#sm town high school

[star-sim]

supernova ☆ riki nishimura

☆ hero! riki x fem! villain! reader ☆ summary: riki was the city's top hero, you were the top villain. when your archnemisis pulls up to your apartment late at night, all battered and bruised, you just sighed and took him in. you were a villain, not a monster! ☆ genre: superhero! au, good ol' patching up scene, enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, fluff, a lil bit of angst ☆ warning(s)? injuries, riki has a panic attack, but it is very brief ☆ word count: 3.7k words ☆ i love this trope sm reblogs are appreciated! >_<

When you were awoken by the sound of banging on your door, you nearly killed someone. It was a dark and stormy night, with rain pouring down so hard that you had to put on your headphones.

But the moment that you saw Riki, your biggest enemy, standing at your doorstep all you could do was sigh, and let him fall into your arms.

"Not again."

By day, you were a regular high school student. You had a lot of friends, with a few admirers and confessions along the way. Like everyone else, you worked hard and kept up with your studies.

By night you were the city's top supervillain, aptly named Supernova for the bright and theatrical spectacles that were your terrorizing.

But while everyone thought you were some evil spawn, you were really just carrying on a family business. Thank your supervillain parents and supervillain grandparents. You had nothing personal towards the civilians that you terrorized, it was all just a part of the job. Because your family was scattered around in different cities for their supervillain activities, you lived on your own.

Enter: Riki Nishimura.

You knew the moment that you saw his grown-out bleached highlights and oversized black clothes, you knew he was up to no good.

He'd transferred to your high school in the middle of the school year, and unfortunately, you had far too many classes with him. It felt like wherever you went, he followed. 

You didn't like him. 

You knew you were popular at school, and maybe a quiet guy like Riki didn't have good experiences with the popular crowd, but did he have to treat you like you didn't exist? All he did was grumble under his breath something that no one could hear, before putting on his headphones and ignoring the world around him. Some courtesy would be nice!

Oh, you didn't like him one bit.

Which was why the moment that you realized that the new hot-shot superhero in town whose arrival suspiciously aligned with Riki's transfer to your high school was Riki Nishimura himself, you wanted to laugh.

The reckless, brash, and otherwise cocky, yet self-righteous and heroic, superhero persona Riki put on was so perfect, yet so unlike anything you've seen. 

Riki Nishimura, who couldn't pay anyone any mind even if he was forced to, fighting crime and representing justice! Hilarious. Leave it to the most arrogant and condescending person to name themself Orion, after the brightest constellation in the sky.

You couldn't remember a single headline you read where he actually saved someone. So much for a so-called superhero.

And your identity was no secret to Riki either.

In the past few months, you and Riki had had multiple showdowns— on rooftops, over traffic, heck, even in Riki's own house. It was no surprise that he figured out pretty quickly that the popular girl that everyone liked was the worst supervillain in the city's history.

Glares in the middle of class, shoving you if you were in his way, and sometimes even purposefully following you to the bathroom just so he can wait outside to pass a few mean words to you. So childish.

The only thing keeping you and him from revealing each other's identities was the fear that the other would reveal your own identity.

Which was why you could almost 100% trust that Riki wouldn't say a word.

You could not stand Riki Nishimura, whether it be his civilian self or his superhero self.

However, something was changing.

Something bad, something bigger than anything you or Riki could even imagine. 

There was a bigger, and much worse, villain organization in town. 

Instead of pulling little pranks, terrorizing people, and just sometimes breaking in and robbing places, this new villain organization was legitimately hurting people.

You and Riki couldn't help that you were just teenagers, which was why in the first few weeks of this new arrival, you couldn't help but pay no mind to the new villains in town and focus on fighting each other.

But one night, when Riki didn't show up at your window like he usually would to fight you, you found yourself just a tad worried. Not that you cared about Riki. Had he finally resigned and given up on fighting you?

However, when you went on your nightly villain patrol a few hours later, you felt your heart drop to your stomach when you found Riki Nishimura in his hero suit slumped over at the back of a dark alleyway, covered in cuts, bruises, and blood, barely conscious.

"What the hell happened?" you asked, as you crouched down in front of him. You couldn't even tell if he was still alive, so you reached down to check his pulse. But the moment that your fingers brushed up against Riki's neck, he jerked away, immediately slapping your hand away.

"Stay the fuck back!" he yelled, suddenly fully awake and alert. Even with the mask over his eyes, you could see how red and blood-shot they were. "Don't— Don't fuckin' touch me!"

You lurched away immediately, standing back up on your feet.

And you watched in sheer horror as the one boy you've been fighting for months struggled to his feet, clutching his side. Under the moonlight you could see the streaks of red and skin peeking out under his suit. He was cut. And severely injured everywhere, for that matter.

You'd never forget the sound of Riki's ragged breaths and silent curses under his breath as he stumbled. And what startled you the most was how he clenched his fists, standing defensively.

"Fight me," he breathed, teetering on his feet. "I—I can still fight."

"Are you crazy?!" you cried. "I'm not going to fight you."

"What," Riki rasped. You could hear how strained his voice was, almost as if he had been screaming for hours. "Are you finally giving up? Are you admitting defeat?"

You scoffed. "No, of course not— Oh my god, are you oka—"

Riki was hunched over, clutching the gash on his side. A single stream of light hit his skin just enough for you to see how deep it was. Dark red blood stained Riki's gloved hands. He groaned in pain, a sound that you never wanted to hear again. 

The way his shoulders and legs shook like he was about to fall over made your heart pound. 

You reflexively reached out for him. "Riki, are you—"

"I said don't touch me!" he shouted, bringing his other hand to shield himself defensively. Yet the moment those words left his lips he fell to his knees. You could see how his face scrunched in pain, his brows furrowed and lips curled. "Just give me a second. I— I just need a second and we can fight."

"You're in no condition to fight," you crossed your arms. "I will not fight you."

But it seemed like your words fell upon deaf ears. Not because Riki wasn't listening, but because he collapsed over himself, falling unconscious.

That night you used your supervillain abilities for good, for the first time ever. But not too good, of course. You just took him to the hospital, making sure that both of you were in your civilian forms and saying that you found him unconscious in the alleyway.

You couldn't look him in the eye the next day at school.

You quickly realized that this wasn't a one-time occurance, because it seemed like every few weeks you'd find Riki severely injured. He'd always proclaim that he could still fight you, but both of you knew that that just wasn't possible. 

It was the new villains in town, he finally admitted. They were purposefully targeting Orion, or Riki, for he was the city's main crime-fighter.

And for the first time ever, you actually felt bad for him.

At school, you'd see the way dark eyebags hung under his eyes, a heavy limp in his walk. Sometimes, he wouldn't even spare you a glance.

Since then, the streets have been more dangerous than they ever were.

So now, you couldn't even be surprised when Riki showed up to your apartment in the middle of the night, covered in injuries.

He was still in his hero suit, but there were rips everywhere, coupled with his torn up mask. His hair was wet, whether from the rain outside or from the sweat of fighting. Either way, he was shivering, small whimpers of pain leaving his lips.

The boy fell into your arms almost immediately, and as you pulled him into your peach-lit apartment, warmth kissing his skin, he murmured something.

"Shhh," you whispered into his ear. "Don't talk."

He was heavy, just as heavy as he was all those times you threw him across skyscraper rooftops. Yet as you carried his slumped body to your bathroom, he was as light as a feather.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled against your shoulder. His eyes were shut, his body devoid of all life and energy. Only his lips moved. "I didn't— I didn't know where else to go."

You only hushed him.

You set him down on your bathroom counter with a flick! of the lightswitch. It seemed like the moment that he was set down, Riki let his head fall back against the mirror behind him, his body giving out. 

Under the warm light of your bathroom, you took a closer look at his face.

Despite the cut on his lip, Riki's lips were purple, probably from being out in the storm for so long. Other than the smudges of dirt and gravel on his face, you couldn't help but notice the streaks of redness streaming down his cheeks. Like he was crying.

You stared at him for a little bit longer. You'd seen him beaten down like this before. As a matter of fact, you've seen him battered like this so many times these past few weeks. 

But what set all of those instances apart from now was that you couldn't see that glimmer of hope in Riki's eyes anymore.

All those times before, he would be knocked down and bruised up, yet Riki always had the spirit to stand up again and declare a fight.

But now, all he did was slump back in resignation.

It made your heart clench in your chest.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when you realized that Riki was probably more physically hurt than any teenage boy should ever be. You made a bee-line for your kitchen, fixing him a glass of water. 

When you came back, you shoved the glass into his hands, forcing him to drink it.

Meanwhile, you started a warm bath for him. When you made sure that he could stand on his own, you gave him his privacy to bathe, with the reassurance that you'd be right outside.

And as the bathroom door shut, you sighed.

Riki shuddered as the warm water touched his skin, sinking down into the bathtub. It hurt to move. His entire body ached like hell. It felt like any wrong move would break his bones.

If someone told him that he'd be bathing in top supervillain Supernova's bathtub a few days ago, he'd lose his mind. But now after the events of tonight— being ambushed, tortured, and beaten by a group of villains before his escape— this felt ordinary.

Riki felt himself relax into the warmth, letting his eyes fall shut. 

He felt disgusting. All sweaty and bloodied up, tears still staining his cheeks. The water did just enough to make him feel a little better. Still, even if he was far away from those villains, Riki couldn't shake off the feeling of their hands on him. It made the hairs on his neck stand up. He knew that he was safe now, for they couldn't reach him now. Yet Riki couldn't help but have that eerie feeling that he was being watched, that at any moment, they'd come back and hurt him.

Chills ran down his spine, like spindly cold fingers clawing at his skin. Riki's heart dropped.

He was safe. He knew he was. No one could hurt him. But why could Riki still hear their voices? His breathing became ragged again.

He's okay, he told himself. But his body told him otherwise. 

And just as Riki pulled his knees to his chest, digging his nails into his palms as he rocked back and forth, a knock on the bathroom door pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Riki?" your voice rang from the other side of the door. "I got you some clean clothes. I'll leave them out here for when you're done."

"O-Okay," he called back.

His heart still raced in his chest. He bit on his lip.

"Wait," he said from inside the bathroom.

He could hear you hum from the other side. 

"C-Can you stay in here with me?"

You didn’t need Riki to explain. After all, your entire family was supervillains. You’ve seen it yourself: how painful and traumatizing it could actually be.

So here you were, pouring bubble bath soap into the tub as Riki sat rigidly. 

"Am I making you uncomfortabl—"

"No," Riki answered quickly, pulling his knees closer to his chest. "It’s just awkward."

You nodded understandingly, watching as the bubbles began forming in the water. They came in twos, then fours, and suddenly the entire tub was filled with bubbles. 

As if he wasn’t the city’s only protector, and as if he was a young child, Riki watched, fascinated. He reached out to touch the foamy bubbles, staring at his hands.

"Are you okay with the bubbles?" you asked, but Riki only absentmindedly nodded. too occupied with the bubbles. Your lips curved. "How are you feeling now?"

Riki’s eyes flickered up to your face. He was about to shrug, but the aching feeling that he was beginning to forget returned. It struck through him, piercing through his skin in a way that made him hiss, keeling over himself.

Immediately, you rushed to his side. You reached out for him, and for the first time, he didn't jerk away. 

Riki turned a little bit, twisting his torso just enough so that you could see his back. 

And oh, his back was horrible.

You've seen some bad injuries, but the lashings, gashes, and slashes with red blood oozing out littered his skin. In fact, all across Riki's back and shoulder area you could see some pretty nasty gouges.

But that wasn't the most concerning part. Starting from the base of his neck and trailing down his side, a reddish-mauve colored scar was imprinted. On the inside of his arm, there was a collection of darker blemishes. They were not protruding from the surface, nor were they bumpy. The collection of blemishes continued, spotting his skin, until it reached a large patch.

You knew what it was just by the sight of it: burn scars.

How did he—

It seemed like Riki read your mind. 

"I know, I know," he breathed. "Bad, isn't it?"

You nodded, your mind still racing. How the hell does a teenage boy even obtain such a severe burn scar?

"I got—" he let out a groan of pain as he turned back to you so that you couldn't see his back anymore. "I got the new ones earlier when those bastards—" you watched as he paused, his brows crashing together like he was remembering something he didn't want to— "when those bastards captured me."

Before you could question further, he continued. "Those burn scars are old."

"How did you get them?" you blurted.

He gave a sly look, almost with a curve in his lips. "I'm a hero, you know."

When you only gaped at him confused, the grin on his lips grew. "There was a burning apartment complex a few weeks ago. I had to rescue some victims, and got a few burns in the process. No biggie though."

You blinked.

Oh.

Maybe you were wrong about him. You shook off the oncoming guilt, focusing on the boy first.

"When you're ready, I'll patch you up," you said, rising to your feet to inspect your bathroom cabinet. 

He hummed.

"Ack— That hurts—!"

"Stay still!"

Riki's physical state was much worse than you thought. It wasn't just his back. It was everywhere else.

He was covered head to toe with bruises and cuts, some of them so severe that you couldn't believe your eyes.

Somehow, even when he was literally injured he still managed to be an asshole. So much of an asshole that you had to give him candies to shut him up.

"How do I know these are not poisoned?" he asked you suspiciously, though with a sly little grin as if his lip wasn't busted. He examined the foil-wrapped candies in his palm as if it were a specimen of science.

You scoffed. "Suit yourself. Either you eat my poison candies or shut up."

He did both.

As you disinfected his wounds, you watched his expressions closely, being careful to hurt him even more.

You stood between his legs as he sat up on the bathroom counter. If punching him square in the face multiple times didn't count, this was probably the closest that you'd ever been to him. 

It was completely silent now, so quiet that you could only hear his hisses of pain and the rain that continued to pitter-patter outside. Everything was so still, so quiet that you could almost hear his heart beat.

His wet hair dripped from time to time, a bead of water dripping onto the counter or maybe his chest. Maybe it was a bad time to think this, but you couldn't deny that Riki was a handsome boy. Maybe people at school would disagree, but his rugged and brooding look was always something nice to look at.

You focused on his biggest wounds first, and after patching and bandaging all of them up, you were at last tasked with the injuries on his face.

It was weird to see someone that he'd spent so much time fighting be so kind and tender with him. On most days that he was injured, Riki usually just sloppily cleaned himself up. He ran on pure ambition and passion, at the expense of his physical health. But here you were, gently cradling his face like he was made of glass, a type of warmth that he hadn't experienced in years. 

So pretty, was all the thought. He'd be lying if he said that you weren't a formidable opponent. Strong, fiery, and just as much of an asshole as him. But pretty, too.

The feeling of your fingers gently pressing against his lips was weird, but he didn't mind it. The way you wet your lips unconsciously, swiping your tongue over them, made him feel all different things. 

Whatever, he thought. 

He pushed it all to the back of his mind.

But that was difficult in itself. 

You were just so close. He'd been close to you before, when you fought him, but not like this. Not in such an intimate way. 

Maybe it was how physically drained he was. Maybe it was the burden of the city weighing down on his shoulders, or the mental distress he underwent earlier. It could be the warmth of your apartment and the sound of raindrops on the window down the hall, or it could be his craving for affection, any at all. 

But before he could even think, Riki's hand jerked out to grab your wrist, pulling it away from his lips. And in one swift movement, he smashed his lips onto yours.

All time stopped.

It was just the two of you frozen.

And then, you pulled away, resting your hands on the counters to stabilize yourself.

"We can't—" you whispered against his lips, a whimper coming from your lips when Riki's hand wrapped around your waist— "We can't do this."

"Why not?" he rasped, leaning into you again. You pulled away just enough for him to miss your lips.

"You're you, and I'm me," you shook your head. "It won't work."

Yet all your resolve crumbled when Riki's hand slithered up to gently push your head closer to his, his lip brushing against yours.

"It's just a kiss," he said coolly. Then, he pressed his lips against yours again, and the moment that they touched, you hungrily deepened the kiss. You gripped the countertops under your fingertips, leaning into him as you ravage his lips.

"And plus—" Riki murmured against your lips between kisses— "We're kissing as you and me, not Orion the hero and Supernova the villain—"

"Just shut up," you shut him up with your lips.

And he did.

"I have something to tell you."

The two of you settled into bed a while ago. You forced Riki to stay the night, because it was still too dangerous for him to leave right now.

It's quiet again. Although there was a wall of pillows separating the two of you, you couldn't help the beating in your chest. And you were sure Riki couldn't either.

It was getting late. You could feel that familiar burn in your eyes, the sensation you got when you were getting sleepy. You could tell from Riki's softer, much more slurred voice that he was, too.

"What's up?"

He was silent for a little bit. "It's about the villains. It's really bad—"

You shook your head. "Tell me tomorrow morning."

"No," he continued, and you could hear the strain in his voice. The desperation. "I— I need your help. The city is at risk, and—"

"Tell me tomorrow," was all you said. You could hear him sigh. "Riki, I promise that I'll help you. But you are exhausted right now. Tell me in the morning."

"Okay."

It took much longer for Riki to fall asleep than it did for you. He was awake until the sun rose, not even being gifted with the privilege of rest. 

There were a few times where Riki almost started crying, blinking back his tears. It felt hopeless as thoughts raced through his head.

But then he'd hear you stir and feel you reach for him, and Riki would take it as a sign to slow down.

He didn't know if tomorrow would come.

He didn't even know if tomorrow would be kind to him.

But for some reason, the thought of you being beside him while it all fell down made him feel just a little bit better.

How strange.

[oceandolores]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 | series

Dbf! Joel Miller x female reader

"𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘥, 𝘯𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦."

summary: In the small town near Austin, Texas, you are trapped in a life of rigid expectations and silent suffering. As the preacher's daughter, you endure the mental and physical abuse of your father while your mother, bound by obedience, offers quiet love. Your longing for a father's warmth finds an unexpected solace in Joel Miller, your father's best friend and neighbor. In Joel's presence, you discover a forbidden sanctuary, where your yearning heart is met with a gentle strength you've never known.

warnings: 18+ only, Minors DNI, AU, No outbreak. (TW) mentions of substance abuse/alcohol use disorder, adult content, religion abuse, violence, blood gore, mentions of death, sexual abuse, sexual content, domestic violences, ped0ph!l1a, cann1bal!sm, human traff1ck1ng, dad's best friend!Joel, HUGE age gap (i will not specify her exact age, but she's legal and Joel is 49), daddy issues, mentions of toxic family dynamic, Joel is widowed, Ellie is 16, angst, smut A LOT, forbidden relationship, soft and protective Joel, innocent and pure reader. your last name is Gibson. any other details will be explain throughout the story. inspired by the album Preacher's daughter by Ethel Cain and also mix with lana del rey vibes.

CHAPTER 1

masterlist of the series!

next | chapter 2

The Texas sun had a way of casting long, dramatic shadows across the sprawling landscape, painting the world in hues of gold and amber. In small town near Austin, the heat clung to everything, wrapping the town in a sweltering embrace that seemed to slow time itself. You, a preacher's daughter on the cusp of graduation, trapped in the rigid confines of a life dictated by faith and fear.

Your father, Reverend Gibson, was a towering figure in the community, his voice booming from the pulpit every Sunday, filling the church with sermons about sin and salvation. To the congregation, he was a man of God, a beacon of righteousness. But within the walls of your home, he was a tyrant. His heavy hand and harsh words left marks not just on your skin, but deep within your soul. Your mother, ever the obedient wife, offered what little comfort she could, but her love was a quiet, subdued thing, overshadowed by her fear of defying your father.

The Millers lived just a few houses down, their home a testament to both prosperity and tragedy. Joel Miller was your father’s best friend from high school, a bond forged in the fires of youth but strained by the paths they had chosen. While your father found his calling in the church, Joel built a successful construction business with his younger brother, Tommy.

Joel and Tommy not live far from each other, while your house is just one house away from Joel, Tommy is a few houses down from Joel's.

The Miller brothers were well-known and respected in the community, their work evident in the many buildings that dotted the town.

Joel’s life had been forever altered by a single, devastating moment. He had lost his wife and daughter in a car accident, an accident where he had been behind the wheel. The guilt of their deaths weighed heavily on him, a burden he carried in the lines of his face and the shadows in his eyes.

Since that tragic day, he had distanced himself from the church, finding solace instead in his work and in raising his adopted daughter, Ellie. Joel has adopted Ellie when she was only 10 years old with the help of Tommy.

At 16, Ellie was a spirited girl, one of your juniors at school. She attended church every Sunday with her uncle Tommy, her presence a reminder of the Millers’ lingering faith.

Tommy, married to Maria, had recently welcomed a baby boy into their family. The joy of new life was a stark contrast to the sorrow that had marked Joel’s existence. The Millers were a close-knit family, their bonds of loyalty and love a stark contrast to the fractured and tense environment of your own home.

You had known the Millers your entire life, their presence a constant thread in the fabric of your existence. Yet, as you stood on the brink of adulthood, your interactions with them took on a new significance. Your father’s sermons about the dangers of straying from the path of righteousness echoed in your mind, but so did your longing for something more, something real and tangible.

It was just another Sunday, and you were helping your dad with the after-service fellowship. The congregation mingled in the church hall, sharing coffee and pastries, their voices a low hum of conversation and laughter. You moved through the crowd with a tray of refreshments, offering smiles and polite nods, your mind elsewhere.

The Sunday service had been like any other, filled with hymns, prayers, and your father’s booming voice delivering his sermon. Today, he had spoken about temptation and the perils of straying from God’s path, his words heavy with the weight of his own fervent belief. As always, you felt the eyes of the congregation on you, the preacher’s daughter, the living example of his teachings.

You couldn’t help but glance towards the back of the room, where Tommy and Ellie stood, their presence a rare but welcome sight. Joel, as expected, was absent, his appearances in church growing increasingly sporadic since the accident.

Your thoughts kept drifting to Joel Miller. It had been years since the tragedy that had claimed his wife and daughter, leaving an indelible mark on him, transforming a once regular churchgoer into a haunted, reclusive figure.

You didn't really know or remember Joel's wife and daughter. Sarah Miller had been much older than you, and she passed away when you were only five. The memories you had of them were hazy at best, a blur of faces and voices that you couldn’t quite place.

Ellie caught your eye and waved, her smile bright and genuine. You waved back, feeling a pang of longing for the carefree spirit she embodied. She was one of the few people in your life who treated you like a normal person, not just the preacher’s daughter.

After the service, as the crowd began to thin, you found yourself gravitating towards Tommy and Ellie. Tommy, ever the warm and approachable figure, greeted you with a smile. “Hey, kiddo. How’ve you been?”

You returned his smile, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly. “I’m good, Tommy. How’s Maria and the baby?”

Tommy’s face lit up with pride. “They’re great. Little Luke’s growing like a weed. Maria’s over the moon, of course.”

Ellie nudged you playfully. “You should come over and meet him sometime. He’s the cutest.”

You laughed softly. “I’d love that.”

Tommy’s expression grew more serious as he glanced around the room. “How’s your dad doing with all the church activities? Keeping busy?”

You nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah, he’s always got something going on. Keeps him out of trouble, I guess.”

Tommy chuckled. “Good to hear. Your family always looks so put together. It’s impressive, really.”

You shrugged, trying to brush off the compliment. “We just try to do our best.”

As you continued chatting, the weight on your shoulders seemed to lighten, if only for a moment. Ellie shared stories about school, her infectious laughter bringing a smile to your face.

“So, any plans after graduation?” Ellie asked, her eyes twinkling with curiosity.

You hesitated, the uncertainty of your future looming large. “I’m not sure yet. I’ve been thinking about college, but it’s complicated.”

Tommy’s expression grew serious again. “You should follow your dreams, kid. Don’t let anything hold you back.”

You nodded, grateful for their support. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks, Tommy.”

As you chatted with Tommy and Ellie, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Glancing around, you caught your father’s stern gaze from across the room. His eyes were a silent warning, a reminder of your place and the expectations that came with it.

Excusing yourself, you slipped out of the church hall, needing a moment of solitude. Your dad won't notice you are gone a little, your job has been taken by your mom.

The Texas heat hit you as soon as you stepped outside, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the gravel parking lot. You decided to walk, the streets feeling empty because everyone was still in church. As you walked aimlessly, your mind whirled with conflicting thoughts and emotions.

You found yourself drawn towards the lake behind the church and the town, a place far enough to avoid everyone. The lake and the surrounding forest were comforting, a sanctuary from the oppressive atmosphere of your home.

Looking around to ensure you were alone, you carefully pulled out your cigarettes and lit one, taking a long drag. Your parents never knew you were quite a smoker, especially your father. If he ever found out, the repercussions would be severe, his wrath swift and unrelenting. The thought of his anger made you shudder.

You decided to sit by the old fallen tree near the lake. It was very quiet, the only sounds were the rustling of leaves and the gentle lapping of water against the shore. You loved to come here every chance you got, a hidden escape from the prying eyes and harsh judgments of your daily life. As you exhaled a cloud of smoke, you heard a rustling sound in the underbrush.

Startled, you quickly put out your cigarette and looked up. Emerging from the trees was Joel, a hunting rifle slung over his shoulder. Your heart pounded in your chest as you met his gaze. "Joel?" you stammered, hoping he hadn’t noticed the cigarette.

He looked at you, then at the still-smoking cigarette butt near your feet. His expression was unreadable, but you felt a wave of fear. What if he told your father?

Joel approached, his steps slow and deliberate. "Didn’t expect to see you out here," he said, his voice as gruff as ever.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady. "I… I just needed some air."

Joel’s eyes flicked to the cigarette again. "That why you’re hiding out here? To smoke?"

You bit your lip, the truth hanging heavily between you. "Please don’t tell my dad," you whispered, the desperation clear in your voice.

Joel sighed, his expression softening slightly. "Your secret’s safe with me," he said finally, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Relief flooded through you, and you nodded gratefully. "Thank you,"

As you stood up, brushing off the dirt and bits of wood that had stained your dress, you noticed Joel's gaze lingering on the rifle in his hand and the heavy boots caked with mud.

"You didn’t come to church today," you said, your curiosity overcoming your apprehension. You had noticed his absence with the frequency that had become almost routine over the years.

He glanced at you, the stern lines of his face softening slightly. “Yeah, I’ve been... busy,” he replied, his tone clipped and noncommittal.

You took in the sight of him, his rugged appearance a stark contrast to the tidy, polished look of the other churchgoers. The rifle and the muddy boots seemed to tell a story of their own, a story that was far removed from the neat rows of pews and the polished wooden floors of the church.

“You know, Father always says that you used to come every Sunday,” you said, trying to sound casual. “He misses you at church. Everyone does.”

Joel’s expression hardened again, the hint of vulnerability disappearing behind his usual reserve. “Yeah, well, things change,” he said tersely, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “People change.”

You wanted to press further, to understand what had driven him away, but you knew better than to push too hard. Joel was a man of few words, his emotional landscape a guarded territory. You had seen it in the way he interacted with Ellie, the way he kept his distance, the way he seemed to be perpetually battling some invisible storm.

"Are you okay?" you asked quietly, your concern slipping through despite your efforts to remain detached.

Joel’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of something raw and unspoken. He shook his head, as if to clear the thoughts from his mind. "Just trying to get by, same as anyone," he said gruffly. “Out here, it’s a little easier to do that.”

You nodded, accepting his answer even if it left many questions unanswered. The silence between you stretched, filled only with the distant chirping of birds and the gentle rustling of leaves.

Joel shifted, breaking the silence. “What are you doing out here anyway? It’s quite a trek from town. This place isn’t exactly safe, you know.” His tone was a mixture of concern and curiosity, revealing a sliver of his protective nature.

You sighed, glancing around the lake and forest. “I needed a break. Just... needed to be away from everything for a bit. It’s peaceful here." You looked at Joel, your eyes subtly asking if it was okay to continue smoking.

Joel noticed your look but chose not to comment immediately. Instead, he took a few steps closer, his boots crunching softly on the gravel. You took that as an invitation and sat down under a large tree near the lake, patting the grass beside you.

“Feel free to join me if you want,” you offered, your voice light despite the heaviness of the situation.

Joel hesitated for a moment before sitting down next to you. His presence was a grounding force, even if he wasn’t the most expressive. He glanced at the cigarette pack you had placed on the grass between you.

“Want one?” you offered, extending the pack towards him.

Joel shook his head with a faint, rueful smile. “Nah, I’m good. I’m not sure it’s right to be smoking in front of you.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “I thought you of all people wouldn’t judge me for it.”

Joel chuckled, a rare, genuine sound. “Yeah, well, I guess I’m a bit of a hypocrite when it comes to that. I’ve had my share of bad habits.”

You nodded, accepting his refusal. “How are you, Joel? I don’t see you much,” you said, your curiosity evident. It was true; Joel had been increasingly distant from the people in your town, retreating into a shell of his own making.

He met your gaze briefly, a flicker of something you couldn’t quite place crossing his features. “Just... getting by. Working hard, dealing with stuff. Not much else to it.”

There was a weariness in his voice that spoke of battles fought silently and wounds healed only with time. It was clear that the years had not been kind to Joel, even if he tried to mask it behind a facade of rugged determination.

You sensed that pushing further wouldn’t get you anywhere. Joel was not one to open up easily, and you could see that the topic of his feelings was closed off. You decided to shift the conversation, sensing that it was best to focus on something lighter.

"How’s school?” he asked, his tone shifting to something slightly more personal but still restrained. “Almost done, right?”

You nodded, a smile touching your lips despite the lingering tension. “Yeah, I’m just a few months away from graduating. It’s been a whirlwind, but I’m looking forward to it.”

“That’s good to hear,” Joel replied, giving a slight nod. “High school’s a big deal. A lot changes after that.”

You shifted slightly, tucking your legs beneath you as you sat on the grass. “It is. It feels like the end of one chapter and the start of another.” You took a deep drag from your cigarette, the smoke curling around you in the still air. Exhaling slowly, you continued, “I just want to get out of here.”

Joel’s gaze, always direct, fixed on you. He didn’t speak immediately, allowing the weight of your words to settle between you. He shifted his weight, leaning slightly on the rifle, his hands still coated in the grime of the day’s work. “Yeah?” he finally said, his tone soft but edged with curiosity. “Where do you want to go?”

You looked out over the lake, its calm surface reflecting the last rays of the sun. “Anywhere but here,” you said with a sigh. “I want to leave this town, start fresh somewhere new. I’ve been dreaming about it for a long time.”

Joel watched you silently for a moment, his expression unreadable. “Sometimes getting out can seem like the only way to find something better,” he said slowly. “But it ain’t always as simple as it sounds.”

You took another drag from your cigarette, the ember glowing brightly as you exhaled. “I know it’s not that simple,” you said quietly. “But it feels like I’m suffocating here. I just need... something different. Something real.”

Joel’s eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze not unkind but keenly observant. There was a protective instinct in him that had always been there, even when you were much younger. He sensed there was more to your words than just a desire to leave town. The carefully constructed façade of normalcy that your family projected wasn’t lost on him, though he had never delved into the specifics of your home life.

“You know,” Joel began, his voice taking on a slightly softer tone, “sometimes people want to leave for reasons that go beyond what they’re willing to say. It’s one thing to want a new place, but it’s another to be running from something.”

You stiffened slightly, the cigarette now nothing more than a stub between your fingers. You were careful not to let your emotions betray you. “It’s not just about running away,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “It’s about finding a place where I can breathe.”

Joel nodded, his gaze steady. “And you think you’ll find that out there?”

“I hope so,” you said. “I just need to get out and find out for myself. It’s been hard to see beyond this place.”

Joel shifted his weight, leaning on his rifle. His rugged face, often set in lines of stoicism, now bore a hint of concern. “You know, I’ve seen a lot of folks runnin’ away from what they don’t want to face. Sometimes they find what they’re lookin’ for, sometimes they don’t. But it’s dangerous out there for someone who’s not ready.”

You looked at him, sensing the genuine concern behind his words. “I’m ready,” you said softly. “I’ve been ready for a long time.”

Joel studied you for a moment longer, his fatherly instincts kicking in. He could see the innocence in your eyes, the quiet strength that belied your troubled soul. He had been a father before, and he knew what it was like to want to protect someone from the harsh realities of the world.

But then, with a shift in his demeanor, Joel decided it wasn’t his business to involve himself further. He cared for you, that much was clear, but he also knew his boundaries. His expression hardened slightly, a testament to his tendency to keep people at a distance. 

“Look,” he said gruffly, his Southern accent thickening his words, “it’s not my place to get too involved in this. You’re gonna have to handle things your way.” His tone was direct, carrying the weight of a man who had learned to let his actions speak louder than his words.

Despite the coldness in his voice, there was a flicker of tenderness in his eyes, a brief glimpse of the protective instincts that lingered beneath his guarded exterior. Joel operated in a morally gray area, making decisions that were often difficult and controversial, and he understood the complexities of navigating a world where right and wrong were not always clear.

He wanted to help, but his experience had taught him that sometimes the best way to show care was to step back and allow others to find their own way.

“You know,” Joel said, shifting the topic slightly, “Ellie talks about you sometimes. Says you’re smart, and she admires you for stickin’ it out. She’s got a good head on her shoulders, but she looks up to you. So, if there’s ever a time you need someone to talk to, or if you just need a friend, don’t hesitate to reach out. I may not be the best at this whole ‘talkin’’ thing, but I’m here if you need me.”

You appreciated his attempt to offer support, even if it came in a roundabout way. “Thanks, Joel. It’s nice to know that someone cares,” you said, smiling as you put out the cigarette.

Joel watched you with a mixture of concern and curiosity, as if weighing whether to press further. You could see that he was struggling with how much to say, his usual reserve at odds with the genuine warmth he was trying to convey.

“Well,” you said, glancing at the fading light, “I should head back to the church before Dad notices I’m gone.”

Joel shifted his stance, a hint of hesitation in his eyes. “You sure you don’t want a ride back? It’s a long walk, and it’s gettin’ dark.”

You shook your head, feeling a pang of guilt for declining his offer. “I appreciate it, Joel, but I don’t want to trouble you. I can manage the walk.”

Joel’s brow furrowed, and he gave a firm nod. “It ain’t no trouble. It’s just a ride. Besides, I’d rather make sure you get back safely.”

His insistence made you feel slightly uncomfortable, but you also recognized his sincerity. Raised to be polite and considerate, you found it difficult to refuse when someone was being genuinely helpful.

“Alright,” you said reluctantly, “if you insist. Thank you.”

Joel nodded, his face softening a bit as he walked over to his truck. The vehicle was old but reliable, with a rugged appearance that matched Joel’s own. He opened the passenger side door for you, gesturing for you to get in.

As you climbed into the truck, Joel got into the driver’s seat and started the engine. The interior was a mix of practical and worn, with a faint smell of leather and earth. Joel drove with a steady, practiced hand, the truck rumbling over the uneven terrain as he navigated the path back to town.

The silence in the truck was comfortable, with only the sound of the engine and the occasional rustle of the trees breaking it. You stared out the window, the fading sunlight casting a warm glow over the landscape. You could feel the weight of the day’s conversations settling in, and the quiet offered a moment of reflection.

After a few minutes, the truck rolled into town, the familiar sights coming into view. Joel slowed as he approached the church, where you could see the remaining congregants beginning to disperse.

Joel pulled up to the curb and stopped the truck. "We're here."

"Thank you once again, Joel. It’s good catching up with you," you said, giving him a grateful smile. Just as you were about to step out of the truck, you spotted your father from a distance. A sinking feeling washed over you as you realized he had seen you.

“Oh no,” you muttered, catching Joel’s eye. He turned to see your father walking towards the truck, a determined look on his face.

Joel, ever the gentleman, exited the truck as well. You followed suit, feeling a knot tighten in your stomach. Your father, who had been conversing with some church members, excused himself and made his way towards you and Joel.

“Evening, Reverend,” Joel greeted, extending a hand.

“Evening, Joel,” your father said with his usual charming demeanor, shaking Joel’s hand firmly. “It’s been a while. I hope you’ve been well.”

Joel’s expression was polite but reserved. “Can’t complain. Been keeping busy.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” your father replied smoothly. “You know, we’ve missed you at church. It would be good to see you back.”

Joel gave a noncommittal nod, his discomfort barely masked. “Maybe sometime.”

As your father turned his attention to you, his smile faltered slightly. “And where have you been, young lady? You were supposed to help with the service.”

You flinched at the stern tone, feeling his grip tighten around your arm as he spoke. “I was just taking a walk, Dad. Joel gave me a ride back.”

Your father’s grip was rough and unyielding, his fingers digging into your arm with a strength that was both painful and controlling. Joel noticed, his gaze briefly flicking to your father’s hand before returning to his face.

“Is that right?” your father said, his voice carrying a hint of disapproval. “Well, I hope you weren’t gone too long. We have responsibilities.”

"Yes, I'm sorry, father." You said smile a little to hide the pain he's causing you.

Joel cleared his throat, attempting to steer the conversation away from the tension. “I’m just making sure she gets back safe."

“Of course,” your father said, releasing your arm but maintaining a veneer of politeness. “We have a dinner invitation from Tommy and Maria next Saturday. I trust you’ll be joining us?”

Joel looked momentarily surprised. “Well, I'm supposed I am,"

Your father’s smile widened, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. “Yes, they extended the invitation to our family. It will be good to catch up.”

Joel nodded, his expression neutral. “I’ll have to check with Ellie, but I’m sure we’ll make it.”

“Excellent,” your father said, still maintaining his charming facade. “It’ll be good for everyone to reconnect.”

As the conversation continued, Joel’s discomfort grew. He noticed the strain in your father’s demeanor and the way he seemed to be masking a more sinister undertone behind his polite words. Joel had been out of the social loop for a while, but he was perceptive enough to sense when something was off, even if he chose not to probe further.

“Well,” Joel said, his tone shifting to one of finality, “I better be on my way. Got some things to take care of. It was good seeing you again, Reverend. And you too,” he added, offering you a brief, reassuring smile.

You gave him a grateful nod, feeling a mixture of relief and apprehension. “Thank you, Joel."

Joel, giving one last nod before turning to leave. As he walked away, you could feel the weight of the evening’s encounters settling heavily on your shoulders. The brief respite you’d found in Joel’s company had been overshadowed by the return of your father’s control and the unsettling realization that your escape from this small town and its complexities might be more challenging than you had hoped.

After the Sunday service, you returned home with a heavy heart. The warmth of the day had turned cold, and the familiar feeling of dread settled over you as you approached the house. Inside, the tension was palpable, and the moment you walked through the door, you knew there would be consequences for your absence during the service.

Your father’s voice was stern and unforgiving as he called you into the living room. “You’ve abandoned your duties. Do you have any idea what that means?”

You tried to explain, but his anger cut you off. “I was just trying to get some fresh air, Dad. I didn’t mean—”

Before you could finish, he was on you, grabbing your arm with a grip that left no room for argument. He dragged you to the center of the room, his face a mask of fury. “You’ve abandoned your duty. It’s about respect and responsibility. You know how important this is.”

“No, please, Dad, don’t. I’m so sorry. I will not do it again,” you pleaded, your voice trembling.

The fear in your voice only seemed to fuel his anger. He disappeared into the hallway, returning with his belt in hand. The leather looked menacing, and your heart raced as you saw it.

“Please, Dad, I’m sorry,” you continued to beg. “I didn’t mean to disobey. I’ll make it right. Just please—”

Your father’s face was a mask of cold determination. “Take off your dress and face the wall,” he ordered, his voice steely. “You needs to be taught a lesson.”

You could barely keep your composure as you undressed, your body shaking with fear and dread. The scars on your back from a previous punishment throbbed with anticipation. When you were finally positioned with your back to him, every nerve in your body was on edge.

The first crack of the belt was sharp and painfully immediate. The sound echoed through the room, followed by a searing pain that made you flinch. You cried out, tears streaming down your face. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” you sobbed, your voice breaking with each cry of pain.

You could feel the belt cutting into your already tender skin, the sensation of bleeding mixing with the agony of the blows. Each strike felt like a betrayal of your trust, a reminder of the harsh world you were trapped in.

Your mother stood in the doorway of the kitchen, her face pale and tear-streaked. She wanted to intervene, but fear held her back. She could only watch helplessly as you were punished, her own sobs mingling with your cries of pain.

In a desperate attempt to mask the sounds of the abuse from the neighbors, she turned the gospel music up loud, hoping the noise would cover your screams and your father’s harsh words.

The music blared in the background, a twisted contrast to the suffering in the room. It felt like a cruel mockery, the joyous hymns clashing with the reality of your punishment. Your mother’s tears fell silently as she stood by, unable to offer more than the muted comfort of her presence.

As the beating continued, your strength waned. The pain was overwhelming, a relentless reminder of the control your father exerted over every aspect of your life. You could only endure, hoping for it to end soon, each moment stretching out painfully as you clung to the hope that this would be the last of such torment.

When he finally stopped, you were left huddled on the floor, your body aching and your spirit broken. Your father’s anger subsided, leaving him with a cold, resolute expression. “I hope you’ve learned your lesson,” he said gruffly, his voice devoid of empathy. “Disobedience won’t be tolerated.”

Your mother rushed to your side as soon as your father left the room, her hands trembling, “I’m so sorry,” she whispered through her tears, her voice filled with sorrow and helplessness.

You looked at her through blurred vision, your own tears mingling with hers. “I—It's okay, mama." you said weakly, your voice strained and shaky. “It’s my fault."

She helped you put your dress back on, her fingers brushing gently over the raw marks on your skin, causing you to wince. Each movement was a reminder of the pain you were enduring.

As you slowly gathered your strength, your mother helped you to a nearby chair, her hands still shaking. She sat beside you, her presence a small but comforting anchor in the storm of your emotions. The music from the kitchen blared on, a cruel backdrop to the quiet moments of shared sorrow between mother and daughter.

In the midst of the pain and turmoil, there was a flicker of hope that someday, somehow, you might find a way out of the darkness. For now, though, you could only cling to the small comforts and the hope that things might one day be different.

[jo-harrington]

Standard Operating Procedures 1.05 (Eddie Munson x Store Manager!Reader)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: It's a normal Sunday night. You're just going over to have dinner, smoke, and listen to music. It's not a date. What could possibly go wrong?

Previous Part: Standard Operating Procedures 1.04

Warnings/Themes: AU where the Upside Down doesn't terrorize Hawkins. Reader works at the Claire's at StarCourt. Eddie works at TapeWorld. Mutual pining, alcohol and drug use (wine, beer, and weed), R has a minor panic attack while high, fluff, lighthearted smut (petting/groping/dry humping), minor angst, misunderstandings and miscommunication, driving probably a little under the influence, slight anachronism (slapping the bag)

Note: Big note for this one if you've read the most recent installations of SMVerse that I've posted...this is NOT in chronological order. SM and Eddie are not together in this one, we are rewinding back before Closing Time. This chapter and the next one are both a little longer and have been lingering in my head for quite a long time. Almost a year. So without further ado, please enjoy SOP 1.05.

You can find my masterlist here for more featuring our resident Store Manager and all of my other writing.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

---

Sundays were your favorite days, hands down.

They sort of always had been, even before moving to Hawkins. Now, though, you had an extra special reason why they were your favorite.

Sundays meant that you could be yourself after you clocked out. They meant standing in the mirror and wiping away the layers of glitter eyeshadow and scented nail polish off. They meant shedding the overly sparkly jewelry from work and the trendy clothes from the JCPenney or Madigan's Juniors department that were definitely cut for a teenage body.

No matter how young you still were, you just weren't sixteen anymore.

You could finally breathe a little easier.

No more Dress to Impress, no more preppy popular girl, no more customer service voice.

Sundays meant freedom.

Lately, part of that freedom meant walking out of the store, taking the most freeing breath you could, and walking right up to your crush best friend so you could spend those last few dying hours of the weekend together.

Shooting the breeze, laughing, and getting to know one another. Getting to really see one another.

Tonight, though, there was just this cloud hanging over you as you stood in the store's bathroom after hours and shucked off the plaid vest and fashionably unmatched skirt you'd chosen for the day in favor of a t-shirt and comfy stirrup pants.

Summer was over, school was back in session, and you hadn't gotten to see Eddie as much as you normally did.

Which, in the grander scheme of things, a lot of things changed with the new school year starting: a bunch of your associate's schedules changed, a few of them even left town for college, and business started to slow a little during the week for the first time since the store opened.

Still, you missed him.

It felt weird from practically seeing him every day to only seeing him in passing or on the weekends.

What if he didn't want to be friends anymore?

Well, that was just silly. Some remnant of fear about the fickleness of your friends memories in childhood. Besides, the first shift after school started back up, he immediately came running to your store and talked your ear off about the new kids that he forced to join Hellfire.

"God, they're such losers," he reminisced with a sparkle in his eye and a smile on his lips. "They have so much potential. I can't wait for you to meet them."

Tonight though...

Tonight was like any normal night; you were getting together after the mall closed and picking up pizza.

However, instead of any of your usual haunts or shenanigans in and around Hawkins, Eddie insisted you come over to his place. Totally normal.

"And we can smoke," he added as an afterthought.

"You know I don't smoke Eddie," you reminded him. "My grandpa and his crackly lungs? I've taken him to enough doctor's appointments."

"Doesn't stop you from sucking up the air around me when I'm having a cigarette on break. No. I mean smoke. Reefer. Weed. Jesus, don't act ignorant Miss Goody Two Shoes."

"Excuse me," you choked. "How am I Miss Goody Two Shoes?"

"Because," he began with dramatic emphasis. "For all of your stories about garage beers and parties that your work friends dragged you to, you've never mentioned partaking in any sort of illicit substances. You're being obtuse on purpose or you're afraid."

You were caught like a deer in the headlights.

"I...I'm not."

And you weren't; it wasn't fear. It was just...inexperience.

Back home you were always careful, even when you hung around friends from school or work; with your overprotective father and uptight mother and two brothers who wouldn't hesitate to rat you out if they found out you broke some kind of rule? It would be over.

So you never got too wild at parties. Disheveled clothes could be straightened, and you could pretend that swollen lips were just a side effect of getting a little sick. You never drank more beer than whatever made you feel a little floaty if you weren't sleeping over at a friends. And you never smoked weed.

Ok so it was fear, in a way; residual fear. Just not the way Eddie thought.

"Hey, don't worry," Eddie said in the most understanding way he could. "You just tell me and I'll drop it, if you're afraid."

You wanted to tell him, wanted to explain it, but in a moment of reflection and wanting to assuage his worries, defiance got the better of you and you told him that you weren't afraid and it would all be fine.

You were going to be with him; you never needed to be afraid when you were with him.

Now though, staring at yourself in the mirror as you got ready to go and meet Eddie you realized you might have made a mistake.

Hanging out with your crush friend alone at his place? Fine. Sitting close on the couch as you ate pizza and listened to music? Cool. Drinking and smoking together, knowing that you got a little bit chatty when you loosened up a little bit under the influence? Uhm.

What could possibly go wrong?

---

The spread that you and Eddie had created was impressive.

Pizza and a six pack and red vines and...and...and...

Eddie was usually very thorough when it came to providing snacks or planning outings where you could get a nice little treat together. Tonight it was partially your fault.

You'd originally planned just to drive to his place after work and the pizza would be delivered, but he said that when he'd called to place the order at Lou's--large pepperoni and a box of cannoli--they told him that the delivery driver was out. Takeout only.

But then he also forgot to stop at Bradley's for soda.

So you offered to go to Bradley's while he picked up the pizza, and you might have gone overboard.

Soda and a box of wine and peanut m&m's and...and...and...

"And you say that I'm bad," Eddie scoffed as you walked in, arms laden with shopping bags.

"Excuse me, this is the once in a blue moon you let me pay for anything, I'm gonna take advantage of it."

Wayne was still home getting ready for his shift when you got there and he simply shook his head at your bickering with a fond smile, then pilfered a little of everything for his own dinner before leaving you both to it.

Once he was gone, the festivities began.

You were both overzealous, talking a mile a minute over each other about your days as you set up for the night. Eddie divvied out food--creating a plate that reminded you of the Peanuts' Thanksgiving feast, overflowing with multicolored candies and popcorn and pizza slices--as you took care of the drinks.

You were a little smug that you got to teach Eddie something during these little Sunday night not-dates for once.

"Where did you learn this?" he asked skeptically as you ripped into the cardboard box. "What even is Franzia? Sounds fancy."

"It is the least fancy thing you can get," you grinned maniacally and freed the floppy plastic bag full of pink liquid from its confines. "Honestly I should have thrown it in the fridge but it's fine. You can put it with some coke; it'd probably taste better anyway."

He made a face.

"I'll just have a beer."

"Oh my--Eddie! Live a little." You settled the bag on the coffee table and gestured to it. "You don't have to drink it...chug a beer, I don't care...but you need to slap it."

He huffed and shuffled across the carpet on his knees to settle beside you.

"Is this a Claire's thing?" he asked, he looked up at you through his bangs.

"No it's not a--well...no. It doesn't matter! My old store manager, Jen, made us do it whenever we went to parties and hung out at her place. It's fun."

"Why does this feel like a lie?"

You reached out and smacked your hand against the plastic, listened to the liquid slosh inside. He let out a long suffering sigh but gestured for you to go ahead and he settled on the floor as you squealed with glee.

Eddie popped the little tab on the spout and the cheap wine poured freely into his mouth; he maintained eye contact with you the whole time, even as he choked on the unfamiliar taste of the pink zinfandel.

When you'd hung out with Jen and your coworkers and friends, it was just...a silly thing. Now, though, it was just you and Eddie; you stood over him with the bag gently held in your hands over his mouth and his hand rested on your calf as he drank. It was tense and intimate and as you started feeling a little hot under the collar, you wondered if this was a mistake.

Regardless, when he'd had his fill, he shut the spout and raised his hand and slapped the bag so hard it soared out of your grasp and across the living room.

You both burst out laughing as it swished and sloshed with a pronounced glorp on impact with the floor, and Eddie collapsed against your legs as the giddiness got the better of him.

"Ok, that's better than a keg stand." He looked up at you and wiped a hand over his mouth. "Blagh...probably gonna need that coke if I have any more though. Your turn, sweetheart."

Then the tables were turned, but unlike Eddie, you stood toe to toe with him as he held the bag for you.

To avoid the tense eye contact, you kept yours closed as you pulled mouthful after mouthful from the bag. You almost felt a little smug; you'd always been good at this, despite how awful the wine burps were gonna get after. You knew Eddie's competitive nature--always seeing who could finish a blizzard from DQ first and giving himself a brain freeze in the process--so you were hoping to last a little longer, hit the bag a little harder, and get him to concede.

You counted down in your head and finally when you couldn't take the heartburn the wine caused any longer, you shut the spout and released it, ready for victory.

Of course, opening your eyes provided nothing of the sort.

Eddie stood there, inches away from you; his pupils were blown and he was breathing a little heavily and for a split second you thought to ask if he was ok.

Until he leaned a little closer.

Close enough where you could smell the laundry detergent and the general amalgamation of mall scents coming off of him.

Then you noticed that his eyes were locked onto…your lips?

Was he gonna kiss you?

You already thought…well…and in the van the other week? When he licked frosting off your hand? You'd thought...

Except that was the thing, you always thought, you never acted. Too stuck in your head weighing and judging the options and if you could just do something about it. If you could just lean forward a little, you could stop worrying and have your answer right?

And if it wasn't meant to be and things were weird? If he didn't actually mean to try and kiss you? You worked retail; you could bullshit with the best of them if worse came to worse.

Then you'd just pretend that your heart didn't ache from rejection for the duration of your friendship. You were already familiar with disappointment; this would be no different.

Alright, that's it, you weren't gonna chance it anymore. All the worrying you did back at the store was enough. You were just gonna kiss him. Just lean forward; just go. Just go. One, two...two and a half...

Eddie's eyelids fluttered a little bit, and your heart clenched in hope, until he leaned away and cleared his throat.

The wine bag was tossed onto the coffee table and Eddie gestured to the plates he'd prepared.

"So, pizza?"

---

Music was the next event of the night.

And the weed.

Funny how all of your anxiety over smoking flew out the window when you were anxious about something else.

Because you just couldn't get your feelings out of your head after Eddie walked away from a kiss like that.

Was it even going to be a kiss? Or was it just the awkwardness of your positions in that situation? Were you overthinking the overthinking?

On and on those thoughts spiraled.

Until Eddie said he was going to get his stereo to start your comprehensive education of metal.

"We really don't have all night Eddie," you said and threw a balled up napkin at him as he fiddled with his tapes.

"Ok, maybe not fully comprehensive," he held his hands up in surrender. "Nothing sounds better than vinyl and I have all of that at Rick's. And my mom's records. You wanna talk about classics? We've gotta spend a whole weekend there."

He put a tape into the slot and hit play and the room was immediately filled with guitar riffs and singing and shouting; he turned the volume down immediately.

"I've gotta give you the whole history sweetheart," he explained. "So you've gotta hear me too. This song's not so important...I'll turn it up when we get to the good part."

Of course, Eddie's music history lesson...started with him.

"Picture this," he said, arms waving as he walked over to his school things that had been haphazardly thrown in a corner of the room: a wilted canvas backpack, a black binder, and a dented metal lunchbox. "11-year old me, fresh after my mom's funeral and everyone she knew was coming up to us but I refused to talk. Wayne kept making excuse after excuse. But Rick, bless him, said 'gotta make him cry.'"

And on he went as he spilled the contents of the dented lunchbox on the coffee table and began the fine work of rolling a joint.

"Took me to the record store, let me pick out whatever I wanted. Of course I chose Sad Wings of Destiny because the art was cool. Little did I know that would change the course of my life forever."

You didn’t know what to focus on and that made you spiral a little bit further. The words, the music, his lips and his fingers as he followed steps that he seemed to know but didn't feel the need to elaborate on were all very appealing targets; the music and his story was what was important here though and you made the attempt.

He told his story in a way that only Eddie Munson knew how to—arms flailing, minute details, expressions and voices and everything you loved admired about him. He took a moment to swap cassettes and crank up the volume before he fell onto the couch beside you in a mess of cushions and limbs and hair.

"I would say ladies first," he began as he presented the joint to you. He then stuck it between his lips and continued talking around it. "But I'm nothing if not a gentleman and I need to teach you how to do this. It's a little different than cigarettes."

It was a comprehensive lesson and you'd gotten the hang of it quickly, but the proximity did nothing to help calm your nerves; Eddie's knee touching yours, his face and hands so close to yours as he held the joint to your lips, then one hand your shoulder as he soothed the cough that escaped you after your first hit, and finally the way he inhaled along with you as you took another.

Want burned in your lungs along with the smoke, but it didn't leave you when you finally exhaled.

You were very much looking forward to the light and mellow feeling that Eddie promised once the weed hit your system.

"Until then," he grinned and took another hit himself before dropping the smoldering stick into a nearby ashtray. "We just dive into the mind of the great Ronnie James Dio."

You rested back against the cushions and turned your head to really watch him; it was strange just...observing him. You had never done it like this before, close and quiet at this distance. Your time together was always spent with conversation and laughter, your observations and mental notes about him done in little snapshots as he moved through life like a blur.

Now you got to experience the simplicity of his presence in private and the addictive frequency that he emitted.

It was nice.

You watched the way his lashes brushed against his skin as he melted into the sofa beside you and closed his eyes. The way his plush lips pursed and then stretched as he hummed along to the music. You closed your own eyes for a second as he matched the sharpness of the lyrics with his voice, hushed and then shrill, and then hushed again.

And when you opened them back up to watch him some more, he was watching you and practically vibrating.

Your heart skipped a beat...

"Sweetheart," he reached out and touched your wrist. "You ok?"

Wait...he wasn't vibrating.

You were.

Then you noticed that your heart skipped many beats, then the beats suddenly tripled, and then it all slowed again, pounding harder and faster in your chest than you believed to be possible.

Did your chest hurt? Or were you imagining it?

It felt like the few times you ran the mile back in high school, but you hadn't run.

Had you?

Your legs felt like jelly. Your arms too.

So you must have run...but when?

No wait, you were forgetting something. Your chest, your heart, your lungs. You had to focus on them first, you needed them to live.

You tried to fix it all by taking a great gulp of air in--if you felt like you'd just run the mile, surely catching your breath would fix it--but you found that it didn't fix anything. In fact, you seemed to lose even more control of your body. You floundered, breathing heavily over and over, quicker and quicker to try and get a hold of yourself.

And the panic set in, unlike anything you'd ever experienced before in your life.

Your consciousness became untethered from your body and you sank deep within yourself. Like Alice falling down the rabbit hole. Only instead of a rabbit hole, the you that existed in your mind fell away from your eyes and deeper into your skull then out the back of it and into the so-soft cushions of the couch.

But this wasn't sinking, this wasn't melting. This was being buried alive.

You remembered Eddie’s taunting before, about being afraid of smoking. Why hadn’t you told him that you didn’t want to do this? Why hadn’t you told him you were afraid? You were a stubborn idiot and now you’d die here, buried amongst pilling fabric and lost change and lint and a few cheerios that were stuck between the cushions.

You would die here on Eddie's couch...

"Eddie!" you practically sobbed and reached out for him, remembering suddenly that he was there with you. Why wasn't he doing anything to keep you from sinking? "Help!"

"It's ok hey!" He grabbed your hands now and pulled you back from the void, hooked the tether back onto you and saved you from the depths. "It's ok, breathe. No, not like that. Slowly, deep breaths with me. In and hold it and out. Whoooooo."

You focused on the whooshing sound of the air that escaped his lips and you tried to make the same sound yourself. Over and over, slowly as he guided you.

"That's it," he smiled. "Good girl."

You slowly grounded yourself through Eddie, escaping whatever horrible clutches had just grasped at you. You began to feel better, lighter; more centered within yourself but…nicer?

Had that awful feeling been the high? Or was this?

Maybe everyone got caught by a demon when they smoked and then if they escaped they felt a nice light flutter and instead of a heavy beating heart that threatened to burst out of their chests, they felt...silly. Happy. Bubbly.

Like you did whenever you were around Eddie.

Only now it was better, and it was all getting better as he spoke to you and smiled and wiped at the few tears that had escaped your eyes.

Breathe in, breathe out. Good girl.

You kept breathing and staring at his lips.

Breathe in.

Lips.

Breathe out.

Eddie's lips.

Good girl.

You thought about earlier...minutes or hours you couldn't tell for sure...about the way Eddie leaned close to you and almost kissed you. All the worry you'd had about not being able to make a move because you were thinking so much you couldn't act. Here you were now, thinking again. When his lips were right there and you could do something about it.

With one last shaky breath, bubbly infatuation flooded your body; you smiled and said one final farewell to your nervous thoughts, and you surged forward. Your hands shook his away and grabbed at his face, as your lips slid clumsily against his.

Your noses bumped and teeth clacked painfully but it didn't quite matter because the sparks that emanated from your joined lips shot through your limbs and made you both feel tingly and pleasant. At least, you assumed they did for Eddie because he let out a sound that was somewhere in between a giggle and a moan.

But he didn't push you away; in fact, his hands clapped over yours and smushed them further into his cheeks.

He wanted you to kiss him. He wanted to kiss you. He...liked you.

It was a euphoric moment of joy and realization, but your need to put your lips on him outweighed that. So you tried again. Gentler this time.

Eddie followed your lead for a little while as you pulled him towards you; one of his hands found your waist as the other arm rounded your shoulders, and he became your anchor to prevent you from being buried by the sofa again. As thanks for his chivalry, you gifted him with soft caresses, quick pecks, and sharp little nips.

Your fingers developed a mind of their own, and seemed to love his cheekbones and getting tangled in his hair, although they couldn't quite decide which they loved more so back and forth they went.

The rest of you, though--mind and body--just basked in the kissing.

You were good at kissing; you liked kissing. And you liked kissing Eddie, more than you ever thought you would. Kissing under the light, buzzy influence of a beer or two was nice, and it might have been the weed or it could have just been Eddie himself, but this was nicer. Floaty and tingly and transcendent.

The music itself had stopped, but Eddie himself continued to provide the soundtrack to the night. Instead of guitars and vocals and pounding drums, it was a symphony of soft hums and sweet sighs.

Eddie, who often pilfered bites and nibbles off your plate and cited that he was a "growing boy," seemed to prove that his hunger was greater than yours the way he bit and nibbled at you too, appetite growing the longer you kissed. The pace you set no longer fed him the way he wanted and he started to feast a little more; that was a side-effect of being high, right? Hunger. Insatiable hunger?

His mouth pulled away from yours and started to explore your jaw, the column of your neck, the junction between your neck and shoulder. You let yourself get lost in the feeling of his attention, of his lips and hands as he gave and took, of the floaty feeling that settled comfortably in your limbs now, all the nerves of the day forgotten.

Before you knew it, your own hunger grew as well. You wanted him closer, needed more of him now that you had him.

You let yourself drift back along the pillows until you were laying comfortably and pulled Eddie along with you; one hand still lingered in his hair as the other fisted the collar of his shirt and got him right where you needed him to be.

Of course, you couldn't just take without giving as well, and as he settled onto you, your hips bucked up into him. You both moaned--savoring the proximity and delicious friction that his jeans and your leggings provided--and then giggled together as he collapsed on top of you, unprepared for the sudden surge of delight.

His breath fanned across your neck and jaw as he laughed breathlessly, and your hands caressed his head and shoulders fondly as you mirrored him.

He strained his neck a little to look you in the eye; his grin accentuated all the lines in his face, and for a second he struggled to form words. His mouth opened and closed silently and then he licked his lips to compose himself. The next thing you knew, his hand was coming up and squeezing one of your breasts with an exaggerated "honk" as he fell back against the other one and pressed his mouth to the swell over your shirt.

Back into the throes of unadulterated giggles you both went as he continued to honk and kiss and suck at exposed skin.

One of the highlights of the whole night was when he blew a raspberry against your neck; the feeling of goosebumps that erupted along your body and the spittle that sprayed across your skin would be a sensation you would remember and cherish forever.

"No fair," you whined and shifted against him again, both to protest the fact that you currently couldn't return the favor of all the attention he was giving you. Nevertheless, you treated him to the attention that you could, and you bucked your hips up again, only to be met with the feeling of him grinding down onto you.

Giggles began to mingle with desperate pants as he began to shift against you and settled into the cradle of your thighs; he grew harder and ground and rutted against the covered softness of you, faster and sharper, and your body eagerly responded, wanting to be as close to him as you could. As close as either of you could honestly fathom at this point, feeling too good like this to consider that there was more pleasure to be had if time went on and clothes came off.

Sunday nights together were truly gleeful and hedonistic, and tonight was no different. However, instead of snacks and arguments accentuated by the sounds of light-hearted talk and laughter, it was your writhing bodies and mingled breaths that took center stage; the two of you never stopped, only paused for your lips to smack wetly against one another, for your nails to rake through his hair and scratch against his scalp, and for him to grasp at your hips to pull you closer and closer as he drove you higher and higher.

"Eddie, I'm--" you broke away from him and keened, and he responded with a husky "uh-huh" and pressed his forehead against yours. Both of your eyes closed as you felt the pleasure building between the two of you, as he moaned and your toes curled...

As keys jingled in the lock of the front door of the trailer.

...and suddenly it was like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over the both of you and you froze, all thought of completion forgotten.

Your eyes shot open and you stared into Eddie's panic-filled, pleasure-blown pupils. He shifted sharply and then paused, almost like a glitch, and then he was off you, across to the other side of the couch in the blink of an eye. You watched, dumbstruck, as he panted heavily to control his breathing, and he held his head in shaking hands.

"No, no," he muttered. "Shit. Shit."

You reacted quickly as the door started to squeak open--throwing your legs over the edge of the sofa to sit upright as your hands clumsily fixed your disheveled clothes--and Wayne walked in. You took the extra second as he grumbled at the threshold and fiddled with his keys to look at Eddie, hoping for some kind of...secret conspiratorial smile or...or heated gaze...just something but he refused to look at you.

Suddenly, all of the good feelings that had flooded you since the moment that Eddie had chased your panic away...they vanished. The sweet giggles and shared pleasure were gone; even the love bites you were sure Eddie had left behind stung instead of blissfully buzzed.

And in their place, an acute clarity of what the two of you had just done.

"You wouldn't believe the mess I walked into tonight," Wayne chuckled with disbelief as he finally shut the door.

No kidding Wayne, you thought bitterly.

"Some of the machines were down when I got there and it took a few hours to figure out the problem. Some rusted old part..." On and on he chattered as you spiraled, stuck in your thoughts once again.

You and Eddie, Eddie and you. You and your secret crush...had just...on his couch. You and your best friend, your only friend in town...got high and kissed and canoodled and now he refused to even look at you.

You didn't know if it was the weed again or if it was just you, but you could see stars in the corners of your eyes and you felt lightheaded as the panic settled back in. And it only got worse the longer you sat there and tried to get some kind of sign from Eddie, only to be left with nothing. Such a stark contrast from just moments ago where you were giving and taking and responding to one another so freely.

Giving and taking...was that really what it was? Or did you just...do this to him? Do this to the both of you? Effectively tank your friendship the way you'd worried about since the first time you'd hung out and Eddie had specifically said it wasn't a date?

You abruptly got to your feet and Wayne stopped his chatter and looked at you questioningly.

"I..." you felt your throat closing up with emotion. "I just forgot I have a really important call first thing tomorrow. I...need to go!"

Eddie finally looked at you with wide, shocked eyes.

Were those tears? Oh god...

"I...it was nice to see you Wayne, sorry..." you scrambled to grab your bag from where you'd tossed it by the door and then looked back at both Munsons. Back and forth at Wayne's curious expression...and Eddie's devastated one. "I'm...sorry."

And you bolted out the door, into your car, and back across town to the lonely confines of your apartment, where you would wish for a second chance at Sunday all over again.

Because until tonight, Sundays had always been your favorite days.

Next Part: Leave of Absence

[unluckilyimnot]

wait ok what if there was one with “I’m still into you”, blue lock but the reader liked the guy when they used to go to school together and late they run into each other when they’re older and reconnect? Like he’s not a famous soccer/football player? Idk if that’s hard or confusing. For characters maybe at least rin and isagi?

15 “i’m still into you” with rin, isagi

m.list | rules | from this

note: hii thank you sm <3 it was just fine don’t worry, I hope you liked it ! Please be sure to mention the characters you want, it’s not like what I usually do

At first, you thought your eyes were playing a trick on you when you saw his tall and lean figure waiting when you entered your favorite coffee shop. Rin wasn't supposed to be in town anymore, he left after high school to study abroad and yet everything in the posture reminded you of him.

You couldn't help but tap the man's shoulder, it was just disturbing to see someone looking like him, in your two favorite coffee shops after all those years. So you weren't exactly surprised to catch his teal eyes at first looking down on you, instead a huge smile lit up your face.

“Rin, you're back in town !” your voice was loud since you couldn't contain your enthusiasm. “You should've texted me !”

“I didn't know how…” He confessed, now looking away with a small blush on his cheeks. Old habits die hard so maybe he secretly hoped to see you there again one day.

His name was called for him to get his very needed coffee and before he left your side, you told him to wait for you. You wanted to stay inside but since he took his to take out, you'll do the same. You were dying to know how it was, his study abroad.

It was still a bit cold for April but since it was to catch up with him, it suddenly seemed alright. He was still kinda reserved, even more after all those years, but you were happy to see that it didn't change your friendship – or him.

You used to have a huge crush on him back in high school, but never mentioned it to him. He wasn't the type to bother with friends so being around him was enough. University has been hard for both of you it seems, but you never really moved on from him sadly.

You felt kinda nostalgic at the feeling. You've never counted how many times you two meet up for a coffee then walk around the streets like this. You used to cherish this moment with him a lot so it felt weird to be back to it, almost five years later.

“It's good to go back to some olds habits, no ?” You suddenly asked, trying to fill the silence. “I used to think of those times together as dates, you know.” You joked but deep down knew it was true. It made you crack a resigned smile.

“Even after all those years, I think I'm still into you,” you mumble since he didn't answer anything. You thought it was stupid not that you've said it – he just got back, it was certainly too much for him.

And there was a heavy silence again. Neither of you looked at each other, well at least you didn't ; missing the way his eyes widened at your words.

“I've missed you, back there,” he confessed, stopping in his tracks but you couldn’t believe he just said that. It felt unreal and it was like a cat got your tongue for a second ; you had no idea how to answer.

“Can I take a sip ?” he asked, tilting his head at your coffee after making his way to your side. You just nodded, tossing it to him and waiting for his reaction. Without any surprises, it was too sweet for him but his disgusted face made you laugh.

Maybe you didn’t answer it after all. Maybe it was just a way to tell you that he used to like you as well, and that with time, you two might get even closer than before.

Isagi never expected to see you there but it seemed like neither did you. He almost didn’t recognize you, your hair was way longer and now you’ve got glasses – but that wasn’t so surprising since he hasn’t seen you since high school. It looks like both of you had the same address when it comes to choosing where to buy your new books. It was funny running into you here, he doesn’t remember you as a big fan of literature yet you now got one of his favorite books in hand.

“It’s been a while ! Are you free for, I don’t know, a drink ? A coffee ? You know, to catch up…” he hesitated a little, maybe you didn’t even want to talk with him but now we're kinda forced to. Yet a big smile appeared on your face as you nodded and Isagi suddenly remembered why he was obsessed with you during your last year.

He never really was popular, even if he was in the football team, yet you were always down to do projects with him, always saying that you two work well together. That’s probably where his crush started, and because you had the most beautiful smile he ever saw.

“You’re a teacher ?! No way !” He almost yelled while sitting at the front of a café, with a hot chocolate despite the hot weather of september. You giggled at his reaction.

“Yes, I’m teaching English, that’s why I’m reading this.” You showed him the book again and he nodded happily, ready to add something before you speak. “I remember it being one of your favorite books so I thought it was good to use it in class. I’ll use it for the next semester.” you explained and if you looked up a second earlier, you would’ve caught the blush on his cheeks.

“I never thought you’ll remember that…” he answered shyly, scratching his cheek and he thought to himself that it was bad.

His heart was racing in his ribcage even if it’s been years. He couldn’t tell if it was his old feelings coming back like a racing car or if he just found you pretty, and that fate was on his side to let him run into you again.

“What are you talking about ! I loved listening to you back in the day, it fed my fantasies ; my friends were tired of hearing about you,” you said it to sound like a joke, but to him it was shocking news.

You used to like him back ? He looked at you with shocked eyes, a million things going on in his little brain it made you worried. As you asked if he was ok, you seemed scared you'd said too much but instead he composed himself quickly, looking away from you.

“Sorry Isagi, it's just weird said like that,” it was your turn to act all awkward, you never expected him to react like this. You assumed he would laugh, to be honest.

“No I– it's weird too, but I think I'm still into you” He said with a blush but his eyes were looking at you with a confidence you rarely saw in him. “So maybe we can start again…?”

Let's be honest, he looked way too cute to say no.

[social-media-au-reblog]

COMPLETE DC SMAU

Main masterlist

Damian Wayne

A mystery to unveil (SM!AU)

- After you upload a picture to make sure that every girl in Gotham knows that Damian is yours, it’s his family’s personal mission to find out who that newly found Mystery Girl is…

In the shadows

When Damian's left alone to take care of Gotham for 2 weeks, he receives help from a few vigilantes in the next town. Turns out they go to school together and make a great team.

Captured by fate

Being asked to be the photographer at the recent Wayne Gala was an amazing opportunity, meeting your soulmate Damian Wayne was not a welcome surprise.

Prom shenanigans

Damian asks the girl he tutors to prom, shenanigans follow.

Partners in justice masterlist

Summery:In his senior year of high school, Damian Wayne has to work with the new Batgirl Y/N L/N in more ways than one. Will they become friends, rivals, or more?

Ballet SMAU Masterlist

As lovely as you are

Smau Damian Wayne x reader

Jason Todd

Social media cordina

Recently fired Y/n receives a job offer from Bruce Wayne. Date Jason and run the Wayne Enterprises social media. It was better then her other idea...Featuring stalkers, awkwardness, and friends who won't let you fail at this because they're having too much fun.

Tim Drake

Moving closer master list

Summery: Tim Drake's best friend is moving back to Gotham, and the BatFam learns about her for the first time... Social Media AU

Update firewalls

Y/n a computer genius, got bored and decided to hack everything she could of Batman's. Turns out, all of his firewalls needs to be updated...

Dick Grayson

But oh..cara mía”

It’s one year after Damian’s arrival, and Yn Ln just came back from her two year long trip. Constantly perplexed by her relationship with Dick, Damian sets out to dig down deeper on who she is, what went wrong, and what will become. With the help from the batfam, let’s find out what the hell happened to Dick Grayson and Yn Ln

[zepskies]

Never Say Goodbye - Part 4

Pairing: Dean x Female Reader 

Summary: The first time you and Dean sensed each other’s thoughts and feelings, you were just kids. It would take years to realize that you both were bonded for life, and even longer to finally meet. [Soulmate AU] (Rated M for eventual scenes – 18+)

Word Count: 4,400 Warnings: Language, cliffhangers (lol). 

Part 4: Guessing Game

The next morning was a Wednesday. Despite the monumental, life-changing things that happened yesterday, unfortunately, you still had to go to work. You also had three class finals to finish.

Still, you woke invigorated with a new energy you had never felt before because you had finally, finally met your soulmate.

…Okay, not so much met him, but at least you had shared a telepathic conversation! That still counted!

…No matter how actually insane that sounded.

So you got ready for your day with an added pep in your step. You dressed “work casual”: white blouse tucked into a black skirt, tights because of the cold, black boots, and your favorite red winter coat. It hung to about your knees, so it would protect your legs. You even had the energy to put on some makeup and style your hair a little, fixing the frizzy kinks into some smoother waves down your back.

You looked into the mirror and you felt proud of your reflection. Not just how you looked, but of how you were able to carry yourself with your head held high. 

With your purse and books gathered, you ventured downstairs and found your dad already puttering through the kitchen. You accepted the mug of coffee he offered and sipped at it while you packed a lunch.

Hmm, getting low on groceries. I’ll have to swing by the store on the way home, you thought.

There was one other thing that snagged in your mind, and that was having to reschedule your visit with Bobby. After you “hung up” with your soulmate (who frustratingly refused to give you his name yet), you realized how late it was and called your uncle for a rain check. But you fully intended to keep your word and visit him today, after work.

Now, you eyed your dad as he read the paper at the small kitchen nook. You took your coffee and sat down across from him (you still had a few minutes before you had to leave). 

“How’s the world?” you asked him, nodding at the newspaper.

“Great,” he replied dryly. “Just one big dumpster fire.”

The corner of your mouth quirked upwards. “Any local flames?”

Jack sighed and lowered the paper, meeting her eyes. “Unfortunately, yes. You carry pepper spray, don’t you?”

You nodded. “Of course.”  

“And your handgun? Where’d you put it?” he asked. You frowned. 

Your father was a cop and this was the Midwest. You did have a concealed carrier’s permit, but you weren’t allowed to have your gun on you at school, so you typically stored it in the nightstand by your bed. Jack knew that.

“What’s going on?” you asked. 

“There’s been a series of home invasions across town, two of them in our neighborhood,” he said, giving you a firm look. “Watch yourself when you leave the house, when you head to your car, when you leave campus.”

“I know, Dad,” you replied. “By the way…are you planning on going to see Mom today? I didn’t get a chance to go yesterday, so we could go together if you want.”

You were attempting to lend an olive branch after yesterday’s argument. Jack, however, wasn’t getting the hint. 

“I can’t.” He shook his head and tapped at the newspaper headline. “I’m actually heading this case…most of these have been what we call ‘push-ins.’”

“What’s a push-in?” you asked. You could guess, but you didn’t like how serious your dad was right now.

“Let’s say someone knocks at the door. You’re not expecting anyone, not even the pizza guy. What do you do?” Jack asked. 

“Check who it is through the peephole,” you answer.

“What if your door doesn’t have one?”

This was easy. Your father had drilled this into you since you were eight years old. “Ask who it is through the door. Don’t open it unless you know them, or unless you can smell pizza through the door crack.”

“Good. Most people will just open the door without checking,” Jack said. “The guy shoves his way in and attacks you. That’s a push-in.”

Goddamn. You didn't know there was a name for that. 

“And how many of these have happened so far?” you asked.

“Four that we know of,” he replied. “It hasn’t hit the news yet but…Mrs. Jenkins was killed last night. We found the poor thing literally clutching her pearls.”

You blanched, setting down your coffee. Shock hit you first, then sadness. Mrs. Jenkins was the sweet old lady who used to make cookies for Sunday school when you were a kid. She’d given you $50 for college textbooks when you graduated from high school, and then flowers when you graduated with your bachelor’s degree. 

Your eyes burned with emotion. “I can’t believe it. He was after her pearls?”

“I imagine she didn’t want to give ‘em up,” Jack said. “Or she held on out of reflex. When you’re afraid, logic tends to fly out the window.”

You understood that, but you couldn’t believe she’d died for her jewelry. You rubbed the silver ring on your right hand and rationalized to yourself. You knew you could give up your mom’s ring if it meant the difference between that and a bullet in your brain.

Your dad was still telling you to be careful when you left the house that morning. He only nagged and rode your ass about your future career because he cared. You knew that. But the nagging was a test of your ever-thinning patience. 

Once you got on the road, you had an hour to kill on your commute. Then a flash of an idea occurred to you, making you smile. With a deep breath, you sought that thread of energy inside your mind. You didn’t know if this would work. It wouldn’t be long until you were driving away from Sioux Falls and headed to Vermillion, but you hoped the connection would win out.

The thread brightened with your focus on it, and suddenly you could feel him. Your soulmate. 

Good morning, sleepyhead, you greeted cheerfully. His response was more sluggish.

No, it ain’t.  

His grumpy voice made you laugh. Aw, someone’s grouchy in the morning.

This lumpy couch killed my back, he complained. And I could hear my brother’s snoring from downstairs.

So he had a brother. That was an interesting tidbit of information you’d save for later. You smiled. 

You’re a cute grouch.

Excuse me, princess. I’m not a “cute” anything. He sounded mildly offended, but you sensed he was just as amused as you. 

So what’s your brother’s name? you asked.

He hesitated, but eventually he replied, His name’s Sam. 

Okay, so his brother’s name was safe, but his name had to be a mystery. And his job. That annoyed you, though you supposed it was part of the game.

What’re you up to? he asked. 

On my way to work. 

Oh, yeah? What do you do?

Even though you shook your head at the hypocrisy of his question, you decided to answer honestly. Well, I’m finishing up grad school next semester. This week is finals, then we break until January. But I also work part-time for one of my professors as her assistant.

Look at you, he said with a whistle. Beauty and brains.

You quirked a smile. If only your dad were that impressed. Technically you haven’t confirmed the “beauty” bit. I could be a potato with legs for all you know.

You sensed rather than heard his laughter.

Nah, a voice that sexy can’t be Potato Girl. 

You blushed up to your ears at that one. No one had ever described your voice that way. Quiet, mousy yes—and mainly by Dr. Birch—but never sexy.

Your soulmate was definitely a flirt, if nothing else. 

Hmm, you had that line locked and loaded, didn’t you?

Nope. That was fresh, sweetheart, he said. I’m just that creative. 

Sure, you laughed again. It’s already 9:00 a.m. Don’t you have somewhere to be?

Yeah, now that you mention it. I’ve gotta get going to work too.

That was disappointing, but at least you’d learned something new. Your soulmate wasn’t a morning person, and he had a brother.

Do you and your brother both have the same mystery job?

…Yeah, actually. We work together, he said. Good question, Nancy Drew. 

Yes! You smiled in triumph. 

You made a few more guesses about his job: police officer, teacher, leader of a biker gang—all of which were apparently wrong. 

But keep ‘em comin’, he said. You’ll get it eventually.

You let out an annoyed huff. But then you felt his amusement, like he was genuinely enjoying himself while talking with you. That warmed you up enough for now.

After a long day at the university, you relished coming home knowing you only had two more days until winter break. 

You stopped at the grocery store on the way home, like you’d planned, but now you regretted it. There were only two cashiers open despite a packed store. Ugh. Just my luck.

You chose the one that didn’t have a screaming child throwing his mother’s apples out of the cart, but you did stop to help her pick them up. 

“Thanks, hun,” she said tiredly. You nodded with a sympathetic smile.

“How old is he?” you asked.

“Two and a half,” she said. You tried to hide your reaction, but she gave a wry smile and returned to her child.

Good luck, you wanted to say, but you kept that yourself and returned to your cart. As the line inched forward, you wondered if you wanted kids. 

Never really thought about it before, you could admit. You supposed there was a lot to consider, but maybe most importantly: It has to be with the right person.

You wondered if your soulmate was that person, or if having kids one day (or not) was going to be a dealbreaker for him.

Then you snorted, shaking your head. Okay, you’re getting very ahead of yourself. You haven’t even met the man.

“Hey, look who it is!” 

The cashier’s voice startled you from your thoughts. When you broke out of your reverie, you realized you were at the front of the line, and Danny Schmitt was once again your checkout guy. Part of you withered, but you tried at a polite smile as you busied yourself by emptying your cart on the conveyer belt. “Hey, Danny. How’re you doing?”

“Been good. And yourself? You look good,” he said. He wasn’t very discreet about checking you out. You blushed, but more from discomfort than flattery. 

“Thanks,” you said, a bit awkwardly, and started bagging the groceries he rang up.

“What have you been up to?” he asked. “Every time I see you, you’re dressed up like you’re goin’ to a Broadway show or something.”

Broadway? You glanced down at your work casual blouse and skirt. To the movie theater, maybe. Less Mamma Mia and more Magic Mike.  

“I like it though. Skirt and boots, always a sexy combo,” Danny said, and gave you a wink. You had no doubt that many a girl had swooned at the move, but you were less charmed and more annoyed. You finished bagging your stuff and paid with your credit card in silence.

The high school version of yourself would’ve blushed at Danny’s attention. After stapling his fingers together in freshman year, he’d gone through a growth spurt the next. He’d joined the wrestling team, and paired with his light blonde hair and square jaw, the girls hadn’t stopped stumbling over themselves to get with him. 

After high school, though, Danny didn’t get that sports scholarship for college. It also looked like he didn’t have the drive for anything else, either. He’d worked this same job at the Piggly Wiggly since you graduated six years ago.

All right, check your privilege, you reminded yourself, feeling guilty for judging him. Not everyone’s cut out for college. You don’t even know exactly what you want to do with your life.

“Have a good one,” he said, handing you the receipt. “And hey, let me know if you want to get a coffee sometime, or dinner. Flannigan’s has a two-for-one special on beer pitchers…I’ll pay. Or, you know, we could split it. You know, equality and all that. Hell, even you could pay if you wanted to.” He laughed.

Tempting, you thought. Though you’d have to remember about that two-for-one special. Uncle Bobby might want to make that your beer pilgrimage tonight.

“You know, I’ve been pretty busy lately,” you said, trying your best at a smile. “But I’ll let you know!”

Maybe it was rude of you, but you didn’t give him a chance to reply as you took your cart and waved goodbye.

Bobby welcomed you into his home, with what could only be described as a “gruff smile.” You shed your winter coat, but finding no hooks on the wall, you just draped it over the back of the living room couch.

“Come in,” he beckoned with a hand. “Don’t mind the mess. I was just finishing up some…work.”

Indeed, there were several books strewn across the coffee table, the dining table, the little accent table next to the couch—basically every available space in the living room was covered with books, manuscripts, and loose papers. Your eyes scanned over some of them. Raising a brow, you picked up one of the books. 

“Omens, Trials, and Tribulations: A Guided Study on the Book of Revelation,” you read, and gave Bobby a curious look. “Doing some light reading alongside the New King James?” 

Bobby shrugged. “It’s a hobby.”

Somehow you didn’t think that was the whole story, but you smiled in amusement. Then you noticed some rumpled bed sheets on the couch, a green duffle bag dumped on the floor. 

“Do you have someone staying over? Should I come back another day?” you asked.

“Nah, I’ve got a couple of knuckleheads staying over, but they’re not here right now,” he said. “I sent them to work on somethin’.”

“Oh, towing a car for you?” you asked. 

“More like, checking out a possible job,” he explained, though that didn’t really explain anything at all. It left you even more curious as you got the sense he was leaving something out again, but you didn’t press it. Instead, you followed him into the kitchen.

“Want a beer?” he asked.

“That’s why I’m here,” you joked. “Dad drinks ‘em like a fish. By the time I get home, the fridge is damn-near empty.”

“How is he?” Bobby handed you the beer and you took it gratefully. 

“He’s the same. Buried in cases. I made him something before I left, for when he gets home,” you replied. Then you sighed and sat down at the two-seater table in the kitchen. “He didn’t even go to visit Mom on the anniversary.”

Just then, you realized something. You hadn’t actually visited Mom either, because you’d been distracted…hearing your soulmate’s thoughts for the first time. 

Damn it… 

Well, in this case your mom would probably forgive you, but you felt guilty all the same. You slid your ring around your finger absently.

Bobby sat across from you at the table. “The past can be a hard thing to let go of, but the real bitch of it is, it’s also hard remembering.”

You nodded in agreement. 

“How’re you doin’ then?” he asked. Instead of a customary fine, or busy, you actually thought about it. 

“Yesterday…I don’t know. I felt stuck. Like, I was hanging onto the train but I wasn’t in the driver’s seat,” you admitted. “Today, I woke up and things were different.”

“That’s specific,” Bobby remarked. You shot him a wry smile. 

“I don’t know. I’ve spent a long time just, like…trudging through the snow. Trying to keep the flurries out of my eyes,” you said. “But for the first time, I feel like I can see the sun, you know? There’s a reason to hope things might change. Like something good is coming my way.”

Bobby’s mouth lifted into a subtle grin. “Very poetic. You should think about writin’ for Hallmark.” 

You uttered an incredulous laugh. “All right. See if I pour my heart out to you again. God.”

“My apologies, princess,” Bobby said dryly. “Okay. In all seriousness, you’ve got a lot goin’ for ya, kid. You’ve got a right to be optimistic.”

You nodded with a superior smile. “Thank you.”  

“Listen, I’ve got a lasagna waiting in the oven. You want any part of that?” he asked. 

Your uncle was asking if you wanted to stay for dinner. You considered it and realized he was trying to connect with you. It wasn’t the first time he’d offered, and you regretted declining his loose invitations in the past. 

“Sure,” you said. “Lasagna sounds great.”

“All right.” He nodded. “Gimme a sec.”

 You had never understood the seemingly one-sided animosity between your dad and your uncle. Sure, Bobby was known as the town drunk. He’d gotten arrested a few times for publicly intoxicated antics, but he wasn’t belligerent. He wasn’t a bad man by any means. 

“You know, speaking of Italian. I like making spaghetti and meatballs, the latter from scratch,” you said. “Maybe I could make some next time.”

Bobby glanced over at you with a bit of surprise. “Uh…sure.”

You smiled. 

Later, as you and Bobby shared a meal together, you caught up on safe subjects, like how his business was going. He likewise asked you about your job. You admitted Dr. Birch was driving you up the wall this week. She’d asked you to grade two more of her classes’ final exams, putting you behind on your thesis draft. 

But then you drew enough courage to delve into not-so-safe subjects.

“All right, I’ve gotta know,” you said. “Why the hell did you and my dad fall out, Bobby? What is this thing?”

Bobby looked very reluctant. “It’s complicated.”

You stared back at him for a moment. Curiosity was eating at you, but you didn’t want to push either. Today was going well. Maybe it was better not to spoil it. 

“Complicated,” you echoed, smiling ruefully. “Right.”

After you two finished dinner and the dishes were cleared, you thanked Bobby and surprised him with a hug. His arms came around you briefly before you both let go, just a little awkwardly. 

You put on your coat and headed out the door, until his voice stopped you on the porch. 

“Look, regardless of where your dad and I stand, you’re family,” Bobby said. “You’re always welcome here.”

You gave a warm smile. “Thanks, Uncle Bobby.”

Then you returned to your Camaro and drove away from Singer Salvage, waving to his through your window as you went. 

You made a left at the main road going west, so you didn’t see the black Impala come in from the east road, turning into Bobby’s driveway.

“What were those smooth wheels doing pulling out of this junk heap?” Dean jabbed a thumb behind him as he and Sam came into the house. They’d gotten nothing from that potential lead on John Winchester’s whereabouts, and neither of them were in a great mood. But the smell of food cheered up both of them, especially Dean.

“What?” Bobby asked.

“That blue ’93 Camaro Z28 that just peeled outta here. She was nice,” Dean said. Sam glanced at him, impressed. Dean smirked, an Aw, yeah, I know my shit kind of look.

Bobby smiled in amusement. “My niece stopped by for dinner.”

Sam shared a look of mild surprise with Dean, who said, “That’s a shame. Would’ve liked to meet her.”

Bobby shot him a warning look. “Down, boy. Like you need any help findin’ dance partners.” 

Dean grinned. Sam nearly rolled his eyes. 

“The lead didn’t pan out,” Sam said. “So we’re gonna head out in the morning, if that’s all right.”

“Fine,” Bobby shrugged. “Drink my beer, eat my food, and run up my water bill. Just do me a favor and clean up after yourselves. I don’t need a roach infestation.” 

“What, don’t you think the rats need company?” Dean teased. Bobby raised a warning finger at him, making Dean hold back a laugh.

Bobby went upstairs for bed soon after, and Dean gave Sam first shower this time. It was good timing too…

Dean realized he could hear his soulmate again. 

 You were rocking out to a Billy Joel song.

He smirked. Figures.

As you drove home blasting “We Didn’t Start the Fire,” you chanted along with the long verses, sometimes forgetting words, sometimes stumbling and saying them wrong. But you came in strong with the part you knew: We didn’t start the fiiire. It was always buuurnin’ since the world’s been tuuurnin’—

Figures, your soulmate’s voice cut through everything else. It almost startled you, but feeling his amusement made you blush hotly. 

He laughed, and it was a rich sound that made something flutter in your stomach. 

Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt the performance. But come on, ‘80s pop?

You scoffed. All right, Mr. Power Ballad. Billy Joel is pop rock.

Gotta say, I expected better from you, sweetheart, he teased.

Ugh, you sound like such an old man. Tell me you don’t just listen to mullet rock, you rejoined. 

All right. Let’s take an inventory, shall we? he challenged. ACDC. Led Zeppelin. Boston.

You made a face as you continued to drive through your hometown. You knew these streets like the back of your hand, even in the pitch black of eleven at night. 

Yes to Zeppelin. The other two are…loud, you said. You heard him sigh, but he accepted this.

Fine, how about Hendrix?

Absolutely. You smiled. I take your Hendrix and raise you Prince and Beyonce.

Prince, yes. You can keep Beyonce, he said. Sorry, I’m not Team BeyHive.

You chortled in response. The fact that you know what that means give me hope. At least you’re aware that you live in the 2000s. 

Whatever. I was raised on two things: classic rock and the open road.

His grumpiness was entertaining, but this gave you an excellent opportunity to play your little game.

The open road, huh? Are you some kind of traveling salesman? you asked.

Definitely not.

Hmm. Perhaps he sensed your frustration. He surprised you by giving you a hint.

Travel is part of it though.

Aha! I knew it.

Oh yeah? How?

This morning you said you were sleeping on a couch, you began. You typically don’t do that if you’re not at home in your bed. So I could assume you were traveling, and you had to work today. But I didn’t know you had to travel often for work until you just said it.

You felt proud of your deductive reasoning. So now I know that you and your brother have the same job. It’s unlikely you live in Sioux Falls. And you travel often for work.

Dean whistled lowly. Damn, girl. Somehow you’re reminding me of Sam right now…what are you studying again?

You noted a brief tendril of sadness from him, being quickly brushed off. You didn’t dwell on it, but you would make a mental note of it for later, maybe.

History, you replied.

Oh, okay. Gonna be a teacher or something?

I…don’t really know yet. I’ve been scoping out jobs…

You’ve almost got two degrees and you don’t know what you wanna do with ‘em?

All right, that was hitting a nerve. 

“You know what? Don’t change the subject!” you said. Realizing you said that out loud, you made sure to think it at him this time.

You don’t live in Sioux Falls right? Or South Dakota even? you added.

Look at you go, little miss detective, he replied. You thought he enjoyed teasing you a bit too much. No, I don’t live here. But a family friend does.

Okay, so that narrowed it down to everything.

You turned the street corner into your neighborhood. The streetlights were sparse here ever since the last snowstorm knocked them out. Your dad had talked about installing ground lights in the front lawn for years, but he’d never gotten around to it. His job was too demanding to take care of much at home, which left you with most of the responsibility. Sometimes you wondered how your mom did it…

Anyway, back to the game. 

Plumber, electrician, flight attendant? You guessed. You had a feeling from the way he talked about your schooling that he hadn’t gone to college. You didn’t mind that. If this stupid game was anything to go by, it sounded like he had an interesting way of making a living. 

Nope to all three, especially the last one. Ugh.

Goddamn it. Okay, do you own a business?

You could say that. It’s a family business, he said. There was a playful note to this voice, as if he was dancing around the truth.

Dear Lord. All right, a family business… 

It was probably something small-scale. A diner? Hardware store? 

It’s not a physical store. More like a…a service.

You were getting warmer! With a smile, you made your way down your street and pulled your car into the driveway. Surprise, surprise, your dad wasn’t home yet.

Got it. You nodded. Okay, truck driver. Service engineer, electrician…oh shit, I said that earlier. Hmm…exterminator?

You grabbed your purse and finally got out of your car. You’d made it all the way to your front door when you realized that your soulmate had gone quiet. You sensed he was thinking, contemplating. 

You nearly bounced in excitement as you unlocked the door to your house. I’m right, aren’t I? Which one?

After stepping inside and closing the door behind you, you turned on the hallway and living room lights. 

The last one, he said at last. You paused in your excitement, your brows furrowed.

Exterminator. Really? That was curious. Who’d ever heard of a traveling exterminator? Like rats and stuff?

And stuff, he said with a chuckle, but somehow you knew it was hollow. You frowned, until you looked into the living room and noticed something weird. 

A black duffel bag that didn’t look like your dad’s. You don’t remember it being there this morning either. 

Hey, you okay? he asked. You realized that he was probably sensing your confusion. You headed toward the duffel bag. 

Yeah, I just got home—

The moment you set down your purse on the coffee table, a hand closed over your mouth and muffled your scream. 

AN: Yay, cliffhangers! (I promise they'll meet in the next chapter lol.)

Also, I just want to say THANK YOU to all of you reading, reblogging, commenting, etc. I didn't think this little fic would generate that much interest, but getting your feedback is inspiring me to write more!

Keep reading: Part 5.

Series Masterlist

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

@curlycarley @buckywenal24 @jamerlynn @iprobablyshipit91 @globetrotter28 @deamus-liv @irgendwas122 @deans-spinster-witch @dogbarkbark4445

[ewanmitchellconnoisseur]

Can you write an Ettore x Reader where Reader is the one who forces him/herself on Ettore?

Iɴ Tʜᴇ Dᴀʀᴋ

A/N: Heyyyy!!! Thank you sm! You are my first ever nonnie! 🥰❤️ Welcome Welcome! Hopefully, I did your beautiful idea justice! Also sorry this took me a while to complete. Also sorry this is so long I couldn't stop typing. Also again, sorry, if this isn't exactly what you imagined, i kinda just let my fingers do the work.

And im so sorry this took me so long so hopefully your still here!

TW: unprotected sex, p in v, degradation, name-calling, slight somnophilia, dubcon, hints to SA, hints to drug addiction, hints to child neglect

Word Count: 4.1k

No one was shocked when your sentence was read. Not even your mother was fazed when she heard the fate that lay before her only child, her baby girl.

Everyone expected it. For a crime as cruel as yours the death penalty was warranted, what people didn't expect was to be delivered news that you would be sent on some sort of space mission instead.

Your mother thought that a worse fate was being sent off to space to die. Not having a body to bury, a grave to clean and to pretend that you had died of anything else. She'd tell her friends it was a car crash, a robbery, cancer. Anything to hide her guilt.

Cause this was all her fault. Had she been the mother you needed and stopped bringing those men into her home....you would never have suffered the way you did. She never forgave herself the first time it happened, you had come downstairs waiting for a snack despite her telling you to stay upstairs no matter what.

You did not know who he was, a man who came often in a black car. All you knew was after he left your mom laid on the couch for hours wasting away. A white powder under her nose. Money was tight, and the offer of 10 minutes in exchange for a free fix was all too tempting to her.

And thats only when it started. It had happened many times after that despite your fight and protest.

And there was only a series of unfortunate events after that. A doctor confirmed your chances of having children were 0, you'd have to settle for alternative options. Kids at school picked and teased you for your dirty closed and matted hair. You weren't the brightest and struggled in every subject except art.

You loved art and enjoyed painting and the freedom that came with it to create whatever you were feeling.

When high school years rolled around you were detached from everyone and everything. You clung to your brushes with stained hands. The teasing never stopped, even the teachers looked at you with a look of disgust.

All but one...Mr Moore...the art teacher. He encouraged your artistic talents. You thought he was sincere, thought his encouragement came from a real and valid place. But it was all for his personal gain...his sick fantasies and tortured mind.

You barely remember when it happened, everything went by so quick. Afterwards, you were so angry you couldn't help yourself. He was the first blood you spilt and painted your canvas with.

You fled and ran off to another town, leaving your mother behind. It was there you realized that maybe you could make a difference, maybe you could get justice not just for yourself but every woman who had gone through the same thing.

It wasn't hard finding men in the area who had gone to jail for assault or worse. And when you did track them down you enjoyed every moment. Blood was a great liquid. And the paintings you'd leave on the wall were masterpieces.

When it was all said and done you had killed 24 men all convicted of assault. Many rallied for you to be released, that you were a hero, not a murderer. But with the killing of 3 officers, the government wouldn't let you go unpunished.

Your first week on the ship was a headache.

Dibs already didn't like you, unknown to you it was due to your inability to conceive. You hated her, she too was a criminal but yet felt as though her crimes meant less than everyone else's.

You cared for no one else. Spent most of your downtime in the activity room where luckily there were only a few art supplies. Colouring utensils and children's paint set.

You sat on the couch your designated sketchbook in hand as you drew, only ever using the red utensils. You missed how smooth blood was, how bright it shone and how dark it dried.

You heard a soft "hm" from behind but when you looked no one was there. Brushing it off you continued your art session until it was time to sleep.

It wasn't until a month on the ship you noticed him. He was quiet but dangerous. You could not lie and say he didn't bring an odd feeling to your stomach, one you had not felt before.

It wasn't hard to get Dibs to give you information on him, specifically on why he was here. And what you found out had you licking your lips in anticipation.

He was one of them. The men that prey on young vulnerable girls like you once were. The ones that attack them in the dark and give them no chance of fighting back.

And so started the plotting, the watching and the fantasizing. You could tell he felt a need to be in control. He rarely spoke but when he did it was to bark orders at whoever was doing chores with him. He visited the box often, he must miss the touch of a woman...

A plan formed beautifully in your mind. One that had no chance of failure.

You wiped down the walls despite it looking clean glancing at him every few seconds. He wore no shirt while cleaning the floor and his eyes too found their way to you.

You moved gracefully every inch was calculated. You gave enough of a view to have him wanting to see more. When you finished cleaning the walls you moved to helping him with the floors, close enough so he could smell you and feel the heat radiating from you.

You saw as his head moved closer and all that could go through your mind was a green light. Standing up you walked away giving him a look over your shoulder before turning the corner. You could hear the sounds of his footsteps following after you.

When Ettore turned the corner he saw no one and was visibly confused. He noticed a door ajar the room inside pitch black. Stepping in he closed the door behind him. He could hear your breathing and knew you were inside. Blood rushed within him as he realized he was finally gonna get to feel a woman again after all this time.

But his hopes were crushed as he felt something prick his neck. he reached back grabbing you his hands wrapping around your neck but it was far too late as he felt his limbs weaken and was pulled off to sleep.

Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z ZZZ

When Ettore was slowly pulled out of his slumber he was still weak. His limbs felt heavy, and his eyelids felt taped shut. But there was one distinct feeling, one he knew well and loved.

He could feel someone's hands on his chest, their legs sitting on both sides of his torso, a repeated movement as the person lifted and lowered themselves on him.

He could hear their airy breaths, the panting and soft moans.

When he could finally open his eyes everything was blurry, the person above him a one big fuzz of colour. His eyes were glazed over and despite him feeling no pain anywhere they were filling with tears. Turning this woman above him into a beautiful painting of watercolours.

Is this what all those women he hurt felt like? Did they go through the same motions?

He tried to lift his arms only managing to twitch his fingers.

Did they feel this weak? This powerless?

He heard her laugh, a sinister laugh almost. As if mocking him for even trying to move or fight back.

"You know you like it." She whispered in his ears. the words making him gag. He had to say them himself. He would count how many times he had said that on his hands, but then again he only had two hands.

He managed to move his arms again. They slowly came up to her trying to push her off, to get shove her away. He liked being in control, he didn't enjoy this moment of fragility.

"Just give in. Don't fight it." He could feel the pleasure bubbling in his stomach, he hated it, hated how good it felt, hated how much joy he was getting from this sick act.

...Sick act? Is that what it was now that it was happening to him? A sick act?

He could hear how close you were, he could feel it too. His hips craved to buck up wanting to feel more, to be deeper. He managed to get his hands to move as they lazily rested on your waist. And once again you laughed at him taunting him about how much he was enjoying this. The way you clenched around him. And when you finally did cum he loved the sensations, his own release close after.

But he felt you get off of him. Watched as you moved to the side, a gentle hand touched his cheek.

"Please." It was barely a whisper, all he could muster to say.

"Don't worry. I have to paint a mural first." He wasn't sure why the words invoked fear in him but his body went into panic as he desperately willed himself to move, to scream.

You brought a blade to his stomach and you cut deep enough to gather blood into a bowl. The floor next to him is your canvas as you start your masterpiece.

He tried to crane his head to look but you shifted him back with a giggle.

"No peeking!"

He's not sure how much time was going by or if he was still bleeding. Eventually, he heard you stop moving as you muttered perfect. The door opens and closes, he's alone for a while before you finally come back and lean down next to him.

"What shall we do with you now....to kill you would mean risking getting myself in trouble...to leave you alive and well would mean risking you retaliating...choices choices."

You ran your fingers through his hair before a light bulb went off in your head.

The next hour was the most pain Ettore had ever gone through, and the most devastating moment of his life.

When he was finally found hours by Monte he couldn't help but throw up his lunch.

Ettore is on the floor naked, wings painted on both sides of him, below them the look of feathers falling, his body contoured with his own blood and the words above his head

"He flew too close to the sun."

And lastly...in his hands, he held his own penis.

He would end up telling Dibs he did it to himself, the embarrassment on his face evident. He couldn't admit to what happened to him. Couldnt bear to face the music. He wished for death some days, not being able to feel pleasure anymore had him seething.

But he did nothing, when he looked at you he was oddly terrified.

And every time he met your eyes and saw the smirk on your lips he knew what you were thinking about what happened

In the dark

A/N: YAY I FINISHED ANOTHER ONE!! So I'm not sure why my brain went in this direction but I actually liked it. Again sorry to the anon if this isn't what you wanted...I humbly apologize.

General Taglist (the only one 🤣🥲) @thought--bubble

[lilac-hecox]

i don’t have a specific request but something with spommy or kimney? congrats btw!

Spencer/Tommy - Spommy - Staff Meeting

*This is inspired by the reading Youtube Comments Sm*sh P*t Theater and the Smoshoffice series and is meant to be silly and wacky

--

“So, just a reminder that we’re all co-workers here and we want to be professional with each other, and while Smosh doesn’t disallow relationships between employees this is still a workplace,” Nate says, fidgeting a little at the whiteboard in front of the conference room. “Questions?” Spencer raises his hand. Nate eyes Spencer warily, but nods. “Spencer?”

“So, how come Anthony can call Ian submissive and breedable but I have to get a warning when I ask Tommy about his penis?”

Tommy, who is across the room, drops his face into his hands. Anthony and Ian are seated next to each other at the head of the table. Anthony immediately turns red and Ian chokes on his cup of coffee, sputtering a little. Courtney is quick to hand Ian a napkin.

“Um,” Nate says, “I guess we shouldn’t really be calling each other submissive and breedable either?”

“That was a joke,” Anthony stresses, his face going a darker pink.

“Yeah right…” Chanse mumbles from the opposite corner of Spencer.

Angela offers her hand for a high five as she lets out a stream of giggles. Chanse gives her a pointed look and shakes his head, and he quickly takes her wrist and lowers her hand for her.

“I want to be clear that Spencer and I don’t really talk about my penis all that much,” Tommy says.

Spencer looks wounded, “I was just worried about you!”

“Anthony and I are just friends,” Ian says, “I want to stress that too.”

Amanda rolls her eyes, “Anyone who thinks Ian and Anthony are really just friends raise your hand.”

Spencer glances around to see not one person in the meeting has raised their hands except Ian and Anthony themselves.

“Well fuck,” Ian says.

“You two were cuddling in the bean bag chair in your shared office,” Shayne points out.

“We got tired from writing the new sketch!” Anthony says defensively.

“You called him hot yesterday,” Damien adds.

“I’m hyping up my best friend!” Anthony insists.

Ian’s face is red.

“Angela said she knows what Damien sounds like when he has sex!” Anthony retorts.

“That was one time!” Angela snaps.

Damien groans.

Nate is quickly losing the room and stands nervously in front of the lot of them.

“Guys, bring it back in- “

“Courtney said the other day that Garrett is ‘kinda daddy’!” Ararsha says.

Courtney’s eyes widen, “Arasha!”

“Sorry, I got caught up in the moment.”

“Yeah, well you said you would take Amanda to O-Town!” Courtney says in return.

“Oh,” Amanda says the same time Arasha huffs.

“Guys!” Nate says.

Spencer stands and he can hear Tommy groan.

“I’m in love with Tommy!”

Zoe bursts into the conference room and flicks the lights on and off suddenly, gaining the room’s attention.

“This is an office and not middle school so sit down and let Nate finish, please.”

The cast takes their seats and Spencer feels his face get hot. He doesn’t dare to look over at Tommy, his confession hanging heavy in the air of the room.

The meeting ends with Nate scheduling everyone for a mandatory workplace conduct training. Afterwards, Spencer is at his desk, pretending to work while silently freaking out.

“Hey, um, Spence, you busy?” Tommy asks, drawing Spencer’s attention from his computer screen.

Spencer wants to say yes, but he blinks and then shakes his head.

“Not really, what’s, um, what’s up?”

Tommy moves and sits on the small couch that is in the game’s office hub. Spencer rolls over closer to Tommy, scared of what the other man might say after Spencer confessed to his feelings during their morning conference meeting.

“So, this morning…was that, uh, a joke or do you really feel something towards me?”

Spencer feels his face getting pink and hot.

“I, um, like you a lot and I get if that’s weird for you and you hate me now or- “

“As if I could hate you,” Tommy says, fondly, a smile on his face.

“You don’t?”

“I think you’re an idiot, but like, in a puppy kind of way, you know?”

“Don’t you hate dogs?” Spencer says.

“Dogs but not puppies.”

“So, there’s a chance here?” Spencer asks, a smile on his face.

“Yes, but no more asking about my penis in public,” Tommy says.

“Deal,” Spencer says, “but does that mean I can ask about it in private?”

Tommy laughs, “I mean, I hope so.”

[pinkmoondoll9shihtzu]

My Old man's tale about benetint (product) & review:

in summer 2008 i was 14 & my best friend's family took me to Vegas w them. she had only just moved to my school for 9th grade & i hadn't met her older sister til this trip. She was 21 & soooo insanely beautiful like if barbie was a hollister model she had the look so refined in every sense, i was dazzled by her.

& she was so sweet to us, my friends parents went & did their own thing so the whole trip we spent with her but she wasn't annoyed about it at all she seemed content to hang w us & protect us from vile men along the strip.

On this trip i went to sephora for the first time. hadn't heard of it before. it had huge windows so everything was glowing from sunlight & it was sooo overwhelming. my friend's sister liked this brand benefit so i picked out a little starter kit that came w bad gal mascara, high beam highlighter, booing concealer, and benetint.. Let me tell you for the next year i cherished this kit like it elevated me a new level towards Prestiged Adult Woman status. but the makeup was noticeably nicer quality for sure! from my memory at least.

the thing i remember most was benetint cus i wore it soooo much for the rest of the summer & beyond, i stretched that tiny bottle as far as it wld go cus i luved it sm.. but after it ran out i never tried to use it again idk just being a teen moving onto the next thing. But lately i jst rly wanted a goood lip tiiiint cus i dont wanna b wearing lipstick or gloss all the time its too much i just want chapstick but i like a little more color too.. usually i wld use lip liner but it always felt like it wld smudge off so quick n its kinda drying.

so i tried benetint again bcus i remember it being so easy to put on n then just forget about, it didnt get on ur clothes or teeth or nothin. after wearing for a couple weeks i can say this is still tru! i rly like it, very convenient, chapstick goes gr8 over top so my lips r never dry from it. its kind of expensive but it lasts a long time , for me i dnt have much makeup rn so felt nice to get st i actually use ^^ the taste & smell of it are mildly rosey, rly brings me back to those times..

being in vegas those 4 days w my friend n her sis are definitely a core memory for me it was totally surreal. i wish i had photos still but no clue where to find them, my friend's fb account got hacked years ago n had to get deleted, so many photos gone </3 we stayed at treasure island & across the street was this huge mall that was repeatedly playing an ipod commercial with the song Shut Up & Let Me Go by the ting-tings, like... ON REPEAT, ALL DAY & ALL NIGHT, so that song gives me the wildest flashbacls like i'm literally There. In the august heat. i can smell it like. its amazing thank you advertising :)

this is not an ad btw i mean obviously LOL i honestly just got thinking so hard about vegas '08 after purchasing The Product. oh yeah there was thunderstorms too... i went to hot topic at the mall which was wild for me since they didnt have one any where near my town.. i got some shorts from hollister i remember, also a rarity. friends sis got me my first ever drink, a peach daquiri...just one <3 it was such a nice break from my woeful home life lol i wanted to live in america so bad after this xD

thats my story...o and benetint is chill i mean i genuinely wanted to recommend it to ppl who want st simple it looks rly pretty cus until this i was struggling to find anything worthwhile. theres other shades too. Yup. Thanksyou for reading my LiveJournal Entry tonight minasan ^_^ Hope you're well x

-PMD9

[gayautisticraccoon]

15 questions, 15 people

I was tagged by @fr-wiwiw! Haven't done this before so thank you for that!

1. Are you named after anyone?

Nope!

2. When was the last time you cried?

Literally last night lol

I'm fine trust xD

3. Do you have kids?

No. Never even been in a relationship but also never want kids for various reasons

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

Ye, probably a little too much. And due to the way I talk thanks to my tism people often don't realize I'm being sarcastic LOL makes for some very awkward moments sometimes but I'm trying to get better at that lol

5. What's the first thing you notice about people?

Not sure tbh! Probably the outfit and choices they made about their appearance like Tattoos and Piercings. I just love seeing peoples different styles

6. What's your eye colour?

Blue C:

7. Scary movie or happy ending?

I enjoy both but my silly little brain needs it's happy endings tbh, I'm already depressed enough as is LOL

8. Any special talents?

Not that I can think of tbh. I am a very average person LOL

9. Where were you born?

A small town in the North West of Germany ^^

10. What are your hobbies?

Gaming, watching movies/shows, reading fanfic, indulging in fan content in general, listening to music

11. Do you have pets?

Nope! I used to have a bunny and 7 mice though but haven't had any pets since then. I hope one day I can get a pet raccoon, I love them sm

12. What sports do you/have you played?

I don't exercise like at all (I know, I'm fat n lazy but I just cannot find any activity I enjoy, fight me). I used to do gymnastics back in elementary school and was in a tennis club during 6th grade but as I said, nothing ever really stuck with me. P.E. was my worst nightmare back in school

13. How tall are you?

173cm (5'7'' in freedom units I believe?)

14. Favourite subject in high school?

English 100%

15. Dream job?

Funny thing, this topic has been bugging me for a while. I never planned on making it past the age of 16 so here I am at the ripe age of 24 working in retail with no idea what to do with my future. I studied Media Design (so like Digital Art n stuff) but I can't see myself actually working in that field tbh, I mostly did it to not do nothing after graduating. My brain just shuts off as soon as it becomes mandatory to be creative. That and I don't think I'd be good enough for a proper job in the field. So yea, I'm just kinda rolling with it for now lol

I'm not sure who to tag so I'll just leave this open and say anyone who hasn't been tagged and wants to participate can join in on the fun!

[oceandolores]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 ����𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 | chapter 2

Dbf! Joel Miller x female reader

"𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘺 𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘦,"

summary: as time progressed, Joel notice something's wrong and then at one night, You stood at his door, looking disheveled and distressed, your face streaked with tears and your clothes rumpled. 

warnings: 18+ only, Minors DNI, AU, No outbreak. (TW) mentions of substance abuse/alcohol use disorder, adult content, religion abuse, violence, blood gore, mentions of death, sexual abuse, sexual content, domestic violences, ped0ph!l1a, cann1bal!sm, human traff1ck1ng, r4p3, dad's best friend!Joel, HUGE age gap (i will not specify her exact age, but she's legal and Joel is 49), daddy issues, mentions of toxic family dynamic, Joel is widowed, Ellie is 16, angst, smut A LOT, forbidden relationship, soft and protective Joel, innocent and pure reader. your last name is Gibson. any other details will be explain throughout the story. inspired by the album Preacher's daughter by Ethel Cain and also mix with lana del rey vibes.

CHAPTER 2

masterlist of the series!

previous | chapter one

next | chapter three

Saturday arrived with a sense of dread you couldn’t shake. The dinner invitation at Tommy and Maria's hung over your head like a dark cloud. Joel had decided to come, partly due to Ellie and Tommy's insistence, and also because it was a chance to catch up with your family, the Gibsons.

The aftermath of last Sunday's beating from your father for abandoning your duty at church service had left you changed. The light in your eyes had dimmed, replaced by a quiet resilience. Your body was still sore, the bruises and scars not fully healed, making even the simplest movements painful.

You worried some of the wounds might be infected, as you had been running a high fever and coughing for days. Your mother was concerned but too scared to take you to the hospital. In this small town, everyone knew each other, and a trip to the doctor would raise questions. Your family's reputation, especially with your father being the town preacher, was paramount. So, your mother did her best to care for you at home, but it wasn't enough.

You still went to school, hiding your condition under oversized sweaters. You had no close friends, just a few acquaintances, but you were well-known as one of the prettiest girls and the preacher's daughter. Boys liked you, always trying to get close, but you kept your distance. One day at school, Ellie noticed you didn't look well and asked if you were sick. You lied, saying you were fine.

"You sure? You don't look so good," Ellie said, her eyes filled with concern.

"I'm fine, Ellie, really. Just tired from studying for finals," you replied, forcing a smile.

Ellie frowned, clearly unconvinced. "If you say so. Just... take care of yourself, okay?"

"I will," you promised, though you weren't sure if it was a promise you could keep.

As one of the smartest students, your teachers noticed your decline and sent you to the school's psychologist. The psychologist observed your physical and mental changes, but you lied again, blaming sleepless nights spent preparing for graduation.

As your family prepared to go to the Millers, you told your mother you might not be able to go because your body was still sore. The scars hadn't healed, and you worried about infection. You'd had a high fever for days.

"Mama, I don't think I can go tonight. My body still hurts so much," you said, your voice weak.

Your mother, worried but too afraid to confront your father, insisted you come. "You know your father will be angry if you don't come. It's better if you come, even if you're not feeling well," she said, her voice trembling.

Reluctantly, you agreed. For the first time in a while, you applied makeup to cover the bruises on your skin, arms, and the corners of your eyes and cheeks. Your father reminded you to behave, to maintain decorum as a preacher's daughter, and not to embarrass him.

"Remember, you represent this family. Behave yourself and don't cause any trouble," your father said sternly.

"Yes, Father," you replied, obedient as always, though the words felt heavy on your tongue. The weight of his expectations bore down on you, threatening to crush the fragile strength you had left.

At Tommy and Maria's house, Joel and Ellie were already there. Your family arrived at their front door, your mother's grip on the pasta dish tightening as if it were a lifeline.

Maria opened the door with a warm smile, her eyes lighting up at the sight of your family. "Oh, Evelyn! Father Gibson! It's so good to see you all. Come in, come in!"

Your mother returned the smile, albeit a bit strained. "Thank you, Maria. We brought some pasta for adding some to the dishes."

"Oh, Evelyn, this pasta looks amazing. Thank you so much," Maria said, taking the dish and placing a gentle hand on your mother's arm. "You didn't have to go through all this trouble."

"It's no trouble at all," your mother replied, her voice soft. "It's the least we could do."

Maria led you all inside, the house filled with the comforting aroma of home-cooked food. You stepped in and immediately met Ellie.

"Hey, how are you? You didn't look so good at school the other day," she said, her voice full of concern.

"I'm okay, just a bit under the weather," you lied, trying to sound convincing.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Ellie asked again, her eyes narrowing with worry. "You really didn't look well. Are you getting enough rest?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," you insisted, forcing a smile. "Just tired from all the studying for finals."

Ellie wasn't convinced but nodded. "Alright, but if you need anything, just let me know, okay? We can study together if that helps."

"Thank you, Ellie. I appreciate it," you said, grateful for her concern but knowing you had to keep your secrets hidden.

Maria, finishing her conversation with your mother, turned her attention to you. "Sweetheart, you look a bit pale. Are you feeling alright?"

In front of your parents, you forced another smile. "I'm fine, really. Just a bit tired," you said, your voice steady but hollow.

Your mother quickly added to the lie, her voice filled with false cheerfulness. "Oh, you know Maria. She's almost graduate and been working so hard on her studies. It's just stress, really, right honey?" You nodded to your mother.

Your father, ever the manipulator, chimed in with a practiced smile. "She's fine, just been studying hard for her finals. Nothing to worry about."

Maria looked unconvinced but didn't press further. It was just another sad reminder of the facade your family maintained, the preacher's household hiding its cracks beneath a veneer of perfection.

You moved further into the house, your father's charm offensive continuing as he greeted Tommy. "Tommy, good to see you! How's everything going?"

"Going well, Tony. Just keeping busy with the business and this little guy," Tommy said, gesturing to his newborn son, Luke.

"He's adorable," you said, managing a genuine smile as you looked at the baby. For a moment, the weight on your shoulders lightened.

"Thank you," Tommy said proudly. "He's a handful, but we're loving every minute."

As you continued to mingle, you felt Joel's eyes on you. He was helping Tommy with the food, but his concern was palpable. He approached you, his expression serious.

You smiled at Joel, remembering the last time you interacted with him by the lake. That memory was a rare bright spot amidst the pain your father had caused after it.

"Hey, Joel. Good to see you here," you said, wondering why he decided to come. You tried to lighten the mood, despite the pain radiating through your body with every movement. The fabric of your clothes rubbed against your skin, irritating the unhealed scars, but you did your best to endure it.

"Ellie and Tommy wouldn't take no for an answer," Joel replied, his tone a mix of annoyance and warmth.

You chuckled softly, though the motion sent a sharp pain through your ribs. "They can be pretty persuasive."

Joel's eyes softened slightly, but his concern remained. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm fine," you lied, forcing a smile. "Just tired from all the studying. It's near my graduation, and I have to prepare for the finals."

Joel's eyes lingered on you, taking in the pallor of your skin and the dark circles under your eyes. "You look sick. Are you okay?" he asked, his voice tinged with worry.

You hesitated, feeling the weight of his concern. Joel was a man of few words, often letting his actions speak for him. His gruff exterior hid a deeply protective nature, one that he rarely showed to anyone. "I'm okay, really. Just a bit run down," you replied, trying to sound convincing.

Joel frowned, clearly not convinced, but he decided to lighten the mood. "So, how's school going? When are the big finals?"

You forced a smile, trying to ease the tension. "Yeah, finals are coming up. Lots of studying and late nights."

Joel nodded, his eyes never leaving your face. "I remember those days. Ellie gives me a hard time about studying too. But she's a smart kid, just like you."

"Thanks, Joel," you said softly, appreciating his attempt to comfort you. You cracked a small joke, trying to lighten the mood. "I just hope I don't end up like a zombie by the end of it."

Joel chuckled, though his eyes remained serious. He noticed how you occasionally winced and shifted your weight, clearly in pain. "You sure everything's okay at home?" he asked gently.

"Everything's great," you lied, remembering your father's stern warning. "Just the usual stress of school and stuff."

Joel's concern deepened, but he didn't push further. But before Joel could probe further, your father suddenly joined the conversation, his presence commanding attention.

"Joel, good to see you," he said with a broad smile that didn't reach his eyes. "What are you two talking about?"

Joel straightened, his demeanor shifting. "Just catching up, Reverend."

Your father chuckled, waving his hand dismissively. "Joel, we’re at dinner. Call me Tony. We’re friends, remember?"

"Sure, Tony," Joel said, though the familiarity felt forced.

"How's the construction business going, Joel?" your father asked, his tone amiable.

"Busy as always," Joel replied, his eyes drifting back to you occasionally. "But it's good. Keeps me occupied."

Your father nodded, pretending to be interested. "That's great to hear. We should get together sometime, reminisce about the old days."

Joel's gaze met yours briefly, and you felt a flutter of something in your chest. "Yeah, that sounds good," he said, his voice lacking enthusiasm but polite nonetheless.

As they continued to talk, you couldn't help but steal glances at Joel, feeling a strange sense of longing. His concern was genuine, unlike the superficial care your father displayed. It made you yearn for something more, something real.

Joel's eyes met yours again, and for a moment, it felt like he could see everything you were hiding. His concern was like a warm blanket on a cold night, a small comfort in the midst of your storm. You smiled at him, a silent thank you for his kindness, and he returned the gesture with a slight nod.

"You remember the time we went fishing at the lake, Joel?" your father said, trying to sound nostalgic. "We caught that huge bass, and you almost fell in trying to reel it in."

Joel smiled, though it was a shadow of his usual warmth. "Yeah, I remember. Good times."

You watched the exchange, feeling a pang of longing. Joel's presence was a reminder of what you were missing – genuine care and concern, something your father could never provide.

As dinner progressed, everyone was making conversations and catching up. You remained silent, but to avoid suspicion, you occasionally joined in, talking to Ellie and responding when someone addressed you. Joel observed quietly, speaking only when necessary or when someone engaged him directly. His occasional glances toward you felt like anchors, ensuring you didn’t drift too far into the depths of your own discomfort.

When it was time to sit down for the meal, you ended up seated across from Joel. Your father, ever the sociable one, continued to dominate the conversation, regaling everyone with stories and jokes. You picked at your food, the pain in your body making it hard to eat.

Joel noticed your discomfort, his eyes filled with quiet concern. He whispered after you shifted uncomfortably for the umpteenth time, "You sure you're okay?" this time in a whisper so your father wouldn’t hear.

You forced another smile. "I'm fine, Joel. Just tired."

He didn't look convinced, but he let it go, respecting your space. His presence, though, was a constant reminder that someone cared, even if you couldn't fully accept it.

The conversation flowed around you, snippets of dialogue filling the air.

"So, Ellie," your mother said, smiling warmly, "how's school treating you?"

"It's good, Mrs. Gibson. A lot of work, but I'm managing," Ellie replied, glancing at you with a reassuring smile.

Your father, ever the charming host, turned to Tommy. "And how's the construction business? Keeping you busy, I hope?"

Tommy laughed. "Busy doesn't even begin to cover it. We're swamped, but that's a good problem to have."

Joel's eyes flicked back to you as you winced slightly, shifting in your seat. He could see the struggle in your movements, the way you tried to hide your pain. His gaze softened, but he remained silent, respecting your space.

Tommy, clearly enjoying the topic, continued with enthusiasm. "We’re working on this big project downtown. It’s a major redevelopment of an old warehouse into luxury apartments. It's been a challenge, but it’s rewarding. We’re talking high-end finishes, state-of-the-art amenities. It’s a bit of a tightrope walk between maintaining the budget and meeting the client’s vision."

Your father, clearly interested, responded with a knowing nod. "Sounds like a big undertaking. How’s the team handling the pressure?"

Tommy grinned. "We’ve got a solid crew, but it’s been intense. Lots of late nights and early mornings. Joel’s seen the stress firsthand. He’s been around to lend a hand whenever things get tight."

Tommy’s gaze turned to Joel, as if inviting him to elaborate. "Right, Joel? You’ve had your fair share of those late nights, haven’t you?"

Joel nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Yeah, late nights and long days. It’s all part of the job. We keep pushing through because, in the end, it’s worth it."

Your father leaned in, his curiosity piqued. "You’ve been in the business a long time, Joel. What’s been the biggest challenge for you lately?"

Joel paused for a moment, thinking. "The biggest challenge is always adapting to new demands. Clients want more, and sometimes it feels like we’re racing against the clock. But we get it done."

Tommy, sensing an opportunity to keep the conversation lively, added, "Joel’s been great about handling the unexpected. I remember one time we had a major issue with a contractor, and Joel stepped in and saved the day."

Joel’s expression remained neutral, but there was a glimmer of appreciation in his eyes for Tommy’s support. "Just doing what needs to be done," he said.

Your mother’s voice was bright and enthusiastic as she shifted the topic. "Tommy, Maria, how’s little Luke doing? I can't believe how quickly he's growing."

Maria’s face lit up with pride. "He’s amazing. It’s been an adjustment, but we’re loving every moment of it. He’s starting to smile more, and it's just the sweetest thing."

Your mother nodded approvingly, her smile wide. "Oh, that’s wonderful! It’s such a joy to watch them grow. We’ve always said that parenting is the most rewarding experience."

The words felt like a raw wound being picked at, each one a reminder of the dissonance between their image of perfect parenting and your own reality. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, feeling the sharp pangs of pain that only seemed to intensify with every sugary comment.

Your father, ever the performer, joined in with his own brand of parental wisdom. "Yes, it’s true. Parenting brings out the best in you. It's about guiding them, teaching them right from wrong, and showing them how to navigate the world."

Tommy, clearly enjoying the turn of conversation, added, "Absolutely. We’ve had our challenges, but it’s worth it to see Luke grow and thrive. Every milestone is a victory."

Your mother leaned in with an air of authority. "And don’t forget the importance of structure and discipline. It’s all about finding that balance and being consistent. We always said that’s key to raising well-rounded children."

As the conversation continued, your parents spoke in glowing terms about their parenting philosophy, each statement reinforcing the image of perfection they projected. The more they spoke, the more you felt the weight of their insincerity.

The pain you were trying to suppress seemed to magnify with every word. You gripped your fork tighter, the effort making your knuckles white. You wanted to scream at the facade, the false sense of superiority they exuded while completely ignoring the reality of your struggles.

Joel’s eyes flicked back to you repeatedly, his concern growing more evident with each shift in your posture. He watched as you tried to mask your discomfort, his gaze softening as he saw the strain on your face.

Maria, ever perceptive, noticed the change in your demeanor as well. "Everything alright, sweetheart?" she asked gently, her voice filled with genuine concern.

You forced another smile, though it felt like a mask slipping off. "Just a bit tired, Maria. Nothing to worry about."

Maria didn’t press further but her gaze remained concerned. She glanced at Joel, who gave a subtle nod, acknowledging her unspoken question. Joel’s eyes continued to linger on you, the concern etched deeply into his expression.

As the conversation shifted to a more religious tone, your father, ever the preacher, began to elaborate on his views. His voice took on that familiar, reverent cadence. "Children are a gift from God," he said, his eyes sweeping over the table as if to bless it with his words. "They are entrusted to us to guide, nurture, and instill the values that will shape their futures. It's a sacred duty, one that brings us closer to our faith and to each other."

He continued, the fervor in his voice rising, "The Bible teaches us that we are stewards of these precious souls. Our responsibility is not just to provide for their physical needs, but to mold their character, teach them right from wrong, and guide them in the ways of the Lord."

The words, so full of sanctimonious zeal, felt like a punch to your gut. Each statement was a cruel reminder of the gap between his idealized view of parenting and the harsh reality of your own life. You could feel your discomfort intensify, a wave of nausea threatening to overwhelm you.

Joel’s gaze shifted between your father’s preachy sermon and your growing distress. His brow furrowed, sensing the tension in the room. He saw you clutching your stomach, your face growing pale. Maria’s concern mirrored his as she glanced at you, her eyes filled with empathy.

Feeling trapped, you struggled to maintain composure, but the discomfort was becoming unbearable. You gripped the edge of the table, your knuckles turning white. The facade of your father's perfect parenting began to feel like a cruel joke, and the more he spoke, the harder it became to stay seated.

Finally, unable to endure any more, you excused yourself. "Excuse me, I need to use the bathroom," you said, standing up quickly. Your voice was strained, but you tried to keep it steady.

Your father’s smile didn’t waver, but there was a coldness in his eyes that made you shiver. "Sit down, dear. It’s not polite to excuse yourself while others are speaking. We’re all here to enjoy each other’s company." The reprimand felt like a vise tightening around you.

You glanced around the table, feeling the pressure of everyone’s gaze. "I really need to go," you said, your voice trembling slightly as you tried to hold your ground.

Your father’s smile turned colder, and the sharpness in his tone cut through the tension. "If you must go," he said, his eyes narrowing slightly as if warning you not to embarrass him further. "But do you know where the bathroom is? Don't want to bother Tommy and Maria, they are still eating,"

Before you or Tommy an Maria could respond, Joel’s voice cut in, low and steady. "I can show her where it is. I’m finished eating, so I can walk her there."

Your father’s eyes flicked to Joel, his expression softening slightly in a forced show of graciousness. "Thank you, Joel."

You nodded gratefully, feeling a small measure of relief as you met Joel’s concerned gaze. He stood up, his movements deliberate and calm. Maria was occupied with Evelyn, and Ellie was still eating, leaving Joel as the most suitable candidate to help you.

Joel approached you quietly, his demeanor gentle as he offered a reassuring smile. "Come on, I'll show you the way."

You nodded, standing up with a sense of cautious relief. As you walked toward the hallway with Joel, you could feel the weight of the conversation still hanging over you. Joel’s presence was a quiet comfort, his concern a stark contrast to the harshness of your father’s demeanor.

As you made your way down the hall, Joel glanced at you, his eyes filled with genuine worry. "You feeling okay, kid?"

You managed a small, appreciative smile. "I'm good, thanks, Joel."

He gave a reassuring nod as you approached the bathroom door. "I’ll be right here if you need anything. Just take your time."

As you stepped inside the bathroom, the coolness of the tile against your skin was a brief respite from the tension. You leaned against the sink, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. The solitude offered a momentary escape from the scrutiny and discomfort you’d felt at the table.

With trembling hands, you slowly opened your dress to check the scars, the ones that had been worsening over the past few days. The sight of them made your heart sink further. They were inflamed, bruised, and itching painfully. You traced the edges with your fingertips, and the pain was sharp and immediate. A stifled hiss escaped your lips as tears welled up in your eyes. The physical agony was overwhelming, but it was compounded by the emotional turmoil of the evening.

You tried to steady your breathing, but the pain made it difficult. Your fingers brushed the scars again, and a small, anguished cry escaped you. The pain was almost unbearable, and you felt the tears streaming down your face uncontrollably.

From outside the door, Joel’s voice cut through the quiet. "Kid, is everything alright in there?"

His voice, tinged with concern, snapped you back to reality. You quickly wiped your tears, trying to compose yourself. "I’m fine, Joel. Just... give me a minute."

There was a moment of silence before Joel spoke again, his voice gentle but firm. "If something’s wrong, you can tell me. I’m here to help."

You hesitated, the pain and fear making it hard to respond. "I... it’s just—it's nothing serious. I’ll be out in a second."

After a few deep breaths and a final check, you composed yourself as best as you could. You pulled your dress back into place, the physical discomfort still sharp but slightly more manageable. You wiped away the remaining tears, trying to regain your composure.

Opening the bathroom door, you found Joel still standing there, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of concern and patience. You offered him a shaky smile, hoping to convey that you were alright. "Thanks for waiting."

Joel’s gaze lingered on you, his concern deepening as he took in the faint tremble in your hands and the redness in your eyes. "You okay, kid?"

You nodded and smiled, trying to appear nonchalant. "Yeah, why wouldn't I?"

Joel didn't respond immediately, his eyes searching yours for the truth. “You sure? You look...like you're in pain."

Your smile faltered, and you looked down, unable to maintain the facade under his steady gaze. “It’s nothing,” you mumbled, trying to deflect. “Just...school stress."

Joel's eyes narrowed slightly, but he decided not to push further. "Alright, if you say so. Let’s get back to dinner.”

You both returned to the dining room, where the atmosphere had lightened considerably. The meal continued with lively conversation, the clinking of silverware, and the warm glow of shared company.

After dinner, your mom joined Maria in the kitchen to help with the dishes, their laughter and chatter floating through the house. Outside, your father, Tommy, and Joel settled on the backyard porch, their conversation punctuated by the occasional sound of a beer bottle opening or the murmur of crickets.

You found yourself in the living room with Ellie, who was scrolling through her phone while little Luke slept peacefully on the couch. You took a seat next to her, and she looked up, smiling.

"Hey," you said, leaning back into the cushions. "How's school been for you?"

Ellie shrugged, putting her phone down. "It's alright, I guess. Same old stuff. How about you? Finals must be tough, huh?"

"Yeah, they are," you admitted. "But it's almost over. Just a few more months, and then we're done."

Ellie grinned. "Bet you can't wait to get out of here."

You laughed softly. "Yeah, it's definitely time for a change. How about you? Any plans after high school?"

"Maybe college, if I can figure out what I want to do," Ellie replied. "So...Tell me, are there any boys at school you've got your eye on?" She tease giving you a smirk.

You blushed, shaking your head. "No, not really."

Ellie rolled her eyes playfully. "Oh, come on. Everyone knows you're like the most popular girl in school. The boys are all over you."

You sighed, feeling a mix of amusement and exasperation. "I can't say I'm like that and it's not quite like that. They're just...curious, I guess."

"Curious about what?" Ellie asked, raising an eyebrow.

You hesitated, then shrugged. "I don't know, it seems like they're curious about me."

Ellie then brought up what she saw a week ago. "So...don't want to be nosy, but I saw you with Jamie the other day. Is he the one?" She gave you a smirk, clearly enjoying teasing you.

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. "No, he's just a friend."

"Come on, you can tell me," Ellie insisted, nudging you playfully.

You blushed and tried to deflect, but Ellie wasn't letting up. "Stop, Ellie. It was nothing."

Ellie grinned, leaning in closer. "Okay, but don't tell anyone. Jamie's been trying to get close to me. It's been going on for two months now. We’ve gone out a few times. He’s kissed me, but it hasn’t gone beyond that."

Ellie raised an eyebrow, looking more serious. “And he’s asking for more, isn’t he?”

You nodded, feeling a knot of confusion and frustration in your chest. “Yeah. He keeps bringing up sex, but I’ve told him I’m not ready. He said he’d wait, but he keeps asking. I don’t know what to do.”

Ellie leaned back, her expression thoughtful. “Jamie’s the captain of the football team, right? Popular, blonde, not too smart?”

“Yeah, that’s him,” you confirmed, sighing. “He’s nice, but this pressure... I don’t know if I’m ready for that.”

Ellie nodded understandingly. “You shouldn’t feel pressured to do anything you’re not ready for. If Jamie really cares about you, he’ll respect your boundaries. And if he doesn’t, then he’s not worth it.”

You sighed again, the weight of your father's teachings pressing down on you. "But... I’m afraid he’ll be disappointed if I don’t do what he wants. Jamie is nice and polite. His family has giving our church a lot...he also giving me a lot of nice stuff, like dress, necklace and all. My dad always said if someone’s nice to you, you should be nice back. And always obey men because they’re higher in status than women."

Ellie’s eyes widened in disbelief. "Who told you that?"

You shrugged, feeling a bit defensive. "My father."

Ellie shook her head, her expression turning serious. "That’s...kinda messed up. Just because someone’s nice doesn’t mean you owe them anything, especially not your body. And men aren’t superior to women. We’re all equal."

You bit your lip, considering her words. "But that’s how my daddy raised me, Ellie. He always says women should obey men."

Ellie leaned forward, her eyes filled with conviction. "Well, according on how Joel raise me. He taught me to stand up for myself and that I’m just as important as any man. It’s about respect, not obedience. You don’t owe Jamie anything just because he’s nice. If he can’t respect your boundaries, he’s not worth your time."

You felt a flicker of hope at her words. "I... I guess you’re right. It’s just hard to go against everything I’ve been taught."

Ellie reached out and squeezed your hand. "I know it’s hard, but you deserve to be with someone who respects you and your choices. Don’t let anyone, not even your father, make you feel less than you are."

When Ellie said that, it felt like a hit to the chest. "Don't let anyone, not even your father, make you feel less..." Her words echoed in your mind, resonating with a truth that was both comforting and terrifying. You wished you could believe it, wished you had the strength to stand up to your father. But the reality of your life loomed large and unyielding. Defiance meant danger. Defiance meant pain.

As Ellie's words replayed in your head, you felt a knot tightening in your stomach. You imagined standing up to your father, telling him that you were more than his expectations, more than his strict rules and harsh punishments. The thought made your heart race with a blend of hope and fear.

You glanced at Ellie, her eyes filled with a fierce, protective light. She believed in you, saw your worth even when you couldn't. It was a beacon in the darkness of your doubt, a small but vital spark of hope.

Yet, the idea of challenging your father felt insurmountable. His shadow stretched long over your life, dictating your every move, every thought. You had been molded by his will, taught to obey without question, to live in the confines of his rigid beliefs.

You had to pretend to be the perfect daughter, maintaining the facade that your father was the saintly preacher everyone believed him to be. The weight of this pretense was suffocating, but it was the only way you knew to survive.

Outside, the conversation between Tommy and your father continued, their voices a low hum against the backdrop of the evening. Joel, on the other hand, was mostly silent, nursing his beer as he leaned against the porch railing. His eyes flicked occasionally to the living room, where you and Ellie were talking.

Joel's expression was hard to read, but there was a tension in his jaw, a tightness in his grip on the beer bottle that hinted at his unease. He listened more to your conversation than to Tommy and your father's, though he tried to appear disinterested. Something about you drew him in, made him care more than he wanted to admit. He told himself it was none of his business, that he had no right to interfere in someone else’s family matters. But still, there was a nagging feeling in his gut, an instinct honed by years of protecting those he loved.

As Joel watched you, he saw the way your shoulders slumped slightly when you thought no one was looking, the way your eyes darted nervously to the doorway whenever a noise came from the kitchen. You were like a skittish animal, always on alert, always ready to flee or freeze. It reminded him too much of the broken children he'd seen in the aftermath of tragedy, children who had learned too young that the world was a dangerous place.

He took another sip of his beer, trying to push the thoughts away. He didn't need more complications in his life. He had enough to deal with, enough to protect. But damn it, there was something about you, something that called out to the part of him that had once been a father, that still is a father to Ellie. It was a part of him that couldn't ignore the signs of distress, the silent cries for help.

In the living room, Ellie continued to speak softly, her words a balm to your troubled heart. "You know," she said, squeezing your hand, "no matter what, you've got me. If you ever need to get away, to take a break, my door's always open."

You looked at her, the warmth in her eyes contrasting sharply with the cold dread that usually filled your days. "Thank you, Ellie," you whispered, your voice barely holding back the tears. "It means more than you know."

Joel caught that moment, saw the brief glimpse of vulnerability and the strength it took for you to accept Ellie’s offer of support. It stirred something deep within him, a protective instinct he hadn't felt in a long time.

He tried to shake it off, focusing back on the conversation outside. Tommy was laughing at something your father said, their voices blending into the background noise of the night. But even as he tried to tune them out, his mind kept drifting back to you. He didn't know what he could do, or if he should do anything at all.

As the evening wore on, Joel glanced back at you one last time, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment. Maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to help, without overstepping the boundaries he was so careful to maintain.

***

The last few weeks had been a blur of routine and unspoken tension. Each day felt like a balancing act, with you trying to maintain the perfect image your father demanded while wrestling with your own growing doubts and fears. The only moments of relief came when you could steal a few minutes alone with Ellie, her unwavering support a lifeline in the storm.

One evening after school, you found yourself in your usual spot on the porch, the soft hum of cicadas filling the air. You hugged your knees to your chest, staring out at the darkening sky, your thoughts a tangled mess. You were wearing a nice white mini dress, modest yet elegant, with your hair braided into two sides and adorned with white ribbons.

You had managed to keep up appearances at church, attending every service, helping with every event, but the pressure was becoming unbearable. The weight of your father's expectations pressed down on you like a vise, and each day it grew tighter.

Suddenly, an unfamiliar truck parked in your driveway. You watched as a middle-aged man with a salt-and-pepper beard and black hair stepped out. He had a ruggedly handsome look about him, and as he saw you, a charming smile spread across his face. He stood there for a moment, then walked towards you with an air of confidence.

“Evenin’,” he said, his voice a smooth drawl. “Is this Father Gibson’s house?”

You nodded, standing up and smoothing your dress. “Yes, it is. Can I help you with something?”

He chuckled, the sound deep and rich. “Well, aren’t you a polite one? I’m lookin’ for the Reverend. Is he around?”

You nodded again, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach. “He’s inside. I can get him for you.”

As you turned to go inside, he called after you, his voice teasing. “You know, you’ve got a real pretty smile. Brightens up the whole place.”

You felt your cheeks heat up and forced a polite smile. “Thank you, sir. I’ll be right back.”

Inside, you found your father in his study, poring over his notes for Sunday’s sermon. “Dad, there’s someone here to see you.”

Your father looked up, frowning slightly. “Who is it?”

“I don’t know his name, but he’s outside waiting,” you replied.

Your father nodded, rising from his chair and heading towards the door. You followed him, your curiosity piqued.

The man was waiting patiently on the porch, his hands in his pockets. As your father approached, he extended a hand with a broad smile. “Reverend Gibson, pleasure to meet you. I'm Naomi's cousin, I assume she already told you?"

Your father shook his hand, a wary look in his eyes. “Ah, yes. Nice to meet you, Mr. Smith."

The man leaned in slightly, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “I was hopin’ we could have a little chat. Got some things I’d like to discuss."

Your father glanced at you, then back at him. “Of course. Let’s step inside.”

As they moved inside, the man glanced back at you, giving you a wink. You watched them disappear into the house, a strange mix of apprehension and curiosity swirling inside you.

Not long after, you heard the rumble of Jamie's truck pulling up. Your heart lightened, and you smiled, walking towards the driveway with an eagerness that belied the tension you had been feeling all day. You hung by the fences, your fingers curling around the cool metal as Jamie got out of his truck.

"Hi, Jamie," you said, your voice bright with excitement.

Jamie grinned, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you. "Hey sweetpie, how are ya doing? looking beautiful as ever,"

Jamie’s compliment made your cheeks flush, and you smiled shyly. “Thanks, Jamie. I’m doing alright. How about you?”

Jamie’s grin widened. “Can’t complain. I was thinking maybe we could catch that new movie tonight. What do you say?”

The thought of escaping the confines of home and spending a carefree evening with Jamie was a welcome distraction. “That sounds great. But I need to ask my dad first.”

Jamie nodded, settling back into the truck as you approached the front door. The door swung open, and you saw your father still deep in conversation with the man you didn’t know, whose gaze was fixed intently on you.

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the unnerving feeling that his eyes were tracing every inch of you.

You spoke to your father, trying to keep your tone as casual as possible. “Father, Jamie asked if I could go to the cinema with him tonight. Is it okay?”

Your father glanced at you briefly, then at the man, whose expression was inscrutable but decidedly interested. “Jamie Lee?” your father asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” you replied.

Your father’s eyes flickered with annoyance at being interrupted but softened as he looked at you. “It’s not ideal to leave while we have a guest here, but alright, you can go. Be back by eight.”

You thanked him and turned to leave, but as you did, you couldn’t help but notice how the man’s gaze lingered on you. His eyes, though polite, seemed to hold a predatory glint, scanning you with an intensity that made you shiver slightly.

You gave a nervous smile as you rejoined Jamie at the truck, who was looking at you with a hopeful expression. “Dad said it’s fine. Let’s go.”

Jamie’s face lit up, and he slid into the driver’s seat with an easy grin. As he started the engine, he turned on some country music, the tunes filling the truck and momentarily lifting your spirits. The drive was smooth, and you found yourself relaxing, your earlier worries momentarily forgotten.

After the movie, Jamie suggested a detour. “How about we grab a drink? There’s a little bar outside of town where we can chill for a bit. What do you say?”

You hesitated, not entirely sure about the idea but wanting to enjoy the evening. “I don’t know… I’m not really into drinking.”

Jamie reassured you with a charming smile. “Don’t worry, it’ll be fun. Just one drink, I promise.”

When you arrived at the bar, a dimly lit place with a cozy, rustic feel, you felt a mix of excitement and nervousness. Jamie led you inside, and you slid onto a barstool. Jamie ordered whiskey for himself and told you he’d get you something sweet.

The bartender handed you a glass, and you took a tentative sip, expecting a cherry cola. Instead, the liquid was warm and had a strong, unfamiliar bite. You grimaced, looking at Jamie with confusion. “This doesn’t taste like cherry cola. Are you sure this is what I ordered?”

Jamie leaned in, his voice low and soothing. “Nah, it’s whiskey, babe. I thought you might want to try something a bit more adventurous.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “I can’t drink whiskey. I’ve never had it before, and my dad would be really angry if he found out.”

Jamie gave you a reassuring smile, placing a hand on your back. “Relax. It’s just a drink. No one’s gonna know. Besides, it’s just one drink. You’ll be fine.”

You hesitated, glancing around the bar. The atmosphere was relaxed, but you couldn’t shake the nervous feeling in your stomach. Jamie’s insistence and easy demeanor made it hard to say no. You took another small sip, trying to convince yourself it wasn’t a big deal.

Jamie’s eyes twinkled with mischief as he watched you. “Just have a little more. You might actually like it. It’s good for loosening up, you know?”

Reluctantly, you took another sip, feeling the warmth spread through you. The whiskey tasted harsh and made you cough slightly. “I don’t think I’m cut out for this.”

Jamie laughed, a bit too loudly, but with a genuine affection in his voice. “Don’t worry about it. Just relax and have fun. We’re here to enjoy ourselves.”

Despite the alcohol, you felt an uneasy flutter in your stomach, the drink making you feel lightheaded. Jamie encouraged you to drink more, and you found yourself gradually giving in, the whiskey dulling the edges of your anxiety.

As the evening wore on, you felt the effects of the alcohol more clearly. Your thoughts became hazy, and the room seemed to spin slightly. Jamie’s presence became more comforting, and his laughter more infectious. He kept encouraging you to drink, telling you it was all in good fun.

The bar buzzed with life around you, but the world felt distant, the sounds muffled by the warmth and haze of whiskey. Jamie’s arm around your shoulders was a constant presence, a mix of comfort and tension that made your skin tingle.

As he helped you into the truck, his touch was firm, and you leaned against him, inhaling the potent blend of whiskey and his cologne. The city lights outside blurred, a streak of neon against the dark sky, but Jamie abruptly pulled over to a quiet, secluded road.

“Jamie, where are we going?” you asked, your voice trembling with a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

Jamie’s gaze was intense, a smoldering look that seemed to pierce through the fog of your mind. “I just wanted to be alone with you,” he murmured, his voice low and slightly slurred. His fingers traced your jawline, his touch both tender and possessive.

The air in the truck was thick with anticipation, charged with an electric tension that you couldn’t ignore. Jamie leaned in, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “You’re so incredibly beautiful. I’ve been wanting you for so long.”

A shiver cascaded down your spine at his words, a confusing mix of desire and trepidation swirling within you. The whiskey had softened your inhibitions, making you feel exposed and vulnerable.

His words were like a seductive caress, stirring a deep, unsettling need. “Jamie, I can't,” you began to say, but his lips silenced you, capturing yours in a slow, deliberate kiss.

His lips were rough, demanding, and they moved with an intensity that set your senses alight. His hands roamed over your body, finding the buttons of your blouse with a hunger that made your heart race. he's messaging your boobs you slowly moan because it feels so good.

The kiss deepened, his tongue exploring your mouth with a passionate urgency. His hands were warm but rough, the contrast of his touch creating a mix of discomfort and electric thrill.

You felt a rising heat as he tugged at your blouse, the fabric yielding under his insistent fingers. “Just this once,” he murmured between kisses, his breath hot and ragged. “It’ll be everything you’ve ever wanted, I promise.”

A part of you wanted to resist, but the intoxicating mix of his touch and your own growing desire blurred your judgment. You felt a strange, almost reckless surrender, your boundaries melting away in the intensity of the moment.

"Stop, I-I can't," you said

"I promise, it will feel good, baby," he said

Jamie’s fingers moved with a deliberate skill, teasing and exploring your most sensitive spots. You gasped as his touch sent jolts of pleasure through your body, making your head swim with a mix of desire and confusion. The whiskey's lingering warmth mingled with the heat rising within you, clouding your ability to think clearly.

His other hand slid down your back, pulling you closer until you were almost on his lap. The friction between your bodies only intensified the sensations coursing through you. You could feel his arousal pressing against you, a hard, undeniable reminder of his desire.

“Jamie,” you breathed, your voice a mix of protest and longing. “I shouldn’t—”

But your words were cut off as his fingers found their mark, pressing and circling with just the right pressure. Your hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more of that delicious friction. A moan escaped your lips, unbidden and undeniable.

“Just let go,” he whispered, his voice husky with need. “I’ve got you.”

His mouth found yours again, the kiss deepening as he continued to work you with his fingers. Your body responded eagerly, every nerve ending on fire. You clung to him, your hands fisting in his shirt as you surrendered to the sensations overwhelming you.

With a deftness born of experience, he slipped your blouse off your shoulders, his lips trailing hot kisses down your neck and across your collarbone. Your skin tingled where he touched, each kiss sending a wave of heat through you.

His hands moved to your breasts, kneading and teasing, his mouth following close behind. The contrast of his rough fingers and the softness of his lips was intoxicating, making you arch into his touch. You could feel the last vestiges of your resistance crumbling, your body aching.

“Jamie,” you whispered, your voice a mix of wanting for more but you are scared, “Please, stop…”

His eyes darkened and he wasted no time in shedding his own clothes. The sight of him, bare and ready, sent a fresh wave of heat through you. He reached for you, pulling you close until you were both lying back on the seat, your bodies entwined.

With a slow, deliberate motion, he positioned himself at your entrance, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Jamie, please,” you begged, a note of panic creeping into your voice as his grip tightened and his movements became rougher. The initial pleasure was swiftly giving way to pain, each thrust sending shockwaves of discomfort through your body.

“Stop, Jamie, it hurts,” you pleaded, trying to push him away. But he was too strong, his body a heavy weight pinning you down. His eyes, glazed over with alcohol and desire, didn’t seem to register your distress. Instead, his anger flared, his thrusts becoming more forceful and unrelenting.

Tears streamed down your face as you cried out in pain, your voice breaking with each sob. “Please, stop! Jamie, please stop!” you screamed, your hands frantically pushing against his chest, but it was no use. He was lost to his own needs, driven by the alcohol coursing through his veins.

You felt a deep, pervasive sense of violation, your body and spirit shattering with each brutal movement. Desperation clawed at your insides as you prayed for an end to the torment. “God, please make him stop,” you whispered through your tears, your voice a broken, helpless plea.

But Jamie didn’t stop. His grip on you tightened, his fingers digging painfully into your skin. The pain was overwhelming, each thrust tearing through you, leaving you feeling dirty and used. Your cries for mercy fell on deaf ears, drowned out by the sound of his ragged breathing and the cruel rhythm of his assault.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly, every second an eternity of agony and despair. You felt yourself slipping into a numb, distant place, a coping mechanism to survive the relentless onslaught. Your body became a vessel of pain, your mind retreating to a place where the hurt couldn’t reach you.

Finally, with a shuddering groan, Jamie reached his climax, his body stilling as he released himself inside you. The moment he pulled out and rolled away, you curled into a ball, your body shaking with sobs. The physical pain was nothing compared to the emotional devastation, the sense of betrayal and violation that coursed through you.

Jamie lay beside you, panting and spent, seemingly oblivious to the trauma he had inflicted. His eyes slowly cleared as the effects of the alcohol began to wear off, but the damage was already done. You felt hollow, your trust shattered, your sense of self irreparably damaged.

"Fuck, I'm sorry," Jamie mumbled, his voice thick with regret as he reached out to touch you. You flinched violently, recoiling from his touch as if it burned.

"Get away from me!" you screamed, your voice raw with pain and anger. You felt so dirty, so violated, your mind reeling from the horror of what had just happened. You wanted to disappear, to vanish from the world and escape the unbearable weight of your trauma.

Jamie pulled back, his eyes wide with shock and guilt. "I didn't mean to... I was drunk... I—" His words were a pathetic jumble of excuses, falling on deaf ears.

"Just shut up," you spat, your voice trembling with rage. "Just shut up and take me back to town. I can't be here with you. I can't even look at you."

He nodded mutely, too ashamed to argue. As he started the truck, you pulled your clothes back on with shaking hands, each movement a reminder of the violation you'd endured. The drive back was silent, the air thick with a tension that neither of you dared to break.

When the truck finally came to a stop near the outskirts of town, you didn't wait for it to fully halt before you opened the door and stumbled out. "I can walk from here," you said coldly, not looking back. "I don't want to see you ever again."

Jamie opened his mouth as if to say something, but no words came out. He simply nodded, the look of regret and sorrow etched on his face as you slammed the door shut and started walking away.

As you walked, each step felt like an eternity, your mind a whirlwind of pain and confusion. You couldn’t go home, not like this. The thought of facing your family in your current state was unbearable. Instead, you turned your steps towards Ellie’s house. She was the only one who would understand, the only one you could trust to hold you through this nightmare.

You stumbled up the porch steps, your vision blurred by tears, your makeup smeared and your hair a tangled mess. Your dress was wrinkled and torn, a stark reminder of what had happened. You knocked on the door, hugging yourself tightly in a futile attempt to keep warm, to feel safe.

When the door opened, it wasn’t Ellie who stood there. It was Joel. You looked up at him, your eyes wide and filled with tears, your breath hitching in your chest.

Joel's eyes widened in shock and concern as he took in your disheveled appearance. "What happened?" he asked urgently, his voice trembling with worry. "What’s going on? Are you hurt?" Ellie wasn’t home; she was staying at a friend's house for the night.

The sight of him brought a fresh wave of tears, and you couldn't hold back the sobs any longer. You collapsed to the ground, your body shaking with the force of your cries. The world around you blurred into an indistinguishable mess of pain and despair.

Joel was beside you in an instant, his strong arms wrapping around you, pulling you close. "Hey, hey, it's okay," he whispered, his voice breaking as he held you. "You're safe now. I've got you."

As he held you, his heart raced, a sense of urgency fueling his every movement. He noticed the blood seeping through your legs, and panic gripped him. There was a raw, protective anger in his eyes, one that he usually kept buried deep beneath his calm exterior.

You buried your face in his chest, your tears soaking into his shirt. "Joel," you choked out, your voice barely more than a whisper. "He hurt me. He wouldn’t stop. I begged him, but he wouldn’t stop."

Joel’s body went rigid, his jaw clenching as he struggled to maintain his composure. "Who hurt you?" he demanded, his voice a mix of anger and sorrow.

"Jamie," you sobbed, the name tasting bitter on your tongue. "I told him to stop, but he wouldn't listen."

The silence that followed your confession was thick with tension. Joel’s face darkened, his eyes blazing with a fierce protectiveness that made you feel a flicker of safety amidst your despair. He took a deep breath, clearly fighting to keep his anger in check.

"Come on, let's get you inside," he said softly, helping you to your feet. His touch was gentle, but you could feel the barely restrained fury simmering beneath his calm exterior.

He led you into the living room, where the soft glow of the lamp cast a warm light on the room, a stark contrast to the cold emptiness you felt inside. Joel carefully sat you down on the couch. He needed to clean you up. The sight of your blood-soaked dress made his heart ache with a mix of sorrow and rage.

Joel disappeared for a moment, returning with a blanket and a cup of tea. He wrapped the blanket around your shoulders, his touch tender and reassuring, then handed you the tea.

"Here, drink this," he said softly, his eyes never leaving yours. "It’ll help."

You took the cup with trembling hands, the warmth seeping into your skin, offering a small measure of comfort. Joel sat beside you, his presence a solid anchor in the storm of your emotions.

"You don’t have to talk about it right now," he said quietly, his voice steady but filled with sorrow. "But I’m here to listen whenever you’re ready."

You looked at him, the tears still streaming down your face. "I feel so dirty," you whispered, your voice breaking. "I didn't want this. I didn’t want any of it."

Joel's face softened, his eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow and fierce protectiveness. "You're not dirty," he said firmly, his voice filled with conviction. "Baby, it's not your fault."

The sincerity in his voice broke something loose inside you, and you sobbed harder, your body shaking with the force of your grief. Joel pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as you cried. “We’ll get through this,” he promised, his voice a steady anchor in the storm of your emotions. For the first time in a while, Joel opened his heart, letting his walls down to show you his unwavering support.

He held you for what felt like hours, his embrace a cocoon of safety and warmth. The tears seemed endless, each one carrying a fragment of your shattered soul. But Joel remained steadfast, his presence a constant reassurance that you were not alone in your suffering.

As he held you, Joel's thoughts churned with a mix of emotions. He was a man of few words, accustomed to keeping his feelings locked away, buried deep beneath a hardened exterior. But seeing you like this, broken and vulnerable, stirred something dark and primal within him.

It reminded him of his own past, the pain and loss that had shaped him into the man he was today. The memories of Sarah, his daughter, flashed through his mind – the way he had failed to protect her, the helplessness and rage that had consumed him. He had vowed never to let himself feel that kind of pain again, to never let anyone get close enough to hurt him.

Yet here he was, holding you, feeling an overwhelming need to protect you, to shield you from the world’s cruelty. The thought of Jamie, the man who had done this to you, ignited a fierce, burning anger within him. Joel's grip tightened around you, his jaw clenching as he fought to keep his emotions in check.

He would make Jamie pay for what he had done. There was a darkness inside Joel, a ruthless side that he rarely let see the light of day. But for you, he would unleash it. He would ensure that Jamie never hurt you – or anyone else – again. The thought of revenge, of justice, gave him a grim sense of purpose, a way to channel the turmoil inside him.

Joel's mind was a storm of conflicting emotions. He was deeply troubled by the sight of you in such pain, and his protective instincts surged to the forefront. He knew he had to keep himself under control, to focus on helping you heal. But the thought of Jamie’s actions ignited a cold, calculated fury within him.

[somescenecatholic]

✨🌈🌮HEYYYYY GUYSSSSSSS🌮🌈✨

Hello guuysss sorry for not being here 4 awhile. Here's some updates on my life!

I'm finally a high school senior!! (its summer rn, my last day was may 24)

Also, I'm 17 now!!!!

im been gone bc um.. alot of really not so good stuff happened to me and im recovering rn. I may make a post abt tht later but that's all im saying rn!

But I refuse to let that get me down, so I'm still the happy silly guy yk!

Anyways recently I've gotten into Warrior Cats!!! ITS SOOO GOODDDdd

AND PICKING COLLEGES IS SO HARD!! I'm only 17 and next yr I'll be 18! Wdym I have to pick out the rest of my life???? Bleh america's weirddd :/

Also I got purple box braids!!

ALSOO I saw the new inside out!!! ITS SO GOODDDDD! My favs r Joy (literally me), Anxiety, and Envy!!!! The movie wss like rlly good I loved how the emotions r like more nuanced is tht makes sense! :3 Like how there is no actual villain, everyone is trying to help Riley get through her life! Btw, RILEY HAS A 4TOWN POSTER IN HER ROOM :O

I seriously wish tht they made more songs for 4*Town. Like cmon now sm ppl were begging Disney to make 4*Town a real band... Like yeah it would be hard but literally it would be so popular!! Can we pleaaass bring back boy bands and make girl bands just as popular??? And take away all the negativity in it and stuff?? Please kids my age had 1D around when we were nowhere old enough to go to their concerts and actually enjoy it!! PLEAAAASEEEE 😭

Oh yeha speaking abt One Direction, I have a super rare one direction bag!! My friend is a huge directioner and like she told me tht my bag is rlly old and u cant find it nowhere!!! >.< It has the guys when they were teenagers on it. My cousin gave me the bag when I was in 1st grade and I wasnt rlly into them then but I kept it tho. Fast foward to like a couple months ago and my Kirby bag breaks. My sister was cleaning out her room and she found it!! I was like "NO WAY! I GOTTA USE THIS NOWW!" bc like I <3 1D and I needed a new bag! Its rlly good and its like SOO CUTE

OO AND ALSO, are you guys gonna see the Pharell Williams lego movie? Tbh I think its a bit strange to make an entire movie abt urself but like the movie looks literally SO COOLLL AA!! IDK man i love movies with sparkles and creativity all over it. I'm not even a fan of his im just gonna wafch it to try to fill the void in my heart where the lego batman movie 2 and the lego movie 3 should be!!!

OK BYE FRFRRR HAVE A GREATTT NIGHT/DAY/EVENING!!! (we srsly need a word tht combines all of tht ;-;)

[nellandvoid]

PLEASEPWLASE DRAW SOME ANGST (for either of them) I NEED TO KNOW MORE LORE I LITERALLY LOVE UR OCS SM

OK ANGST TIME!!!!!! (with some messy messy sketches!!!)

so for silvia, when she was in highschool, she had major anger issues and used to get in a ton of fights (usually with bullies, but the teachers didn’t care she was protecting the weaker students) so she got suspended and sent to detention a lot.

here’s our lil high school firecracker:

well at some point during her junior year she ended up getting into a fight with a teacher and got expelled, and it was the only high school in the small idaho city she lived in, and her parents couldn’t afford to move to a different city to enroll her in another class. so one day, when silvia was gone, they packed up, left her enough money to pay for the next months rent, and moved out of town.

drawing is silvia the night her parents left (based on that one scene from coraline)

now with diane, there were so many post-portal angst moments that i decided instead to do a pre-portal angst moment, specifically when bill revealed his true intentions to ford. bill, from the beginning, was strategic when it came to interacting with diane: he never went too far or pushed too many buttons or gave too much away. just enough to make diane suspicious, but not enough to scare her away completely. instead, he made ford doubt her intentions toward him wayyyyy early on, then when ford found out about the portal he made ford think that diane was helping him and that she was always his backup plan if ford turned on him.

at first he didn’t believe it, but when bill brought up her strangely cooperative behavior when it came the portal, her seemingly endless knowledge on the weirdness in gravity falls, the coincidence of their meeting in college and in town, and the weekly phone calls diane was so secretive about, ford began to believe it more and more.

here’s a sketch of the first time ford’s paranoia got the better of him:

more on the secret phone call and what happened to silvia when she left idaho soon!!!

[chxrrylime]

i fucking love your blog sm man 😩🤌🏽 i’d found it when i was going through my stranger things simp phase but i just saw your recent ghost post and saw you’re asking for mw requests so could i request some power bottom male reader with a sub top konig? reader just going to town riding his dick and keeping könig bound to the bed frame so he can’t touch him? that’s really all i’m looking for pls 🥹🙏🏽 creative freedom to you otherwise and if you’re not feeling this i totally understand :)

Writing for König's a bit hard since he's not a full campaign character, but I think this came out good. The hood stays on during sex ♡

König x M!Reader ↪ 920 words — 18+ / SMUT.

Content tags — cis male power bottom reader, cis male service top König, reader knows just enough German to be a tease, bondage, minor stomach bulge, unsafe sex, three years of high school level German, established relationship, bondage, size kink, rope play, begging, and pet names.  

You gasp, bracing your legs as König instinctively bucks his hips up, fucking up into you. One of your hands shoots behind you to grip his leg tight, the other rubbing at his bulging arm muscles straining against the ropes holding him in place. 

“Still—” you hiss out, sinking down to take his whole length, bottom lip pulled between your teeth. As you move your hand to his throat, the words and movement effectively get him to freeze, though not without complaint.

“Bitte, mein hase–I—God, erlauben Sie mir—”

You huff a laugh, gently grinding back onto his pulsing cock, pushing his hood up just enough to get at his lips, kissing him deep and wet as he moans high and throaty.

“Words, König,” you murmur, lovingly kissing his face through the cloth, “sing for me.”

“I have,” he whines, rolling his head back against his shoulder, “nichtmuttersprachler…”

You grin, sucking dark hickeys into his strong shoulders causing him to whine out. You can feel how desperately his thigh muscles twitch, longing to move, to please you.

“Be my good boy, love, mein guter Junge—braver Junge. Ich kann es sprechen."

König groans at your words, a moan ripping from him as you start a slow and steady pace on his cock, feeling how he stretches you out—fills you up. You can’t help the little ‘ah, ah, ah’’s that poor from your lips, feeling his spongey cockhead pressing against your sweet spot. 

Your cock kicks and dribbles precum, König whining at the site, veins bulging in his arms as he struggles again. His brain feels hazy, drunk from the feeling of being used like a toy—something to only pleasure yourself with. He wants to be good, wants to make you feel good. Anything you could want to make you feel good. 

“Feel so full,” you hum, hips speeding up until you’re bouncing on him fast and hard, “so big, baby.”

He’s heard it so many times before in his life, but hearing it from you makes him gasp wetly, a strangled moan high and reedy escaping from him. You laugh, pulling his hood up again to nibble at his lips, and the pink tip of his tongue when it peeks out searching for permission.

“Are you close?” You smile against his lips, razor sharp. He shivers.

“Yes, yes, hase—bitte, please, please,” he begs, nails digging into his palms. You reach out to rub your hands over his bunched fists, soothing him from cutting into his own skin.

“Can feel it. Can feel you pulsing in me, love,” you whisper.

“Oh fuck—!” König cries out, eyes slamming shut.

“That’s it, mein Spielzeug. Go ‘head and move, make me feel good. Fill me up, you’ve been so patient.”

König growls. You can just see how his brow furrows under the hood as he braces his feet against the bed. There’s the slightest second of stillness. The calm before the storm, his heartbeat strong against your palm as you grope at his chest.

You lift onto your knees ever so slightly, moving up and off of him just for him to growl out a desperate, scratchy “no!”

You cry out as his hips launch up, sheathing his cock into you once again. There’s no pause, no adjustment period (though by God, are you stretched enough) as König fucked up into you like a crazed man, the both of your moans mixing together, almost drowned out by the wet slap of skin against skin—the squelch of your lube slick hole adjusting to his girth over and over. 

He doesn’t falter in his movements, and you can feel that heavy weight in your tummy where he pounds into you. You know if you pressed down on the fat there you could feel his cock moving inside of you—pummeling your tight little hole. 

And that’s exactly what you do.

Pushing down on your stomach you cry out as the head of his cock rubs past your fingertips through the layers of skin and fat and muscle. And König, fuck, König can feel it. Feel the faintest sensation of touch, of your fingers brushing over the bulge of his cock inside of you. 

It has the both of you tumbling over the edge, König thrusting up so hard and holding there that he’s essentially supporting your entire weight on just his hips and lap alone. Your spend splatters across his torso, wet and hot as his own cum fills your hole, deep and heavy. 

He all but collapses back onto the bed, taking you with him for the most part. When his cock slips out you nearly choke at the sudden feeling of emptiness and the hot mess of his cum leaking out of you. 

“Hase…” König grumbles, voice gravelly.

“Yes, love?” You whisper back, your head resting on his pec turning to peer up at him.

He pauses for a long moment. You can see how the cloth shifts over his mouth. He frowns.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks, tone laced with worry. With regret. You chuckle and his eyes flutter shut in abject relief.

“You could never hurt me, braver Junge. My sweet darling,” you caress his cheek through the cloth and he nuzzles into it like a touch-starved feline, turning to press a kiss to your palm past the mask, “do you want to be untied?”

König shakes his head, his eyes remaining shut as his breathing finally returns to a steady, slow rattle.

“A little longer…” he quietly requests. You nod, settling against him.

[divinelydivided]

🌟Nerdy Prudes Song Ranking🌟

Literal Monster

-Self Explanatory

-Literally Amazing

2.The Summoning

-Wiggly

-Jon Matteson... of course

-Also self explanatory

-Basically a tie with number one

3.Nerdy Prudes Must Die 

-You know why

- I'M NOT A LOSER

- I'm on a new crusade 💅

4.Hatchet Town

-Bryce Charles

-I am dan Reynolds

-Who doesn’t love a Dan and Donna cameo?!?!?

5.High School Is killing me

-Im deaddddddd

-Jon Matteson is my favorite (if you can't tell)

6.Cool as I think I am (Reprise)

-Makes me cry

-“Your as smart as I know you are”

-“Would you want to go to homecoming with me”---”Cool”

-Again, I am in tears

-I love Pete Spankofski

7. Bury the Bully

-I love Grace Chastity being insane, I love her

- I love foreshadowing

8.Cool As I think I am

-I love Peter

-“She is the brawn, i'm the brains” 

9.Dirty Dudes Must Die

-Grace chastity is a badass queen (who is a little insane, no biggy)

-”darkness will spare my soul” scratches an itch in my brian I didn’t even know I had

-HARMONIESSSS

10.Bully the Bully

-Petey gonna jump on out, jager gonna jagerout

-Whats our budget

-I am sad that this is not higher up

-We love a friend group

-Beans cool?! Excellent!!

11. If I Loved You

-I had a really hard time ranking this

-I love the chorus soooo much

-I Kinda hate the back and forth fighting thing going on in between

-Literally could not place this anywhere that made me happy but it had to go somewhere

12. Go Go Nighthawks

-Love Harmonies

-Fuck Clivesdale

13. Dirty Girl

-Don’t love the content of the song

-Love the vocals

-Sad I can’t put every song at number one

14. Just For Once

-I live for Ruth

-I love her sm

15.  Best of You

-A little cheesy for me

-But still deserves to be higher

[cerenemuxse]

ryan human HCs because i said something about him a while ago-

Ryan Grover (omg the blue guy from Sesame Street-)

Ryan seems like a pushover but the guy has his boundaries. He just exists. 🧍‍♂️

Scots-Mexican! 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 🇲🇽 (born in Scotland)

Most of his cousins from his mama's side are Mexican, born in England, whereas Ryan's dad is Scottish (where Grover is taken from). (maybe i'll make a separate post about the "Gresleys." maybe)

In England, Ryan's mother's family is well-known in the neighborhood a lot of them are piled up in. Ryan's family sticks out for being the only ones in Scotland but also because his mother didn't marry in Mexico and left, whereas the others did, then left.

He's the cousin at family reunions who prefers hanging out with the non-dramatic ones, aka the ones playing video games or chatting with cousins his age, and far away from the family gossip.

(Gamecube, Nintendo 64. Nintendo Wii, and Gameboy type of guy)

yeah he plays Minecraft. others are SMG (1 and 2), SM64, SM Sunshine, and games within the same type of genre. only mario kart he has is double dash and wii

speaking of which, he is a Wii Rainbow Road enjoyer 🌈💫

Ryan's parents hold him up to high standards. The only ones he does reach are his academics but its because he wants to, not because of his parents. His parents care but their priorities aren't set straight. Sometimes his parents get overbearing so he prefers to chill at his boyfriend's (Thomas) more welcoming home, bringing along their girlfriend, Ashima. Or at least have a space where he can do his work calmly. Only way he's able to keep his academics high

Bikes to and from school since its in the same town. this is what it looks like! :D

(CW/TW: Near car collision)

Despite the lack of car drivers in Sodor, they have the occasional wreckless driver. One of them nearly hit Ryan right as he was about to cross the street. The air force caused by the driver speeding by mixed with the shock was enough to startle Ryan and knock him over. He turned ok, thx to hall monitors being nearby and his bike helmet. The only reason why he even stopped was because Thomas noticed, and had he not called out for him, Ryan could've been struck. This happened at the end of his first week at the new school. (also new to Sodor in general)

Ryan wears beanies, and he likes leaving tufts of his fringe sticking out. His parents do this which he's just used to at this point. He wont say anything, but when Gordon (14 years older AND an assistant principal at his school) does it, he does get noticeably irritated. He will just leave. Gordon may be his older cousin, but Ryan does not need another parental figure like his parents. He prefers his own parents to nitpick, thank you very much.

Ryan loves Fiji Blue (//projecting). His fav songs from them are "I'll Never Change" and "Only When You Look Into Your Eyes." Also likes the album "Sin Frenos" from "La Quinta Estacion" (//projecting). fav from that album is "Quiereme Mucho."

Speaking of Thomas, because of that first week, he has respect for Thomas, despite how Thomas tends to act from scoffing to straight up ignoring him (you bet Edward gave him an earful when he eventually found out. "I raised you better!!!"). He just brushes it off because he is fully aware of why Thomas is like that. He may be slow at picking up signs but he isn't oblivous, being very aware about everything around him. Ryan hates that this is why he can't get along with Thomas at the time, but again, he brushes it off and continues to be friendly, hoping they can become friends.

One of his favorites pass times is going to the park on his bike, finding a tree with good shade, and lying down while listening to his music with earbuds on.

He plays the acoustic guitar and ukulele!

"wavy" (ends tend to curl up A LOT), dark red/ginger hair coming from both of his parents

Also bad at respecting personal space as in he will peak over your shoulder if you're someone close *cof*Thomas*eep*. Its a habit that wasn't corrected by his parents because that's usually who he does it with, including his siblings!

speaking of siblings, he's one of the older ones!

HE DECORATES HIS BIKE HELMET WITH STICKERS !!! TRUST !!! It's green, completely covered in stickers about memes, musical artists, or random things. mostly the first two hehe-

I HAVE RYAN DESIGNED (somewhat) but the outfit's uh- questionable :/ better than the first one i gave eugh- SO HAVE HIS HEAD