how they fuck you
red dead redemption headcanons #2
hc masterlist // masterlist
on my third playthrough of rdr2 and i cannot bring myself to play low honour. why do i put myself through this?
also this is ridiculously long, got a little carried away but i shall not apologise
rating: explicit
-
is always gentle with you at first
delicate touches, lingering kisses, gazing eyes at your every movement or ministration
"what do you want, mi amor? tell me"
loves to hear you beg for him, want him
it just turns him on even more
dirty talk through the ROOF
this man knows how to talk you through it
"fuck you feel amazing, hermosa. yeah, just like that, huh? anything for you"
will eat you out for days if he could
never really tried it before, even when he lived in Mexico, he never really gave it a go
but with you, he wanted to try everything. whatever you wanted, he was up for it
so when you first asked him, he was nervous as hell, but willing to try
he found out he loved it and does it every single fucking time he had you all to himself
buries himself between your thighs like a man starved, his arms wrapped tightly around your thighs to keep you still
his tongue worked fucking wonders on your pussy, knowing exactly where to focus his attention, loving how you always moaned a little softer when his tongue dipped inside your cunt
fucks you slow, savouring the moment when he can
loves to have you riding him. seeing you on top spurs something inside him
his hands grip your waist fiercely, guiding your hips to grind against him, pulling sweet, elicit moans from your throat
loves to cut your clothes from your body with his knife
it's so much more satisfying than just taking them off with his hands
kinda likes quickies. prefers taking his time but there's something about pulling you away for a few minutes to have his way with you behind the protection of a tree or something that he loves
usually happens out on missions, so there's risk of the gang seeing you guys, but what's life without a little risk?
you could be on watch beside your tent while everyone sleeps, and javier will come over to keep you company
but it doesn't take long for his hand to slip into your pants as he whispers all sorts of things in your ear as he sits behind you while you try and continue your watch duty
was terrible at aftercare before, never really understood the in's and out's of it
but learned eventually with you, when you explained it to him
now he's at your beck and call whenever you need it
wear this man's hat around camp and that's all he needs to pull you to a secluded tent
but wear it while you fuck him? arthur would die happy in that exact moment
likes to call you 'cowgirl' when you ride him. you always roll your eyes at how stupid it sounds, but it doesn't stop him
the two of you don't have all the time in the world. being one of dutch's most trusted members, he's needed away from camp a lot more than anyone else
so you've both learned the art of being fast
and it doesn't take long for him to make you cum
never asks for them, but loves blowjobs
he likes to draw in his tent when he's got time to himself, so when he sees you come in and sink to your knees in between his lap, he can't think of a better sight
the absolute king of praises (have you heard how he talks to his horse?? imagine him talking to a woman oml)
not a fan of degrading, he never saw the appeal, but uses other methods to 'punish' you
"what do you want, darlin?" he'd say as he's fucking you from behind, your face pressed into the pillow to stifle your moans, your ass in the air held up by his hands on your hips. "oh babygirl, you wanna cum, huh? then you can beg me for it, can't you?"
will edge you for days
especially when he knows he's going to be away for a few days afterwards
definitely grabs the headboard
mainly for his own stability to be able to thrust into you harder as you moan his name into the room
has his hands on you at all times
holding your hands above your head by your wrists, holding your face against the mattress with his hand on the back of your neck, curling his fingers in your hair and gently yanking your head back when he pounds into you
when you do get a night away from camp, he wants to make it last the whole night
takes his time with you to the point where he's practically teasing you for hours
takes his time undressing you, kissing every part of your body, touching every part of you until his fingerprints were practically imprinted into your skin
give this man some guidance or it's like walking through a maze blindfolded
learned a lot with you
figured out really quick what you liked and what you didn't like, what places he could touch you that would send your head spinning
this eventually led him to learn how to be very sneaky in public
he could touch you in such simple places, in such an innocent way that no one else would think anything of it
but you'd know, and you wouldn't stop it
you like the way he touched your neck? he was all over that shit, cupping your cheek, his fingers tickling your neck
you liked his hands in your hair? his fingers tangled at the base of your neck, pulling your hair slightly to tease you
his hand would rest on your thighs, fingers slowly creeping up your thigh while you were all sat around the campfire
you'd always give him a little glare, which he would ignore, a goofy smirk on his face
and the way he fucked you was no different
he had mastered the art of teasing your body and your limits, and put that knowledge in every time he had you alone
"come on, marston. stop teasin' me like this"
he'd always smirk, working his way down your body in a painfully slowly manner
"i'm takin' my time with you, sweetheart. you just lay back and relax. lemme take care of you"
loved to make you feel good before he even thought about himself
but when he was too pent up, he came a lot quicker than he wanted
but he made up for it when tending to you afterwards until you were practically pushing him away, too sensitive for his expert fingers
not the best at going down on you, but makes up with experience
but what he's really good with is his hands
his fingers
they know exactly what they're doing when he pushes them inside your soaked pussy
curling at that devastating spot inside you that makes you crumble to your knees
loves to be on top of you, seeing your face contort when he pushes inside you slowly, deeply
he's basic, a lover of missionary, but seeing your face and watching your body writhe under his grip is really what turns him on
722 notes
·
View notes
THE ISLANDER EUPHRASIE THEORY: THE CRACK HEADCANON THAT RUINED ME FOREVER
HI. you might know me as the kingphie divorce guy. or as the guy who wrote the 6k ludonarrative essay. Today i am going to introduce to YOU
@the-bitter-ocean's fantabulous ISLANDER EUPHRASIE THEORY!!!
DISCLAIMER
This post contains SPOILERS for ALL of In Stars and Time. INCLUDING THE ACT 6 SECRET!!
You have been warned.
ALSO!!!!
The original headcanon/theory is VERY MUCH Ocean's fantastic work! I am merely rehashing all the arguments for it that have been laid out across various chats into one cohesive thing people can look at. Also citations! Who doesn't love those.
WHAT IS IT?
Well, it's quite simple. It's the theory that Euphrasie, love of my life and Head Housemaiden of Dormont, is from the forgotten island, same as Siffrin and the King.
(Yes, this is why divorce AU exists.)
WHY DO YOU EVEN BELIEVE THIS?
Quite a lot of reasons, actually.
It's really funny
Let us begin with: the basics.
SUPERFLOUS AESTHETIC DETAIL
HAIR COLOR
This is Euphrasie. She's very pretty. I love her.
You might notice several things about her, like her fantabulous white hair.
Well. What other characters have white hair?
You have guessed correctly. The ONLY OTHER white haired characters with actual artwork are Siffrin and the King, both from The Island The World Forgot. Thus we can assume that it's a typical hair color for islanders. Makes it stand out very much that Euphie also has it.
(What about the beautiful one- sh sh sh he's blonde. He's blonde.)
(Well, actually, considering that they are the only one who acknowledges that Vaugardians are also weird, what if he's from the island as well? Checkmate atheists.)
EYELASHES
Correct. Eyelashes.
Going back to our portrait of Euphie, she is drawn with precisely three eyelashes. Why is this notable? Because Siffrin and Loop are.
So much so, that being drawn with three eyelashes, is specifically an element of foreshadowing to Loop's true identity.
(squints at character portraits) literally no characters besides Siffrin, Loop, and Euphrasie have eyelashes? Oh my god. What? Nobody has eyelashes? What the fuck?
(okay, some moments later: Mirabelle has eyelashes in some battle artwork, but these three are the only ones specifically with eyelashes in dialogue portraits, which is still incredibly odd.)
SPEAKING HABITS
Hey, so, you know when you talk to people in Dormont, a lot of the NPCS will have a nametag that just says "[something] One" right? Daydreaming One, Castle-Loving One, Beautiful One?
And I've seen people wonder, are these titles? Nicknames?
And I bring you this: Siffrin addresses these people with these epithets in his head, because they have no fucking clue what anyone's name is.
So Siffrin just naturally lapses into this style of nicknaming strangers.
Which two other people also do.
Bright one... ...... Do you remember?
Traveling one! Are you done talking with your companions? Yes, wonderful, wonderful!
Funny little tidbit that these three characters all speak alike isn't it :)
Okay. With aesthetics out of the way, let's move onto the next tier of this iceberg:
THE MECHANICS OF FORGETTING AND BEING FORGOTTEN
I realize in the process of writing that we must outline the nature of the curse. What gets forgotten and what gets to stay?
The particularity that's important to us right now is: what people get forgotten?
All evidence points toward this: an entire person is only forgotten if they were physically present on the island when it vanished.
I'm pulling up two example cases to prove it: Siffrin and the Daydreaming One.
The thing with Siffrin is: we know he witnessed the exact moment the island vanished. And, very notably, Siffrin was in a boat.
You can get the dialogue that proves this only in ACT 2 in a secret room most people don't find on their first playthroughs, which is both very funny and very evil. Here's the dialogue.
Siffrin: "I ran away from home once!"
[...]
Siffrin: "And so I took our boat! Got to the beach, rowed away from the shore a bit. I was going to come back right away, I just wanted to scare my parents a bit!"
[...]
Siffrin: "I started to row back towards the shore... And then, I... I... ..."
Isabeau: ... Sif?
Siffrin: (Woah! What?) "Um, yes?"
Isabeau: Um... You were telling us how you ran away from home?
Siffrin: "I... was?"
Odile: You... Were.
Bonnie: DID YOU FORGET WHAT YOU WERE TALKING ABOUT WHILE TALKING ABOUT IT?!?
Siffrin is from the island, but was not physically present when it disappeared. This resulted in Siffrin forgetting their entire identity, including given name and spoken/written language.
Additionally, this is confirmed via Word of God to be the exact moment the island disappeared, so here's proof I'm not reading into it:
Shoutout to bibliomaniac's insane google spreadsheet for the easily searchable screenshot. god bless. Brinny, ily.
On the other hand, with the Daydreaming One, we have proof of a person who is not originally from the island, but was physically on it at the time of disappearance.
Siffrin: "Don't you have a sister?"
Daydreaming One: I... I don't? I just said I'm an only child, silly!
(For her to forget someone like her sister, so easily... Her sister must've traveled to...)
Secondly, we know that remnants of the island were not completely forgotten immediately.
Memory faded gradually, starting with the ability to still speak and think about it with accompanying headaches, until it ramped up in intensity and everything is simply gone.
The Sparkling Diary in the library is more or less proof. Memory of the island was gone, but... people still remembered that they forgot something. People still knew what they were talking about, (an island north of Vaugarde), just without the specifics.
"Urgh. Also, Dad noticed no one can say the name of the island north of here anymore?"
"I tried to say it yesterday and I got like the WEIRDEST headache for HOURS."
And Odile also remarks the following
Odile: We also know that people could remember that country clearly, before.
This will be relevant later. Moving on.
CONTRIVANCES
THE HOUSE'S OBSERVATORY
SO. The House of Change of Dormont has this funny little room on the third floor. It's an observatory. To look at stars with. When entering this room for the first time, Mirabelle says this:
Mirabelle: What...? Was there a room like this in the House? Y-yeah, I remember! Someone was working here... Studying... They looked like... ... Um... Sorry, I can't remember.
This reveals to us several things:
This room is innate to the House, and not brought here by the King's weird redecorating
Someone from the House was using it for study
All memory of who or what was studying and being studied was erased alongside the island's existence
Of course we can say, "yo, what if Euphrasie was using this room and just forgot?" but that is. a headcanon. I ADMIT! It is a stipulation
However, I find the general presence of the Island written all over the House incredibly interesting.
Inside the Observatory, there's a pile of papers with messy handwriting. You can't read these in until ACT 4. Even in ACT 4, you can't read them. But you do learn what's written on them.
(A pile of papers.)
(It looks like someone was trying to write your country's name.)
Inside the observatory is also a globe. Upon repeated interaction in... act 4, i think, you get this:
(You see a spot on the globe where the paint has started wearing out, like someone kept dragging their finger on it.)
(You drag your finger there too.)
(Erased. You almost want to look for lightless paint.)
BOOKS
During the various quests to discover the truth of the loops, you run into a lot of books, written in the forgotten language. Now, Dormont is not close to the island. Dormont is not close to the coast.
Bambouche is. That's why Bonnie has heard about the island before and knows it was a big deal - they lived really close to it.
Bonnie (and then1): I think, I think my village was really close to it!!! My sister said it was all everyone could talk about for weeks!!!
Mirabelle (anxious1): That's so frightening... I'm glad that whatever happened, she didn't get caught up in it!
As we can see in this map, Dormont is in the southern half of the country, and very centrally at that, meaning it has basically maximum distance from all waters and ports. So why does this landlocked small town have so many books in this language?
These aren't just dry books, either. In Dormont's library, there's actually a translated version of volume 2 of The Cursing of Chateau Castle.
(You take the book out again.)
(You can read its title, now...)
(Your heart is beating, badump, badump, badump.)
(It's...)
(... A translated copy of "The Cursing of Château Castle", issue #2.)
(You start laughing.)
CONCLUSION OF THIS SECTION
Islanders lived in Dormont. Maybe even multiple! We've established that whoever is in Dormont when it vanished would not simply disapper, instead
they forgot where they're from.
One day, the islanders in Dormont could no longer remember being anywhere but Dormont. Being anything but Vaugardian. The observatory fell into disuse, as the person studying there gradually forgot what they used it for, even as they desparately tried to hold onto it, boring holes into the globe, and scribbling its name over and over until its unintelligible.
And, in all likelihood, eventually that knowledge was just gone forever. They simply became part of Dormont, none the wiser to their own history.
Books slipped into cracks. Rooms fell into disuse. Nobody remembered to clean out the remnants.
Now. The real cinch of this.
Why, in particular, do I think Euphrasie is one of them?
Answer me this, then.
How does Euphie know what Wish Craft is?
1. How could she read it?
Euphrasie knew specifically that Wish Craft exists, when all books on it are written in a language nobody can read.
The book in the storage room? The diary in the room behind the star door? The book in the secret library? None of them are legible.
There are no legible records of Wish Craft.
2. What about the Favor Tree?
Euphrasie knew specifically that Wish Craft is related to the Favor Tree. It's also a Vaugardian practice to make requests of the Favor Tree, but they're just that - requests. Nobody thinks they actually have power.
Only Euphrasie does. She thinks it's the key to defeating the King.
(This is... A list of people who wished to save Vaugarde!!!)
(You look around her desk, trying to find out more.)
(Why would she record the people who wished to save Vaugarde?)
(... There!!!)
(It's a little notebook, jammed between random boring paperwork...)
(In it, the Head Housemaiden talks about Wish Craft... How in the days before the King attacked, she noticed everyone was wishing to the Favor Tree for the same thing:)
(To save Vaugarde.)
(And she started wondering if this wish could be the key to the King's defeat, somehow...)
(So the Head Housemaiden knew about Wish Craft!!!)
Except, when Isabeau talks about it...
Isabeau: Well, it's just a random big tree. But when you're a believer of the House of Change, the biggest tree in a certain place is called a Favor Tree! It's like, it’s the tree with the most power, so you can ask it things? As a favor?
He struggles a little to explain it. Almost, as though the tradition came from some other culture, imported into Vaugarde, and no one can definetely remember where it came from.
To note, here, is that the Favor Tree is hugely associated with Loop, and wishes in general. Wishing on a Favor Tree is such a hugely powerful ritual when executed correctly, that it caused the entire timeloops.
And I'm not even gonna break out citations to prove that Wish Craft is associated with the island. Come on. You know that. You played the game. It's required to beat the game.
If you haven't beaten the game, what the fuck are you doing here. Go back and play it, baka.
3. Something's breaking, failing, rotting
At the end of ACT 4, when Siffrin confronts Euphrasie about her knowledge of Wish Craft, Euphrasie is distinctly aware of this: the people of Vaugarde are wishing wrong.
It's true. All of Vaugarde wished to the Favor Tree, wished for us to be saved.
We wished for a savior. A way for us to win against the King.
And Wish Craft gave us the means to do it, didn't it? Made sure it'd work?
[...]
But... But something went wrong, didn't it?
Something goes wrong, every time!!!
[...]
The only answer I can find... Is it's because we did it wrong.
I don't know what happened But we must've done it wrong!!!
None of us in Vaugarde knew the exact ritual, but-- But we must have done it so wrong, it broke, and it doesn't answer to us at all anymore!!!
[...]
I don't know, I don't know, I don't know!!!
There's only one person who knew how to make a Wish correctly. And he made it by sheer instinct. Something they could not place even if they tried. Just... a forgotten ritual, dredged back up by muscle memory. Something he's probably been doing since he's a little kid, something that's so backed into their habits they use Wish Craft to carve figurines out of wood.
To end, I leave you with this. Dialogue you get when you try to talk to Euphrasie again, before you talked to everybody else.
If you talk to me... REALLY talk to me...
It's all over.
What "it" is, I have no idea...
I know... I can feel that... I couldn't change whatever comes next, even if I wanted to.
But I know it is the will of the Change God.
Or, no, perhaps... The will of something even bigger...
...
Something will end, once you talk to me.
There is a way for Euphrasie to know all of this. To know Wish Craft exists, to be aware she's doing it wrong, but not knowing, remembering quite enough to get it right.
If she knew it all beforehand already.
350 notes
·
View notes
texas sun - joel miller x f!reader - vol. 1
series masterlist | series playlist | writing masterlist |
summary: When you let your new neighbor’s daughter inside to call her father from your landline, you never expect to be dealing with the fallout twenty years later. Series will take place before and after the outbreak, and is partially inspired by this request. Slow-burn(ish), eventual smut.
pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader
words: 6.4k
chapter warnings: mentions of/encounters with a drunk person, references to absent parents, i imply that both reader (and joel) like pineapple on pizza.
a/n: i need to get my shit together and make a proper masterlist/post for this series but i'm absolute garbage with photoshop/making collages so that is a project for another day!! for now, i wanted to get this first part out to ya'll. i watched a playthrough of the game too so ill be including some references to that throughout the series. this will be some hallmark-movie ass romance so strap in!! this chapter was super fun to write and i loved writing for reader and sarah, give it a read and let me know what you think!
-March 7, 2003-
“Excuse me? Ma’am? Excuse me?”
The voice behind you is so timid you don’t hear it right away, especially not when your phone is pressed to your ear with your shoulder as you sort through the mail, your coworker droning on and on…
“Ma’am?”
It’s a little more forceful this time, a little closer too, and that’s when it finally gets your attention. Turning around on your heel, you find a young girl standing behind you, one hand hooked in the strap of her backpack that hangs off of one thin shoulder, the other worrying about the butterfly pendant of the necklace she’s wearing.
You recognize her immediately as one of your neighbors, the girl from across the street whose name you didn’t know yet, because you only moved in about two months ago. You’d met the man who you assumed was her father – Joe? Or was it Joel?, you couldn’t remember – the first day you’d moved in, but there had been so much going on that you were too flustered to be engaged.
It’s a Friday, but apparently that doesn’t keep you safe from work calls after you leave the office, because you’re getting an earful of a whole lot of hot air, so much so that you’re probably unintentionally frowning at the girl in front of you while you try to follow the conversation.
“....I think you’re right, but they’re not going to budge unless we sweeten the deal somehow-”
“Can I call you back?” you blurt, ultimately thankful for the interruption. You don’t even wait for his response before you click off your blackberry, sighing, looking up. “Hi, yeah, sorry. Can I help you?”
“Uhm, I’m Sarah…..Miller….I live across the street?” her voice goes up slightly at the end of the sentence, like she’s unsure, even as she points to the home behind her, a two-story place that’s considerably bigger than your own, but maybe a little older. “I uhm…I locked myself out and I was wondering if I could use your phone…to call my dad at work? Please?”
“Oh, yeah,” you say. “That’s fine. Just uh..follow me I guess.”
Tucking the stack of mail in your hand under your arm, you wave her after you, your kitten heels clicking on the hard pavement of your driveway.
“Be careful here,” you warn her as you step over the middle step to your front porch that has rotted, and gives easily under any amount of weight. You’d learned about it the hard way, last week, and still had the bruise on your leg to show for it.
Your front door is open, and Sarah pauses to take off her shoes when you do, a pair of beat-up white Converse that have been doodled on in Sharpie.
“Here, phone’s right there,” you lead her into the kitchen and point to the landline. “Can I get you anything to drink?”
“Uhm, could I just get some water…please?” She stands rigidly in your kitchen, rocking back and forth on her heels.
“Of course,” you reach into the cabinet. Once the glass is filled and placed in front of her, you retreat to your front living area to give her some privacy while she makes the call, sitting on the couch and scrolling through unanswered emails on your blackberry. Sarah mumbles indiscreetly, until you hear her call out again.
“Uhm…ma’am…I’m sorry, Miss…uh-what’s your last name?”
“Oh,” you sit up, giving her your first instead.
“Okay….Uh, my dad wants to talk to you…could you-”
“Sure,” you stand, stepping back into the kitchen, and accepting the receiver from the girl.
“Hello?”
“Hey, this is Joel Miller,” you’re greeted with a low, gruff drawl. “You’re the new neighbor, I believe introduced myself a while back”
“Joel,” you repeat. It’s Joel. Joel, Joel, Joel, you force yourself to remember. Joel and Sarah Miller. “Yes, we met very briefly.”
“And it sounds like you met Sarah.”
“Yeah.”
On the other end of the line, you hear him hesitate, let out a long sigh. “Look, I hate to put you out, but she lost her key to the house, and she tells me the Adlers aren’t home. Do you think she could stay at your place until I’m able to get off work in a couple hours? I know it’s a big ask, but-”
“Of course she can,” you cut him off, peering over your shoulder at Sarah, who’s staring up at you expectantly with wide, terrified eyes.
“Really?”
“Yeah, it’s no big deal.”
“She’s probably got homework so I’ll make sure she stays quiet and out of your way. I’m so sorry, she should know better than this. It’s the second time this month this has happened, I keep tellin’ her-”
“Like I said, it’s not a big deal,” you cut him off, unintentionally, before wondering if it was rude you didn’t let him finish. It’s the native New Yorker in you, always in a rush and uninterested in drawn-out excuses. It’s an unfortunate instinct you’ve been trying to train yourself out of, particularly now that you’re living in the southwest. You soften your tone. “She can stay as long as she needs to, seriously. I don’t have anything planned.”
“Okay,” the voice on the other end sounds relieved. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I should be home by nine, I’ll call if anything changes. Thanks so much.”
“Of course, we’ll be fine. See you soon.” You hang up.
Sarah is still behind you when you turn around, clutching the glass of water she’s got in both hands like a vice. “You can stay here until your dad gets home,” you tell her.
“Did….did he sound mad?”
“Maybe a little stressed,” you’re honest. “But….not mad. I also don’t know him, so…”
“I bet he’ll be mad. This is the second time I’ve locked myself out this month because I forgot my key, and I already got lectured once that last time because he had to leave work early.”
“You made a mistake, people forget things…” you shrug. “I’m sure he’ll get over it.”
Her shoulders relax slightly, and she looks around like it’s the first time she’s actually registered where she’s at. “You have a nice house. It’s cozy.”
“Thanks,” you put your hands on your hips and look around too. “I’m still settling in, so not everything’s unpacked, but I could give you a tour if you’d like?”
“Yes ma’am.”
Ma’am. That tickles you. The address is still not something you’re used to hearing, even though you’ve only been in Austin a few years. “You can just call me by my first name, you know? Ma’am makes me feel old.”
“Really?” she grins, following you down the hall. “I can’t wait to be old.”
“You’ll feel differently someday,” you answer. “But…I guess it’s not so bad.”
Compared to the house you grew up in, your new house is nothing special, but it’s yours, and you couldn’t be prouder that you’d bought it all on your own. It’s a three-bedroom ranch, and you’d converted one of the rooms into an office for yourself. There’s a kitchen, living room, and den. But your favorite part is your large, screened in back porch that overlooks your yard. Now that it’s getting closer to summer, you sit outside in the mornings with a cup of tea and read the newspaper, listen to the birds.
“Can I do my homework at your kitchen table?” Sarah asks once you’re finished showing her around.
“Make yourself comfortable wherever,” you answer. “I could probably stand to get a little work done myself.”
Sarah sits at your dining room table, spreads out her books, and works quietly while you answer some emails and look over some contracts. You’ve got a big meeting Monday with a potential client, and a giant stack of term sheets to go through, but if you could manage to get some of it done tonight it might actually help you down the line. As much as possible, you try to avoid doing too much work outside of your office’s standard hours, but sometimes, it’s inevitable.
The subject Sarah has homework in is algebra, which renders you useless. Even when you have to do any accounting at work, you’re used to having a calculator nearby. It’d been awhile since you spent time with anyone as young as she was – in sixth grade, she told you – and it was starting to serve as a confirmation of your own dysfunctional childhood, because her carefree, sweet nature was so drastically different from anything you remembered feeling.
After about an hour, Sarah slowly starts to close her notebooks, zipping her pencils back up in plastic pouches. You look up from making revisions on a contract, the smell of blue ink heavy in the air around you. “I’m done,” she announces. “Could I sit on your couch and read?”
“Of course,” you answer. “Give me five and I’ll join you.”
It doesn’t take long for you to find a good stopping point, and you pack up your messenger bag, and join Sarah in the living room. “So…I’m starting to get hungry,” you tell her. “Are you?”
Sarah nods sheepishly.
“I could order us something,” you said. “What do you like?”
You aren’t much of a chef, though you can generally figure your way out around any recipe. However, cooking for one is notoriously tedious. If you had multiple mouths to feed, maybe you’d be tempted to hone your skills in the kitchen a little more. Most nights you usually treated yourself to a depressing, hastily thrown together salad, scrambled eggs, or a PB&J. Tonight, you had actually been planning to take yourself out to dinner – there’s a cute little French bistro down the street and you were hoping to treat yourself to a cocktail and a nice meal while you read.
Sarah closes her book, contemplating. “Could we….get a pizza?”
You think about it. “Sure, yeah. Pepperoni…cheese?”
“Can we get….one of both?” she tests.
“Yeah, we can do both,” You smile. “I bet your dad will be hungry, too, he can have some if he wants.”
“Maybe…he likes pineapple on his,” Sarah wrinkles her nose.
“He has good taste. I do too.”
“Gross.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll keep them separate,” you call over your shoulder as you retreat to the kitchen.
Once the pizza is ordered, you return to your living room and curl up on the opposite side of the couch from Sarah, who is engrossed back in her book. “They told me about 30 minutes. What are you reading?”
“To Kill A Mockingbird,” she says, showing you the cover.
“That was one of my favorites growing up.”
“I have to read it for school…but it’s pretty good so far.”
Your phone pings with another email, and you glance at it quickly.
“Is that work?” she asks.
You nod. “Yeah. It still finds you, even when you leave.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m a lawyer.”
“No way!” Sarah perks up. “Like on the tv shows? That’s so cool.”
You snort, shaking your head. “No, not exactly. I’m a corporate lawyer so it’s not as fun, actually, it’s just a lot of paperwork and meetings…”
“So…you don’t like it, then?”
“It’s….” you think about it. “....Fine.” Did you like your job? It wasn’t really something you thought about in that way, you’d always seen it as a means to an end. “I went to law school because my dad wanted me to…he wanted me to work for him someday. And…that didn’t pan out so…yeah. But you know…it pays well, and….”
“You get to wear cool outfits,” she gestures to you.
“Yeah, I guess I do. Although the heels do get a little uncomfortable.”
Sarah’s eyes shift behind you for a second to the hallway leading to your bedroom, then widen excitedly. “You have a cat?”
You turn around to see what she’s looking at, the white and gray ball of fluff that you’d found underneath a dumpster one late night in college.
“Yeah, that’s Martini.”
“Martini,” she giggles, and the cat approaches her cautiously. He’s notoriously shy and quiet, and not even particularly cuddly, but he likes to sleep at the foot of your bed and will sit next to you on the couch if you stay still for long enough.
The cat sniffs Sarah’s outstretched hand, then presses his face into Sarah’s palm so she can scratch him under his chin, his favorite spot. “He’s not usually a fan of strangers, he must like you.”
“I love animals,” she says. “My dad won’t let me get a pet because he says he’ll end up taking care of it.”
You chuckle. “Cats are pretty easy…at least, he is.”
Martini allows himself about twenty seconds worth of affection before he darts out of the room and heads to his food bowl.
“I’m gonna go change out of my work clothes, I’ll be right back,” you push yourself off the couch and walk down the hallway. Any other night and you probably would’ve been in pajamas awhile ago but that’s probably not acceptable, so you settle for jeans and a sweater, which is much more comfortable than the dress and tights you had been in before.
The pizza arrives and after you tip the driver, set it on your kitchen island and pull some plates out of your cupboard. You and Sarah are both long settled with full plates when you speak again.
“Wow….I forgot how good pizza is…” you say, staring at the half eaten piece in your hand.
“You don’t eat pizza?”
“Usually only when I’m drunk,” you say, then immediately realize you’re talking to an eleven year old. “Oops, I…probably shouldn’t be telling you that.”
She giggles. “It’s okay.”
“So, it’s just you and your dad across the street?” you ask. “Does your mom live with you?”
The second the question registers, you immediately regret asking. Sarah shrinks before you, her face dropping, shaking her head. “No I…I don’t really have a mom.”
“I’m sorry,” you say, softly. You just assumed she existed although you’d never seen her, and you feel guilty, racking your brain for something that might help make her feel better. “I understand, my mom wasn’t really around growing up.”
“She wasn’t?” Sarah asked, looking up.
You shake your head. “My parents got divorced when I was young, my dad took us, and she moved across the country, so….I didn’t see much of her.”
“My mom… she left when I was a baby.”
“I’m sorry.” You say again, staring at the girl in front of you.
For a moment, looking at her, you see yourself, and you wonder how a parent can wake up one day and choose to ignore someone that’s one half of themselves. Someone they made. If they really understood what that might do to a person’s psyche, growing up thinking that they weren’t wanted. You had always told yourself that your mother, your parents must have not understood, because if they did, and they still chose to do it…
“Are you married?” Sarah asks, and you’re snapped out of your train of thought.
Taking a bite of pizza, you shake your head no.
“So you live here alone?”
You nod, chewing.
“Do you like it?”
You nod, swallow. “It’s better than having a roommate, or living in the city.”
Standing up, you walk towards the fridge for a can of sparkling water. It hisses while you open it, and you lean over the counter while Sarah continues to drill you. “Do you ever get….scared? Like at night?”
“No….not really. I have locks. And this is a safe neighborhood. And uh, I may or may not have a nightlight still.”
Sarah giggles. “Me too.”
There’s a sturdy knock on your screen door, which you’d left open to let in the cool spring breeze, and you notice Sarah’s eyes widen. “I bet that’s my dad.”
As if he heard her, and maybe he did, the guest calls out. “It’s Joel!” It’s the same voice from over the phone, but much clearer.
“Come in,” you answer.
The screen door creaks open, the sound of boots shuffling inside. “Sarah?” It’s the same voice from the phone. Joel steps into the warm light of the kitchen.
When you first met it had been from a distance, you were carrying boxes and he was loading something into the back of his truck. It’s clear you hadn’t gotten a good enough look at him, wouldn’t have forgotten his name, because fuck, he’s kind of gorgeous…tan skin, dark wavy hair, and a sharp jawline covered in stubble. In the archway to your kitchen he looks huge, taller than you remembered.
“Hi Dad,” Sarah says. “Miss-“
You cut her off simply by saying your first name. “Nice to meet you…again.”
“It’s nice to meet you, too, and thank you so much for keeping an eye on her. We’ll get out of your ha-”
“We got you pizza,” Sarah pipes up, looking at him. You can tell that she’s trying to stall. Or at least, trying to offer him something that might soften the inevitable lecture she’s going to get. It’s a smart play, and definitely not something you would’ve been above trying at her age.
Joel looks at the three pizza boxes spread across your countertop. “You didn’t have to feed her, really, like I said, she should’ve known better,” he turns to look at her pointedly.
“I had to eat anyway. Please, help yourself. There’s a ton of leftovers,” You really did not want cold pizza in your fridge, because it’d be too tempting to eat as a late night snack or even breakfast on your way out the door in the mornings.
Reluctantly, he looks at you before taking a plate. “Thank you,” he turns to his daughter while he opens one of the boxes. “Did you get your homework done?”
Sarah nods. “And I got ahead on my reading for English.”
“That’s good.”
Joel turns back to you, settles in a chair with the plate of food in front of him at the island. You do the same. “I’m sorry I haven’t had the time to come over and properly introduce myself. Sarah too.”
You shrug. “I’m the new neighbor, that’s probably my responsibility anyways. It’s been kind of hectic settling in.”
“Where’d you move from?”
“Well, I’ve been in Austin for the past few years, but originally I’m from Manhattan.”
Joel nods. “Why Texas?”
It’s far away from my insane family, you think, and then settle on something else. “Work.”
Sarah is staring at her plate and tearing a piece of crust into tiny pieces. Joel eyes the slice of pizza he’s just taken a bite of.
“Pineapple?” he looks over at Sarah. “Are you tryin’ to bribe me so you don’t get in trouble?”
“It’s my favorite, too,” you offer, then wink at Sarah when Joel isn’t looking. She tilts her head down, her hair hiding the grin on her face from her father.
A buzzing sound cuts through the room before Joel can answer, and he digs in his pocket to fish out his cell phone. “Hold on, I gotta take this.”
When he steps out of the room, you begin to clear the empty boxes and plates off your kitchen island and bring them over to the sink. Sarah brings her plate over as well, stands next to you at the sink while you rinse them off and load them in the dishwasher.
“Thank you for dinner,” she says.
“Of course,” you answer.
“I just really hope he’s not disappointed with me.”
Placing your hand between her shoulder blades, you give her an encouraging pat. “I don’t think he is….” you hear Joel on the phone in the other room, his voice rising in volume. “....and honestly….it sounds like he might have bigger fish to fry…”
“Tommy…are you fucking kidding me? Again? How many times is this gonna happen? Okay…fine. fine. I’ll be there soon, but you can’t keep doing this shit.”
Sarah grimaces, and you both turn back to the sink sheepishly when you hear Joel’s footsteps returning. She bumps you with her elbow while you clear your throat.
You’re sure there’s still a residual smile on your face when you turn around to face Joel, who has his hands on his hips. “Alright, Sarah, we gotta get going.”
“Is everything okay with Uncle Tommy?”
“No, I’ve gotta pick him up at the police station.”
“Did he drink too much again?”
“Sarah!” Joel exclaims. “Please, it’s gettin’ late and you’ve got a soccer game tomorrow, you need to get to bed.”
You’re biting your lower lip so hard to keep from laughing you almost taste blood. It’s not funny, definitely not funny to Joel, who you can tell is having a rough night, but it’s objectively funny as an outsider, watching all their familial drama being put on blast by his daughter who doesn’t quite have a filter yet, and is first and foremost trying to protect herself from getting into trouble.
“She’s a lawyer, I bet she could help Tommy,” Sarah looks over at you. “Couldn’t you?”
Joel frowns. “That’s not how that works-”
“What’d they bring him in for?” you ask.
Joel runs a hand through his hair. “Public intoxication. Are you really a lawyer?”
“Well…I’m a corporate lawyer so that wouldn’t really be my specialty. But uh…I’ve definitely been able to talk my friends out of that kind of thing before.”
“But this is not the first time,” Joel says. “It’s probably useless.”
“Didn’t you say you can’t afford to keep-”
“Sarah, enough.” Joel’s voice is as stern as you’ve heard it, and he digs into his pocket, producing a keychain. “Go home and get ready for bed. I’ll be home in a minute.”
Sarah sighs, defeated. “Okay.”
Joel stands dead still while she shuffles to the door, cramming her feet in her shoes with her backpack slung over her shoulder.
By this point in the evening, you’d usually be curled up on your couch by the fireplace with your latest knitting project, moderately stoned, watching bad reality television and sipping sleepytime herbal tea. But your night has already gone drastically different from your expectation. Why stop now? “If you wanted…I could try to help.”
Joel shakes his head, looks at the floor. “I can’t ask that of you.”
“You didn’t ask,” you shrug. “I offered.”
He looks up, a soft smile breaks across his face, revealing a row of straight, sparkling teeth, the corners of his eyes crinkling. It’s the first sincere smile you’ve ever seen from him, and your knees feel a little weak at the sight of it. You think you might offer him anything just to see it again. “It’d be a huge favor. But….I’d appreciate it.”
“Alright well…” you look around, push yourself off the countertop. “I probably should change before we go. I don’t think I’ll be taken seriously in this.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, I need to make sure Sarah gets to bed alright, how ‘bout you meet me on my porch in ten?”
“I’ll be there.”
“Thanks again,” he raps his knuckles on the counter twice before retreating, and you stay in place until you hear the screen door close behind him.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
“I feel like you’re meeting us all at a very chaotic time….I promise, things aren’t usually like this.”
Joel’s not sure why he feels the need to clarify this to you on the drive to the police station. In fact, he might be saying it more to convince himself, because he thinks ever since Sarah’s mom ran off, things have never not been chaotic.
In some ways, he’s glad it happened. It was a doomed relationship from the start, they’d both been far too young to understand the consequences of their actions, so it was probably for the better that she was no longer around. But he was caught in a constant state of feeling like he could never quite get a handle on things.
Joel glances over at you in the passenger's seat of his truck. He decides that you look a little out of place there, dressed in a black pantsuit, a messenger bag tucked between your heel-clad feet. He can’t remember the last time there was an adult woman in his car. Three months, maybe? It had been a date, a third date, and subsequently, a last date. But right now the context is different.
Your head is tilted towards the open window, the breeze casting stray pieces of your hair around as the radio cuts in and out of an old Eagles song and then to static, and then back into music again. He needs to get his damned stereo fixed but unfortunately it hasn’t exactly been high on his priority list. His gaze travels down the slope of your neck, where your skin dips into the collar of your silky blue blouse, then back to your profile, your lips moving as you mouth the words to the song, but don’t sing.
I get this feelin' I may know you
As a lover and a friend
You stop when his words register, turning to look at him, and he averts his eyes back to the road. “No offense or anything….” you say. “But compared to the family I grew up in….this is all pretty tame.”
Joel ponders that for a moment, notices the way your eyes are narrowed, the corners of your lips quirking. “What, you got a problematic little brother, too? A precocious eleven-year-old?”
“No kids,” you answer. He didn’t think so. “But I do have a problematic older brother. And the stress he’s caused has definitely taken years off my life.”
At least you seem like you understand.
He’s shocked you’re in this car with him, that after entertaining his daughter all night, you’d offered to help him out with this Tommy mess. Though, he assumes you’re doing it out of guilt because Sarah made it sound like he was broke.
“You know for the record, I actually have the money to bail him out.”
“I figured.”
“Then why’d you come?”
You shrug. “I don’t know. My life has been pretty boring lately. I can’t remember the last time I did something exciting on a Friday night.”
“This is exciting to you?”
“It’s objectively exciting,” you sound assured. “Maybe more exciting than being the person who got arrested for public intoxication.”
Despite the stress of the evening, he can’t help but laugh.
“And whether you’re broke or not, bailing someone out of jail is no joke. If you can at least try to talk your way out of it, you might as well.”
Joel can’t argue with your logic.
“What is it you do again?” you ask, eyeing the protective glasses he has in the cup holder of his front seat. There are nails stuck between the rubber grooves of the mat beneath the seats, a pair of thick gloves resting on the dashboard.
“I’m a carpenter.”
“Makes sense,” you answer. “So you’re handy?”
“You could say that,” Joel lifts the can of flat, warm seltzer from his lunch break to his mouth, just to take a sip.
“That’s hot,” you say, and he nearly chokes when he hears it. Are you….flirting? Though, you can’t be, because when he looks over at you, you’re staring at the road, face neutral.
“What makes you say that?”
“I don’t know, I don’t make the rules of what’s hot and what isn’t….it’s just a fact. Everyone knows that.”
“Do they?”
“Uh-huh,” you respond. “I mean, I wish I was handy. I’m pretty much a lost cause in that department.”
“If it paid the bills, you’d figure it out.”
“If it paid the bills, I can tell you, I would not be living in our neighborhood.”
Joel puts his blinker on, preparing to pull into the police station. “You probably still could, it’s not that nice of a neighborhood.”
“Shut up,” you snort, rolling your eyes. “But in all seriousness, it is peaceful. It’s quiet.”
“See, but you still didn’t say nice.”
“It is nice. I like it.”
When he parks the car, you straighten up, unbuckling the seatbelt and exiting without a word. On the opposite side of the truck, he observes how you rebutton the front of your blazer, smooth down its lapels and shift your shoulders back before turning to him.
“You ready?” you ask.
He nods.
“After you.”
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
When Joel spots you again, Tommy is walking a few paces behind you. You turn your head over one shoulder, smirking at whatever he’s saying. From where Joel is sitting in the lobby, he can just make out the soft curve of your hips, the tops of your thighs over the barrier that separates him from all the desks of the officers and staff at the station. You’ve got an easy, relaxed gait and you give Joel a wink when he catches you staring.
He can tell it’s just meant to be celebratory thing, since both you and Tommy seem to be in good spirits, but he likes the sight of it anyways, the idea that you’re both in on some secret that no one else is.
Joel stands to greet you and his brother to get the download, but as he approaches, your group is intercepted by one of the cops that had been hanging around reception.
“Miller,” he says lowly to Tommy. “This better be the last time I see you in here.”
When Tommy doesn’t answer right away, you pipe up.
“I assure you my client will be on his best behavior.”
The cop turns to you for a minute, turns back to Tommy, contemplating. “You’re lucky you have a good lawyer…” he says. “Although I’m still not convinced you’re really paying someone to get you out of a public intoxication charge.”
“I-” Tommy opens his mouth but you cut him off.
“Alleged…intoxication,” you interject, stone-faced.
“He can hardly walk straight.”
You purse your lips. “But….you never did a sobriety test, so, would it hold up in court?” you grimace. “If I had to guess….probably not.”
The cop narrows his eyes at you. “Don’t push it, princess.”
Despite the infantilizing nickname, You respond with a polite smile. “Thanks again, officer. Have a nice evening.”
“Mhm,” he murmurs before backing away.
You turn to Joel, your smile fading, and Tommy cuts in. “We should get the fuck out of here before he changes his mind.”
“That’s it? You’re free?” Joel asks.
Tommy nods.
“Tommy’s right, we should definitely leave.”
It’s a mad scramble, the three of you settling back into Joel’s truck, and if he was feeling a little less angsty about the way the whole evening had gone, he might’ve even peeled out of the parking lot for dramatic effect. But at this point, his patience is wearing thin.
He’s back on the main drag, en route to Tommy’s place, with you on the passenger’s side, and his brother in the back, leaning forward with his elbows resting on your seats when his brother speaks up.
“Holy….shit!” Tommy turns to you. “That was fucking awesome, are you kidding me? Joel, where the fuck did you find her?”
He’s still drunk, words slurring together, and he shakes both of your shoulders ferociously. You actually giggle — the sound of it is fucking adorable and Joel wishes that these are not the circumstances for hearing such a noise. He rather it be because of something he said, but he knows Tommy has always been more charming, even when drunk
“She’s my neighbor, Tommy.”
“No way! How come I’ve never seen you around before?” Tommy asks, and Joel can’t stop himself from rolling his eyes.
“I’m kind of new to the area,” you answer.
“Dammit, oh my god, Joel, I wish you coulda seen it.”
Joel looks over at you, and is thankful that he catches your eye. “What’d you say?”
“Never underestimate your negotiating power when the cop you’re talking to’s shift ended over an hour ago, and he doesn’t want to fill out any more paperwork.” You cross your arms, look over your shoulder at Tommy, who is leaning back against the seat with his head in his hands, laughing, before looking back at Joel. “I told you, I have experience.”
“Oh my god,” Tommy pokes his head back between you. “How’d he even get you to come down here? What’d he have to do, offer to paint your house or somethin’?”
“It’s a long story.”
“Sarah got locked out again,” Joel explained. “And I was over at her place when you called. She’s a corporate lawyer.”
“Ah, that makes sense. You know, Joel’s always liked the smart ones,” Tommy starts, and Joel has to contain the urge to slam on the brakes and send his brother face first into the back of his headrest. Unfortunately, he can’t do that with you in the car. “Too bad he’s dumb as a box of rocks.”
“Okay, watch yourself!” Joel snaps, and he’s only halfway kidding. “You got off easy, but you’re on fuckin’ thin ice, and I’m still pissed that I’m spending my night bailing you out again.”
Tommy doesn’t even catch on to Joel’s irritation – or maybe he does, and has just decided that he’s going to be the Annoying Younger Sibling and see how far he can push it. “Don’t let him fool you, okay?” Tommy continues, and you’ve angled yourself towards him, amused. “It’s not always him lookin’ after me. Before he had Sarah, he was crazy.”
“Alright, alright that’s enough, Tommy.” Joel shoots daggers towards his brother in the rearview mirror, and he watches Tommy’s smile falter, finally deciding to back down.
“Is that true, Joel, were you really crazy?” you ask after Tommy grows quiet, tilting your head. “I can’t see it.”
“Well we’ve all have our moments, right?” he says sheepishly.
“We do,” you agree, and then it’s finally silent.
Joel is thankful to see Tommy’s driveway straight in front of him, and his car lurches up the curb. “Alright, alright, this is your last stop,” he says to his brother. “You’ll get in okay?”
Tommy takes a deep breath, settling himself after all his bravado and sinking back against his seat. “I’ll be fine. I’ll see you tomorrow morning at Sarah’s game.” He slinks out of the truck and slams the door behind him.
Normally, Joel would’ve chewed him out after something like this, but he knows being hungover tomorrow at a middle school soccer game, sandwiched between screaming parents and the ear-splitting whistles of the referees will be punishment enough.
“I’ll see you then.” He watches his brother stumble up the steps to his home, unlock the door, and give a wave before disappearing inside.
Joel’s left alone with you. “Should we get you home, now?”
“Yeah, we should.”
Joel puts the car in reverse, puts one of his arms over the back of the bench seat to look for cars behind him, and catches you staring. You don’t even seem embarrassed that he notices, either, you just shift your gaze away to outside the window.
He feels a little self-conscious about the first impression he’s probably made, which is a feeling he’s not used to…caring about what people think.
“Sorry about him, he’s….a good guy but a real piece of work.”
You giggle. “Like I said, I have a brother, too.”
It’s been awhile since he’s interacted with anyone outside of Sarah, Tommy, and his coworkers, and his day was exhausting. He wants to ask more questions, see if he can hold some kind of conversation, but words fail him, so you spend the short drive on the way back home mostly in silence. You’re so quiet that by the time he pulls into your driveway, he thinks you might be asleep. If you were, he doesn’t even get the chance to wake you, because you immediately sit up straight once the truck has come to a halt.
“Thanks for everything tonight,” he says.
“You’re welcome, it was no problem,” you get out of the car, sling your bag over your shoulders, and close the door. “Have a good night.”
Joel’s listening to the retreating click of your heels up the driveway when he rolls down his window all the way to speak again. It’s clear you’re tired, your shoulders are slouched, and he feels incredibly guilty. You worked all day and then had to put up with his entire crazy family.
“Hey,” he says. “How much do I owe you for the pizza?”
You turn around, still stepping backwards. “Nothing.”
“Look, you’ve done too much for me tonight to say that,” he says. “I’m startin’ to feel bad.”
You stop in your tracks then, the smirk on your face fading a little bit as you slowly step forward to where he leans out the truck window. It’s only a few feet, but you’re much closer now than you’ve been to him all night, and there must be jasmine in your perfume. It smells expensive, he thinks, as your hands lift to rest on the door next to his elbow. “You shouldn’t feel bad,” you say softly, voice low.
God, you’re fucking beautiful, he realizes, basked in the glow of the moon, a smile creeping along the edges of your lips. Of course, he knew you were attractive, had definitely registered it at some point before – maybe when he’d walked in on you and Sarah giggling in the kitchen. He was just too busy being worried to even notice until now.
This isn’t a date, but you’re so close he could kiss you, kind of wants to just to see what would happen, but he doesn’t. You’re his new neighbor, and if he’s reading this wrong, he doesn’t want to be reminded of the mistake everyday, first thing in the morning when you’re picking up your newspaper at the end of your driveway and he’s leaving for work.
“But uh…if it would make you feel better…one of the steps on my front porch is rotted. Maybe you could come over sometime and fix it? That a fair trade?”
Joel nods, and you stick out your hand. “It’s a deal,” he says, ignoring the jolt of energy he feels when your palms press together, like you’re a kid wearing a hand buzzer, trying to shock him.
“Great,” you step away. He’s about to put the car in reverse when you speak again.
“Oh, and Joel?” you ask, he looks back at you. Before you speak again, your eyes shift to the ground, like you’re mustering up the courage to ask him something, and when they return to his again, your expression is somber. “Go easy on Sarah….she’s a good kid.”
Joel nods, understanding.
“I know.”
-
volume ii
taglist: @yaskna @venomous-ko @lomljigg
2K notes
·
View notes