours. “And the body of Christ, miss.” You take it and walk away. With every click and southern draw of his voice, it’s sure him. It’s him, for sure. You almost hope and pray and forget that he wanted to see you. He hasn’t heard you talk, so there’s no way he could know that it was you in the confession booth. You wonder if he even knows who you are? 

That thought gets answered quickly as you gather yourself together—your purse in one hand and your bible in the other. Your family walks down the aisle towards the door. The priest, the dark-haired priest, is standing there, greeting every single person, shaking their hands, and introducing himself just a little bit more. “Father Dixon, that was just a wonderful sermon today. I can’t tell you how sad it is to hear that Father McPhobe is ill.” Your father’s voice travels for every ear to hear, and as you try to hide behind your mother and father, it’s hard not to be recognized by others who work at the church. “My wife will be talking to the director to get a fund together for whatever Father McPhobe might need.” Your mother grins and nods her head along with her husband. “And this is our daughter.” Your father says, dragging you from mostly behind him. 

“You must be the one everyone is always talking about around here in all the support groups and even a part of other things. You are a true representation of a good Christian girl. You’ve raised her well.” Father Dixion says to your mother and father. Your mother bursts into a full grin, and your father laughs. “She’s the best.” “I hope you don’t mind if I steal her. I have a few new ideas concerning the Toys for Tots Christmas donation.” Your father shakes his head. “Just call me when you need me to pick you up, okay pumpkin.” He grabs your neck and kisses your forehead before ushering your family out. 

Now, the two of you stand there, alone yet crowded by the people still around. “Father Dixon?” He hums as he grabs someone’s hand and shackles, thanking them for coming to the service. “We’ll go talk after I’m done here, alright? Just take a seat other there, and I’ll come get you when I’m done.” His voice is thick southern and makes you wable as you walk towards a bench lining a wall not far from him. Not only does the thick southern accent have you drowning in an emotion or feeling you’ve never felt, but the authority in his voice is no different than in the confession booth. 

Time passes by slowly, but when the Father is done, you feel the smallest of taps on your shoulder. Bringing you out of your dozing-off state. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to wake you.” The father says, his hand resting on your shoulder. You look around to see that most people at the service have abandoned the main hall. “Everyone’s gone home?” You ask; he hums and walks towards the last two open doors. You quickly follow him down the hallway that turns into turns of rights and left until you’re closer to the staff section of the church. The walk back there is met with silence, neither one of you talking, and as much as you’d like to hear his voice more as you wander down the halls, you’re glad there aren’t words yet spoken. 

Because the reality is you don’t know what you would even say. 

When you do finally manage to get to his office, he opens the door like a gentleman, and you enter. “Excuse the boxes. I’m still trying to get settled.” He says with a chuckle. You take in the room, spacious and filled with a few boxes, most of which are already torn down and staked in the corner of the room. A large black desk sits in the back of the room, two chairs in front of it. You take it that he might have already had a few meetings. You’re too far distracted by looking around to notice that the Father had stripped himself of church attire or that he’s shut and locked the office door. Trapping you in the room with him, and no eyes on you. 

“For a Father, you dress surprisingly casually.” The words blurt out before you catch them and shove them deep down in your tummy. He shrugs his shoulders. A pair of dark-washed jeans that hold everything in just the right place, and a white button-up. He looks like he just got back from a work trip. You suppose he did. “Is this your normal church attire, seeing as I haven’t seen you here for the past two weeks.” His eyes rake over your frame. You had hoped the dress would work, but you wish you had gone for something less eye-catching. You look down at the dress and smooth the fabric on your lap. 

Father Dixon moves, resting his behind on the edge of the large desk, his ankles crossed as he stares down at you. His gaze was hot, and searing you. The silence grows, and of course, the father is the one to break it. “You don’t have to look so damn nervous and worried.” You hum, not listening to his words by any means. Relaxation doesn’t come easy to you as you sit there, fiddling with your thumbs, you get more and more nervous. 

You sense the shift in the room as the Father moves, taking a knee in front of you. He clears his throat, “Listen to me, yeah, take a few deep breaths.” His face is so pretty this closeup. Fluttering lashes, a set of beautiful sky blue eyes staring deep into your soul, and a set of very kissable lips, so puffy and pillow-like from this closeup. His hands ghost over your own, and it only makes you want to grab it. To ground yourself, of course, not because you desperately want to feel the way his hands feel in your own, or anything like that. “Breathe with me, in and out.” He coaches you, taking a deep breath in with you and exhaling with you. 

When he’s satisfied that you aren’t about to explode with anxiety, he gets up from his kneeling position, and grabs you cold water from the mini-fridge. “Gotta keep the lunch cold.” He says as if he needs to explain why he’s got a mini fridge in his office. You watch him the entire time as he bends over to grab the water from the bottom tiny shelf how he rounds out the jeans in a most perfect way. How long his large and imposing frame truly is. You have to move your eye quickly when he shuts the door to the fridge and swings around. You take the water from his hands, fingers grazing over the top of his hand. You swallow and unscrew the lid like you’ve been stuck in the desert without water for days. 

He watches out; you can see him out of the corner of your eye. Biting his bottom lip, and for a moment, you wonder what he must be thinking about. You wonder what goes through the mind of a priest. You don’t get the chance to ask him because he’s back to controlling the conversation, not that you mind. Too fear you might stumble over your words without a topic already at hand. “You’re the young woman from the booth a few weeks ago, right?” He asks, you nearly squeeze the water bottle and get ice-cold water all over yourself, but you don’t Instead, you gag a little and cough before screwing the cap back on and staring up at him for the first time and really staring at him, not looking at him but over his shoulder. His eyes tear you apart in a way you’ve never felt before. You nod still not trusting your voice, and now your words. 

“So everything has been going well since your last confession?” He asks, as if it’s a casual conversation you would have a person on the side of the street. You manage only a quiet mumble of a “Yes, Father Dixon.” He chuckles, “When it’s just the two of us, you can call me Daryl, ya know.” He says as he takes a seat beside you in the other chair. But he does light up at your response. “That’s wonderful, so I shouldn’t be hearin’ your voice in my confession booth ever again?” He asks, the authority all coming back. Demanding me never to come back, but something is growing deep down. It’s been growing for the past few weeks.

You smile, but it’s brought with a shrug of your shoulders. Making the see-through fringe crinkle as your shoulder bobbed. His brow raises like the Father is about to be disappointed, instead, he just wants to know what’s been happening. “So something did happen? For a sin for lying and one for whatever you’re about to tell me.” You swallow down hard, making your throat bob up and down. Your head shakes, as if you’re just a puppet on someone else strings. 

“We… and he… it was going so normal and innocent, but then.” You fumble over your words. A large hand comes over to rest on your much smaller one. Rough calluses on the pads of his fingers and palm bring you out of your rambling state and gets your attention back on him. “You can tell me. Just take your time, sweetheart.” His nickname makes you shiver as you try to grow the confidence to tell the Father now everything that happened without the mesh wall in the way, and while his hand is wrapped in yours. Supportive or not, it drives you crazy. “He, um finished. Made it to the end of the line, all over us.” You’re trying your hardest not to cring at your own words. 

Then, something passes over his face—hate, disgust, embarrassment. You can’t read him well enough to understand what it means, but he ends up repeating his previous words. “So one sin for lying, and another sin for whatever the two of you got up to together.” his voice is dripped with authority, and his grip on your hand loosens before eventually drifting away. A large part of you wants to drag his hand back, but you don’t. “I have sinned, Father Dixion.” You say, blush creeping up from nowhere onto the apples of your cheeks. 

Father Dixon shifts in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest and letting the almost consume you. “I don’t think asking for forgiveness will wash away your sins this time, sweetheart.” There’s that damn nickname again. It sweeps across your mind like a broom, leaving nothing behind in its wake except thoughts of what other nicknames he might call you. What nicknames you would call Father Dixon or Daryl? Or whatever you’re supposed to call him. The words rush from your mouth, “I’ll do anything!” A seductive smirk grows on his face, inching closer and closer to his ears. “Anything?” He echos. “Yes, anything. I promise anything.” 

“Will you show me how he made you touch him? Because I know you didn’t start all that inappropriate touching. You’re too good to be groping men while behind closed doors, right?” Your eyes shift towards the closed doors, and you swallow hard. Your gaze travels back to Daryl, your priest. Father Dixon. The minute your eyes meet, the fear and worry wash away. Something about him is so dominating and calming at the same time; it confuses you and sets you on edge. “I’ll do anything if it will wash away my sins. I’ll do whatever you want, Daryl.” The minute his name leaves your mouth, his hands are on you. He’s up in a matter of seconds, and manhandling you to place you on the sturdy desk beneath you.

Your dress hikes up with the movement; Daryl slots himself between your open legs. Hiking up the skirt even further. “So what did he do first?” He asks you. The heat radiating off his body fries your brain for a moment before your senses pick up on the cologne that’s now wrapped around the both of you. He smiles like fall nights when the leaves are crunchy, and the sandalwood. It lulls you further into a calm state, “We were laying together on my bed; he was holding me so gently at first.” Your words come better now, and for whatever reason, you continue. “Then he was moving my hand, the one that was resting on his chest down further. Pressing it into his jeans.’ You swallow and watch as Daryl tries to mimic the movements. 

He grabs your hand, dragging it down his chest and towards the buckle of his dark-washed jeans. You can feel the familiar heat, the tent in his pants more significant than your boyfriends. He’s slow with every movement. Taking baby steps. “Then what?” He asks once he’s trapped your smaller hand between his own and his jeans. “He pressed my hand into it; I tried asking him what he was doing, but he said he wasn’t doing anything.” He rolls his eyes but presses your hand softly into the tent of his jeans. 

Voice low and raspy. “This right here is how turned on I am right now. The tent in my jeans right here. That’s the cause of you, sweet girl.” Darly murmurs sweetly into your ear. You shudder as his words send shivers down your spine, and his confession takes you aback. “What happened after, huh?” He groans out as your hand wiggles under the pressure. “When I tried to move my hand, he got angry, tried yelling at me, then switched tactics.” Darly stares deep into your ear, nearly noses brushing together. “Do you want me to tell you what to do now, too?” The question throws you way off bases nearly out into the empty field. “Yes, please, Daryl.” You say under your breath. He gives you a moment before pressing you for more information. “He made me unzip his, um… his jeans, and he called me a good girl.” The last part of your sentence is hushed mostly under your breath, but because the two of you are so close, it’s not that hard for Daryl to hear you. 

“Did you like it when he called you a good girl? Do you wanna try and be a good girl for me?”He asks you, and without hesitation, you’re nodding. Pleading him practically to tell you that you’re doing a good job even if it’s him guiding your hand. “Well then, unzip my jeans, and I’ll treat you like a good girl deserves to be treated..” He whispers into your ear. His nose brushed up against the top of your ear. You do as you are told, unzipping the zipper. The only sound you can hear is your heartbeat in your ears and the erratic breathing of Daryl in front of you. 

The weight of his cock sits heavy on your hand. His red and angry tip leaking pre-cum all over your fingers and hand. Your stare is serious yet it seems that Daryl isn’t bothered by it. The two of you are so close, somehow inching closer together. “God, you’re hands are so soft and tiny…” Daryl groans as you try to wrap your hand around the girth of his cock but fail. You barely manage to get your pointer finger and thumb to touch, and that’s just around the head of his cock. “What else did he ‘teach’ you, huh? Did you tell you how fast to jerk his cock off? Did he have to edge him until her busted all over your hand and pretty little fingers?” His questions are sent into a hot flash. You don’t want to remember what your boyfriend asked you; you care that right now you’re jerking off your priest cock in the church you’ve been going to since you were a child, and you feel no remorse at all. It makes you feel giddy, and with that comes more confidence. Fast and sloppier strokes to Daryl’s cock cause his head to fall forward. Bumping into yours, you breathe him in as if you’ll never get another chance. His grains turn into breathy moans as you swipe your sticky thumb over the tip of his cock. 

“God, you’re so good at this, and I can’t… “ He bites his lip to cover the words at the back of his throat. Trying not to take advantage has turned into taking advantage of you. You seem to be playing along for now, and as long as you are playing, why not have fun with it as well? One of his hands falls to the wooden desk next to one of your hips. He’s desperately searching for a grip on something. “Are you gonna cum, Father Dixon?” You ask him, you’re soaked, dripping in honey. He nearly moans when your other hand rubs his balls, “Say my name!” He demands it of you, and you oblige happily. “Cum all over my hand, Daryl… Please, I want to see what you look like when you cum. Please won’t you cum for the innocent young women, Daryl.” Your words make your stomach do flips, so you can only imagine how to push him over the edge as he grains and tries not to shout your name for the whole church to hear. 

It’s not til after Father Dixon had cleaned himself up and stuffed himself back into his jeans that he looks up at you. Still sitting there on the edge of his desk, you’re so fucking pretty. Innocent is wrapped around you like a halo glowing brightly in the background, but he fears he might have awakened something within you. “You’re a picture, a beaut.” He mutters under his breath as he presses his lips into yours. You frozen for a moment, and he worries he’s crossed over that line but not so many others. Then you’re melting. Melting into his lips, his touch, and his hold. You’re melting into him. Your lips are delicious, tasting of cherry lip smacker and a ting of coffee still left from your morning before church. Daryl tastes just as good. A minty freshness left behind, but there’s something else you can’t place your tongue on yet. 

“What am I supposed to do now, Daryl? Have I been washed of my sins? And my boyfriend, what about him?” You ask the father; he closes his eyes and presses his forehead into yours. Thinking for a moment that seems to span on forever. “How about you wait for a good, right, mature man to come and take care of you?” he offers, “Someone who can take care of me, you say.” his words bounce around in your mind as you text your father that you’re meeting with Father Dixion had been eye-opening, and that you were done. Before Daryl allows you even to leave his office, “You should have my phone number just in case you need some help with the toys for tots,” Daryl says as he stops in his spot. When he turns, your phone is already out, and on your new contacts page, he names himself Father Daryl and proceeds to text himself. Daryl is quick to walk to the front door of the church. Waving at your father. “Come to me whenever you’re ready.” He whispers into your ear as you pass him and get in your father’s truck. 

“That was a long meeting.” Your father comments, and for the first time since church ended, you look at the clock. Service had finished at noon, and now it was nearly three. You wonder where the time had escaped. “He just wanted to get to know me; I’m on all the committees here, so he managed to get a lot of information and help from me.” Your father grins at you. “You’re the best, you know that. The best daughter I could have asked for Pumpkin.” Your father’s words make you look back at your situation with the priest. Best is not what you would call it. Your sister wouldn’t call you that it, and neither would your mother, nor what you had done with the priest of your church. Your shrug the thought off, and think only of Daryl for the rest of the ride home. 

---

Third Meeting 

You aren’t sure where the sudden ache between your thighs is coming from you’re just sure that Father Daryl Dixon is all you’ve been able to think about recently. All you think about is the way his cock felt in your hand. The way it felt, how it pulsed in your hand as your words reached his ear with pleasure. How when you had finally arrived home you noticed just how wet your panties were, and wondered if there would be a next time. 

Daryl had made it out to seem like there would be a next time, but you only wondered when you would be able to get your hands on him again. It seemed that your one ‘meeting’ with the father had changed your whole course of being. You had not changed outwardly into a different person by anymeans, but the things you thoughts weren’t what an innocent girl that went to church, and worked in the soup kitchen thought. Daryl, knowingly or not had changed you forever. 

So, a few nights latter when the itch to feel the same feeling between your legs arised your jumped at it. Except what are you supposed to put into the google search engine. Confused you looked between your phones screen and your bedroom door, then back to your phone. Without a second thought you placed your phone down on your bed, and lifted the covers back to padd across your floor to your sisters bedroom door. You knocked gently before waiting for a response. 

Nothing, so you knocked again. “I need to ask you something?” You barley whispered it through the wooden door. A few moments passed, and then it was opened. A begruded look on your sisters face. As if she was annoyed at your sudden knocking at her door. “What do you want?” She asked rolling her eyes at you. You cleared your throat. “I… how do…why…” You mumbling only caused her to get more aggravated at you. Grabbing your forearm she dragged you into her room. 

In comparison her room wasn’t much different then yours. The shared bathroom between was the only room your both used on a daily basis but it was kept neutral. Posters, and othe things hung on the wall of her room. Darker sheets, and paint. “What do you need?” She asked again as she shut her bedroom door. You wiggled your nose trying to come up with some sort of words to express yourself. She stared at you for a long minute before shaking her head. “Are you in my room because mom and dad sent you in here to make sure I was still alive?” She asks venom laced around each word. “NO!” Shouting catching the both of you off guard. Then the words that you weren’t able to find earlier come all flooding out at once. “I wasjust wondering what that feeling you know  between your thighs is? Also how do I get it back?” You asked her and as the words hit your ears and her the embarrassment came rolling back and the confidence went out the window. She gigglese and then laughs at you. Then notices that you aren’t joking or pulling her leg.

 “Oh my god you’re serious?” She asks, you swallow and nod. “Oh you sweet child.” She mutters as she walks closer to you, your sister talks to you like your the younger sister sometimes. Regardless of that though, she sit down next to you on her bed. “What have you been doing with that boyfriend of yours?” She asls wiggling her brows at you, you shake your head, and start o confess to her but before you can get the words out of your mouth she’s ranting on about what you’ve got to do. “So you’re talking about that feeling between your thighs, that wet feeling that sorta aches right?” She asks just verifying, you nod unable to speak words at this moment. “So if you aren’ with your boyfriend then you can just look up something on internet. But make sure that your engine is on private, so if mom and dad go snooping they can’t that their perfect daughter is perfect anymore.” Your sisters last words aren’t filled with jealously or even envy. It’s almost sounds like she’s relieved that she isn’t the one that the sun shines on everyday. 

“What do I search up?” You ask even if the embarrassment to crushing your lungs of oxygen. “Here I’ll show you.” She grabs her phone off the side table. Swiping through a few screen before landing on a search engine and then she clicks it over to private, “That button might be somewhere else if you aren’t using the same search engine as I am.” She notes, before continuing. In the private engine shetypes quickly, but the words are in big bold letters to your eyes. “Just look up porn, or maybe you’re an audio person they’ve got some of that too.” You sisters adds once again. Your cheeks feel as if they’re on fire, but for the first time you’re having a normal conversation with your sister its feels like years since you’ve talked like normal people to each other. 

“Is this the first time we’ve talked in years?” You comment as you look around her room, she chuckles. “Probably.” Again she doesn’t sounds like she full of envy or that she’s even mad at you. “I’m just glad I’m not you.” Her words hit you in an uncomfortable way, “what do you mean?” You asks not fully understanding, “I just mean that when you fall, you’re going to land hard and fast on the ground that you’ve created.” You still don’t understand, “Mom and Dad seen a perfect girl, and when they learn of whatever is going on with you the world you’ve created for them of you is going to crash and burn.” It sounds like sound advice if you can call it advice. You nod, “Thanks.” Is all you say. The two of you sit in silence for a minute, before she groans out. “Get out of my room now, I was trying to sneak out before you rudely interrupted me.” You laugh and shake your head. “If you don’t tell mom and dad about me sneaking out I won’t tell them about our conversation.” She adds, “Sounds fair.” You say before getting up and walking out of her room.

The sun had already set byt the time you make it back to your bedroom, so you shift around to close your blinds. Before coming back to your door slipping the door locked before climbing back into your bed and grabbing your phone before getting under the covers. Your slick sleepwear isn’t that much of a barrier. As you settle under your sheet you get a message from your sister. “I’d wear headphones too, big sis.” She texts, sending a thumbs up before digging around in your side table for a pair of loose headphones to jack into your phone. 

You follow your sisters directions with ease. Clicking on the search enegie, and maing sure that it’s in private mode before search those big bold words that are stucking to the back of your eyes. Your fingers are slowler then your sisters, but you get there all the same. You’re bombarded with images of naked women, and men. It causes you to panic for a minute, before you remember what your sister said to you. “Audio” That was also an option, so going up to the search engine of the dirty website you put something simple into the bar. “Audio for women.” It takes a moment for the spinning circle of death to stop spining but then a few video popped up. This time there weren’t naked women and men that filled your screen. Instead drawn images with much better working titles, with that one catches your eye. 

You click the video the mans voice filtering through the headphones and right into your ears. It soothes you as his accent lulls you into a comfort. ‘You’re so wet for me love.’ the voice mutters into your ears. Starting off with no warning but it doesn’t matter as your set your phone and shift under the covers of your bed. Grabbing at the hem of your sleepwear shorts. The silk falls off your warm body to the bottom of the bed. ‘I bet you’re wet for me, being such a good girl for me.’ the man talks again, your moan lightly as your fingres graze over the wet spot that’s been getting wetter and wetter by the second. ‘You want me to play with your little clit, yeah I bet ya want me to make you feel good baby.’ as the man keeps talking the more you get into it.Your own fingers playing your clit through the soaked fabric, it’s not until the voice tells you that he wants you take off your panties do you. Kicking them to the edge ofthe bed under the covers. 

‘Now I want you to sink to of your fingers in baby. Get them all wet and soaked.’ The voice says in your ear, you moan at the intrude of your own fingers at your weeping hole. You trying to widden your legs to get more leverage but it only leaves you open to more of a stretch and for a fliting second your minds travels to Daryl and his hands. How large just one of his fingers are in comparison to yours. How the stretch of just one of his fingers would feel like. ‘Now I want you to pump your fingers slowly, and then get up to speed that comfortable for you doll.’ You nod your head at the words of a stranger, the angle is a little odd for your hand but you get used to it as the two of your longer inch to places you’ve never thought you could reach. 

The strange voice keeps talking walking you through the motion, then he tells  you that he wants you to rub your clit. ‘Rub your clit for me baby, but don’t stop pumping your fingers in and out of your cunt. I know you wanna cum all over your fingrs baby and this is how you’re gonna get there.’ the voice murmurs. A vibration ringing through your ears as your cheeks feel as if they’re on fire like the rest of your body. An unfamiliar bubble rolls around at the bottom of the tummy. The ache returns and then you figure it out. If your circle your clit just as fast as your fingers leave and return to the wet walls of your cunt your vision will go blurry and you’ll finally reach that desperate high you’re aching for so badly. Second by second the pleasure grows until your eye rolls back and the urge to scream swallows you whole. Except nothing comes out at all, your breath is gone and your scream is silent. Your legs shake under the confindes of the covers and you’ve created a wet spot that travels through your sheet. 

You remove your fingers from your cunt, and take a few longer moments to catch your breath. One full breath in and out doesn’t do enough to catch up with your heartbeat that’s been racing in one of your ears since one of the earplugs had come out with the trashing of your body. The video keeps playing until it ends and you’re quick to pulls away from the covers, and turns the video off and delete any trace of it off your phone. You reach down under the covers once you’ve gotten yourself stable, grabbing for both your panties and shorts. You opt for a new pair of panties and slip them on before the shorts. You fix your bed up with new sheets and comb a few stray hairs out of your face before returning back to your bed. 

You’re drawn from your dizzying, comfortable haze when a message passes over your lock screen. You catch the time, nearly eight at night. You breath deeply before clicking on the message. 

“You’ve been ignoring me.” The message reads. “I wasn’t meaning to, just have had a lot of things with church.” You type out and send to him, “Of course you have.” He response. “What do you mean?” You ask him, “I’m just sayin’ that you’ve never got time for us.” He’s got to be joking, you’ve always had time for him, he just never wants to do anything other touch you nowadays. “I always make time for you, but you never want to just hang out.” You type no anger just confusion is what bubbles up in your chest. “Of course I want to do more then hang out, we’ve been together for what like at least a few months now.” He sends back. You rolls your eyes at the redundant manner of the conversation. “We’ve already talked about this I’m not ready.” You respond, your response is point blank just like how it is when you’re talking to each other in person. “Yeah I figured as much when you’re acting like a tease but won’t put out for your own boyfriend.” He sends back and ou shake your head at the whole thing. “Well then maybe we should break up since you aren’t getting what you thought we were gonna get from me.” You send, without regret. A message is back in a matter of seconds. “Gladly, just know you won’t find anyone who’s willingly able to deal with your virgin ass.” He sends and then that’s it. Because what are you to say to that. He’s acting like a child, but you assume that’s no longer your problem is it. 

You sit there for a long moment, figuring out what you’re supposed to do now. You were floating on cloud nine, and now you’re at the the bottom of the ocean. Deep in your feelings, your can’t swim and even if you wanted to you can’t image you would want to swim to the top that’s until you’re scrolls through your phone in your contacts, and see Father Daryls contact. No image associated with the contact just his name, and an idea strikes you straight in your heart. You click on his contact, licking your lips you breath in deeply before writing out a message out to him. 

“Where are you right now, Daryl?” You send the message you wait for it to show that it been delivered and then that its been read. A few moments pass, and then you see those dots that dance at the bottom of your screen. “I’m in my office.” He response, when the dots finally stop dancing “Are you finally taking me on my offer?” Daryl asks you, your fingers move on their own accord. Typing out a message, exposing yourself to him. “I’m taking you up on your offer, Daryl. All I’ve been thinking about have been you. Your cock and how I want you to touch and make me feel like i felt when I leave you last week.” You type out, automatically there’s a winking emoji in your thread of messages. “You okay drive in the dark?” He asks you, “Yeah, let me just change out of my clothes.” You type out. 

“Be here in ten.” Is the last message you get from him before your drop your phone on the bed, and shift around your room to grab something more appropriate to go for a late night drive. You go for a pair of yoga pants and a loose t-shirt. One that your father had given to you when it no longer fit him in the stomach area. Grabbing your purse, and phone to quietly walk down the stairs. Your mother and father sitting in the living, your mother is the one that sees you first. “Where are you going?” She asks, looking down at her watch. You had seen the time before you left your room. “It’s nearly 9 at night.” Your father looks up from the basketball running on the tv. “You know my friends who’s got some family issues?” You ask your mother, she nods and waits for more information. “She need somewhere to crash for tonight. Her parents are in a really bad fight with each other tonight.” I say. Lying to my mother, for a meeting with my priest. “Oh poor girl, well you go be a good friend sweetie.” Your mother says looking back down at her book. “Just be safe please.” You father adds before returning his attention to the basketball game. 

You let go of the breath you didn’t realize that you were holding. You unlock the car door the minute you get outside. That’s when you see your sister climbing down the side of the house. You both eye each other and nod before looking away from each other. You get into the car fast, and turning on the engie and rolling down the drive way. The ten minutes are cutting it short when you get stopped at a few stop lights, but you still manage it. Pulling into the same spot that you had used when you had arrived at the church for your first confess. A ding rings through your car. You look through your purse for your phone. “Front door is locked, use the side door.” It reads. You nod to yourself as your cut the engine and grab your purse and lock the door before walking towards the side door. 

It’s not until you’re opening the door that you realize how scary the church is when there’s nobody there and it’s dark. You travel through the halls some dark and some bright with overhead lights flickering on and off. When you make it to his office, the door only cracked a little bit you still knock. “Come in.” He answers. His office is different then just a few days ago. The boxes are gone, and the things that littered his floor are either put up on shelves or are on his desk. He’s wearing from where you can see him another button up. “Hello sweetheart.” His accent running through the words. You standing there with your purse in front of you, but there’s an excited smile on your face. He returns the smile, and the smile grows even larger when you the next sentence comes flowing from your mouth. 

“I broke up with my boyfriend, well I guess he’s now my ex-boyfriend.” You say with a shrug of your shoulders. His eyes are huge. Large blue discs staring at you. “You said what?” He says to you as he caps his pen and places it in the pen holder on his desk. He pats his lap, motioning me over with that ‘Come here’ pointer finger motion. You move quickly over to him, dropping your purse in one of the empty chairs in front of his desk. He grins up at you as you round the daks and take a seat in his lap. “Tell me again.” He says as he wraps a arm your wasit to hold you tight on his lap. “I broke up with my ex.” “And how did he take it?” Darly asks, Your brows raise, and he manages to get what you’re trying to say without saying a single word. “Like a baby I’m guessing.” Daryl finishes, you nod. “His lost anyways.” Daryls adds, which makes your cheeks burn from the smile that hasn’t left your beautiful face since you arrived at the church. 

“You know how beautiful you are don’t you?” Daryl stats as he sweeps a fewstray hairs away from your face. You blush hard as your ears and cheek grow hot from his statement and his stare. You shift in his lap, and try to squeeze your thighs together to relieve the tiny bit of ache between them. “I asked you a question baby.” He says more stern, you nod as you look away from him. “Maybe I should show you just how beautiful you really are. What do you think about that?” You can’t help the way your body runs with shivers of anticipation. 

“Come on princess,” Daryl mutters as he shifts you in his lap and then swipes away from of the things on his desk to make a place for you to sit there. You wait for him to manhandle you and place you there. “Did you wear these just for me?” he asks you as his rubs his hands up and down your outer thighs. You hum with excitement and answering his questions. He looks down and sees that you wearing a pair of black flats. Slipping thoese off first before returning to the yoga pants. You help him as you arche your body, so he can slip them off just like your shoes. “You’re so sweet for me.” He says as he pushes your legs apart, and doesn’t lose time. He thumbs your clothed clit, you mewl at the sudden and strong attention to your starving cunt. 

The longer he plays with your clothes clit the more the ache grows. Building and building until you feel like you’re about to explode but then he’s letting up, and leaving you there wondering what’s about to happen next. You beg him for more, for him to start again. “Please… oh please don’t stop. Keep touching me please Daryl.” You beg him from below him. The hardwood surface is the only thing keeping you cool. Your voice strains as you bed him even more. The little touches that he’s giving you between your thighs with little kisses and licks of your skin aren’t enough anymore not when he’s already teased you with his thumb on your clit. 

“Oh princess I am touching you. I’m touching you right now.” Daryl chuckles, you roll your eyes and groan. “Be more specific love.” He says. There’s a sort of silence that takes the two over, not that he’s not touching you he’s just not where you so desperately want him. “Use your…” Your head falls back with pleasure as it hits the desk as his hand grazes up your soaked panties to lightly pass your clit. “I want your mouth on me!” You pratically scream out.  He grins a devilish grin, “See princess that’s all you had to say to me.” He says beore he dropsto his knees and widdens your legs more but not before he slips your wet panties off. They land somehwere not that you care where they are right now. 

His tongue is prodding at your weeping hole, while his thumbs stays on your now exposed clit. The touch intenisfies by a ten fold. Every rub and circle sends shockwaves through your body. One of your hands land in the messy bun of his hair as you direct him. He hums as you forced him where you desperatly need him. As he hums it sends waves of pleasure through your cunt “There she is, use me baby girl.” He mutters against your cunt. Daryl stay agasunt your wet cunt, and it doesn’t take long for you to be grinding up agasint his mouth. When you’re close you try to warn him, but he lets go of you with a pop. His chin and nose wet with your juices. “You’re so tight around my tongue baby girl.” He says as he make direct eye contact with you. He’s gasping for air, but seems to be enjoying himself between your thighs. “You cum whenever you to baby girl. I just wanna make you feel good.” he murmurs as he presses a few tiny wet kisses against your lower belly where the t-shirt had raised up. 

Giving you promise and returns Daryl is back on your cunt, enjoying his meal like he’s about to get a death penalty. It’s when your legs start to shake, and your toes curl that you know you’re done for “OH…PLease don’t stop I’m so close!” You shout and tug at his hair and pull Daryl even further into your cunt as your eyes roll into the back of your head, letting out a silent scream has your lungs burning for oxygen when you come down from your long high. 

“There she is.” Daryl mutters as you come too. His eyes are hooded with a dark pleasure. You body feels weak, but you want him all the same. “So pretty when you cum.” Daryl says as he presses his lips into yours. Oxygen be damned he consumes you and you like the taste of yourself on your tongue. When he pulls back you can see the evident hard on in his pants. You go to reach forward but are denied. “I want to fuck you don’t worry about that baby girl, but not here.” You notch your head to the side, as you look at around the office. “Then where?” You ask, he smirks down at you. “Good Girl” He mutters as he steps away from you to grab your discarded clothes and your flats. He helps you back into your clothes, and tells you to grab your purse. “Wait here while I lock the door and then we can leave.” 

It doesn’t take Daryl too long to get everything together, before he’s back at your side. And in this moment and only thing moment do you notice the difference in your age. He’s got gray hairs the are filtering through his hair, and beard. The crow feet that lays between his eyes and his forehead. But it all disappears when he grabs your hand and take you towards the same door you walked into just an hour ago. “Your car locked up?” He ask as the two of you pass by it, you nod and for extra measure you lock it waiting for the beeping noise to ringin through the empty parking lot. “Good girl.” he says to you as he opening his passenger side door for you, and then walks around to get in the drivers side. 

The drive to you assume his house is a silent one, the roads not fully empty but drained of life on a tuesday night. The stoplights cause a little panic to grow at he pit of your stomach. “Stop worrin’ baby girl.” He says softly as he reaches over and grabs your hand squeezing it gently. “I’m not worrying I just want you to get there faster, so you can fuck me already.” Your own words shock you and make you laugh. His eyes don’t leave you until a car behind you disturbed the silence of his stare on you. The light green Daryl decides it’s probably best to speed the ride to his house up a little bit.

He pulls into the drive way, and put the car in park. You’re to excited to wait for Daryl to be a gentleman and open your door for you. You bust the door open before manages to get to your side of the car. “Eager I see.” Thats all he magaes to get before you’re on his. Lips on lips. Teeth on teeth. Theres no fight for dominance you just want to taste him again. “Shit baby!” he mutters agaisnt your lips as he nearly stumbles over the steps. “I didn’t know that priest were allowed to curse.” You tease him. He rolls his, “There’s a whole lot of things you’re about to learn about me baby.” He says. Daryl practically shoves you into his house, there’s no tour not really. You might count it since you get a glimpse of most of the room, as the two of you shove each into walls to get your tongue and lips on each other. “No marks.” You remind him. “You’ve gotta keep looking innocent on the outside but nobody said I can’t ruin your insides.” Daryl comments as he opens his bedroom. 

Your clothes are littering the floor, between shoes. Your back is arche down as your head lays into mattress. Your ass high in the air, wiggling it back and forth. “Come on put it in already, Daryl. I’ve been begging for hours now.” You beg him, he groans as he jerks his cock in his hand, You spent what felt like forever preparing. You had taken his tongue again, and then two rounds of his fingers. Sinking further and further into your wet cunt. “I just don’t wanna break you.” You hear him mutters to you from behind you. “You’re not gonna break me, now just fuck me already!” You beg him once more, and when you feel the notch of his head intrude your wet, and warm hole your eyes roll. You’re stuffed and he’s not even halfway in. He’s slow deliberately slow, letting you inch and inch yourself onto his cock. Taking everything you can get until you hit the hilt of his cock. Balls slapping againt your clit. You’re overfilled and overloaded with every sense. You can feel that you’re holding your breath, and so can Daryl. 

“I’m not moving till you breath.” He says gently, that’s the last time you here a gentle demeanor come from him. Once you take your breath and let it go he’s slipping almost all the way out, and then all the way back in. A large hand grabs a fist full of your hair at the base of your neck and pulls your head of the the soft bed and up, arching your back to get even deeper and deeper within you. You moan out in pleasure, your sense are like fried wires. If anything touches you you think you might explode under the pressure. “Oh fuck sweet girlm sotight around my cock. Got me thinkin’ I’m gonna cum like a teenaged boy again. His thrusts are calculated and the way his hips hit you as you bouncing. 

The other uncuppied hand finds your jiggling tits. Sqquzing and teasing your taught nipples. He rolls one between his thumb and pointer fingers. Your head hangs back over your shoulder, and lands on his shoulder. “Daryl, you’re so… fuck so big.… feel so full.” You babble on and on, it only encourages him further. Pounding into with vigour he hasn’t felt in ages. He changes tactics, removing his hand in your haid and placing it around your waist. His large hand finding it’s place against your clit, as he feels his cock pound in and out of your cunt. “You feel me? Pounding into you?” He asks, reaching for one of your hands to place where his was. Your shock is aduioable in your voice, you can feel him pressed up against your lower tummy. It all but pushes you over the edge. “There, cum all over my cock baby it’s alright love.” He whispers into your ear. Shivering you shake your head, and counter him “Together, please together!” You beg him. “You want me?” You don’t allow him to finish his sentence, “In me please Daryl. Cum in me.” It pushes him over a water falls edges and he takes you with him. He explodes with you, as he circles your clit and kisses you till you’re both fighting for air. You collapse together on to the bed. He can feel him leave you and as he does you whine with lose. What Daryl see is a sight he never wants to loose. A thick rope of his seed leaking from your cunt and onto his sheets. He wishes he could take a mental picture of it and keep it forever, but he can’t so he opts for something else. Grabbing your panties off the floor he slips them gently back on to your ass. “What are you doing?” You ask weakly. “Keeping you nice and stuffed that all princess.” He says as he leaves to grab and wash clothes and some water for both of you. 

Breathless and tired, you look over at Daryl. “You’re so handsome.” You say shyly; even though you’ve been royally fucked within an inch of your life and cursed like a sailor, you’re still shy saying the simplest of words. “Oh, princess, you’re out of this world.” He says with a warm smile. Yet that smile is drowned out by his words. “I should be gettin’ you back to your car.” He turns to you, and you shake your head violently. “No, not yet.” You say, climbing into his lap. “Let’s just stay like this.” You mutter as you grind into him and lean down for another sweet kiss. He groans as his hands cup your ass and pull you forward. “Okay, but just a little longer, yeah.” He murmurs against your lips.

Completed on: 11/13/23

Posted on: 11/16/23

The Law-

[dckweed]

NEXT THING YOU KNOW, gator tillman

in which gator tillman and his arranged bride figure out life and each other and what a real relationship means to them.

warnings: mentions and depictions of abuse, mentions of bruises, arranged marriages, romance, humor, dead parents, slow burn relationship (not completely but not not), basically we know the tillman men are asswipes so i 100% see Roy forcing gator into this kind of situation for money for his militia, eventual smut with kinks such as thigh riding, gun play, choking, spanking, lots of marking and possible spit play.

p.s. if y'all ever wanted to send in little rambles or drabble ideas for pearlie and gator to my ask box feel free to my babes, i love interaction with my readers! or even if you wanted to just ask me questions to get to know me!

song in the last scene is somebody's heartbreak - hunter hayes

series masterlist here, series playlist here.

PART FOUR: the weekend, pt 2

Friday. 

Your first night in the Tillman house was quiet to say the least. After picking up Jessica and Maude from their school, both of them clambering into Gator’s truck (he had insisted on taking his own so that he could be the sole driver) with slight grumbles, they were used to their mom picking them up, and even Roy on special occasions, they perked up when they realized that their older brothers wife to be was in the passenger seat. 

“Are you really going to marry him?” Maude, or maybe it was Jessica you weren’t sure how to tell them apart just yet, asked with wide, curious eyes that glanced between you and her big brother. Gator turns half cocked in his seat to give a dirty look to the offending twin. “What? You’re gross.” She muttered, resigning to buckling her seatbelt. 

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up in your throat or the grin that spread across your lips. “She’s not wrong,” You giggle when he gives you an equally offended look. “I’ve seen your bedroom!” 

Gator rolls his eyes at you but smiles anyway, asking the girls what they wanted for supper. 

He had made supper while you helped the girls with their homework, it was an oddly domestic experience that you basked in, as was holding his hand while he said grace before everyone dug into the sloppy mess of what you quickly gathered was about the only thing he was capable of cooking, pasta. 

He had left for work not too long after that, leaving with a hurried and wet kiss to your cheek and a stern look at his sisters to behave themselves, a reminder to lock the doors after he was gone, and to text him if he needed anything, to which you had called out to him that he would have to actually respond too. He simply flips you off as he walks down the steps of the porch. 

The girls were an absolute joy, much like your own little sisters. You could tell that they were sweet but that they absolutely enjoyed getting under their older siblings skin whenever they could and you couldn’t say you blamed them, he seemed like he could be a hard ass from time to time. 

When they were off to bed you were left alone to your own devices, exploring what bit of the house you felt comfortable enough to while you were alone, cleaning up after you and the girls’ evening and even cleaning up some of Gator’s room, at least cleaning the mess off of the floor. 

Eventually, it was late enough that your eyes felt heavy and you could barely hold your head up, you had busied yourself with wedding planning and looking at the photos that littered your fiance’s room, questions racing through your mind about who the women were in them as you explored. You hadn’t been paying attention to the time and were surprised to find that it was after three am, and that Gator had texted you around midnight. 

GATOR: how’s everything?

The girls go to bed okay?

Are you asleep?

Something about the string of messages, sent only a few minutes apart made you smile. And then you laughed when you realized that you were the one not responding now. Although in your defense, the messages had been sent when you had been downstairs putting a load of his laundry in the machine, having found a container of detergent on his closet floor, different from the kind that you noticed was downstairs. You hadn’t though to check the phone when you had come back up. 

Now that you were in his bed, under his comforter and breathing in his scent that was all over the pillows and sheets, you felt oddly relaxed. Smirking, you open your phone and pull up your camera, giving a slightly sultry face as you snapped a clear pick of you in his bed, one of your pert nipples hardened and showing through the thing fabric of your sorry excuse for a tank top. 

You attach the photo to a message and send it to him. 

YOU: nice and cozy 

You see him open the message, the little bubbles start moving like he’s typing something to you, and then they stop and you laugh, tossing the phone onto the pillow next to you and rolling onto your side. You close your eyes and you’re close to falling asleep when you hear it ping with a new message. 

GATOR: the hell are you doin’ up so late?

You pout. You expected a reaction to the photo you sent, at the very least an acknowledgement to it and you have to admit you're a little upset that he didn't. Were you over reading things? Did he not like you like that? You had thought that you were friendly enough to send flirty messages back and forth, especially given the way he had stared at your tits before he had even spoken to you, why wouldn't he give a response to the photo? 

Deciding to brush it off, you roll your eyes and snap a picture of the floor off the side of his bed, it gave a clear shot of the rug in front of it that was previously messy. 

YOU: keeping myself busy Deputy, your room was calling to me 

You send it and you don't bother to wait and see if he opens it, closing your eyes to try and get some kind of sleep. 

A couple hours later you wake to a God awful screeching in your ears, scaring you so badly you bit your head on the wall as you jump into a sitting position. It's coming from the nightstand next to the bed, closest to the pillow that smells the most like Gator. His fucking alarm clock bleating in your ears at goddamn six in the morning. 

“Two fucking hours of sleep.” You grumble, kicking your legs angrily as you try to get the comforter off of your body. “Jesus Gator, why's it so fucking cold in here?!” You whine outloud, arms folded over your chest as stomp your way to his closet, pulling his thick robe out and tying it around your waist. He's much bigger than you, it hangs to your feet and the cuffs fall over hands. You probably looked stupid but you didn't care, it was the warmest thing you could find. 

You remember that it's Friday, and the girls have school so you open the door of his bedroom and shuffle across the hallway to the girls’. You peek your head in and one of them is just starting to stirr in their bed. 

“Hey girls,” You say, soft but loud as you walk between their beds. The one on the left is the one already stirring, Maude you think. She rubs her eyes as you sit down on the edge of Jessica's bed, giving the girl a soft shake. “time to get up and get ready for school okay? Don't want your mama and daddy getting upset with me because you're late..” 

You would probably never hear the end of it from Karen. And you certainly wouldn't feel the end of it from Boyd if she ran her mouth to him about it. 

Jessica comes to with a little more persistence on your end and you make sure they're actually up and shuffling to the bathroom to brush their hair and teeth before you leave them alone, headed downstairs to make breakfast. 

You whip up a quick eggs and toast situation, and pour them some orange juice and wonder how the hell they're so perky when they come down the stairs and sit in their chairs. 

“Where's Gator?” Jessica asks, taking a big gulp of her juice. “He's usually home by now, I wonder if he got to arrest someone..I wonder if he'll have a cool story for us!” 

You shrug, sipping on your own juice. “I'm sure he's on his way, sweetie..” You say, keeping an eye on the time. You have just enough time to do the dishes and leave a plate out for Gator before you have to take them to school. 

You drive in his robe, planning to go back to the house and sleep for a little longer, the sleepless nights at Boyd's finally catching up to you. You promise to pick them up in your Jeep this afternoon, and to make them something other than spaghetti for supper too and make the drive back to the ranch. 

Gator's squad car is in the drive when you park, his plate of eggs eaten and sat neatly in the sink. You don't stop to wash it, too tired as you drag your feet up the staircase and into the upstairs hallway. His bedroom door is closed, and when you open it you find him sprawled on his stomach on the bed, nothing on but his boxer shorts. He's snoring lightly, and you know he must be exhausted to already be asleep as he couldn't have been home long. 

“Ugh, boys.” You grumble, tripping over his work boots that were laid in the middle of the floor, one stood up right and the other tossed unceremoniously on its side. His tactical vest is at least on the back of his desk chair, his thigh holster with the gun still inside of it placed on the desktop. You crouch and pick up his camouflage pants and his skin tight black shirt, tossing them in the empty laundry hamper in the closet before hanging the robe back up. 

Without much more thought you crawl into the bed next to Gator, getting comfortable next to his warm body and falling asleep again within minutes. 

Gator wakes a couple of hours later to warm breath in his face and weight across his chest. He's groggy and it takes him a moment to realize that it's you. Sometime between him coming home and going to bed, you had also come home and had crawled into bed with him, somehow winding up laying partially on top of him. 

You look so peaceful when you sleep, your lips parted and your face so uncaring. You were laying on your back, one arm thrown over his chest. He can't help but to guiltily look down, eyes roaming over your chest. He kept it pretty cool in his room, and it was clear your body was reacting to it by the way your hardened nipples poked through your flimsy tank top that obviously barely covered your tits to begin with. He stifled a groan when he felt himself getting hard, same as he had last night when you'd sent him that goddamn photo. God, he had practically cum in his pants when he'd seen it, but he didn't think you could have possibly meant it in any other way than just to be playful in response to his text. 

He had had to jerk off to it only a few hours ago, and now that he had you in his bed with him and he got to look at the real thing? Fuck, he couldn't get to the bathroom fast enough. 

Gently moving out from under your arm, he sits up, his elbow brushing the fabric of your tank top as he stands. He glances back at you once he's on his feet, one hand clutched on the comforter as you squirm around, his eyes locking onto discolored flesh on the upper part of your rib cage peeking out from the bit of your shirt he had accidentally moved. It was a violent shade of green with a little tinge of purple. 

Hard on long forgotten he reaches a steady hand out and gently pushes the top up father, exposing the bottom of your tit to his eyes, and the rest of a large, angry bruise that looked like it wrapped around your entire front. 

“Jesus fuck..” His first thought was that his father had done something to you, hit you with his horse whip maybe when you were alone yesterday, but he knew he wouldn't. Not yet, not until your last name was legally Tillman and he felt entitled to you. The bruise was too old for that anyway, his next thought was maybe some sonofabitch from school. Anger welled up inside of him. He was angry that some dickhead had marked up his fiance, angry that his bride was walking around with these bruises and he had no idea who put them there. Angry that he wasn't there to stop it, to put that fucker in the back of his squad car, or better yet, twenty feet in the fucking ground out in some forgotten field on the fucking ranch. 

With shaking, but gentle hands he shakes your shoulders. “Pearl,” He whispers, you groan in response, kicking your feet as if trying to push him away. “Pearlie, hon, wake up..need'ta ask you somethin’” 

You're groggy, eyesight swimming as you slowly open your eyes. “Mmm was'uh matter?” You ask, barely registering the shaking hands gripping your shoulders. You see a funny look on Gator's face, something between pain and sadness and rage and that's what wakes you up, wondering what had happened. “Gator? What's wrong?” You try to sit up but his strong hands keep you pinned down. “Ga-”

“Who hurt you?” His voice is strained, and you feel his fingers grip your shoulders tightly as he looks down at your..oh. He must have seen the bruises left over from Boyd's lashing. “Pearlie, honey, who fuckin’ did this to you?” His voice is a whisper but it holds so many emotions in it, sadness and pain, and anger that for once in your life isn't directed at you. Maybe it's because you're groggy still, or maybe because he's just so damn gentle in the way he asks it, the way he's holding your shoulders but you feel your lip start to quiver and before you know it, a sob is breaking from your chest. 

Gator doesn’t particularly know what to do when your entire body shakes with the force of your crying, his hands moving from your shoulders to let your sit up, your shirt riding down over the godforsaken bruise. It was your own fault, for wearing something so short, you realized. But it was also Boyd’s fault for hitting you in the first place. Sobs wracked your body as your mind started working, were you relieved? Scared? You had never had to tell anyone about what was going on at home before, you had always hidden it so well from everyone, including your own mother and now? You had to tell him, Gator wasn’t going to take ‘don’t worry about it’ as an answer, you may have only known him and been engaged for a week but you knew him enough to know that that wasn’t his style. You were as much a Tillman now as you were an Augastine, you were his to protect, to keep safe. 

For how long you cry, you’re not sure, but at some point it gets bad enough that Gator sits down with you, strong arms wrapped around your body, pulling your head into his bare chest. You tears left a wet mess in the smattering of hair that lay between his pecs, his fingers rubbing small circles in your hair as he whispered soothing words into the top of your head. “It’s okay, hon..” He would say, over and over again. “It won’t ever happen again, Pearlie girl..” Occasionally thrown in, and from the way he spoke it, the way his body felt underneath of you when the words left his mouth, you knew he was telling the truth. “I promise you’re safe with me..won’t ever hurt you..” He had whispered a few times, and you swore he was crying too. 

The tears stop after a while, and your heart stops racing, your body no longer shaking. He doesn’t let you go though, and in all honesty, you don’t want him to. “Boyd..” You say finally, giving a small sniffle after the word. Your voice was so small, cracked with emotion that you weren’t sure he had heard it at first until you felt the way his arms tightened around you, almost to the point of being uncomfortable. 

He breathes out of his nose, trying to calm the rage boiling inside of him at your words. He tries to focus on you in his arms, keeping you safe and comfortable while you tell him this. Your voice sounded pained and he couldn’t say he blamed you. “For how long?” He asks, eyes squeezing closed as images of the man hitting you filled his mind. “How long has he been doing this to you?” 

You sniffle again, bringing one of your hands up to squeeze his forearm, trying to comfort your comforter. “Ten years..” You say, breath catching as he lets out a pained sound. “Minus the four years i was at boarding school..except for when i would come home on breaks..” 

Gator doesn’t want to keep pushing you, pushing himself. He was really testing his own limits right now, everything in his body was telling him to go hunt that man down, give him a taste of his own medicine, but his mind was telling him not to. That you needed him. He breathes out a low sigh, breath shaky as he kisses the top of your head, breathing in the smell of your expensive ass shampoo. “Okay..why don’t you go take a hot shower,” He says, feeling you nod against his chest. “We can talk more about this later, if you want..” He could tell you were thankful for his words as when you finally sit up from his embrace, you give him a long kiss on the cheek, both hands cupping his face as you climb over him, whispering a soft thank you. 

The one bathroom in the Tillman house isn’t luxurious like the one attached to your bedroom at Boyd’s, but it has a beautiful clawfoot tub, and it feels nice and cozy, comfortable. The water is hot too, reddening your skin as it washes down your shoulders and chest, trailing down the bruise below your breasts. The contact made you flinch, the image of Boyd giving it to you flashing before your eyes before the pain turned into something more soothing, the sting reminding you that you’re at Gator’s house and for the time being, you’re safe from him. 

You take way longer than is probably polite when you’re a guest in someone’s home, and you’re glad that Karen isn’t here because you get the feeling that she would bitch about it, and it would somehow turn into you getting Gator in trouble without meaning to. You had forgotten to bring your shower gel from your bag in Gator’s room, so you use what you deduce is his from the smell, lathering yourself in it for a while before letting it run off of you under the fall of the water from the showerhead. 

When you feel like yourself again, and you’ve let cool water run down your face to where you’re sure its no longer puffy, you make your way out of the bathroom and back across the hall to his room. He’s nowhere to be found, but the bed is messily made and the closet door is open, you notice a pair of jeans missing off the first hanger, and the smell of coffee finally hits your nose. 

You put your pajamas under the pillow on the left side of the bed, you had only packed one pair, before making your way down the stairs, the sound of something scraping against a pan and hushed cursing meeting your ears before you reach the last step. You peek into the kitchen and a smile spreads on your face at the sight of Gator running a hand through his hair, smoke rising in front of his face as he turns every which way, talking to himself as he tries to fix whatever he had messed up. “I think you’re burning something, hon.” You quip, chuckling when he jumps about a foot in the air at the sound of your voice. 

“Jesus Christ, need’ta put a damn bell around your neck,” He sighs, fighting back his own laugh. “I was trying to make a fuckin’ grilled cheese..” He shows you the contents of the pan thats in front of him, and you laugh at the pathetic lump of burnt bread and cheese. 

“Did you butter it?” You ask, and he mutters another curse before groaning. “Who taught you how to cook, Gator?” 

“Literally no one.” He says, tossing the burnt sandwich into the trash before moving out of your way. 

You busy yourself making a sandwich for each of you, feeling hungry now that you’re actually in the action. You hear him rustling around behind you, the fridge opening and glasses clinking. You’re flipping both of the sandwiches in the large skillet when a full coffee mug is set next to you on the counter, clearly mixed with creamer. 

“I stopped on my way home and bought some of that creamer stuff..” He says, you pretend not to notice how his cheeks flush as he says it. “I know it’s not an iced coffee, but at least its flavored.” 

You’re not sure why you’re so goddamned emotional but you swear your eyes water at the notion. “That’s so sweet, you didn’t have to,” You say, going to give him another kiss on the cheek. You have to stand onto your tip toes this time, and he hums as you do. “Thank you, Gator.” 

“Want you to have the things you like.” He shrugs, taking a big drink of his own mug of black coffee. He crinkles his nose, chasing after you with a small sniff that makes your cheeks flush. “Are you wearin’ my body wash?” 

You shrug and move back to the stove, suddenly remembering the conversation you had had with his sisters when you were dropping them off at school this morning. “I promised your sister’s that i would make something for supper tonight,” You begin plating the sandwiches, switching the gas to the stove off. “Not that your spaghetti wasn’t good or anything, but i get the sense that cooking just isn’t your thing.” 

You hand him his plate, he’s looking at you with an unfamiliar emotion in those damn brown eyes. “Can you make cheeseburgers?” He asks, an almost childlike lilt to his voice. You nodded in agreement and you swear he would have done a happy dance if he hadn’t spilled some of his hot coffee out of the mug and onto his hand. “Ah shit!” 

It’s one thirty when by the time you guys finish with lunch and coffee and you set your plates in the sink with the notion of washing them later, you notice that Gator had already washed the plate you left for him this morning. “I think we’ll probably have to go to the supermarket on the way back from getting the girls..” You say, you had noticed earlier that there wasn’t any fresh meat for burgers in the fridge, and if that was what he wanted then it needed to be bought. 

“Okay.” He says, checking his watch. You hear him sigh. “I got a few chores to do before we go to the school.” He gets up and starts heading for the door, you start pouting as you watch his retreating back. You didn’t want to be left alone in the house, it was boring without someone to annoy. “You comin’?” 

You hum as you carry a bucket of feed to the chicken pen off yonder of the barn, it was heavier than you had told Gator, wanting him to think that you could do it on your own. He had already poked fun at you for never having done any real ranch chores outside of caring for your own horse before, you didn’t want him teasing you for having to carry a bucket of slightly heavy feed because you were too soft for it. 

He had stayed behind in the barn, a large shovel in hand as he had decided that you were much too pretty to do the easier although definitely stinkier job of shoveling horse shit from the stalls. He sent you off with a teasing jilt about how you grew up on that fancy ranch and never done farm chores, before he put his stark county sheriff deputy hat on your head (the sun was awfully bright, ‘don’t need you goin’ blind’ he had said). 

You rolled your eyes at him once you had turned away, muttering under your breath in mocking tones the word he had teased you with, though you regretted it almost as soon as you were out of sight of the barn. The feed was heavy, your arms were sore and your hands burned from where the wire handle was digging into your palms and you didn’t think it could have possibly gotten any worse, you didn’t think that you could have wished any harder that you had stayed back in the house to clean up from breakfast and lunch, until you walked into the chicken pen and sat the bucket of chicken feed down by your feet so you could turn around and close the door behind you, not wanting any of the birds to get loose. 

You heard the fluttering of all their wings first, and then the little noises they made as if greeting you. “Hey little dudes,” You say, starting to turn around. “Who’s hungr- OH MY GOD!” You flew back against the door, not expecting ten birds to be right behind you, one already sat in the bucket of feed. How did they move that fast? You were pretty sure that they weren’t supposed to sit in the feed though, so gingerly and a little fearfully you tiptoed just the littlest bit closer to the feed bucket, your hands outstretched. “Hey little lady..let’s just-HOLY FUCKING SHIT!” The bird had fluttered it’s wings and snapped it’s beak at you as you tried to move it away from the food that the other birds needed too, it’s beady black eyes locked on yours. You swore it was looking into your soul and that was all you needed to get the fuck out of there with what was left of your life. 

“GATOR, GATOR, GATOR!” His head snapped up in the direction that he heard your voice from, eyebrows furrowed. You sounded terrified. He stepped out of the horse stall he had started in, closest to the back exit just as you came barrelling into the barn, straight into him and his arms and damn near knocking him over in the process. You babbled as he steadied the two of you, his hands on your biceps as you looked up at him with big, watery eyes looking up at him and your lips puckered so deep in a frown that he just couldn’t help but to smile at how fuckin’ adorable it was. 

“Slow down, Pearlie, can’ understand what you’re sayin’ when you’re babblin’ like that..” He says, rubbing his hands up and down your biceps gently, trying his best to soothe you. He was new to this whole thing, but he had learned fairly quickly earlier that soothing words and touches and a calm tone seemed to be best with you. He watched you take a big, deep breath in and let it out, a small sniffle and your lips puckered just a little bit less.. “Start again, hon..what happened? What’s got you so spooked, hm?” 

“The birds, Gator!” You say, voice wavering. “They attacked me!” He immediately check’s every inch of available skin for talon marks, anything that resembled an attack, but aside from the emotions on your face you were otherwise unscathed..his eyebrows furrow again. “Gator..they..they were waiting for me when i turned around and it..it was sitting in the feed bucket and i..i just..i went to move it and it yelled at me..it yelled at me, Gator and it fucking like..fluttered it’s wings at me and it had friends!” 

Here you were telling your fiance about the horror movie level ordeal you had been through, and what does he do? He laughs. Laughs! Head thrown back, shoulders shaking and gut hurting laughing at you. You smack his chest. “Stop laughing!” You say and you swear he only laughs harder at you, which pisses you off. “Gator Tillman you fuck head stop laughing at me!” 

“Oh, Pearlie girl..” He sighs, wiping a tear from his eyes with the back of his hand as he finally stops laughing, hand rubbing his side as he shakes his head. “You afraid of the fuckin’ chickens?” You pout and he starts laughing again until you start hitting his chest with the hat he had put on your head, which makes him hold his hands up in surrender before taking it gently from your hand. “They’re just fuckin’ birds, hon, just kick ‘em they ain’t gonna hurt you none..” 

“Bullshit, Gator,” You stomp your foot, arms crossing over your chest as you glare at him. “You didn’t see the way they all looked at me!” He shakes his head at you, shoulders shaking in silent laughter. “They were talking! They probably planning how they were gonna kill me and eat my body and feed my bones to the hogs!” 

“Pearl, we don’t even have hogs!” He exclaims, completely done with your buffoonery at this point, though he knows it’s not buffoonery. He knows how real it is, can tell by the fear in your face and he knows that he shouldn’t make fun of you for it but it just seems like something a husband would do to his wife. “Oh my god I know the Augastine ranch is ritzy but i figured he would’ve had you working with the ranch hands like my daddy did..this is fuckin’ hilarious..” 

“Gator!” You pout, stomping your foot once more and he only starts laughing once more, cackling once you push him in the chest on your way past him. “You go feed the damned demons then! I’ll shovel horse shit, can’t be any scarier!” 

And shovel the shit you did until it was time to go and pick up his sisters from school, a car trip of which was filled with him poking more fun at you from the drivers seat of your own car! You were downright tempted to salt his macaroni and burn his burger tonight for supper, but you could never stand to mess up on purpose when it came to the kitchen. 

The girls clambering into the Jeep at the school pick up took the attention off of your harrowing ordeal this afternoon, their chatterbox selves keeping Gator entertained as he drove through town on the way to the supermarket. Roy had enlisted the girls into he local christian academy, a private school and you made a mental note to ask Gator later tonight if he went to the same school too, if the highschool is where he got the trophies in his room from. 

The supermarket was an ordeal in its self. The girls constantly asking Gator for something that he would exasperatedly say to put back where they found it, and it you swore that the amount of people you guys stopped to talk to, who were shocked that the rumor of Gator being engaged was true, caused what should have been a thirty-minute trip to turn into an almost two hour one. Each time a random couple or person whom you didn’t know (but he clearly did) stopped the pair of you, his arm would be immediately around your shoulder or your waist, tucking you into his side tightly. You would find your own arm or hand across his broad back with such ease it was as if you had been doing it for years, as if you guys had had a conventional engagement rather than having signed on a dotted line for your parents. It was safe to say that by the time Gator had pulled up next to his police cruiser, you were both exhausted. 

You spent the rest of the afternoon in the kitchen, listening as Gator helped his sisters with their homework so that they wouldn’t have to do it over the weekend. “Look, i thought it was stupid too, but i promise you, you my step-mama always told me it’s better to do weekend homework on friday so that you have the whole weekend to play and do fun things..” He had said, trying to convince them to sit down and pay attention. You thought it was rather sweet to hear him with them, he always seemed so cold and distant when his father was around but hearing when he wasn’t was another thin. You loved how warm and happy he was, how hands on he was. You knew that you were supposed to have a child of your own with him, it was part of the agreement, and you were a little more comfortable with that fact knowing that he was gentle. 

By the time the sun had gone down and the four of you had sat down to eat, Gator praising and moaning into his plate the whole time, it was a meal filled with laughter and stories of how everyone’s days had went, which was all fine and dandy until your fiance had decided to tell his younger twin sisters the story of your harrowing encounter with the murderous devil chickens just before coming to pick them up from school, to which they had laughed and laughed and in all fairness, you couldn’t help but laugh a little too because now that you thought about it, it was a little silly the way that you had reacted. 

Not more than an hour or so after that you were stood at the kitchen sink, the water running and your phone on the counter beside you just barely drowning out the noise of the piano being playing in the living room as you cleaned up the mess that had been made throughout the day. You hummed along to one of the songs, realizing that you needed to start working on a playlist for the wedding, as you scrubbed the dishes.

You didn’t hear his footsteps approaching, but you felt his presence, felt his bicep brushing against your shoulder as he stepped up to the sink right next to you. You looked up at him with a small smile on your face when you noticed the dishtowel thrown over his shoulder, and the other in his hands as he picks up a dish from the clean side of the sink to start drying it. 

“Supper was good,” He says quietly, arm brushing against your own as you both worked. It made your skin buzz, that tingly feeling, you didn’t mind it though, there was something quite soothing about it. “Thank you for cooking..and for putting up with the girls..and me too i suppose.” 

You chuckle, handing him a dish you had just finished washing when the song on your playlist changes, you pause it quickly recognizing the opening notes of it and turn to him. “Hey Gator?” You ask, and he hums, looking down at you as you turn off the faucet. “Dance with me?” 

He was going to say no, to argue about how it wasn’t very manly, but you already had your mouth open. “We’re gonna have to have to dance at the wedding, and i want to make sure you’re not gonna be stepping on my foot the whole night!” 

Now he wouldn’t come out straight and tell it to you, but he had taken a class or two during prom season back in highschool, for that girl he swore he was in love with. “Fine.” He concedes, tossing the towel down onto the counter as you bounce with happiness. 

You click your playlist back on as you feel one of his large hands on your hip, turning you against his chest as he takes one of your hands with his free one, your other hand going up to his shoulder, just below the nape of his neck. It was an oddly comfortable embrace, nothing awkward about it as he started moving the two of you gently around the kitchen. 

‘I'd love to know just what you're thinkin'

Every little river, runnin' through your mind

You give and you take

You come and you go

You leave me here wonderin' if I'll ever know

How much you care or how much you don't

Whatever you need, whatever you want’

“You’re not so bad at this,” You say, looking up into those damn brown eyes, those giant glassy eyes that hold so many emotions that you wish he would let you get to know. And maybe he will, somewhere down the line, but you know it won’t be any time soon. 

“You’re not so bad yourself,” He teases, a smirk crossing his lips as he looks down at you, humming along to the song as he leads you around the room. It wasn’t any particular kind of dance, but it was a formal one none the less. “This what we gonna dance to at the weddin’?” He asks softly, a pink tinge to his cheeks as he thinks about dancing with you for the first time as his wife. You shrug in response, body pressing against him as he continues to lead you. 

“Maybe..” You tease and he chuckles, his head tipping back just a bit before he plants his eyes right back on yours. “Haven’t decided yet..i’m makin’ a playlist..” 

‘I guess that all I'm tryin' to tell ya

Is a minute with you is better than two without

Oh, I won't be a fool but I can't play it cool

So I'm playin' safe and I'm breakin' the rules

I'm wishin' I had what I know that you got

So if you're comin' my way then please don't stop’

“And do i get a say about this playlist?” He asks and you throw your head back laughing. “The one part of the wedding planning that i might actually know what the hell i’m doing.” You’re both full on laughing now, still locked in the dancing embrace though you’ve stood still. It takes a minute for you guys to calm down as you keep teasing him about the ivory and white situation, but when you finally do he gives a gentle kiss to your forehead, chuckling as he tells you to help him finish the dishes. 

The two of you continue to make each other laugh as you guys do the dishes together, Gator singing off key to the music he recognizes on whatever playlist you have going, you teasing him for it, both of you blissfully unaware that his two sisters had seen your whole dancing exchange and had run off to the living room to talk excitedly about how much they already adored having you in the family..

taglist:

@ruth-barnes @justherebecausesafarisucks @daisy-is-a-writer @xxbookdrunkdemigodxx @girlwiththerubyslippers @keerygal @lilllbabyyy @boa-hemian @sweetdazequeen @emilyj444 @whisperingwillowxox @babyqnn @lou-la-lou @aestheticaltcow @finalmoondragon @boxofsmittens @pollyspocketdimension @kassy-munson @frostandflamesfanfic @mysticalstar30 @totally-bogus-timelady @nerdypinupcrystal @emmiecrush5-blog @witchcovenboys @starksbabie @marrowfrog00 @boop369 @lelenikki @xmalfoyweasleyx @girlwiththerubyslippers @keerysfolklore @gothicwidowsworld @palmtreesx3 @sacr1ficial-lamb @kingdomkitten32 @littlelovebug98 @cillsnostalgia

[ezziefae]

Thoughts on Chap. 3 of The Prisoner's Throne (SPOILERS)

hello readers, forgive me for the typos, there are so many things about this chapter that had me screaming. Enjoy my thoughts!!!

“I want—” he begins.

“No,” she tells him. “By the power of Grimsen’s bridle, get on your knees and be silent.”

Wren has to be one of the scariest characters ever written by holly black. 

Her mouth curves into a smile, but it isn’t a nice one. “By Grimsen, I command you to do exactly as I say from here forward. You will stay on your knees until I say otherwise.”

Oak should have left when he had the chance.

Nahhh! I knew since TSH that we were gonna see Wren use the bridle on Oak, but now that i'm READING THIS it's still INSANE that she's willingly using it to CONTROLL him fully, it makes me think of Jude and Cardan, and how Jude kind of sorta had control of Cardan, but only by Pledge. Jude also had a power to command Cardan whatever she wished him to do, but she never ordered him to do something like THIS. Wren seems to have no mercy on Oak. She could legit make him kill or hurt anyone, she could make him jump off a bridge or say anything. Kind of also reminds me of when Locke ordered the ghost to betray Jude and the court of shadows, and how the Ghost had no control over his actions, and how in TQON he asked Jude to kill him because he'd rather die than be controlled by anyone. Wren did not come to play. This is so scary!!!

He finds her fascinating. He’s always found her fascinating, but he is not foolish enough to tell her that. Especially not in this moment, when he is afraid of her.

Oak is literally being controlled and is bridled and these are his thoughts…he's so downbad that it could actually get him killed. 

“I am already bridled,” he says, feeling a little frantic. “You don’t need to lock me away. I can’t harm you unless you let me. I am entirely in your power. And when I did escape, I came directly to your side. Let me kneel at your feet in the throne room and gaze up adoringly at you.”

THE LAST LINE!! IM DYINGGG!! THIS MAN NEEDS TO STOPPPPPP, OH OAKKKKK YOURE SOOOOO DOWNN BADDDDD FOR WREN

“I have to occupy myself somehow,” he says. “When I am between moments of gazing adoringly, of course.”

I have no words…Not Oak trying to use his charm on her, like dude, i dont think thats gonna work.

The door opens, and Fernwaif comes in, a single guard behind her. Oak recognizes him as Bran, who occasionally sat at Madoc’s dinner table when Oak was a child. He looks horrified at the sight of the prince on his knees, wearing the livery of a guard beneath a stolen cloak.

I absolutely LOVE that we’re getting past memories of Oak when he was a child. It also helps the readers feel nostalgic from reading the folk of the air series. When Jude, Taryn, Vivi, Oak, Madoc, and Oriana lived in peace.I hope we get so many of these moments…even though i have to say this paragraph is a little sad, how Oak recognized the guard as one of his fathers friends..

“You don’t know me as well as you think, Greenbriar heir,” she says. “I remember your stories, like the one about how you used a glamour against your mortal sister and made her strike herself. How would you like to feel as she felt?” 

NOT HER USING THIS AGAINST HIM!!! Love how that moment keeps being brought up. (And i predict that Oak will apologize to Jude about it in this book)

“I’ll slap myself silly willingly, if you like,” he offers. “No need for a command.”

OAK STOPPP IM DEAD

“What if, instead, I force you onto your hands and knees to make a bench for me to sit upon?” Wren inquires lightly, but her eyes are alight with fury and something else, something darker. 

Wren.... I don't think that sounds like a punishment to him sweetie…

“Crawl to me.” Her eyes shine, fever bright.

GUYS ITS THE LINE!! THE LINEEE!! SHE SAYS THE LINEEE HOLY SHI-

Again, Oak’s body moves without his permission. He finds himself writhing across the floor, his stomach against the carpet. He flushes with shame.

SHES SO WRONG FOR THAT. SHE'S HUMILIATING HIMM! Not even Jude did these thing to Cardan *sobs* 

When he reaches her, he stares upward, rage in his eyes. He’s humiliated, and she’s barely begun. She was right when she said he didn’t understand what it would feel like. He hadn’t counted on the embarrassment, the fury at himself for not being able to resist the magic. He hadn’t counted on the fear of what she would do next.

This is actually very sad. Wren is treating him somewhat in a way that she had been treated. She's hurt, and I guess it's very understandable, I just wish she didn't have to inflict that pain on Oak. 

Oak cuts his gaze toward Bran, who has remained stiff and still, as though afraid to draw Wren’s attention. The prince wonders how far she would go if he were not present.

Two things!! Number one I literally FORGOT the guard  was still in the room and he had to WATCH oak crawl to her. Number two, That last line…..what kind of things would she has ordered Oak to do if the guard had not been in the room……(side eye) 

Wren turns to him. “Perhaps I ought to have you sent to the Great Hall tomorrow and command that you endure ten strikes of an ice whip. Most barely get through five.”

Oh my god, she really is EVIL DUDE. I've never seen this kind of evil in a holly black book. Now I'm scared. 

Oak looks directly into her eyes. “Why are you keeping me at all, Wren? Am I a hostage to be ransomed? A lover to be punished? A possession to be locked away?”

“That,” she says, bitterness in her voice, “is what I am trying to figure out myself.” She turns to the guards. “Take him back to his cell.”

OH IM VERY EXCITED TO SEE WHAT SHE'S PLANNING. Remember that Jude and Cardan are on their way to save Oak, if anything I believe Wren is somehow going to use Oak against elfhame. Maybe she’ll order him to hurt jude or cardan. THIS BOOK IS GOING TO END ME AGH I NEED IT NOWWW.

“Good night, Prince of Elfhame,” Wren says as he is led from the room. He manages a single glance back. Her gaze locks with his, and he can feel the frisson of something between them. Something that might well be terrible, but that he wants more of all the same.

I'm very curious to know how Oak is going to handle this mess. Like he's absolutely F*CKED. He's so down bad for Wren that he would do anything to stay by her side and protect her, YET he also wants to protect his family members who are on their way to save him and to kill wren. He cannot save BOTHHHH, meaning he will probably have to choose sides. Holly Black why are you torturing us!!!

 MARCH 5TH HURYYY UPPP!

49 more days till this book comes out. stay strong. 

[two-white-butterflies]

coaxed you into paradise - c. 17

Description: The life of Saera Targaryen told in four acts. She was her father's forgotten daughter, cast aside as she looked nothing like her mother. Her younger days were spent beside her uncle. Years following her marriage with Ser Harwin Strong, she catches him in an affair with her older sister. She returns to seek solace in the arms of her uncle, that she's loved all her life.

(Coaxed You Into Paradise and High Infidelity Rewrite.)

masterlist for this series

Chapter Seventeen: Battle of Birth

Saera spent the last months of her pregnancy bedridden, by this time there were bags underneath her eyes and the pain of having a child was too toilsome for her. Daemon is reminded of the Targaryen curse - that having dragon children was against all laws of nature. He takes a swig of his ale, allowing the bitterness to seep down his throat. 

A maid of pale-skin ran towards the Prince, with her eyes cast on the floor. “M-my prince,” she stuttered while grabbing the sides of her gown. His eyebrow raises, a scowl playing on his face at the rude interruption. “Spit it out child, lest it be your tongue.” he threatened with familiar hostility. 

The maid takes a deep breath, eyes looking everywhere except his. “Lady Mysaria says that - the Princess has begun her labors.” the woman chokes out, but before she could make any other movements - the Rogue Prince was already marching to her chambers. Daemon never cared about children. He found them annoying and irresponsible, but for some reason - he seemed to care about this one. 

He kicks the door open - ignoring the confused stares from the midwives he imported from Pentos. He looked at her body, she was pale as a ghost - he could almost see through her skin. He’d think that she was dead if it weren’t for the rising and falling of her chest - but still, it was too erratic, it was clear that she was having a hard time. His eyes softened, he wanted to touch, hold and whisper sweet nothings to her. 

Daemon wasn’t a maester or a midwife, but he knew that her condition was dire - that if the children refused to come out today, her chances of living are slim. He takes a deep breath. He opens his mouth to speak, but instead of talking to her - he grabs the midwife’s hand. “What is going on?” he interrogates, ignoring the man’s blood soaked hands. None of the grime and dirt mattered - only his dragon’s life. 

“Princess Saera is having hard labor, my prince.” the woman answered with hidden fear. The people at court found his antics strange - he shouldn’t care deeply about a child that wasn’t his. 

“A hard labor? Like Queen Aemma’s?” he insinuated. 

His fear of losing her was too great. It would ruin him someday. To the woman’s credit, she didn’t have another round of words with the Prince - instead she ordered the other midwives to send him away and call for Ser Harwin who was in the Capital. 

His eyes catch a wisp of Saera. She nods her head, smiling weakly at him. “Go kepus, I can handle this.” she smiles with softness and he relents - his hands reaching for the door and twisting it. He couldn’t be there - he’d cry too much and ask to hold the babe first. 

—

Daemon didn’t believe in gods, even if they were real - they were merciless and undeserving of praise. But this one time, he finds himself kneeling on the floor, with his hands near his eyes, preventing the tears from spilling out. Luckily, there was a small chapel in Dragonstone - near the coast with the Statue of the Seven Gods. 

‘Please’ he prays, ignoring the strange looks from other worshippers. ‘Please let our child live until five and two or seventy and two. Let them live a full grown life.’ he prayed, feeling his agony seep through the station of the Mother. 

The mother guides little children. 

But the mother never guides women. She didn’t guide his mother, Alyssa, or his good-sister, Aemma. His eyes open - staring at her cold statuesque eyes. Was there still hope? Or was it a thing of the righteous? 

He couldn’t feel the sincerity of his prayers, only despair. That was the bitter thing about being faithless - there was no one to save you, no one to pray to, not even faith to look for guidance. Only yourself. 

This wasn’t the first time Daemon Targaryen prayed. When his mother gave birth to his brother: Aegon (stillborn) he prayed too. He asked the father, mother and stranger for guidance. He asked them to take him instead - for his mother had eyes of summer, but the gods failed him. 

‘This is your chance of redemption,’ he thinks as if he was conversing with the gods at that very moment. A little negotiation to ensure that the love of his life wouldn’t lose the battle of birth. In the back of his mind, he promised to give the gods everything - even his own life. 

To the mother, he promised a shrine. To the stranger, a new statue. 

All just to make sure that Saera and her child would live. 

‘Please’ he begged, but the gods were cruel and unjust. 

—

Saera held the little boy close to her chest - it’s been an hour since the babe was born, but the midwife tells her that there’s another one. She heaves at the sensation of another babe coming out of her. She closed her eyes for a second, feeling the warmth of her babe on her chest - and the warmth of another one coming. 

A shrill cry comes out - echoing through the room. 

“A girl, my lady.” she informs, and the tears began to flow from her eyes. Saera’s lips shudder and the midwife brings the child closer. Daegon had pale-blonde hair, and dark-lilac eyes. His cry was the loudest the realm has ever known, a permanent frown was etched on his face - earning a chuckle from his muña. Alyssa was different - though her cry was shrill at first, Saera knew that she’d be the patient one, as it was evident with the smile on her face. 

She could hear the door slightly open - and the figure of her kepa walked slowly towards them. “Two?” Daemon asked, wiping the tears away from his face. “Daegon and Alyssa,” she smiled, pressing a kiss on both of their foreheads. “Tis unfair, I’m the one who's bleeding and they look nothing like me.” she huffed - he placed his hand atop her head, staring at the two gifts in Saera’s arms. 

“Daegon looked like you - when you were a babe.” he informed with an amused smile. There was a petulant frown on the babe’s face, a mirror of his mother as a child. “They are the sweetest thing I've ever seen.” she cooed, already wrapped around the tiny finger of her twins. 

“Alyssa looks like you - if you smiled more.” she hummed, watching as the servants flee her quarters, giving the both of them privacy. Daemon exchanged a soft stare with his beloved. “Now, give them to their kepa while you rest.” he pleaded, quickly taking the twins off her arms with ease. They were light - like dragon-eggs and he feared that he’d drop them accidentally. 

“Don’t wander too far, kepa.” she hums. 

—

His mother, Alyssa taught them how to be dragon-riders. She flew him on dragonback mere days after his birth - but his children were different, they were more dragon than men. He smiles, cleaning their little bodies and wrapping them in brand new clothes. Alyssa in red, and Daegon in black. His children were paragons of royalty. 

His dragon, Caraxes, was singing to Melarys - Daemon felt bad for interrupting their romance. “Caraxes,” he opened his mouth - keeping the twins close to his body and secure with a carrier made of cloth. 

Both dragons began to turn at him - staring at his chest. 

Melarys was the first to roar, smelling the scent of her rider on him. She was giving birth too - at the same time as Saera. There were three eggs inside their nest, and she was hiding it from Daemon. “I’m not here for you, girl.” he breathes, keeping his distance since Saera wasn’t with him. 

“We’re going riding,” he announces to Caraxes - earning a roar of disapproval from the dragon’s lover. He pulls on Caraxes’ saddle - ensuring that he’d be safe. He boards the dragon, patting his lightly as they took flight. 

Daemon was proud of his heritage. He’s even prouder now that he had children to share it with. 

next chapter>>

taglist. @sweetybuzz25 @newtsniffles @loveandlewis-reads @lovecleastrange @julkaamazing @schniiipsel @mirandastuckinthe80s @areaderinlove @i-yam-awesome @ladystardvsts @gracielikegrapes @sweethoneyblossom1 @issybee0611 @tato0od @daemonskelitsos @delaynew @thisbihreadstoomuch @plutoscosmos @immyowndefender @marvelescvpe @batmans-love @marvelescvpe @luanasrta @tesha-i-guess

(comment to be tagged)

[acotar-taylorsversion]

Another Rant

I think its funny how people will say that Sarah has had this series planned since 2015/2017 and convince themselves that this means elucien is endgame because they are already mates on page because she said "not much has changed" and that this must mean that gwynriel is real, too.

Like I'm pretty sure it only started out as the first 3 acotar books and the novella anyways. "Not much has changed" means that she didn't go with mor/az and elucien. You can literally see the moments in acowar where she changed this. And please don't forget about acofas. The one where Sarah said that we would have an idea about what Elain would do with her bond. And then in acosf when she literally made Elain and Lucien's only moment together so incredibly awkward. That moment was so telling. And do I really have to go into detail about all of Elain and Az's moments? By the end of acofas I was convinced of elriel and acosf only confirmed it for me. That bonus chapter confirmed that both Elain and Az are attracted to each other and were willing to explore that.

Like first Lucien was meant to be with Nesta and then she realized that wouldn't work out cause Nesta would have destroyed him if he ran up to her after she was turned and told her he was her mate, so she stuck him with Elain. I believe she did this to keep Lucien in the story for one little part of the koschei plot and she has done absolutely nothing to prove that Elain will ever be happy with him. Like I don't honestly see anymore how Lucien could be important anymore. I used to think that he would be this vital thing for the koschei plot but when you think about it, they really don't need him. The only thing he could do is realize his spell breaking powers and free Vassa. That's it.

And Gwyn? All signs point to her being a lightsinger and I don't know why people can't realize that. Az AND Nesta both react to her powers in almost the same way. His shadows reacted to her powers, her music or singing. They also danced to the music that was played off of Bryce's phone so I can't believe that his shadows dancing is a sign that Gwyn and Az are mates. I do not see any kind of attraction or hints of gwynriel. If anything, I think Gwyn just wants to prove herself to everyone around her, especially the one who rescued her and seen the horrible thing that she went through.

And whoever thinks that Nesta would not be happy for Elain and Az because it would "leave Gwyn alone and without a love" clearly do not understand Nesta. Elain is her sister, her favorite sister, and Az is quickly becoming her best friend. She supposedly "hated" Feyre and look at what she did for her at the end of acosf. Feyre, Rhys, and Nyx would literally be dead if it wasn't for her. I can only imagine what she would do for Elain. Yes, she has found true friendship with Gwyn and Emerie, but Elain is her sister, her blood. I believe that Nesta would be ecstatic for Elain if being with Az is truly what she wanted. She would support it. The last time we seen Elain on paper was when she was walking basically arm in arm with her sisters on a happy stroll in Velaris. And I want to know why everyone thinks that Gwyn is ready to be in a relationship anyways. She can't even leave the library yet. And I highly doubt that the first man she will be with is the man that saved her, like that would be a constant reminder of that night for me. And what's to say that she is even interested in men? Like why does everyone assume that she just has to be with Az?

And yes, I know these are characters and not real people. Yes, I know Sarah will write whatever she wants. And yes, I know I could be completely wrong, but based on what she talks about, who she talks about, and what/how she has written things, I can only believe that she is going to make elriel endgame.

That's it for my rant this time. I kinda rambled on in this one lol.

And by the way, HAPPY ELRIEL MONTH 💜

[lurkingshan]

Japanese QL Corner

PSA that I will be traveling for a bit so don't expect a round up for the next couple weeks, but some new shows will be starting when I get back, yay! Before that, though, we still have a couple things going, though I can't say it was a great week in this particular corner of bl. Both of these current airing shows are on Gaga.

Love is Better the Second Time Around

I did not much care for this week's episode, and it was disappointing to see this show's streak of excellence broken. The ideas behind what they brought into the story in this episode could have fit if they'd used them differently, but the execution was just terrible. You can't suddenly dump a new antagonist, new backstory, and new conflict in the penultimate episode of a short series and expect that to land, especially when you make all of it so complicated. Did we really need a sexually harassing cousin, an illicit photo, a disownment, a previously unheard of sister, and a rich family trying to force Iwanaga home to run their business, all at once? This was far too much Plot Stuff, most of which added little to the story and all of which there is no time to meaningfully address. And the worst part is it derailed us from the relationship repair narrative we've been on for the last month. Disappointing from a show that was so solid until this week.

My Strawberry Film

I can't believe I spent four hours of my one precious life on this slog of a drama. We ended the show as I feared we would, with everyone getting rejected, no satisfying conclusion to any aspect of the story, and a half-assed attempt at actual queer romance rep via a tortured backstory of Minami's mom and her high school friend who rejected her confession and now regrets it. I really, deeply resent that this show only allowed the dead character to have her romantic feelings finally requited, and in the end Ryo didn't even get to experience any relief or catharsis for his own, still continuing to suppress his feelings to the end. This show stayed mostly preoccupied with the het love lines to the end, and they got the vast majority of the screen time. I don't know what the writer thinks they are saying with this story, but all it says to me is that being queer is miserable and lonely for every generation and there will never be any relief. What a fucking bummer of a message and an awful note to end the Drama Shower series on.

Bonus: Silhouette of Your Voice

Sweet relief. Thanks to @my-rose-tinted-glasses I was reminded that I hadn't watched this film yet, and it's now on Viki so I finally got the chance! Adapted from the manga I Hear the Sunspot, this is the story of Kohei, a college student with a hearing disability who hires a classmate, Taichi, to take notes for him in class in exchange for bringing him daily bentos. It's such a cute story, and the two form a real friendship and then a romantic bond as they get to know each other. Kohei is reserved but kind, and he is misunderstood by most of the other students, and Taichi is bold and brash and hyper defensive of his new friend. It's not perfect--the ending was kind of weird, which @twig-tea tells me is because they did the beginning of the manga with fidelity and then just randomly jumped to the end--but it's a very pleasant way to spend 70 minutes. Recommended!

[lostfirefly]

In my midnight confessions, when I say all the things that I want to (Bedtime Story Series, Ch. 1)

Welcome to a new series (sorry not sorry) about Buggy and Catherine. This will be a short series of stories in the format of fairy tales that will be dedicated to Catherine's past. English is not my native language, errors may occur. As always, feel free to share your thoughts :)

Masterlist is here

Description: Catherine shares her backstory with Buggy.

Warnings: Egyptiiiiiaaaaan nights, sadness, broken heart, mention of dead parents, I hope "1000 and 1 nights" vibes (@fanaticsnail, thnx!).

Words: 3320

Buggy x OC from my “You’ve Got the Same Dream as Me” series.

Taglist: @gingernut1314, @operationroots, @hey-august, @yujo-nishimura, @emmiebugz-blog, @mydearlybeloathed , @cyberkittenduck

The title is taken from "Midnight Confession" by The Grass Roots.

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“Why doesn't he want to come to Loguetown?”

“I don't know, Jules. Every time I ask him to come with me, his face changes and he avoids answering. I don't want to pressure him.” Catherine sighed heavily and took a sip of wine. 

“Maybe he killed someone and is afraid to come?” Jules giggled, taking a bite of pizza. 

“What are you saying? You know, sometimes you talk about Buggy in a tone that makes me uncomfortable.” Catherine narrowed her eyes. 

“I'm sorry! I know you're head over heels in love, but I'm worried about you. I don't know, maybe because I don't know him well.” Jules shrugged. “I only talked to him when we spent the night at his place after the desert adventure, and even then he was reluctant to talk because he was busy looking at you.” Jules giggled and smiled mischievously. “God, I still remember you running out of the airport squealing. But, Cathie, even though you call me all the time, send me pictures, I still worry about you. You’re my sister.” 

Catherine laughed. “God, Jules, you remind me of our father right now.”

“Oh, yeah! He'd probably conduct a whole investigation to make sure that his beloved little Catherine was not harmed.” Jules laughed. “I can see that picture. He walks into the living room with a pen and a notepad with ducks and says: Evelyn, our daughter started seeing someone, not just anyone, but he's a clown it seems. I have to find out who he is because we trust him with our Cathie.” 

“And mom says to him, Dylan, stop it and put your notebook in a drawer and better read the newspaper. Our daughter is not going out with a complete idiot.” Catherine laughed and took a photo of them together with Buggy from the shelf. 

Jules put her hand on the table and rested her fist on her cheek. “Yeah, and then mom sits Buggy down to eat her carrot cake, and dad brings two bottles of beer. One for himself, one for your boyfriend. Dad sits down in his chair, crosses his arms, and stares at Buggy, barely blinking. Your clown is embarrassed and doesn't know how to act.”

“Hah, yeah. I think our parents would love him.” She turned the photo to the camera, trying to smile. “Look how cute he is.” Catherine put the photo aside and took a sip. “At least mom and dad had time to see your Ethan. He went on picnics with us, came to dinners. They got to know him. ” Catherine's tears flowed. “But they didn't get to see my Buggy. I'm so sad they'll never meet him, Jules. But you know.. I told them about him when I went to visit them at the cemetery on my last visit to Loguetown. Yeah, I told them about.. You know.. How.. I told them that I’m happy and safe now. I always tell them this so they don't worry.” Catherine wiped her wet eyes. 

“Cath…” Jules reached out to the laptop screen.

“I mis–” Catherine heard a noise in the hallway. “Quiet, I think Buggy is back. Wait!” She listened to the sounds. “Hmm.. No, I imagined it.” Catherine quickly wiped her tears. “I don't want him to see me crying.” 

“Make sure those Egyptian mummies don’t come to get you.” Jules cleared her throat. “Don’t get me wrong, Buggy may be a good guy, and I know you love him, but are you absolutely sure you're safe with him? In every sense, Catherine. I don’t want you to get hurt again. Remember what that bastard Flynnie did to you?”

“Jules, Buggy would never say or do something like that. He loves me.” Catherine took a sip. “Come visit us, and you will change your mind about him. I know that even with all my stories about him, Buggy seems like an asshole to you. But trust me, he's a different person when we're alone. He's kind and funny. He just needs some love and car–.”

The bedroom door swung open and Buggy shuffled into the room, looking upset. 

“Fuck, you scared me!” Catherine jumped out of her chair, startled. “I almost had a heart attack.” She laughed slightly. “Hi.” Catherine reached out, pulled Buggy closer, kissed him on the cheek and saw him become red. “I heard noises in the hallway, and then silence. I thought I imagined it.” 

“No, that was me. I was hungry and went straight to the kitchen.” Buggy glanced at the laptop. “Fuck, I didn’t know you were talking.” He tried to smile. “Hi, Jules.” Buggy quickly glanced at Catherine. “Should I leave?” 

“What? No! No! Don't go anywhere. I think we should wrap it up anyway, we've been talking for two hours. Okay. Jules, I’ll call you tomorrow. I have to feed my blue-haired guzzler. Say hi to Ethan. Bye!” Catherine blew a kiss to her sister. 

“Bye, guys!”

Catherine closed the laptop, leaned her head back on the chair, and ran her knuckles down Buggy's cheek. “You look sad. Is everything okay?” She watched as he nodded silently. “You must be hungry. Come on, let's go into the kitchen, and I'll make you some mac and cheese.” Catherine jumped up from her chair, grabbed Buggy’s hand and pulled him into the kitchen. 

“Give me ten minutes and…” Catherine opened the door and her eyes widened. “Oh, my God! Buggy…” Catherine squeezed his hand and looked at the table where there was a bouquet of blue roses, a bottle of her favorite wine, Chinese food and her favorite sandalwood candles burning. “What is this?”

“Well...” Buggy scratched his head. “I thought it was a while since I set you a dinner with your favorite stupid candles. What have you turned me into, woman? A grown man arranging fucking romantic evenings.”

Catherine stared at Buggy for a long moment, blinking silently. 

“Oh, fuck! That look!” Buggy rolled his eyes and prepared for what would happen next, spreading his arms. 

Catherine squealed, jumping on him, and hugging him with her arms and legs. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!!!” Smack. Smack. Smack. 

“I knew this was gonna happen.” Buggy wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed Catherine’s forehead. “You're welcome, cotton candy.” 

“Love.” Smack. ​​“Love.” Smack. ​​“Love, love, love you!” Smack. Smack. Smack. “You’re my best!” Sma-a-a-a-ack.

“Stop doing this, woman!” Buggy rolled his eyes. “Do you want Chinese food or not? See? It's your favorite. Fucking noodles with shrimp and a ton of sweet sauce.” 

Catherine jumped off Buggy, clenched her fists, squeezed her eyes shut, and started squealing and stamping her feet in joy. She sat down on the chair, picked up her box, and looked at the candles. Buggy sat down next to her and poured her some wine. 

“You still look sad.” Catherine stroked his hair. “Are you worried that you came while I was chatting with Jules? I only had nice things to say about you.”

Buggy exhaled heavily.

“What happened, little bear?” Catherine took his hand and began to stroke her fingers over his palm.

“The show last night. It wasn't perfect.” He pulled his hand away and picked up his beer. 

“What are you talking about? Everything was great. I've heard great reviews for every single act. People love your shows. I love your shows. And I love you. Don’t be sad, better tell me about your day.” Catherine kissed him on the cheek and twirled her noodle around her fork. 

Buggy gestured wildly as he recounted his day, not noticing how he was stealing shrimp from Catherine's portion and how she was eating all of his nuts from his rice. Catherine laughed at his every joke and with a story about Richie chasing the caterer all over the arena. Buggy asked how her day was going, and Catherine laughed even harder, joking that she was finally getting him to take an interest in her person. Buggy was upset, of course, but Catherine quickly solved the problem with an additional portion of shrimp and a kiss on the cheek. 

“You even got me a fortune cookie. Thanks!” Catherine sipped her wine and took one cookie from the box, breaking it open. “Let's see what's in there. Oh! Look! You're about to meet the love of your life.” She set the paper aside. “Meh! You're six months late with your fortune, stupid cookie. I've already met the blue-haired love of my life.” Catherine glanced at Buggy, who became even sadder. “Are you sure you're okay?” She watched him nod. “You're tired. You've been working hard these days. Here's an idea! Let's stay in bed all day tomorrow. We'll order pizza and watch stupid shows. And for now let's get my wine and your beer, and go to the bedroom? What do you think?”

Buggy nodded, took the glasses and went to the bedroom without saying a word. Catherine followed him, quickly changed into a pair of cow pajama bottoms, pulled on his t-shirt, and climbed onto the bed to hug Buggy laying curled up in silence. 

“My Buggy Bear, why are you sad?” Catherine asked softly, stroking his back. “Is something bothering you?”

“Cathie-pie.. Who... Who was with you yesterday?” Buggy asked in a sad tone.

“Where?”

“In the hallway. In the tent. I saw.. You were chatting with a tall handsome guy near the candy machine. I walked past and saw you together.” 

Catherine thought, replaying the day before in her head. “Oh, my God! Buggy! Are you upset because of him? It was some stranger who came to the circus with his son. They asked where their seats were and what the most delicious sweets were. They wanted to buy candies. Are you jealous of the stranger?”

“I’m not jealous. I just. I don't know.” Buggy shrugged and exhaled sadly. “You were laughing loudly. And looked happy. And the cookie.. the cookie said.. Meh, forget.”

“Of course, I looked happy. Because I came to see your show and you. Do you know how happy I’m when I see you on stage? I’m so proud of you at that moment. Although I’m always proud of you, but in those moments especially. Your fangirls sigh for you, and I know that you will go home with me. That's why I looked happy.” Catherine kissed his temple. “You're so funny, my flashy fool. And don't listen to the cookie, she doesn't know what she's saying.” She kissed him on the head a few times and hugged him tighter. 

“If you want to leave, will you tell me? Or.. What if I suddenly become the one to break your heart. Will you tell me?”

Catherine exhaled. “You will not be the one to break my heart, my Buggy Bear. You know, I think you’re in a down mood today, my love. How to cheer you up? How to cheer you up. Oh! I know how to cheer you up. Do you want me to tell you a bedtime story?”

“I don't know.” Buggy turned onto his back and laid his head in her lap. “I have never been told a story.”

“What do you mean never?” Catherine rounded her eyes. “And what about that man who raised you? You told me about him. He didn't tell stories?”

“No. Nothing like that happened.”

“No, no! Is that man still alive? I want to kick his ass.” Catherine started running her fingers through Buggy’s hair. 

“Oh, I'd like to see that.” Buggy giggled. “He would be very scared watching you yell at him from the bottom of your height.”

“Go to hell, I'm not afraid of him. And that gray-haired grandfather from the desert? Didn't he tell you any stories?”

“He’s not a gray-haired grandfather from the desert, Cathie-pie. Stop calling him that.” 

“I don’t care. What was his name? Mayli? Meh! Whatever. Every child deserves a fairy tale, Buggy. I wouldn't be surprised if that dude who raised you read fairy tales to that guy whose name is forbidden in our house.” Catherine started running her fingertips over Buggy's forehead. “No! I’ll tell you a fairy tale, and even you're almost 36 but who cares. Let's pretend your story was a little late on the way. Oh, you know, I know a good bedtime story.” She kissed his forehead, started stroking his hair and felt how Buggy snuggled closer to her. “Now close your beautiful green eyes and listen. A tale about how one girl's laughter was stolen.”

Buggy covered himself with a blanket, closed his eyes listening how Catherine began to speak in a half whisper.

“Once upon a time, in a small village, there lived a sweet girl named Everlee. She was kind, cheerful and a laugher. Everyone in the village knew and loved her. In the evenings, after university, she helped her mother in the bakery. It was the best bakery in town, there was almost never a free space. In the morning, the premises were filled with the smell of fresh bread, buns and other goodies with crispy crusts and delicious fillings inside. People on their way to work or home always come in to get a bun with hot cheese and fresh coffee or tea.”

“I can even smell the smells you're talking about, cotton candy.” Buggy felt Catherine hug him tighter. 

“Oh, yes, I can smell them too.” Smack. 

“One day, a young man named Flynnie started dropping by the bakery. He came in every evening, hoping to see Everlee. And one day, he asked her out for a walk. Everlee had been on dates before, but this date seemed special to her. She was young, and she was impressed that Flynnie came to the bakery just to see her every evening.” Catherine gently stroked Buggy's body, feeling how with every movement of her hand he became more relaxed. “Flynnie brought Everlee magical flowers that changed their color depending on the time of day. He took her for walks in the forest, where they met the most magical animals. Antelopes from under whose hooves little marshmallows appeared, birds that wove decorations from candies. Everlee loved to walk in this forest. She continued studying, to help her mother in the bakery, spend time with her family, and it seemed to her that she began to fall in love with Flynnie. One day, Everlee's family noticed that she began to laugh less. Her ringing laughter always sounded in their house, but there was less of it.”

“What? Why?” Buggy opened his eyes.

“It turned out that Flynnie was an unusual guy, he was an evil wizard who decided to steal Everlee's laughter. She did not notice it until, one day, Flynnie cast a spell on her. He said that Everlee was too cheerful, and it irritated people and especially him, and she would not laugh until she met her true love. And she would not meet her, because she would lose her cheerful character forever. He snapped his fingers and Everlee stopped laughing. The wizard locked her laughter in a cage and turned her heart into stone.”

“NO!” Buggy blushed. “Sorry. I didn't think I would say it so loudly. What happened next?” 

“My little bear is intrigued.” Smack. “Everlee's parents tried to make her laugh, but she was afraid to do it. Because of the curse, she believed that she irritated people. Everlee’s family took her to different villages to good witches, who tried to cure her with decoctions of various aromatic herbs. Nothing helped. The sorcerer continued to return to Everlee's house, trying to strengthen the spell, but her family drove him away with magic water and special amulets. They hung them on the door so that Flynnie could no longer enter their house and torture poor Everlee, who spent her days cowering in her room. Everlee had a magic mirror that she looked into every morning and didn't recognize herself. She cried and asked the mirror to help her get back to her old self, but it said it couldn't help. The mirror only said that Everlee must find her love. But how? Everlee knew that Flynnie broke her heart by casting the curse. She believed in him, she trusted him. But he turned out to be evil, who tried to take away all the good that was in her and Everlee cried during the nights a lot because of it, because Flynnie took a part of her soul and her heart. But Everlee was lucky. She had a wonderful family. Their love and support helped partially break the curse.”

“Why partially?” Buggy asked quietly, taking Catherine's hand. 

“Because the curse was strong. After six months, many good guys have tried to resolve the spell by asking Everlee out on a date. But they weren't able to make it all the way to the end. Time after time, the spell grew weaker. Everlee felt she became old self, but she was afraid to laugh for a long time, although she tried. Her family brought toys and goodies that broke the spell a little at a time. But it wasn't enough. Over time, thanks to her family, Everlee began to laugh again, but it seemed to her that it was not the same laugh as before.”

“Cotton candy…”

“Yes, my love.”

“Is Everlee okay now? Did she manage to remove the spell completely?”

“Oh, yeah. Everlee was almost completely fine. And many years after those events, Everlee went to an amazing sand country, to change her surroundings, to have some rest and look at new amazing animals. But suddenly she met the one who finally destroyed the last little traces of Flynnie's spell. She met true love, even though the villain said it would never happen. And now Everlee is happy that she can not be afraid to be herself. She laughs again as before, knowing that the love of her life will not turn her heart into stone, because he makes her laugh every day. And she's happy every day when she wakes up next to him, and she loves him very much. She knows that his love will not allow Flynnie or anyone else to cast a spell on her again. Because he protects her and will drive away any villain from his precious Everlee. Every morning Everlee wakes up and realizes that she's finally cured. The end.” Catherine kissed Buggy in his forehead. “Did you like the story?” 

Buggy looked at Catherine for a long time. He sat down on the bed, leaned his back against the headboard and Catherine immediately curled up under his armpit, feeling Buggy hold her tightly in his arms. 

“Cathie-pie…” Buggy said quietly, as gently as he could, as if afraid to disturb the fragility of the moment. “How old were you?”

“21.” 

“If we ever meet this fucking Flynnie, will you tell me it's him?” 

Catherine laughed, “What, are you going to scare him with your chop chop thing?”

“We'll see.” Buggy kissed her on the head. 

“I can already see you…” Catherine placed her hand on his chest. “What do you call it when your parts spin? Chop Chop Flannon?”

“Cannon.” 

“Sorry! You have so many of your chop chop things.” Catherine started smiling. “I even see this picture. Flynnie comes in and thinks he's dealing with a normal person, but surprise, shithead! My blue-haired hero split into pieces and kick Flynnie’s ass.” Catherine pecked Buggy on his nose. “Thank you, my silly clown.”

“For what?” 

“For breaking the curse until the end. For teaching me to laugh again, like I did before.” Catherine hugged Buggy around his waist. “I love you so, so much, my Buggy Bear.”

“I love you too, my cotton candy. And I promise I never never never hurt you.”

“I know, don't worry.” 

“And you know what? Let's go to the bakery? After your story, I wanted a bun with hot cheese.” 

[msunitedstatesjames]

Frances Hardinge is a criminally underrated author. If you've never heard of her, I'm not surprised. Even though I'm in several fantasy book groups on Facebook with thousands of members, I've only ever seen one or two other members post about her. And yet, since I first read one of her books in 2020, I've bought every book she's published and read most of them.

Frances Hardinge, for those who've missed out, writes fantasy young adult books. Her books are extremely well written, romance free, unfailingly unique, and somewhat dark, all of which are qualities I find to be more and more rare in today's YA fantasy market (not to hate on YA, I've read tons of it). If you need a comparison, I would say aspects of her books remind me of YA/middle grade books by T. Kingfisher or Neil Gaiman.

If I haven't convinced you yet, here's a little preview of some of her books that I've read:

A Face Like Glass (my personal favorite): A girl named Neverfell lives in a world where people have to be taught how to show emotion in their facial expressions. She has to wear a mask at all times because, mysteriously, she naturally shows facial expressions and if people found out they would freak. If that's not unique enough, this society is underground and produces magical artisinal goods, such as cheeses, wines, and perfumes that can do some wild things. If that still hasn't convinced you, the book critiques the privelege of the wealthy, as in this world only the rich can afford to hire Facesmiths to teach them expression, while the poor languish along with one or two facial expressions for their entire lives.

Fly by Night and Fly Trap (these might have different titles depending on where you are in the world): In a world where reading is illegal and seen as revolutionary activity, Mosca Mye escapes her awful life with her aunt and uncle by forcing an infamous conman (Eponymous Clent, this world has cool naming conventions) to take her under his wing. Joining them is Mosca's only friend, Saracen, the murderous goose. Yeah, you read that right. Highlights of the series include a heartwarming found family tale, an accidental revolution, a city that literally changes its population, personality, and shape when day changes to night, and, of course, an extremely violent goose. I mean, if you've read Pratchett, Saracen the goose is basically the Luggage. There's more than one scene in these books where all hope seems lost, and Mosca is like, "I guess it's up to you now Saracen," and she just straight up lobs her goose at the enemy and he utterly wrecks their shit. If I recall correctly, this happens once during a pitched river boat battle over an illegal printing press.

The Lie Tree: Faith's father, who refused to recognize her potential as a scientist, mysteriously dies. Faith discovers a tree he kept hidden that grows when you tell lies and reveals secrets in its fruit. The bigger the lie you tell the world, the bigger the secret that will be revealed. You can imagine the chaos that eventually ensues. This book critiques gender roles and discrimination, and tackles both the dangers and the necessity of telling lies.

Cuckoo Song: When Triss wakes up after apparently falling in a lake, everything seems wrong. She's missing memories, she has an insatiable hunger, dead leaves are mysteriously appearing in her room, and her sister claims she's a monster. Triss must piece together what's happening to her before it's too late. This book deals with the complexities of life with overbearing parents, siblings who've been pitted against one another, and families that have been torn apart by tragedy.

Verdigris Deep (another one that goes by different titles): A group of friends are cursed by a well witch after they take some coins from her well. She forces them to work for her by granting her wishes. Working with the witch gives them powers, but the wishes are getting increasingly complex. Does that guy really want a motorcycle or does he want to be someone else? And if he wants to be someone else, does that mean what he really wants is not to exist at all? This book deals with issues of self worth, power and control, and toxic friendships.

She has a bunch of other great books as well. So if you're looking for a unique fantasy story with adventure and no romance, definitely check some of Frances Hardinge's books out!

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 1/9/2024

the BEAST (phil) has been SPAYED

listening

my sister ALSO, INDPENDENTLY, keeps tuesdayesqe lists in the back of her planner! which is what i used to do before these posts! You Got A Man by JAWNY is off her 2023 playlist. this philly artist's claim to fame seems to be that he dated doja cat for six months? the song is short, bratty, and fun indie/alt not-quite-rap. i have no knowledge of how much the man overlaps with the song. spotify

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reading

ive never watched supernatural, except by osmosis bc i signed up for this website in 2011. this book is what i imagine people say when they say "what if supernatural was good?"

Rebecca Roanhorse's Trail of Lightning (her debut) and Storm of Locusts takes Maggie, a typical lone hero/monster hunter/horrible bitch of a woman (i say this approvingly) and says listen! you can do way sicker shit if you like. accept help and community and have a support system. it does not read like booktok found family or approach this in the typical fanfic way, which is refreshing. it points out that you will be a much longer lived and successful monster hunter this way. this is optimization, if you really look at it.

most postapoc stuff doesn’t contend with the fact (if it even acknowledges indigenous people at all) that indigenous people have already lived through several colonizing apocalypses. these books make a very sharp point that there is not a tremendous amount of difference between the reservation before the apocalypse and the reservation after the apocalypse. the worldbuilding in these is a interesting spin on sea levels plus the Energy Wars, to keep all of that at arms' length the Diné built a magical and physical wall, which i think is a funny spin on the trump border wall.

neither of them are really romance or kissing books, there is romantic interest but they are kept extremely busy not dying and admiring each other's competence. they are action and gore heavy. this is notable bc the books are fairly short (took me about two and a half hours each) and they have pretty fuckin good action scenes! the first book has an underground club and fight ring run by a cat god: club atmosphere was terrific (there's a bit about them having to drag in hastily camouflaged cheap walmart tables to handle some overflow and i instantly knew exactly the table), it had a dress up scene I was very weak to. i thought the series of events by which they ended up at the big boss battle post-club was kind of stupid but (forgivably) the big boss battle was quite enjoyable. figuring out what to do with your life next when you’re highly trained for a very specific thing but also not trained enough to be a serious danger and were set up to fail was extremely compelling to me, an astronomy major who cannot actually work in astronomy.

second book really hits its stride and (girl who has only played fallout voice) feels very fallout-y. desperate quest to save a loved one. girls' trip through a bunch of weird places with a bunch of weird guys. there's a lot of references that play with tone without ever going HEY REMEMBER THIS OTHER WORK YOU COULD GO LOOK AT RIGHT NOW? there’s a plane and a weird guy that made me think of mad max thunderdome, except the weird guy is his own character and has his own arc. there’s a weird grandpa on a boat who i don't think is a reference at all, except maybe to the timeless genre of weird grandpas on boats. there’s a sentient casino trapping people inside that reminded me of the new vegas dead money expansion, except Maggie barely steps inside bc she immediately gets caught up in a day-long battle of wits against the god of gambling. Maggie is a little more settled in her own skin now that she’s regularly talking to other people and has rejoined her community in her own small ways on her own terms and it HAS made her a much more successful monster hunter. the dialogue is snappier, the action scenes are more elaborate and smoothly choreographed. it's nice to watch an author grow so quickly (from this is serviceable to oh SHIT this is fun) over the course of a duology :) this feels like it was meant to be a trilogy but this book came out in 2019 so i am not holding my breath. it has a nice solid endpoint right here imo.

past sexual violence is sort of orbited around but no sexual violence is actually depicted, which i appreciate as a woman trying to enjoy postapoc.

libby has a very helpful Indigenous Voices category/reading guide/thing. thank u libby now i want to read everything else she's ever written

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watching

saw a piece of fanart i cannot find now for the three minute short PUPARIA by Shingo Tamagawa.

Something is about to change drastically. We can only be witnesses to it.

it's a weird and stunningly beautiful little thing i am still worrying at like a dog with a peanut butter kong. if you have a thing about eyes or clusters of round shapes this is NOT the three minute short for you btw

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playing

the free epic game was the Eidos Montreal Guardians of the Galaxy game, and since i am allergic to dead moms i will not be playing it. widely reviewed as "good writing, but not very much fun to actually play" so i don't feel like i'm missing out on too much.

i have no good story to tell about my time with genshin this week. we're aiming for "can i turn my brain off for forty minutes in the evening" and grinding a lot of one specific boss while listening to podcasts does seem to be enough to turn my brain off.

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making

i have been frantically deep cleaning (including soaking the office in enzymatic cleaner [thanks phil]) bc my siblings are coming to town for a couple days and despite several setbacks (a completely different arrival time than the one they told me) and absolutely no sense of an itinerary we will be fine! we will all be fine and have fun! i will be SO fine and calm and chill and we will all have some fucking fun so help us god

ALSO also phil has finally been spayed and is now dealing with four separate issues: the giant wound still on her side, the spay incision, the necrotic abscess in her mouth from going too hard on a springy toy, and being underweight from trying to heal three things at once. we'll get there! we'll get there. it's just taking a while. we are going to have friday afternoon vet visits every week for the foreseeable future.

i love her so much and i'm glad she's feeling better but i genuinely think owning a horse would be cheaper than owning this one wonky cat. they shaved SO much of her tummy she looks even sillier than usual.

other than being Very Alert for the persistent little orange tomcat that keeps hopping up on my windowsill, mackie is doing fine. no concept of the fact that my siblings are going to pick her up more in two days than she gets picked up in a whole month. this is a girl that likes her feet on the ground thanks much

[3unnyceleste]

Babysitting blues

CG! Big brother Shadow x CG! Big sister Rouge x Little! Metal Sonic

tw: timeout, mention of nappy and changing.

Metal sonic was sitting in his playroom, which was full of different trinkets and toys for his little evil mind to play with. In one corner was a little green hill zone replica for him to play with, and sonic and his friends were there. Everything was pristine.... except for the chewed up and crushed little sonic and his friends. He hated them, as Eggman had taught him. Eggman had built all the toys he owned, and they were one of a kind:

He had beautiful wooden baby blocks, a baby bouncer in his size, even a baby walker, and little model houses and models of different zones. His favorite, and most played with, was the Starlight zone set that eggman made specially for him. He loved starlight zone, and always felt so small seeing it. He played with the set for awhlie until there was a loud knock on the playroom door:

"Metal Sonic? Little star? Look who's here to babysit!" A familiar voice called. It was Eggman, and he wasn't alone. Beside him was the brooding Shadow, and the sly Rouge. Metal immediatlely let out a chirp of joy and crawled to them. He loved his big siblings! He plopped onto his bottom, his small robotic blue tail wagging in joy. Shadow scoffed but gave a small smirk, that was a dead giveaway of his soft spot. Rouge was the opposite, and immediately grabbed Metal up in her arms.

"Hmmm... who's this little cutie? couldn't be the one who clawed my favorite gloves hm?" She teased, giving him a knowing look. Metal let out a few beeps and boops before pressing his face in Rouge's neck. Rouge chuckled as she felt his cool metal head against her warm skin. She turned to Eggman.

"Well, this is the one babysitting job I don't require payment for. Except for those gloves..." Rouge gave Eggman a slight glower, showing her displeasure at the 'glove incident'. Last time she'd babysat, in an attempt to get him to nap, she'd forgotten his mitts, and he'd clawed her gloves in annoyance. That landed him ten minutes in time out, and a lot of reminders for 'soft hands'. It was safe to say Rouge wouldn't forget the mits again. Eggman left for the store, leaving Shadow and Rouge to care for Metal. However as soon as Metal saw his papa leave, his robotic chirps turned loud and frequent and high pitched in distress as if to say, 'papa come back!' Rouge sighed. He did this every time...

Metal Sonic was known for his clinginess and frequent tantrums. She had to put him out in time out three times last time she babysat: Once because of the gloves, another time because he scribbled all over the walls, and a third time because he forgot gentle hands and hit Shadow while he was changing Metal.

Shadow grabbed Metal and carried him to the baby bouncer and sat him in it.

"Eggman's coming back, don't worry. Now where's those da-"

"Shadow! Language!" Rouge scolded, knowing exactly what he was about to say. Shadow rolled his eyes.

"Fine. Where's the BLASTED gloves?" He corrected. Rouge sighed and pulled them out from Metal Sonic's toy box. She went over to Metal Sonic and handed the gloves to Shadow.

"You're putting them on the kid. You know what happened last time."

"Fine." Shadow tugged the mitts on Metal Sonic and tied them. Metal Sonic made his anger known and let out a series of beeps and boops and some vulgar ones too. Shadow, being the more strict one, grabbed him up and patted his back.

"That's enough potty mouth out of you. You know the rules, little guy." He sat him in the naughty corner and put his magnetic pacifier in to keep him quiet and calm. After ten minutes of wriggling, time out was over.

"Learned our lesson, did we? Now c'mon lil' star. Let's get you fed." Shadow picked him up and went to get him settled for a bottle of hot oil. Rouge made the bottle and wrinkled her nose in distaste.

"Why can't he have milk like normal babies?" "He's a robot, Rouge." "I knew that. Doesn't make his nappies any less gross to change..." She complained before coming over to them. As Metal nursed on the bottle in Shadow's arms, she couldn't help but coo over the two of them.

"Awwww.... big brother Shadow and his little baby brother... how cute-"

"Can it, Rouge." Shadow interjected in humiliation. However he'd never admit how important Metal was to him. He was too macho for that, but Rouge knew better. She always spoiled Metal and told him how much she cared for him.... even if he did ruin her gloves.

After his feeding, they sat him back down to play in the playroom. Rouge covered her face and began playing peekaboo with Metal:

"Where's the baby? Where'd he go?" Metal Sonic leaned in waiting.

"Peekaboo! There he is!" she cooed at Metal. Metal immediately chirped happily and clapped his hands together. Rouge was about to continue when Shadow stopped her.

"Rouge, do you smell that?"

"Smell what?" She asked Shadow. Shadow lifted his nose in the air.

"It smells like gasoline."

"Gasoline? Oh..." Rouge wrinkled her nose knowing exactly who the culprit was. Rouge shot a look at Shadow.

"I'm not changing him. It's your turn." She protested. Shadow rolled his eyes.

"His diapers aren't THAT bad."

"They're oil! OIL LEAKS! It stains!! And I can't POSSIBLY ruin my gloves! Not again!" She protested. Shadow rolled his eyes for the millionth time again, and picked up the fussy Metal Sonic.

"Fine. You're next." Shadow laid him down on the work table with the soft padding. He checked the onesie, and thankfully, he didn't leak through his nappy. He got the nappy off him and threw it out. He wiped all the oil away and got him changed into a brand new nappy. As Shadow was securing the tapes, Metal sonic pointed at the stars on the tapes and chirped. Shadow chuckled.

"Yeah, those are stars, ya little stinker." He patted Metal's head and picked him back up. "Now let's get you back to Peekaboo eh? And try not to have another oil leak alright?" He chuckled. And the three went back to peekaboo until Eggman returned. Metal Sonic chirped happily as Eggman scooped him up and cuddled him close.

"There's my evil genius..."

~End~

Thank you metal sonic again!!

[stargazeraldroth]

I will never be normal about the family of the First Humans in my Hazbin Hotel AU. I will never be normal about it. I really took this AU and said "Family angst to the MAX". Also this may or may not contain spoilers about Hazbin Hotel, so be warned about that when reading this.

Since we don't know much of anything about Eve in Hazbin Hotel's canon universe, the Eve included in this post is obviously how I imagine her character. Also, there are some major changes to the relationships between some of the characters. For starters, Vaggie and Lute are sisters, but they're also direct creations of Adam's.

Let me explain.

So in this AU, Adam and Eve became a thing shortly after Lilith ran away to be with Lucifer. And in this AU, they were only able to have Cain and Abel before Eve ate the Forbidden Fruit and ultimately died (I might elaborate on the whole Garden of Eden story in another post). But they'd talked about having daughters and Eve was especially excited to have little girls. Clearly, that never ended up happening. So how does this tie into the story? Because Adam made Vaggie and Lute with the idea of them being the daughters he and Eve were never able to have.

(To take this a step further, this AU started as a Reimagine series where I went over how I would've done it all, so there were also name changes. Vaggie and Lute were two characters who got their names changed; Vaggie's name became Evelyn [originally Evangeline but I thought that too long and didn't roll off the tongue as well] and Lute's became Edith, with Vaggie being named after Eve and Lute being named after the Garden of Eden. And if you want even MORE angst with that idea, Adam sometimes called Vaggie "Eve" as a nickname because of how much she reminded him of her. There's nothing romantic there, I just wanna clarify that in case anyone jumps to conclusions. The changed names aren't important to the post, I just wanted to mention this little background fun fact from before I decided to make it a regular AU)

I may not have diddly squat about Cain and Abel in this aside from the fact that they exist(ed), but BOY do I have a lot to say about these four. First, let me just start with the parallels between Eve and Vaggie in this AU:

Both someone Adam swore to himself that he'd protect at all costs

Both fell from grace and are in Hell

Both of them are on the opposing side (for Eve this'll rely on the post I eventually make about the GoE story, but the gist is that she was completely unwilling; Vaggie saw no other way)

Both of them fell in love with demons

Like... Vaggie reminds Adam of Eve so much that sometimes, it physically hurts. In this AU, Vaggie wasn't left to die in Hell, she got attacked and left behind. Adam thought she was dead, which was part of why he pushed to move up the date of the next Extermination and why Lute is so set on revenge, wants to kill ALL demons, etc. And Adam doesn't care about sexuality- he doesn't care if Vaggie's bi, pan, lesbian, ace, etc. In this AU, he only cares because Charlie's a demon (and the daughter of Lucifer, but that's another thing). The way Adam sees it, he's been losing everyone he loves to temptation and sin. He believes he lost Lilith to Lucifer's seduction (even if he was an angel at the time, he eventually became a demon), he lost Eve to both Lilith & Lucifer and the Apple, he lost Abel to Cain's jealousy and wrath, he lost Cain to his inner darkness, he originally thought he lost Vaggie to the demons, and then he thought he lost her to seduction (even though Charlie didn't do anything like that). And this- this is why Adam's both so close to Lute and why he smiles when he dies in this AU. He died believing that he failed everyone he cared about except Lute, even though- in the back of his mind- he told himself he still failed her. Because he wasn't going to be able to make it back to Heaven and stay with her.

Y'all. I don't know WHAT made me decide to focus so much on these four... but this is what I got. This is what happened. They're devouring my brain.

[sherlokiness]

I think your Sansa chicken metaphor as foreshadowing for jonsa marriage is stronger than the blue flower sweetness meaning jonerys marriage. /s

Hi, anon! Why do I feel like you're making fun of me? I am serious about Sansa being a chicken!!! I'm sure you're familar about the trope in stories where the hero gets a reward after saving the day.

The hero will slay the dragon and get a princess' hand in marriage as a reward. Is it crazy to expect this? I don't think so. The series is ultimately a song. All the stories can't be lies. There are true knights and heroes.

The bitch growled low in her throat and moved closer. Ghost looked up, silent, and fixed the dog with those hot red eyes. The bitch snapped an angry challenge. She was three times the size of the direwolf pup. Ghost did not move. He stood over his prize and opened his mouth, baring his fangs. The bitch tensed, barked again, then thought better of this fight. She turned and slunk away, with one last defiant snap to save her pride. Ghost went back to his meal.

In the first book of the series, Ghost faces off against a mongrel bitch bigger than him and will successfully defend his prize. What's the prize? Sansa/Winterfell.

"Hungry again?" he asked. There was still half a honeyed chicken in the center of the table. Jon reached out to tear off a leg, then had a better idea. He knifed the bird whole and let the carcass slide to the floor between his legs

The chicken is a honeyed chicken. It's sweet. *insert quotes of Sansa involving honey and being honey sweet* I'll make smth longer than this later. I think.

Arya was always quick and clever, but in the end she's just a little girl, and Roose Bolton is not the sort who would be careless with a prize of such great worth.

"Do you blame me, my lord? Such a prize is not easily won. A nubile girl, I hear, and not hard to look upon. Good hips, good breasts, well made for whelping children."

"She is old enough to be Lady of Winterfell once her brother is dead. Claim her maidenhood and you will be one step closer to claiming the north. Get her with child, and the prize is all but won. Do I need to remind you that a marriage that has not been consummated can be set aside?"

Who will win the prize that is Sansa Stark? Is this sexist? Even Jon says Arya is a prize.

He wanted it, Jon knew then. He wanted it as much as he had ever wanted anything. I have always wanted it, he thought, guiltily. May the gods forgive me. It was a hunger inside him, sharp as a dragonglass blade. A hunger . . . he could feel it.

Jon's hunger for Winterfell gets mingled with Ghost's hunger. Since Ghost gets to successfully eat the honeyed chicken, I'm gonna assume Jon's hunger will be satisfied.

Red eyes, Jon realized, but not like Melisandre's. He had a weirwood's eyes. Red eyes, red mouth, white fur. Blood and bone, like a heart tree. He belongs to the old gods, this one. And he alone of all the direwolves was white. Six pups they'd found in the late summer snows, him and Robb; five that were grey and black and brown, for the five Starks, and one white, as white as Snow.

He had his answer then.

Indeed, Jon forgot about the WF hunger because of the appearance of Ghost and how he's different.

Jon said, "Winterfell belongs to my sister Sansa."

Winterfell belongs to Sansa.

Then Ghost emerged from between two trees, with Val beside him.

They look as though they belong together.

And Sansa belongs with Ghost.

[avocado-frog]

Anyways ghosts in my wip since I'm thinkin about them (@steh-lar-uh-nuhs since you asked to be tagged lol)

ghost post time:

(cw for a lot of death mention. parent death)

Dylan's magic was kinda vague in forget me not (book one not series) but the general gist was something along the lines of they can control dreams to a certain extent and can sense when somebody is going to die (foreshadowed elliot) (and leo apparently???) but also when I reread it, Dylan is actually BARELY in any of the chapters at all. They don't have a line until well after halfway through even though they showed up in like chapter six

SO dahlia (book two) has a lot more Dylan in it which is great stunning showstopping i love them. Unrelated but looking back the lack of Dylan was definitely why I didn't know what I was doing with characterizing them. <3 DYLAN <3

Before this becomes a dylan appreciation post, the stuff Dylan can do is more expanded on in Dahlia, and includes: -A sort of healing magic that Cass can't do, which is why Elliot is okay even without Cass -That healing magic is that they can handle more advanced injuries (elliot's stab wound, life threatening injuries) while Cass can only do sprains and cuts and bruises -Possession -Necromancy apparently -Possession is what Dylan says is why they could hypothetically raise the dead, if they could wake up Elliot. A post for another time

I've said that Elliot's dream world thing is based on Omori, and in Omori, Mari is like. may or may not be a ghost who is real but you'll never know because Sunny hallucinates often. Same thing for Elliot. Same mechanics

In forget me not Elliot claims to see his mother in the graveyard, right by where her grave would be. There's no realistic way for him to KNOW where that was, unless he is aware that that is where dead people go. So like Mari omori it's ambiguous whether Elliot was actually seeing her or if he was just hallucinating. And in the dream world, Olivia is noted by Dylan to have a scar across her neck, even though Elliot would not want any reminders of her death in what is supposed to be a safe area, hence why the reminders of his two Big Traumas are upstairs in separate rooms. And Olivia is the most sentient of the dream world characters aside from Lucas (who is btw dream world Leo) and Cass. Everyone else is scripted by Elliot. Olivia seems to be knowing what's going on

So what I'm saying is that dream world Olivia like headspace Mari MIGHT just be a ghost. hypothetically

Also in forget me not, I think that at one point Leo claims to feel a hand on her shoulder

ALSO ABOUT LEO: she gets her own little dream section in rosemary where she sees Olivia, despite having not known her

It's still left pretty ambiguous in what I have of rosemary so far. But Jaxon witnesses several deaths, Leo's, who isn't really dead, but he doesn't know that, Maria's, a woman who he accidentally got killed in chapter four and a boy who he sees the execution of. He sees all of them, as well as a boy who he doesn't know but who IS in fact his brother. Again, whether or not they're real is vague because Leo is not dead, but he does see one that he doesn't know

My OTHER dead character is Jasmine, Logan's sister who has Not made an appearance yet but she should be allowed to. She haunts Logan's character arc at the very least. Also maybe Dylan's

tldr if ghosts were real and canon, they are in people's dreams. Dylan and Elliot might be able to raise the dead but I'm not going to dwell on that because that is a whole other plot

This post was brought to you by me wondering how Olivia would interact with the other kids, and me being sad about her death again