#{ am I more than what you bargained for yet? || mentions }

[srsly-sirius]

{ tag dump }

[punkshort]

i'll be home for christmas | part two

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Having just caught your fiancé cheating on you, you decide to come back home from the big city to Austin for the month of December to try to figure out your next step. You had no idea you would be getting more than you bargained for with the handsome single dad who built your parents' house.

Chapter Warnings: no outbreak, modern day but Joel is 40, language, fluff, very soft!joel, flirting, kissing, hallmark movie tropes up the wazoo, mentions of infidelity, mentions of divorce, reader's sister is pregnant, hurt/comfort, explicit smut (18+MDNI), (somewhat) unproteced piv sex, angst (but you know there will be a happy ending, this is Hallmark, after all)

WC: 12K

A/N: I am so overwhelmed at the response I received for part one. No contest, it's my most successful story to date, and I can't thank you all enough ❤️ I really hope you enjoy this part just as much. Please read the warnings, this has some (very sweet and soft) smut at the end, so if it isn't your thing, feel free to skip it.

Series Masterlist

Joel sat in his truck, the engine long cooled down by now, as he stared blankly at his garage door, waiting for the stupid grin to leave his face before he went inside to face his brother. But he had been sitting there for almost twenty minutes, and he was still smiling behind the back of his hand.

That date with you was perfect. Well, he could have done without getting knocked on his ass by some kid, but it worked out for him in the end, so he didn't mind.

Goddamn, did you make him feel good. There was no way he would be able to sleep that night, he was sure of it. Not after the way you looked at him, touched him, kissed him. A big part of him wondered for a long time if he would spend the rest of his life alone, believing that lightning doesn't strike twice, that he would never find anyone who would look at him and want him the way you did.

He ignored the nagging voice in the back of his head that reminded him you didn't live there, that you would be going back to New York in a couple short weeks. He couldn't let that bring him down just yet, that was a problem for another day. Right now, his only problem was resisting the urge to drive back to your house and scoop you up in his arms so he could make you feel as good as he felt.

It was close to midnight, so he caved and went inside, hoping his brother would be too groggy to interrogate him. When he walked in and saw Tommy and Sarah lounging on the couch, wide awake and watching some action flick, his face fell.

"Hey, it is way past your bedtime, the hell are you doin'?" Joel scolded, sliding off his boots.

"Dad, c'mon, it's the weekend," Sarah whined.

"Don't care, you know the rules," he told her, trying to sound firm, but he had such a soft spot for her that he never succeeded in sounding threatening.

"But it's a special occasion, I wanted to hear how your date went," she grinned, sitting up and wiggling her eyebrows. Joel's jaw dropped and shot a glare at his brother while stretching his arms out at his side in disbelief.

"Oh, come on, she practically dragged it outta me," Tommy smirked.

"Unbelievable," Joel muttered, collapsing on the end of the couch and rubbing his eyes.

"So?" Sarah pushed, tucking her legs underneath her excitedly.

"I ain't talkin' about this with you," he said, biting his cheek as he stared at the TV.

"Why not?" she pouted, but Joel just shook his head.

"Go brush your teeth," he said.

"Fine," she replied, rolling her eyes as she made her way to the stairs. "But I'll get it out of you one day."

She stomped upstairs and it wasn't until Joel heard the water running that he turned to his brother.

"What the hell, Tommy? You know I didn't want her knowin' about that," he said, exasperated.

"Oh, relax," Tommy said, stretching his arms above his head. "She's sixteen, Joel. She's smart. She figured it out herself, I just confirmed it after gettin' the third degree."

Joel sighed and tipped his head back onto the sofa, closing his eyes.

"Christ," he muttered.

"What's the big deal?"

Joel sat up and opened his eyes.

"Big deal is, she lives in New York. There's no future there, we were just hangin' out, and I don't need Sarah gettin' her hopes up," Joel explained, trying to downplay his feelings, but his chest squeezed at the thought of you leaving one day.

"Ever hear of long distance?" Tommy asked, raising an eyebrow.

"That never works," Joel replied, shaking his head.

"Well, maybe you should make it work," he said, sitting up and muting the TV. "You know, Sarah just wants you to be happy, Joel. We both do," Tommy said somberly. "Told me tonight she's worried about you bein' all alone when she goes off to college."

"I'll be alright," he said gruffly, although the same thought was plaguing his mind recently, as well.

Tommy stared at his brother a moment as Joel watched the TV, pretending to follow the story even though there was no audio. He decided to drop it for now and changed the subject.

"So, you gonna tell me how it went or what?"

Joel bit his lower lip, trying to keep himself from smiling, but he failed. Tommy noticed right away and grinned, leaning forward to tap his knee.

"I know that look," he said, still grinning.

"Yeah, alright," Joel finally said with a smile. "It was great. Really fuckin' great."

"Hell yeah!" Tommy yelled, and Joel immediately shushed him, pointing upstairs.

"She's funny and she's sweet, we had a real nice time," Joel said, his grin permanently etched on his face now.

"I figured it went well since you got home so late," Tommy replied with a wink.

"I ain't gonna sleep with her on the first date," he whispered, just in case Sarah was listening. He settled back into the couch as Tommy turned the TV volume back on, letting the movie play for a minute before adding, "She's a good kisser, though."

"Oh, I can't wait to meet this girl," Tommy chuckled with a shake of his head. "Haven't seen you smile this much in years."

"Yeah, well," Joel replied noncommittally, still smiling like an idiot and staring at the TV. He decided to stay downstairs that night, finishing the movie and then starting another one on the couch long after Tommy left, unable to quiet down his mind long enough to fall asleep until nearly three in the morning.

You woke up the next day, stretching your arms above your head with a big yawn, not ready to get out of bed yet but the voices downstairs told you it must have been late. With a groan, you reached over and snatched your phone off the charger. When you saw you had a text waiting for you, your heart skipped a beat until you read Sydney's name and not Joel's. Your eyes flicked to the top of the screen, noting it was close to ten in the morning, before sliding open the text.

Sydney: sorry forgot to reply yesterday. I saw will at black & blue, he was hammered and falling all over the place

You scowled, not interested in whatever your ex was up to, so you replied with just the thumbs up emoji and set your phone back down.

Staring at the ceiling, you dreamily thought about your date with Joel. God, he really took you by surprise. You were proud of yourself for taking that first big step forward and putting yourself out there again, but you had no idea it would feel like this. You weren't even sure you ever felt like this with Will. Even when things were good, Will never treated you the way Joel did last night. He was so earnest and respectful, opening doors for you and actually listening to you talk about work. And he didn't even try to feel you up, either, although you probably wouldn't have minded. Maybe it was those Southern manners you were missing this whole time.

With a groan, you dropped your phone back on the nightstand and swung your legs over the edge of your bed, wrapping yourself in your robe, still not expecting it to be so cold in Texas. Even though it was December, it was unusual.

You made your way into the kitchen and made a beeline for the coffee, tossing a wave in the direction of your parents sitting with your sister and brother in law in the living room.

"She lives!" Cassie exclaimed with a smug look on her face. You held your mug up to your lips and blew on the liquid, frowning when the whole family was looking at you with matching, goofy smirks.

"Why are you all looking at me like that?"

"Like what?" your mom asked innocently. You squinted at her as you sat down, not buying it.

"How was your date?" your sister asked. You took a sip of coffee before replying.

"Good," you said simply, nodding your head. Your mom and dad exchanged a look and you frowned again, getting annoyed.

"What?" you asked loudly.

"Nothing!" your dad said, looking back down at his newspaper. Who even still gets the newspaper delivered anymore, anyway?

"Josh, what's going on?" you asked your sister's husband, knowing he was the weakest link. He glanced nervously between you and Cassie.

"They saw you and Joel on the Ring camera," he blurted out, and your family all groaned in unison. Your face flushed beet red, gawking at them all in disbelief.

"Are you kidding me?" you screeched.

"We didn't mean to, Bucky. Dad was reviewing the footage because he couldn't find the newspaper this morning and, well..." your mom trailed off, trying to hide her smile.

"Oh my god," you whined, tucking your legs to your chest and hiding your face.

"Looked like the date was a little more than good," Cassie teased, and you smacked her on the leg.

"I can't believe this," you mumbled to yourself, hiding your face behind your coffee mug and praying someone would change the subject. "How much did you see?"

"Just from when he pulled in the driveway til when you went inside," your mom said with a shrug.

"That's, like, everything, Mom! Oh my god!" Your face was hot with embarrassment now.

"He looks like a good kisser, is he a good kisser?" Cassie asked.

"Shut up!" you whined, covering your face with your free hand.

"There's nothin' to be embarrassed about, he was a gentleman. Held the door open for you and everythin'," your dad murmured, and you groaned.

"Can we talk about literally anything else, please?" you begged.

"Of course!" your mom said, her eyes flicking around the room, waiting for someone to say something, but nobody spoke.

"I'm sorry, Buck, but you gotta see the the smile on his face after you went inside, it was so cute," Cassie said, pulling out her phone.

"I'm going upstairs!" you announced, jumping up from the couch.

"Wait! Are you still coming by later to help paint the nursery?"

"I don't know, are there any cameras there?" you shouted over your shoulder as your climbed the stairs with your coffee to hide in the sanctity of the guest bedroom.

"Well, no. Only because I haven't set the baby monitor up yet," Cassie called back and giggled when she heard you slam your door.

Grumbling to yourself, you flopped back into bed and picked up your phone, looking for a distraction from your embarrassment. You quickly found one when you saw you had a missed text from Joel.

Joel Miller: Question for you - when is the earliest you should text someone without looking too pathetic after you've had the best date of your life?

You grinned as you typed out a response.

You: answer - whatever time you sent this text :)

Joel Miller: Oh, good. Thought I scared you off, sent that about ten minutes ago.

You: sorry, I was downstairs talking to my family, forgot to bring my phone. And I don't think you could ever scare me off

You almost told him about the doorbell camera fiasco, but decided against it. Picking up your mug, you tried not to stare too hard at your phone as you waited for a reply.

Joel Miller: What are you doing later?

Your heart skipped a beat at the thought of seeing him again so soon, then quickly stopped yourself, remembering your promise to your sister.

You: I told my sister I would help paint the nursery...

Joel Miller: That's a shame. I was hoping you could teach me something again.

You: oh? lol

Joel Miller: I just realized how that sounded - I meant wrapping Christmas presents for Sarah. I'm awful at it and I have another hunch gift wrapping is a secret talent of yours.

You giggled and rolled over in bed, your embarrassment long forgotten now.

You: you might be right... how about tomorrow?

Joel took the porch steps two at a time, eager to see you again and it hadn't even been a full two days. His finger barely pressed the doorbell when he heard your voice call out I got it! and the door swung open. You smiled up at him, your eyes lighting up before dropping your gaze to his mouth.

"Hi," you said breathlessly.

"Hey," he replied, swallowing roughly.

"Have a nice time, Bucky!" your mom's voice rang out somewhere behind you as you shut the door quickly. Joel grinned, his gaze drifting from your eyes to your mouth before leaning in. You put your hand on his chest and tilted your head back before grabbing his hand and leading him to his truck. Confused, he followed behind and tried not to stare too long at the way your jeans perfectly hugged your ass.

You led him to the passenger side of the truck, but when he reached out to open the door, you snaked your hand up to wrap around the back of his neck, pulling his face down for a searing kiss only when you were sure you were hidden from view.

"Would I sound crazy if I said I missed you?" you whispered.

"No," Joel replied, shaking his head and trying to calm his pounding heart. "Couldn't stop thinkin' 'bout you."

"Me, too," you admitted softly, gazing up at him with your beautiful eyes all wide and burning with desire.

He cradled your face in his calloused hand, the other flattened firmly against the truck door behind you as he stared into your eyes, fighting the urge to pick you up and wrap your legs around his waist so he could pin you against his truck and let you feel just how badly he missed you.

Then, you heard your dad's SUV unlock and your eyes widened in panic.

"Shit," you muttered. "We should go. I think they're heading out."

"Alright, maybe I should say 'hi' real quick," he said, pushing himself off the truck and letting his hand drop from your face.

"No! That's okay, we'll be stuck here forever if you do," you said hurriedly. He gave you a curious smile but agreed before opening the door for you and hopping into the driver's seat.

He waited until he backed out of the driveway and was heading down your street before shooting you a sideways glance.

"Everythin' okay?"

You sighed and rubbed your palms over your face before clearing your throat.

"So, remember the other night on the porch, after you dropped me off?"

He smirked and nodded.

"Yeah, I think I remember," he teased.

"Well," you began. "My family saw us on the doorbell camera the next morning," you cringed.

He laughed, throwing his head back just a bit so he could still keep an eye on the road, and shook his head.

"Oh, I hate those fuckin' things," he said, but he was still laughing.

You grinned, your nerves and unease dissipating quickly.

"You're not embarrassed?"

"Nah," he said with a shrug, then turned his head briefly to look at you. "I'm sure we put on a good show."

You giggled, your cheeks tinting pink, and turned your head to look out the window.

"Alright," he said after a minute. "I've waited long enough and I gotta ask."

You swiveled back towards him, waiting for him to continue.

"What's the story with the nickname?"

You groaned and squeezed your eyes shut.

"It's so unbelievably stupid," you said, but he shook his head.

"Well, now you gotta tell me."

"Fine," you said, rolling your eyes, but your playful smile gave you away.

"It's Buck, or Bucky. Short for Bucket," you began.

"Bucket?" he repeated, bewildered.

"I warned you it was stupid!" you protested, and he chuckled. "Anyway, when I was little, my sister and her friends had a sleepover one time, and I overheard them swearing."

"Okay," Joel said slowly, nodding along while he kept his eyes pinned to the road.

"I always looked up to my sister, I was like her shadow when I was younger. So, when I heard them swearing, I wanted to be like them, too, you know?"

"Yeah, I follow," he replied, still not sure how the story related to your nickname.

"Well, thing is, I misheard them. They were saying 'fuck it', but I heard 'bucket'," you explained. "So I went to school and, thinking I sounded cool, I would say 'bucket' to all my friends. We were little, they had no idea what I was talking about, so I explained to them it's a swear word. Before I knew it, I had the whole class saying 'bucket' any time someone dropped something, or got a bad grade on a test, or whatever."

Joel howled with laughter, gripping the steering wheel for dear life as he tried to make it safely into his driveway.

"The principal called my parents and told them what was happening," you continued, joining in and giggling. "They got me home, and-" you doubled over, clutching your stomach as Joel put the truck in park and slumped over the steering wheel, his body shaking as he laughed.

"And I had to tell them the whole story, about why I kept saying it and-" you wiped the tears from your eyes as you took a deep breath. "And - oh my god - my sister got grounded for two weeks-" Another fit of laughter washed over Joel, tears streaming down his face.

"Wait, wait," he gasped, unbuckling his seatbelt so he could turn to face you. "You got in trouble in school, and your sister ended up gettin' punished?"

"Yes!" you squeaked, still giggling.

"Oh, shit," he breathed, panting as he leaned the back of his head against the seat rest. "Can't believe you thought that was stupid. That's gotta be the funniest thing I heard in a long while."

"Well, I'm glad I could brighten your day," you said, still grinning.

He rolled his head back towards you, his soft gaze drifting up and down your frame quickly before stopping on your eyes.

"You really do, y'know," he said quietly, and you furrowed your brow, tilting your head in confusion.

"Brighten my day," he clarified.

You bit your lower lip and smiled, looking away as the flush began to return to your cheeks.

"Come on, charmer. Why don't we go teach you how to wrap presents?"

You never really gave much thought as to what Joel's house would look like, but once you saw it, it immediately felt like him. It was a smaller, two bedroom house. When you first walked in, you entered a living room with a leather couch and an oversized recliner. A big screen TV was front and center across from the couch, with a few framed pictures of Joel and Sarah mounted on the wall next to it.

"You want somethin' to drink?" Joel asked, making sure to slide the coat from your shoulders before shrugging off his own.

"Maybe just water," you said, following him into the kitchen. You gasped when you saw his cupboards and immediately rushed over to them while he pulled two bottles of water from the stainless steel fridge.

"Oh my god, Joel," you whispered, running your fingers gently over the designs. Each one looked different but somehow they all were cohesive. Some had small flowers or butterflies carved into the corners, while others had simple, yet intricate designs grooved into the wood.

"Had to practice somehow," he said, feeling his cheeks flush as he walked over to hand you your water.

"God, it's so beautiful," you said breathlessly, unable to look away from the dark, stained wood. Your fingers danced over some stars etched into one of doors, your eyes wide with awe, but he was focused entirely on you. He couldn't get enough of watching the delicate features on your face light up whenever you found something new that pleased you.

"How long does this take for you to do?" you asked, finally dragging your eyes away to look up at him. Your throat tightened when you noticed the heat behind his stare, your pulse fluttering in your neck.

"Depends," he murmured. "Some are faster than others, but I prefer to go slow and take my time. Anythin' worthwhile takes time. Gotta show it respect, gotta care for it."

His low and sultry tone made your face flush, forgetting for a moment you were talking about woodworking.

"Y-yeah," you stammered, clearing your throat. Suddenly, you were feeling short of breath. "That makes sense."

He gazed down at you for another moment, his eyes slowly raking over your face as if committing it to memory before speaking again. Your entire body felt hot, and you cursed yourself for wearing such a thick sweater.

"Ready to go upstairs?" he murmured, still staring at you in a way that made your spine tingle.

"Huh?" you whispered, completely entranced by his deep, brown eyes.

"The presents?" he reminded you with a small smirk.

"Oh, right," you said, finally blinking and looking away. You shakily opened your water bottle after he turned around to lead you to the stairs, your mouth suddenly extremely dry.

As you walked up the steps, you tried to get a look at the pictures that lined the wall, but it was difficult to do without tripping. You thought you had finally gotten your head on straight after that moment in the kitchen, but when you realized he was leading you to his bedroom, you felt the tremble return to your hands.

"Sorry, had to hide everythin' in my closet, she's too nosy," he said over his shoulder.

"No problem," you squeaked, trying not to stare at his neatly made bed. Your eyes briefly drifted over the end tables filled with personal effects. You thought you saw a chapstick, a cord for a phone charger, and a worn paperback book, but you didn't want him to catch you, so you looked away quickly.

He opened his closet and you were surprised to find his clothes packed away so neatly. For a bachelor, he kept a really clean house. He pulled out the bags of gifts from the shelf above his clothes, then the wrapping paper, which was leaning against the corner.

"D'you think we got enough room?" he asked, glancing around at the floor.

"Yeah, of course," you said, sitting down crossed legged on the carpet. You reached out for the wrapping paper and rolled it out in front of you as he sat down at your side, taking out her gifts one by one. You felt yourself involuntarily clench as you watched his large hands deftly lay out each item on the floor, his muscles twitching slightly under the tanned skin of his exposed forearms.

"I know what you're thinkin'," he said, and your eyes widened in surprise. "I spoil her, I know, but she's such a good kid, I can't help myself."

That was definitely not what you were thinking, but you chose to keep that to yourself.

"I think it's sweet," you told him. "You seem like a really good dad."

Now it was his turn to blush. He tried to turn his head away so you wouldn't see, murmuring his thanks as you each picked an item to start. After a quick tutorial, which included way too much tape and ripped paper, Joel finally seemed to get the technique down. It only took until about halfway through the pile for you to muster up the courage to bring up a topic you couldn't help but be curious about.

"So," you began, hoping you came off nonchalant. "Is Sarah with her mom this Christmas, or..."

Joel's fingers fumbled for a moment with the wrapping paper, but he quickly recovered.

"Uh, no," he replied, keeping his eyes cast down on the shoe box in front of him. "She's not in Sarah's life anymore."

"Oh," you said, unable to keep the surprise from your voice, but you didn't push him any further. Your mind was scrambling, trying to think of something else to talk about, when he sighed and leaned back, abandoning the gift.

"I'm sorry, this is all so new to me, I probably should've told you about her sooner," he said, feeling guilty, but you quickly shook your head.

"No, you don't have to-"

"I want to," he said, cutting you off. You clamped your mouth shut and turned your body so you could give him your full attention, leaving the hair dryer you were wrapping on the floor next to you.

He drew a shaky breath in and looked up at the ceiling before speaking.

"There's not much to say, really. I'm still not always sure what happened," he began. You nodded, staying quiet and letting him take his time. "We were together since high school, ended up stayin' together after graduation. Sarah was a surprise, we were both still so young but we made it work. It was hard, but once me and Tommy got the business goin', it made things a bit easier."

Your fingers tangled together in your lap as you listened, refusing to say anything until he was done. His gaze drifted towards a fixed point on the wall as he continued.

"From what I gathered, she felt like havin' Sarah so young robbed her from doin' certain things in life," he said heavily. "Said she couldn't do it anymore. Didn't want her life to pass her by and be full of regret."

You bit your lip. The pain was clear as day on his face and it was making your chest ache.

"Well, anyway. I thought maybe she would go off for a couple months, do whatever it was she thought she was missin' out on. Parties, college... other men," he added the last part quietly, and you dropped your gaze to the floor. "Get it out of her system, y'know? But she just... never came back. Eventually, the calls came less and less, and I put two and two together. Didn't even get a courtesy call before I got served with the papers."

He rubbed his eyes, trying so hard not to look like a blubbering idiot in front of you. You reached your hand out and placed it gently on his knee, giving him a reassuring squeeze. He dropped his hand from his face to cover yours, staring at your coupled hands for a moment.

"Joel-"

"It was just so fuckin' hard on Sarah, y'know?" he said, his voice cracking. "I had no idea what to tell her. She cried almost every night, askin' me why her mom didn't love her anymore."

"Oh, Joel," you whispered, unable to hold back any longer. You closed the small gap between you, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling him into your chest, your fingers gently raking through his hair. "I'm so sorry," you told him, burying your nose in the hair on top of his head, breathing in the citrus scent from his shampoo.

He didn't say a word. He just tugged you closer and closed his eyes, leaning into your comforting touch with a deep sigh.

"I'm sorry," he finally managed to croak out. "I'm throwin' way too much at you, I know you didn't sign up for this."

"Shh," you whispered into his hair, then tilted his face up to look at you, his dark brown eyes glassy with unshed tears. "It's okay," you murmured, pressing a soft kiss against his lips. A solitary tear slipped down his cheek when he pulled back to look deep into your eyes.

"It's okay," you repeated, wiping away the tear with the pad of your thumb before placing another gentle kiss against his lips.

He hummed contently against your mouth, sliding his hand up to the back of your neck and pressing his lips more firmly against your own, scared to let you go because if he did, he was sure he would fall apart.

Your grip on his hair tightened as he leaned forward, one strong arm wrapped around your midsection and the other pressed against your back. You mumbled something against his mouth when he tried to lay you down and knocked over a small pile of DVDs.

"Fuck," he whispered and, oh god, the way he said it made your legs turn to jelly and your cheeks flare with heat.

Frustrated, he tightened his grip around you and lifted you up, refusing to break the kiss. A tiny, high pitched squeak slipped past your lips as you wrapped your legs around his hips, letting him carry you to his bed.

He laid you down carefully on top of his plush, navy striped comforter. You sighed into his mouth, your legs loosening around his waist and falling open while you dragged your hands out of his hair and down to his shoulders, wrapping your fingers around his biceps to keep him close. He hovered above you, balancing all his weight on his elbows while his fingers played with the ends of your impossibly soft hair.

He slipped his tongue easily past your lips with a low groan, the noise going straight to your core, making the ache between your legs almost painful while your tongue danced with his, the two already so familiar with each other.

You tipped your head back with a gasp, desperate for air, but he kept going, unable to stop himself. His lips brushed against your jaw before his teeth and prickly beard scraped against the sensitive skin behind your earlobe. You let out a needy whimper and arched your back at the sensation, pushing your breasts into his broad chest as goosebumps spread over your whole body.

"Oh god, Joel," you whined softly, squeezing your eyes shut.

"Yeah, baby?" he replied, his voice thick and muffled against your neck. Baby. Jesus, this man was unraveling you so fast, it was making your head spin.

"I-I know we said this was casual, but-" the words got trapped in your throat as you cut yourself off, unable to finish your thought.

"I know," he said, his voice strained. "Fuck, I know."

He lifted his head away from your neck as he stared down at you, patting your hair back and away from your face as he panted slightly for breath.

You looked up at him, eyes watering as you tried not to think about your time coming to an end in a couple short weeks. You could tell he was thinking the same but didn't want to say it, the pain behind his eyes was obvious.

He blinked a couple times, the clouds clearing as he forced himself to focus on the present. He had you here in his arms, in his bed, underneath him right now. And he was going to be damned if he didn't soak up every single second.

He leaned back down and locked his lips on yours again, this time moving slower, more gentle and tender. He wanted to treat you right. You deserved it, and he wasn't going to give you anything less than what you deserved while he still had you.

You loosened your grip on his arms and allowed your hands to drift to the buttons of his flannel, slowly and shakily undoing them. His heart began to slam against his chest when he realized what you were doing, his mind going fuzzy with desire.

He pulled his head back when you were about halfway down his shirt, looking down hazily at your fingers working open the buttons as he desperately tried to think straight.

"Dad?" Sarah called from downstairs, the front door slamming shut. "Are you here?"

"Shit," Joel mumbled, scrambling off of you as he clumsily tried to redo his buttons. You jumped off the bed, leaning over so you could see into the mirror above his dresser, raking your hands through your tangled hair and quickly fixing your sweater.

"Yeah!" Joel shouted back, glancing over at you to make sure you were decent. "Sorry," he whispered, but you just grinned. Then his eyes fell to the half wrapped presents on the floor.

"Wait! Don't come up-" he called out as he heard her skipping up the steps. Joel grabbed your arm and pulled you out of the room, closing the door behind you both just in time.

"What? Why?" Sarah asked, then froze when she saw you. She looked up at Joel, then back to you, and a slow smile spread across her face.

"Ohhh..." she said with her hands on her hips. "Now I see."

"N-no, it's not what it looks like, she was just helpin' me wrap some gifts," Joel stammered, jutting his thumb over his shoulder. You shifted your weight nervously as you looked back and forth between them.

"Then why are you missing a button on your shirt?"

You both glanced down at his flannel, and she was right. He missed fixing a button in all the chaos. Your face flushed beet red as you stared at the ground while Joel hurriedly fixed the button, cursing under his breath. When you dared to look back up at his daughter, she was smirking playfully at you. Joel cleared his throat.

"Sarah, this is-"

"Yeah, I know, I remember from the party. The pretty dress, right?" she asked, and you nodded.

"Yeah, that's right. Nice to see you again," you said awkwardly.

She nodded, still smirking and looking at you and Joel. You could tell she loved catching her dad in this uncomfortable situation.

"Oh, crap. I forgot. Uncle Tommy is waiting for you in the driveway, said he needed your help unloading some work stuff out from the back of his truck," Sarah said.

"Ah, dammit, alright. You okay for a couple minutes?" he asked you, eyebrows raised.

"Of course," you said. He nodded, walking down the hall past Sarah, muttering "be good" to her as he walked by.

You listened as Joel made his way down the stairs and out the front door, leaving you and Sarah in silence, still staring at one another.

"I'm sorry, we really were wrapping gifts," you assured her.

"It's okay," she said with a shrug. "Last year he used duct tape on my presents, I know he needs the help."

You giggled, causing her to laugh, as well.

"Do you play an instrument?" you asked, just noticing the case on the floor next to her feet.

"Yeah, violin. I had practice after school today," she said, picking it up.

"Oh, cool. I played piano growing up, but I was never any good," you said, sliding your hands in the back pockets of your jeans.

"I have my school's Christmas recital on Friday," she said. "My first solo."

"Oh my god!" you said, clapping your hands together, genuinely impressed. "That's incredible! You must be so excited!"

"Yeah, at first, but now I'm getting nervous," she said, glancing down at the case in her hand. "You wanna hear me play?"

"Duh. Absolutely," you said with a grin. Her eyes lit up and a huge smile spread across her face again.

"O-okay. This is my room right here," she said, turning to her right and opening the door. "Sorry it's messy, my dad's gonna kill me."

"It's totally fine," you said, walking in and sitting down at the edge of her bed. You glanced around the room as she set up her music stand. On the pink walls, she had posters up of her favorite bands with a calendar and string lights draped across the room.

"I really like your room," you said, squinting to look at the stickers and drawings she had on her headboard.

"Thanks," she said sheepishly. "My dad let me do whatever I wanted."

You were about to comment on the various trophies she had on her windowsill when Sarah spoke again.

"Just so you know, I don't mind that you're seeing my dad."

Your eyes shot up to hers in surprise, not sure what to say. You hadn't really had a chance to talk to Joel about your relationship and how that would affect his daughter.

"He's been in such a good mood this past week, and he won't tell me but I know it's because of you," she said, pinning you with a familiar brown gaze.

"Oh, that's so sweet, Sarah," you said, finally finding your voice. "Thank you. That means a lot."

"You're welcome," she said. "I just want him to be happy again."

You dropped your gaze to your lap, your chest tightening at the thought of Joel being so lonely all these years.

"Me, too," you whispered, still looking down. Sarah regarded you for a minute before slapping her palms against the tops of her thighs and leaned down to pick up her violin.

"You ready?" she asked. You looked up and nodded, giving her an encouraging smile and sat back to listen as she began playing a hauntingly beautiful version of 'Silent Night'.

Sarah got about halfway through the song when she hit the wrong note and abruptly stopped, dropping her chin to her chest in frustration.

"Hey, it's okay," Joel heard you say softly as he walked back up the stairs. He paused at the top, right outside Sarah's room to listen.

"It's okay to make mistakes. Just go slower, take your time. Anything worthwhile takes time," you told her, and he smiled when he heard his earlier words to you repeated back to his daughter. He took a step forward to lean against the doorframe and watch the two of you, your back to him as you sat on her bed.

"Okay," Sarah said, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes before lifting the violin to her chin and starting over.

Joel listened to Sarah play the same song he's heard a million times already in just the past month alone, but kept his eyes trained on you. The way you gave her your full, undivided attention and encouraged her with a smile or a thumbs up when she would glance over at you shyly made his chest ache.

When Sarah successfully finished the song with no mistakes, you jumped up from the bed, clapping and cheering for her, making Sarah giggle and hide behind her hands.

Fuck, this was going to be so hard.

"Dad?" Sarah asked the next morning over her bowl of cereal.

"Yeah, baby girl?" he replied, frowning as he pulled his bread from the toaster. He sucked his fingertips into his mouth, trying to bring some relief to the quickly reddening skin.

"Can your friend come to my recital tomorrow?"

Joel froze, his fingers still pressed against his tongue as he slowly turned around to look at her. He dropped his hand and took a deep breath.

"I don't know if that's such a good idea," he replied.

"You don't think she would wanna go?" Sarah asked, her eyebrows pinched together.

"No, it's not that, I'm sure she would," he said, trying to find the right words.

"Then what's the problem?"

Joel sighed and picked his mug up from the counter, then walked over to join her at the table.

"She doesn't live here, baby. She's goin' back to New York in another week or so, I don't want you gettin' too attached," he finally admitted, watching Sarah closely as she considered his words.

"Well, you guys like each other, right?" she asked, and Joel smirked.

"Yeah, but it ain't that simple."

"Yes, it is, Dad," she said, rolling her eyes and dipping her spoon back into her bowl. "My friend Katy was dating this guy last year and he switched schools over the summer. They're still together, it doesn't matter," Sarah said with a shrug, taking a bite of cereal.

If the topic didn't fill Joel with a sense of dread, he would have chuckled at the comparison, but instead he just sat there quietly, watching his daughter as she finished her cereal and scrolled on her phone.

Sarah pulled on her backpack and was sliding on her sneakers to catch the bus when she called back to Joel over her shoulder.

"Just ask her, okay? Please, Dad?"

Joel sighed, hanging his head between his shoulders and paused his hands over the dishes in the sink.

"Alright," he relented, and he heard Sarah clap her hands behind him before slamming the front door shut.

You: good morning :)

Joel Miller: Good Morning, sweetheart. I didn't think you would be up this early.

You: couldn't fall back asleep. What are you doing

Joel Miller: Just getting to work. Why couldn't you fall back asleep?

You thought about it for a minute from under the pile of blankets on your bed, rolling to your side before answering.

You: I was thinking about you...

Joel Miller: Good thoughts, I hope?

You: VERY ;)

His throat went dry when he opened the text. He glanced around outside his car window, making sure he was still the only one on the job site before replying.

Joel Miller: What are you trying to tell me, baby?

You smirked and bit down on your lip.

You: I was wishing you were in bed with me right now

"Shit," he muttered to himself, glancing around once again before adjusting his pants.

Joel Miller: Me too, what are you wearing?

The answer came back almost immediately.

You: nothing

He groaned and rubbed his palms roughly over his face.

Joel Miller: You're killing me, baby. I have to get working in a minute.

You: i'm sorry ;)

You: I promised my parents I would go to dinner with them tonight, but are you free tomorrow?

Joel took a deep breath, trying to clear the onslaught of inappropriate thoughts from his head when he remembered his promise to Sarah.

Joel Miller: It's Sarah's recital tomorrow night. She asked me to invite you this morning, did you want to go?

He nervously chewed his cheek for a moment before sending another text.

Joel Miller: No pressure, I can tell her you're busy.

He sent his second text right as your reply came through.

You: I would love to!

He grinned and raked his fingers through his hair. Tommy's knuckles tapped on the outside of Joel's window, making him jump. He held up a finger before sending you a quick answer.

Joel Miller: Sounds great. I'll pick you up. Try to go back to sleep. Dream of me.

Joel opened the door and slid his phone in his back pocket, a stupid grin etched across his face as he joined his brother in the half-built storefront they were working on.

"Oh man, you got it bad," Tommy said with a chuckle when he saw the look on Joel's face.

"Alright, what do you think of this one?" you asked Cassie as you stepped out of the bathroom modeling the sixth dress of the day.

"I liked the red one better," she said, glancing up from her phone.

"Are you sure? This one is a little more chic," you said, twisting around to look at your backside in the mirror.

"It's a high school recital, Buck. I don't think anyone is expecting 'chic'," she teased, and you rolled your eyes.

"Well, I just want to look nice, is all," you said, sitting next to her on your bed in a huff. You tapped your phone screen, frowning when all you had was another text from Sydney and nothing from Joel. You opened it up anyway, curiosity getting the best of you.

Sydney: OMG!!!!!!

You sent back three question marks and locked your phone with a sigh.

"You still wanna get together next week so we can look at apartments online for you?" she asked.

"Yeah," you said sadly, looking out the window.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," you told her. "Just not ready to go back yet."

"Could that be because of a certain sexy contractor?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

"Shut up," you smirked, tossing a pillow at her lightly.

"Ooo you like him! Lookit how red you're getting!"

"I'm gonna kill you when that baby's out, you know that, right?" you giggled.

"Yeah, yeah, sure," Cassie said, looking back down at her phone as the smile slowly faded from her face. "You know you don't have to go back, right?"

"What do you mean? My job is there, my life is there... everything is there," you replied. "Of course I have to go back."

"What life, though?" she asked, and you frowned at her. "Seriously, Buck. Aside from your job, which you hate, what's left?"

"Well, my friends are there. And I don't hate my job that much. I mean, everyone hates their job a little bit," you said with a shrug.

"Is this what you expected to do when you were in college? Is this what you wanted?" Cassie pressed, sitting up on the bed. "Are you even happy?"

You paused, letting her words roll around in your head for a moment.

"Well, I mean..." you trailed off, not sure how to answer her question.

"If you have to think about it this long, I think you know the answer," your sister said quietly. You groaned and rolled off the bed.

"I'm going back. I have to. I can't just give up because some guy broke my heart," you said, turning around so she could unzip the back of your dress.

"I'm just saying, think about it," Cassie replied. "I wouldn't hate it if my child's aunt was in their life more than twice a year!" she called after you as you shut the door to the bathroom.

Joel eagerly jogged up the porch steps and rang the doorbell, very aware of the camera this time while he fiddled with the cuffs on his dark red button down shirt. He heard high heels clicking on the other side of the door and the corners of his mouth turned up into a smile, which quickly vanished when you opened the door and he saw the dress you were wearing.

"Hi," you said with a shy smile, pulling a soft looking white cardigan on over your shoulders.

He thought he had greeted you. He could have sworn he said something, anything, that didn't make him look like a complete idiot, but apparently nothing came out because you scrunched your eyebrows together when you saw his face.

"Are you okay?" you asked, pulling the door shut behind you.

"Yeah, it's just - Jesus, you look so good," he managed to finally say, tilting his head back to stare up at the roof of the porch for a moment, taking a deep breath.

"Thank you," you said with a giggle. "You don't look half bad, yourself."

He rubbed his forehead, exasperated and flustered before pulling you quickly into his arms and latching his mouth onto yours with a groan.

"Joel," you pulled back breathlessly with a small smile and leaned your head to the side, trying to silently remind him of the doorbell. His eyes raked over you hungrily before shaking his head and pulling you back into a deep kiss.

Fuck the camera, let them see.

You giggled against his mouth, causing him to smile and break the kiss.

"Come on, I wanna get good seats," you said, rubbing your thumb over his lower lip to wipe off your lipstick that transferred. It caused his stomach to clench. That sweet, little intimate gesture made him ache for more so badly that he could hardly breathe.

He walked you around the front of his truck, opening the door and giving you a hand so you could hop onto the seat, the gorgeous red dress you were wearing hugging your curves just right and distracting him to no end.

On the walk around to the driver's side, he mentally scolded himself, reminding himself over and over that tonight was a big deal for his little girl and he needed to stay focused.

As he drove down the street, he realized that his hand instinctively found yours across the seat, his body craving the warmth and softness of your own. How on earth was he going to go back to the life he had before, now that he knows what it's like to bask in the heat of your touch?

Once he got to the school, he found a parking spot and jumped out of the truck. You had figured out by now that he preferred you to wait so he could open the car door for you, so you did. Swinging your legs over the side of the seat, you slid down into his waiting arms, your hands gently coming to rest on the tops of his shoulders. He gazed down at you with his arms loosely hanging around your waist. You saw his adam's apple bob in his throat while he let himself get lost in your warm, beautiful eyes. You lifted a finger from his shoulder, tracing an invisible line down the side of his cheek as you stared up at him with your plush lips parted so invitingly that it made his knees weak.

"Joel! Hey!" Tommy's voice called out from behind, snapping you both out of the moment. Joel sighed and untangled himself from you, taking your hand and leading you forward so he could shut the door before turning around to find his brother.

You could see the family resemblance immediately as Tommy approached you with a wide grin. His hair was a bit darker and a lot longer, and his beard was less full than Joel's, but he had the same soft, brown eyes that you had grown to know and love.

Love? Oh, no.

"Hey, Tommy," Joel said as he got closer, his hand pressed firmly on the small of your back. "This is-"

"Oh, I know who she is. How're you doin', darlin'?" Tommy asked, pulling you into a bear hug, taking you by surprise.

"I-I'm good," you squeaked shyly once he released you. "Nice to meet you."

"I've been dyin' to meet the little lady who's got my brother all wrapped up," he replied with a grin.

"Tommy!" Joel seethed warningly at your side, but you just giggled.

"I'm just messin' around. She knows that, right?" he said, shoving his hands in his coat pocket and rolling on the balls of his feet. "Supposed to snow next week, can you believe it?"

"Yeah, I heard we might get a couple feet," Joel said, steering you toward the doors to the auditorium. "Better get your shovel ready."

You settled in between the two brothers as you found a decent spot in the fourth row. Joel draped his arm around the back of your chair while he chatted with Tommy about work. You inadvertently leaned to the side and rested your shoulder against his chest as you glanced around the room, admiring the lit up garlands around the windows and Christmas trees on the stage with fake presents underneath.

When their conversation died down, Tommy pulled out his phone and began scrolling through social media, holding it low between his spread knees with his chin tucked into his chest.

Joel tilted his face forward to press his lips on the top of your head, breathing in a deep and contented breath. A small smile played across your lips as you turned your gaze up towards him, resting your cheek gently on his shoulder. He looked down at you with a smile and planted a chaste kiss on your forehead, and as each of you slid your eyes closed for a moment, Tommy angled his phone to snap a quick picture, smiling to himself and making a mental note to show his brother later.

The lights dimmed and you all straightened up in your seats. You listened to the music teacher make a small speech at the beginning and politely clapped afterwards. You saw Sarah twice throughout the concert as part of the orchestra, smiling at how focused and beautiful she looked in her white dress. As the concert wound down, Sarah finally came out on stage for her solo, and the three of you eagerly leaned forward. At the last minute, you remembered to pull out your phone and start a video, telling yourself you were doing it for Joel so that he could be in the moment, but you knew you would end up watching it by yourself when you went back to New York City.

The performance was flawless. When it was over, the three of you lept up from your seats, cheering, jumping and clapping, making her wave and blush as she exited the stage. You sat down, giggling, as the people surrounding you gave you all polite smiles and chuckles, then quieted down for the finale.

When the lights came back up, everyone stood from their seats, murmuring and laughing while waiting for their kids to come out from backstage and take pictures. You saw a flash of white out of the corner of your eye and moved out of the way just in time for Sarah to run and jump up into Joel's arms, burying her face in his neck. He squeezed his eyes shut, his arms wrapped around her tightly, murmuring praise in her ear. You felt warmth spread across your chest as you watched them have their moment, the corners of your mouth turned up into a smile with your hands clasped together against your chest.

He let her down gently and she turned to give Tommy a quick hug. He spun her around, making her giggle and fidget with her dress before she turned to you.

"You came!" she exclaimed, wrapping her arms loosely around your waist. Your eyes widened in surprise, not expecting such affection from her, but you quickly returned the hug.

"Of course I came! Thank you for inviting me," you said, pulling back with a grin. "You were absolutely perfect, I took a video, I'll send it to your dad so he can show you later."

"I did exactly what you told me, I slowed down and took my time," she beamed, and it gave you a new feeling deep in your chest that you never felt before.

"That's great, Sarah," you replied, your throat tight with emotion. Tommy dropped his gaze from you and ticked his jaw to the side, finally understanding why Joel was hesitant to let Sarah know about the two of you.

"Dad?" Sarah asked, turning away from you. "Can I sleep over at Katy's? She's having a bunch of girls over and her mom said it was okay."

"Uh, sure, baby girl. Don't you need clothes and stuff?"

"I have stuff I keep here in my locker for gym," she said.

"Well, alright, lemme talk to her mom first," he replied, glancing around the room.

"Thank you! She's right over here," she said, grabbing his hand. "Thanks for coming!" she called back last minute over her shoulder to you and Tommy, and you both smiled and waved as she dragged her father across the room.

"She's so talented," you said, turning to Tommy. He looked down at you and gave you a weak smile.

"Yeah, she's somethin' else," he said with a nod. "Hey, listen. I'm havin' a get together next week at my house. Little Christmas party, I guess. I invited a guy I met at your parents' house - Josh? He's comin' with his wife, Joel and Sarah'll be there, I'd love for you to come by if you can."

"Josh is my brother in law," you clarified for him. "That sounds great, I'll be there, thank you."

"You're welcome," Tommy said, then his brows pinched together as he opened his mouth again to speak. "Joel might kill me for sayin' this, but you gotta know how happy you've -"

"Ready to go?" Joel asked, sneaking up beside you. Tommy cleared his throat and gave his brother an innocent smile.

"Yep," you replied, dropping your hand to find his at your side, lacing your fingers together and giving him a gentle squeeze.

After saying goodbye to Tommy, Joel slowly led you through the parking lot to his truck, desperately trying to think of something else you could do, not ready to drop you off yet. He knew the time you had together was coming to an end, and he wanted to soak up every precious second. Especially after the way he saw you with Sarah: so warm and sweet and patient. He couldn't remember the last time he saw his daughter's eyes light up that way.

He prided himself on being a good father since his wife left. Always making sure to put Sarah first, that she got everything she could ever want or need. Especially his love. When his ex abandoned them, he made sure Sarah got every ounce of love he had, hoping it would help make up for the loss. But as hard as he tried, he could never fully fill both roles. There were just some things that a mother provided for her daughter that Joel couldn't give.

He didn't realize it until he saw you with Sarah earlier that night, and then it felt like everything shifted into focus for the first time in his life.

He held out his hand to help you get back into his truck, making sure your legs were safely tucked in before he gently shut the door.

Sitting in the driver's seat gripping the steering wheel, he stared straight ahead for a moment in complete silence, the keys still in his coat pocket while his mind reeled.

"Is everything okay?" you asked timidly. He blinked and turned to you.

"Yeah," he said hoarsely. He swallowed and looked at his watch.

"You wanna get coffee or somethin'? I know it's gettin' late but I'm sure some place's open," he said, deep in thought as he considered the cafés nearby.

"Don't you have coffee at your house?" you asked shyly. His eyes snapped up to yours and he saw the flush creeping up your neck and the rapid rise and fall of your chest.

Oh.

"Yeah, yes," he croaked, nervously clearing his throat. "Let's do that. I have- yeah, good idea," he stammered, fumbling with the keys in his pocket.

You smirked as you watched his shaky hand turn the key in the ignition. He twisted around to back out of the parking spot, and this time you gave into temptation, unbuckling your seatbelt so you could slide over and tuck yourself under his arm. He immediately pulled you closer, not even caring that you weren't wearing your seatbelt. He would make sure to drive safe. Nothing could possibly ruin that night. He wouldn't let it.

At stop lights, you would run your hand up his chest and plant small kisses against the corner of his mouth, filling him with a radiating bliss he never felt before.

Once you got back to his house, you shrugged off your sweater and trailed behind him as he made his way into the kitchen. You leaned against the wall and watched as he opened one of the cupboards - the one with the small birds carved into the bottom - and pulled down a can of coffee.

"I don't think I have any decaf," he said turning to look at you.

"I don't want coffee, Joel," you said lowly. He swallowed roughly and put the can on the counter.

"What d'you want, then?"

You pushed yourself off the wall and slowly walked towards him, his eyes skating up and down your body as you approached. Wrapping your arms around his waist, you tilted your face up to gaze at him, your mouth hovering over his own.

"I want you."

His eyes fluttered closed as your lips slotted against his, his rough hands immediately coming up to cup your smooth face, holding you firmly against his mouth. Christ, he would never get tired of kissing you. If he could do it every single day for the rest of his life, he would. He knew it seemed crazy. He knew you just met, but he couldn't help the way you made him feel.

"Let's go upstairs," you whispered, nipping at his lower lip.

He couldn't speak. He just nodded in a daze and let you lead him coyly up the steps, then turned around to walk backwards down the hall towards his bedroom so you could pull him tightly against your body. His big hands gripped your waist while his tongue slipped past your lips, searching for its mate.

You reached behind you blindly, your hand fighting with the doorknob as his big frame caged you in against the wood, his masculine scent invading your senses and making it difficult to think. Finally, the door swung open and you both stumbled in, a giggle erupting from your throat as your fingers got to work undoing the buttons on his dress shirt.

You hurriedly tugged his button down off, leaving it in a heap on the floor as you slid your palms underneath the white t-shirt he had on, feeling the warm skin of his stomach and chest for the first time.

"Off," you whispered, your heart getting stuck in your throat when he yanked the shirt over his head, leaving his upper body completely bare to you. Your mouth went dry as you drank him in, then lunged forward, your lips brushing up his sternum until you reached his collarbone. You sucked on a bit of tanned skin there with a moan, then slipped your tongue out to press wetly against the red mark you left, feeling drunk off the taste of his sweat.

He gently pushed you backwards so he could ease you down onto his bed, his breath growing erratic and desperate with each little bite you left on his chest. God, has anyone ever desired him this much before? Has he really been missing out on this his entire life?

"Baby, we're gonna have to stop soon if you don't want this to go any further," he murmured. He found himself in the familiar position of hovering above you while his hand slid down your leg and toyed with the hem of your dress.

"I don't think I can take much more, tell me to stop," he whispered when you didn't answer, running the tip of his nose softly against your cheek.

"I don't want you to stop," you gasped as his fingers slipped underneath your dress. You tilted your head back and moaned when you felt his fingertips brush against the damp fabric of your panties.

His mouth hungrily devoured the exposed cleavage of your breasts, growing frustrated with the fabric of your dress keeping him from seeing all of you.

"Sit up," he demanded, leaning back and pulling his hand from between your legs. You obeyed, and he made short work of your zipper, pulling it all the way down so you could shimmy out, leaving you in just your underwear.

"Oh, fuck," he whispered when he realized you weren't wearing a bra. You let yourself fall back gently on the bed, spreading your arms out above your head so he could see every inch of you in the moonlight.

He couldn't believe this was actually happening. He kept waiting for his alarm to go off and reality to slap him across the face, but it never came. His heart was pounding so fast, he was sure you could hear it as he leaned back down and nibbled at your exposed jaw while his calloused hand cupped your soft breast, his thumb flicking over your hardening nipple.

You scraped your nails over his shoulders and down his chest as you arched your back, pressing into his hand, needing to feel the heat of his skin against your own. Your stomach flipped as you made your way down to his belt, and with shaky fingers, pulled hastily at the leather.

Yanking the belt through the loops with one swift motion, you flung it across the room, making him chuckle against your skin. When you started to work on popping open the button on his dress pants, a devastating thought suddenly occurred to him.

"Shit, wait," he said, putting his hand on top of yours. You frowned up at him, your chest heaving, as you gave him a confused look.

"I don't have any protection," he said through gritted teeth. He hung his head and squeezed his eyes shut angrily. "I-I haven't been with anyone since my ex, and I never thought... fuck," he said, clenching his jaw.

You weighed your options for about half a second before tugging his chin up, forcing him to look at you.

"I'm still on birth control," you told him, searching his eyes. "I mean, only if you're comfortable with it, we don't have to," you said, but in your head you were chanting please, please, please.

"Are you sure?" he asked, panting for air. "I don't wanna make you feel like -"

"Yes," you said, cutting him off by grabbing his face. "Yes. I'm sure, Joel. Please," you whimpered, pulling him back down to you, his mouth crashing down on yours again.

"Please," you whispered again, tipping your head back as his lips left a trail of soft kisses down your throat. "Please, Joel, I need you."

His mouth stuttered against your neck. Hearing you beg and say you needed him when he never thought he would ever be needed like this in his whole life made his mind go blank.

"Okay," he rasped. "Okay, baby."

He tugged at the zipper on his black pants and pulled them off as quickly as he could without leaving you. You reached down to help him, hooking your fingers over the band of his boxers and shoving them down. He kicked them off before yanking down your panties, dropping them on the floor next to his clothes.

You eagerly spread your legs so he could settle his hips between them. You glanced down with a small gasp when you saw the size of him and you felt your cheeks flare. Jesus Christ.

He didn't seem to notice your reaction when he was too wrapped up in staring at the wet heat between your legs, pulsing and waiting, just for him. He slid a finger gently between your folds, making you moan and your back arch. Fuck, he loved how responsive you were to his touch.

He readjusted so he was kneeling between your legs. His palms slid up your calves, past your knees and to your inner thighs, pressing them down into the mattress so you were spread wide.

He lined himself up at your center, glancing up at you quickly to make sure you were ready. You swallowed and nodded, your eyes filled with desire, desire for him, something he still couldn't fathom but decided not to question. He pressed forward gently, notching himself against you before falling forward on his elbows.

He kissed the tip of your nose as he eased himself inside you, pausing when he heard you gasp and felt you tense under him.

"More," you finally croaked, your nails coming up to rake against his scalp. He let out the breath he was holding and pushed in further, his eyes fluttering shut and his mouth falling open as he felt you slowly stretch around him so perfectly, like you were made just for him.

"Oh, god," he sighed, dropping his face to the crook of your neck after he fully sheathed himself inside you. He dragged his mouth across your chest, leaving a wet trail from his tongue and red marks from his scratchy beard in his wake. He waited until he felt your muscles relax under him before he slowly rolled his hips, dragging himself in and out as his teeth scraped over your tightening nipples. You moaned his name softly, the sound permanently etched in his brain, a sound he will refuse to forget for the rest of his life.

He began to roll his hips faster at your encouragement, becoming obsessed with the way you felt and the sounds you made, and it was all for him. He spent so much of his life giving to everyone around him, he never truly felt like anyone was able or willing to give him what he needed in return until now. The recognition was depressing and freeing at the same time. Now that he finally had what he always wanted, what he always needed, he was going to lose you and there was nothing he could do about it.

Each moan from your throat and each kiss from your lips dragged him down deeper and deeper until he collided head first with the stunning, yet so painfully obvious, realization that he was deliriously in love with you. It was insane, he knew that. But it didn't make it any less true.

"Joel," you gasped, pulling him out of his trance and back to the present.

"Yeah, baby? I'm here. I'm right here," he whispered, planting soft kisses all over your face.

You bit down on your lower lip and squeezed your eyes shut. The sheer intensity behind his gaze coupled with the agony of only getting to experience this for one more short week made tears burn in the backs of your eyes.

You felt your orgasm begin to swell deep in your belly while your breath became more ragged and your vision went spotty. It shouldn't feel this good. This was cruel, to be able to experience something like this just to have it brutally ripped away from you. It wasn't fair, yet you never wanted it to stop.

He could feel it. It's been years, and it was never, ever like this, but he still knew. The way you whimpered and clawed at his back while your walls squeezed him so tightly, he thought he might pass out.

"Open your eyes," he panted. "I wanna look at you."

You forced your eyes open, now unable to hold back the tears that pooled there as two drops trickled down the side of your face, getting lost in your hair.

"It's okay, I got you," he whispered lovingly, staring deep into your eyes, seeing everything you didn't dare say out loud.

"You can let go, baby," he told you, his hips snapping against you ruthlessly, desperate to come at the same time.

You felt the wave rip through you like fire, the power and emotion behind it unlike anything you ever felt before. More tears poured from your eyes as you cried out his name, your thighs squeezing his hips so tightly you weren't sure you would be able to stand after.

He followed seconds later with a deep groan, spilling himself deep inside you while murmuring praise and wiping away your tears with his thumb.

"Why're you cryin', did I hurt you?" he asked, his voice filled with so much concern that it broke your heart. You shook your head, wiping the tears away with the back of your hand, but fresh ones just took their place.

"C'mon, talk to me," he urged, leaning up a bit as he softened inside you.

"What are we gonna do, Joel?" you blubbered pathetically. He took a shaky breath in and tenderly tucked your hair behind your ear.

"I don't know, baby, but we'll figure somethin' out. We gotta," he said with a sigh.

"I can't lose you," you whispered, pressing your forehead against his and closing your eyes.

"You'll never lose me, I can promise you that," he replied, pressing a gentle kiss against your swollen lips.

He waited until your tears slowed down before sliding out of you with a hiss. Rolling off to your side, he wrapped his arms around your middle and pulled you close against his chest, and as you finally drifted off in his embrace, he thought about all of the options available before you, determined to find a solution.

Tag list: @lola8888673 @pedropascalsbbg @nandan11 @sushiumex @serenadingtigers @jjlevin @survivingandenduring @amyispxnk @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @merz-8 @wonyoungismind @fandomscollide @anoverwhelmingdin @cayleejx16 @msjjekyll @lizzie-cakes @hexedbywanda @harriedandharassed @joeldjarin - lmk if i missed anyone, if your name is crossed out it means it won't let me tag you

[ghost-proofbaby]

too sweet (astarion ancunin x reader)

"you know, you're bright as the morning, as soft as the rain. pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape. [...] you're too sweet for me."

summary: astarion realizes you're too sweet for him, and he probably shouldn't let this go further than necessary. but, oh, he's going to. isn't he? (based on this request and the song 'too sweet' by hozier <3)

pairing: astarion ancunin x gn!reader

warnings: spoilers for games regarding camp dialogue with astarion, discussion of astarion's past trauma, talks of self-loathing/disgust with sex, vague mentions & allusions to sex having been had, manipulation at it's finest! minors dni.

wc: 2k+

a/n: i just wanted to get inside this man's mind when he drops that fucking line the second time he tries to sleep with us/tav. why does his face fall like that? why?

divider by @firefly-graphics <3

As Astarion observes the rise and fall of your chest in the soft morning light, he can only think one thing: shit. He fucked up. 

And he had spent most of the early hours trying to retrace his steps, trying to decipher exactly where his monumental mistake had begun, but it seemed useless. 

It could have been somewhere between the first and third bottle of wine shared with you last night during festivities, where he’d sweet-talked you to the high Hells until you’d agreed to return to his bedroll in the dead of night. Where he’d made the joke that wasn’t all that funny – the joke that he loved you. Three pretty words tried out on his tongue, and they hadn’t been nearly as light-hearted as he’d wanted them to be. More of an experiment, a quick sip to see if he liked the taste. And he had fucked up, because he did like the taste. He liked the sweetness that stuck to every corner of his mouth as he delivered the sugar-coated lie to you, his entire face falling as a new weight appeared in his chest. 

But perhaps it had been the first night he tasted you – well, your blood, that is. The night he’d awoken from a nightmare of Cazador and in his vulnerability, had chosen you as his victim of yet another experiment. A test to see if he was truly free. One drop of a thinking creature’s blood, that was all he needed. But you’d given more than he’d bargained for, and your cloy ichor had coated his taste buds so addictively, and he had just known that night was only the beginning. It was the first time, but certainly not the last. 

He thinks he could drink in whatever you offered him, and only that, for the rest of his days while still finding some sickly, twisted version of reprieve regardless. Not a drop more than he needed, always vying for more. 

He’d be okay with that type of hunger, that type of yearning, and that might have been his first real mistake. 

Or maybe, just possibly, it had been that very first meeting. Maybe he had doomed himself from the moment he’d pressed a blade to your neck, when he had dragged you to the ground with him and felt all that warmth, all that fear, radiating off of you. So frightful, and you still had offered your help to him when it was all said and done. Perhaps that was when he had well and truly screwed himself over. One simple introduction, void of his usual wine and flowers, and he’d locked himself in for pure trouble. 

Not even the fun kind, at that. What a shame. 

At the end of the day, or rather the beginning of the day as it is now, it doesn’t matter where his threads had started to unravel. All that matters is that they were – every carefully thought out line of his plans had all frayed, all detangled from the bigger picture, all because of you. 

Heart of gold, blood of honey. You were far too sweet for him, and he knew it. 

“Having fun, are you?” 

“I am, it’s hard not to with you.”

You’d taken each of his tactics in stride, hadn’t you? Whereas his face had nearly crumbled beneath the weight of that beautiful lie, insides twisting uncomfortable as the humor had slipped through his fingers, your eyes had only glittered as you bit back a smirk. To so lightly tease him, to banter right back with him, instead of see the truth behind it all. He didn’t know if you were simply that naive or if you were another kindred soul – Perhaps you were finding just as much safety, just as much sanctuary, in whatever dance he’d dragged you into. An entanglement of lies, a blithe facade, a daring smile that whispers come now, play with me. 

And play with him, you had. 

You’d played with him, you’d drank with him, and you’d now slept with him. Twice. 

“You’re up early,” your voice murmurs, silken tone cutting through all his racing thoughts. 

He hadn’t even noticed you had stirred, rousing yourself out from underneath his stolen blankets to peer at him curiously as he perched on the edge of the bedroll. As far from you, and as far from your sweetness, as possible. 

“Oh, you know what they say, my dear,” he chirps, rolling his shoulders as the act wraps him back up. The charismatic charmer. The illusive rogue, trained impeccably to coax you in and secure his safety, “No rest for the wicked.” 

He’d awoken before you last time, too. Had watched the sun rise and enjoyed the warmth of it plastering across his skin long before you’d ever woken up. He half-hopes you’ll be less talkative this time; he half-hopes you’ll try to rope him into whatever discussion you can, if only for a few extra seconds of your attention. 

You were too sweet. Too sugary on his tongue, too soothing in his chest. He shouldn’t entertain you – he shouldn’t let this go further than necessary. 

You hum thoughtfully, the blanket slipping and exposing more of your chest. With the light flickering in from his tent’s entrance, he can easily spot those two scarring dots along your jugular where his fangs fit perfectly, “I don’t know if I’d describe you as wicked, lover.” 

“No?” Roped into discussion, it is. “How would you describe me then?” 

He’s not comfortable in this lighting. He feels feverish beneath your steady stare, the way your eyes take their time as you look over every inch of him. The languid observation has him convinced you’re seeing right through him – your glance can pierce right through all his armor and expose every flaw. You see him for the monster he is, you see him for the bitter soul he’s become, you see him as the unworthy spawn he believes himself to be. 

He almost swears that you even see right through his nice, simple plan at hand, not so easily fooled as he had believed you to be. 

“Charming, certainly,” you suddenly sigh, sitting up and keeping your body mostly covered still with that knitted blanket. He’d only snagged it because the shade of the wool nearly matched your eyes – not that he was paying attention to your eyes, of course, “But then again, you’d have to be to have bedded me twice now, wouldn’t you?” 

“We can always make it thrice,” he banters back, ignoring the bile that builds at the insinuation. But if that’s what it takes – laying on his back over and over again – to guarantee your protection, he’ll do it. He’d do it a thousand times over to keep himself as far away from Cazador’s chokehold as possible, “Does that entice you, love?”

When he turns his body fully, beginning a carefully and calculated crawl up the bed roll, ready to slot his body back between your thighs and encourage you to have his way with him, you stop him. The heel of your foot delicately presses against his chest, your head tilted curiously before you shake it. 

“Who’s the eager pup now, Astarion?” 

He likes the way his name drips off your tongue. Almost as if he might be made of the same sugar and spice as you, the same pure honey flowing through your veins also inhabiting his. You say it like a song, articulate it like the sweetest fruit. 

He shouldn’t like it. It shouldn’t be able to overpower his lingering disgust with himself so easily. 

“It’s hard not to be eager when it comes to you,” he says the line with good practice, beckoning a purr to his tone that had always won over the victims he’d entrap in dark taverns back in the city, “I said the Gods had made you just to ruin me, and I meant it.”

He’d meant it more than he’d realized. It wasn’t just your body that had been sculpted to draw him in – it was everything. Your entire aura, your entire glacé demeanor. All that innocence and all that geniality enticed him more than he could ever admit. You were certainly going to ruin him, so wholly and so entirely. You’d already started to, really. 

You don’t respond at first, and he swears he has you. You’re locked in on his distraction, caught up in his web, just as he needs you to be. One lithe hand lifts to your ankle, cool fingers wrapping around your warm skin as he begins to lower his lips, ready to pepper kisses up your leg. Prepared to offer you his mouth, his body, in return for the one thing he needs. Self-loathing be damned. 

Old habits die hard, right along with pride, and he’s not quite ready to bury either at your grave yet. 

But just as he presses the first chaste kiss to your skin, nearly taken back by how your sweetness still breaks through the salty surface, you’re pulling the limb away from him. Your knee draws back and a disarming smile has risen on your cheeks, eyes glittering at him just as they had the night before. 

“I suppose I’ll have to come find you when everyone is asleep, then.” 

“I’ll be waiting.” 

What exactly had he been waiting for? You, of course. But had he been waiting for you to find him solely for what had transpired? To explore your portfolios of talents once more, as he had put it? Or had it been for something more… precarious? 

Was he nothing more than a prey, waiting for you to be his demise? 

Had he actually been waiting for this? 

The challenging look in your eyes as they reflected back stars, the warmth of your skin so close to him he nearly melts into you. The upturn of the corners of your mouth, outlining the way you certainly know something that he doesn’t. A look you wear well, a look that shakes his foundations and rattles his bones. 

“As tempting as you are, I’ll have to decline. Duty calls, as they say.” 

Can you see right through him? 

He should be more deflated when you start going through the motions; he should be pouting or overthinking it all as he watches you gather your clothes once more, covering up the few bite marks of his that litter your skin. Every moment you prepare to leave his tent should be one spent overthinking where he’d gone wrong – why didn’t you want him? Was his plan even going to work? 

Were you truly too sweet for him? Would he have been better off trying to romance the likes of Gale for the safety just shy of his grasp now?

He doesn’t, though. For once, his mind is quiet as he watches you patter about. The bile retreats, the disgust fades. For the first time in a very long time, Astarion is leaving this interaction not feeling used. 

Maybe it’s in the way you cheekily snatch one of his shirts as you both pretend he doesn’t notice it, or maybe it’s in the gentle caress of your fingers through his hair as you pass him to pick back up your discarded weapon. Maybe it’s in every shy glance you offer him, or maybe it’s in your ever present grin. 

Watching you leave should worry him, but it only feels like a breath of fresh air. A wind that comes sweeping in with the promise of next time just as you pull back the flap to his tent. 

And he hadn’t realized he’d been waiting patiently for you to turn back to him until you do just this, offering him one final glance that sets him aflame, “Oh, and before I forget – you can feed on me tonight, if you need to.” 

Heart of gold, blood of honey. He couldn’t say no even if he wanted to.

“Then I’ll see your delicious self tonight,” he takes a pause, one big and unnecessary breath filling his chest alongside that warmth you bring to him. The fearless leader, the kindest soul. His most apt nickname for you yet falls off his lips in a content sigh, “My sweet.”

He shouldn’t entertain you – he shouldn’t let this go further than necessary. 

But he’s going to. Gods, he is going to. 

After all, the sweetest fruits always fall from the most forbidden branches, do they not?

[hannieehaee]

maybe some extreme voyeurism with sub!seungkwan or hoshi cuz we can't find a lot of that on here 😭

18+ / mdi

content: sub!kwan, smut, afab reader, teasing, both exhibitionism and voyerism, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 1058

a/n: i literally had no idea how to write voyerism so i tried writing both exhibitionism and voyerism sorry anon</3

masterlist

"c'mon, baby, why are you so shy? i thought this was what you wanted?", you taunted, legs flexing around the poor boy under you.

all that could be heard from him were cries and incoherent noises. if he was saying something, you were unsure as to what. but what was certain was the immense pleasure he was under.

you knew all his tells. his eyes were rolled back and his eyebrows furrowed, his fingers were digging impossibly deep on any skin available to him, occasionally slipping due to the clamminess of his hands, his hips were occasionally driving against yours, unwilling but unable to stop. he was completely gone, only having you in mind.

well, and maybe another thing.

as good as this must've felt for him, this was in actuality, a punishment.

after endless hours of whining at you all day, handsy as he whispered at you to ditch the guys and just head back to the hotel, you'd finally taken him up on his offer (not until making him wait all day long), jumping him in the elevator without warning.

you'd played your cards perfectly right, making sure to bring him upstairs only slightly before the guys headed back to the hotel in tandem. sharing a wall, you knew you had the perfect opportunity to get seungkwan a little more attention than he'd bargained for.

oh, and did you mention you kept the blinds open?

luxury hotels were funny, really. there really was no reason for the entire wall to be a window, yet it was, and it gave the perfect view for anyone else in the surrounding hotels to take a peak at the debauchery going on in your room.

you knew seungkwan to enjoy attention. every room he came into, he always drew everyone's eyes to him, whether it was on purpose or not. and this was something he took great thrill in. i mean, he was an idol after all.

so as much as that was punishment, you knew that deep down, he wanted to be heard. he wanted you to tease him and break him to the point where his pathetic whimpers would get back to his bandmates as they wound down from their day just one wall away. he wanted passerby's to see him getting manhandled by his pretty girlfriend.

but he was playing coy. it was all a game, but you'd break him.

"i asked you a question, angel. unless you want me to stop?", you asked, hips halting their movements.

he made some unintelligible noises again before finally shaking his head, mumbling stammered 'no's while his hips shyly attempted to entice you into moving again.

"no? so why are you being so quiet? how am i supposed to know i'm doing a good job at taking care of my kwannie?" you pouted at him, patronizing the red-faced boy who could barely breathe beneath you.

"it-it's good, i promise. i- i'll be louder, just please ..."

and that was all you needed to pull at all the stops.

squeezing around him, you readied yourself to spend all your available stamina on this boy as you began to bounce on him, immediately drawing whimpers from him.

you leaned down, hips never halting their movements, and ground against him while your hands dug harshly across his chest, leaving marks you knew he'd be teased about next time he walked into a dressing room with the boys.

redness overcame his face at the noises leaving him, a harmony of high-pitched cries accompanied by the endless squeaks of the mattress.

if you could hear the guys as they came into their room earlier, they probably couldn't escape the ruckus you were causing.

you knew all his erogenous zones and knew how to take advantage of them. your lips found his nipples soon enough, drawing high-pitched whines out of him when you bit and sucked at them, uncaring about the harshness with which you did it. he enjoyed it all the better.

there was no possible way for seungkwan to make any sensible sound anymore. it was all a mess of your name and a few curses here and there. none of it made sense, but it was all perfect. those sounds were all you needed to approach your own orgasm.

it didn't take long for the telltale signs of his orgasm to show, specially with his pleas becoming louder and somehow even more nonsensical. he cried out your name, voice breaking in the process as he pushed up against you with as much strength as he could muster.

the deflatedness in him afterwards was laughable, but it mostly instilled a sense of awe in you. that was your pretty boy, one that would soon be teased to hell and back by his friends.

leaning down on him, you pressed a kiss to his cheek, causing him to grunt at the sudden sensation.

you somehow managed to lean all the way over to the nightstand without getting off him, grabbing onto the phone you'd set up there earlier in the day. pressing the red button in the middle, you stopped the recording, giggling at the reaction it'd get out of seungkwan when you let him watch it later.

"think anyone saw us from outside?", you giggled, "bet they thought you looked so pretty."

"stop, you're going to make me hard again and i don't think i have anything left to give," he grumbled as he attempted to sit up, wincing when he felt you move around him.

"you like it. and i think you'll specially like how pretty you look in this video," you teased.

"yes, i do! which is why we should-"

"ya! seungkwan! is y/n even in there? shut the fuck up!"

that might've been vernon, you weren't sure, but it made you cackle nonetheless.

seungkwan's face was priceless as he got interrupted, groaning as he buried his head in your chest.

"fuck, not again."

"baby, i can feel you getting hard again. stop lying to yourself and let me make you cum again."

you partially wanted to push his limits, but another part of you also wanted to ensure your own orgasm. either way, it was a win for you.

he nodded wordlessly against your chest, whimpering when you tightened around him again.

you'd have to send vernon an apology note tomorrow.

[atrueneutral]

'Husband' & 'Wife' Part II (Raphael x Tav)

There's smut in this. [Part I] --- She stared at him.

And he stared at her - waiting for her to strip.

“Is there a problem?” Raphael inquired with faux innocence and a raise of his brow.

Well, no… and yes.

It was neither the act of stripping nor the thought of actually being naked in front of the cambion that delayed her from enacting the first half of her bargain; it was the fact that they had appeared in the entrance hall - and it wasn’t empty.

To their credit, half of the debtors paid them no mind because they had no mind left; they shuffled around in despair, mumbling to themselves whilst the other (seemingly-more-lucid) debtors silently worked on their hands and knees to clean the marble floor with rags and a bucket of water.

Also to their (and Raphael’s) credit, they were clothed.

Suddenly her poor-decision-of-an-offer to clean his House naked became just that: a poor decision.

Another poor decision to add to her List of Regrets…

The List was never to be revealed to anyone, and therefore Raphael would never know how many times his name was mentioned; what he did need to know was that she was a woman of her word (most of the time), and she would, in-fact, clean his house naked for eight hours if need be.

(What-in-the-devil possessed her to say eight hours? Of all the hours! Why not five? Or even two?

One would have sufficed, surely…)

“No, there’s no problem,” she said sweetly, holding eye contact as she began to undo her belts. “It is rather toasty in here…”

His intense, heated gaze wasn’t helping.

Not in the mood to entreat Raphael or the debtors to a striptease, her belts were casually discarded to the floor. Footwear was next in line to be removed, but because her boots did not simply slip off, it became mildly embarrassing as she balanced on one leg at a time and wrestled each foot from imprisonment - all with Raphael watching with crossed arms and the hint of a smirk. Tav smirked, too, albeit with slight sarcasm once she dumped the second boot, and she swiftly moved on to pulling down breeches and smallclothes in one go. She stepped out of the puddle of garments whilst lifting her tunic from over her head, and the pile continued to grow with the added shedding of her brassiere.

All that was left-

“Leave your footwraps,” Raphael commanded, reading her intention of going for the strips of cloth around her feet. He inspected her as Tav straightened to shamelessly stand beside her shorn gear. His brown eyes were unapologetic in their scrutiny, and both she and her arousal unapologetically liked the way the cambion slowly burned a path from her face, down the column of her neck to drink in the sight of her breasts and hardened nipples. Further netherwards they went, trailing along her waist, hips, and thighs to magnetically settle on her sex. “I married well, it seems. You are exquisite. Haarlep does not do you justice - in more ways than one, I’m sure.”

Heat tinged her cheeks (the cheeks of her face, though her other cheeks were warmed from the temperature within the House), and Tav mentally reproached herself; this scenario was leading to danger, which was not good seeing as how the last time she stripped naked in front of a fiend…

“I’m very flattered you think so, husband,” she said with a pinch of haughtiness. “I presume my eight hours has officially begun? Where am I to begin cleaning? It looks as if this hall has been taken care of.”

“You will be cleaning the Archive. You know the way I believe?” Raphael dramatically gestured for her to take the lead down the hall. “After you, my dear.”

Tav stuck her nose in the air and airily began to guide them down the steps and through the passage that led to the dining hall.

“I can’t help but notice that you have yet to thank me for coming to your coin purse's rescue,” Raphael remarked behind her.

“You will get your thanks when I have the breastplate in hand,” Tav replied. “Besides, if anyone should be thanking anyone, you should be thanking me for my offer to do this - let alone in a state of undress.”

“Mm, you are quite right, Little Mouse…” said the cat, his voice dipping into a purr. “Thank you.”

She refrained from glaring at him; there was no-doubt that Raphael was appreciating the view of her assets as they moved through the dining hall and towards the Archive. The loitering debtors strategically fled or turned their backs at their approach, and Tav tried not to pay attention to the worrisome amount of wispy, spectral souls that skimmed through the air overhead.

Thankfully, for this visit, there was no need for her thieves’ tools; the doors to the Archive were open for visitors, allowing her to head straight for the expansive room she had at one time browsed all by her lonesome. During that uninvited drop in of Raphael’s treasures, the Archivist had annoyingly hovered over her shoulder (even after she successfully persuaded him that she was Someone Important), and, by the looks of things, the very same Archivist still had a job.

Not bothering to cover up, Tav stopped a number of feet away from the snobbish servant.

“If it isn’t Verillius Receptor,” the Archivist said snidely after getting over the initial surprise of her nudity. He then smoothed down his hostility once he saw who it was who followed behind and he bowed. “Oh, and my lord!”

“You are not needed - begone,” Raphael ordered in greeting.

Unable to help herself, Tav discounted the Archivist’s presence as she gave Raphael a simpering smile, “I look forward to seeing your treasures up close, husband.”

At the moment of leaving her, she regretted the way her words could be misconstrued as innuendo. Nothing lost on him, her ‘spouse’s’ eyes glinted with amusement - and more.

The ability to sputter like a goldfish was passed from her to the Archivist; his mouth opened and closed as his eyes flicked from her to his lord - confusion apparent. Panic then sprouted, for his delay caused a change in demeanor from Raphael and the servant hastily bowed again before scampering off.

“Close the doors behind you,” added the master of the House.

The Archivist obediently obliged, and the set of doors shut at his exit.

Wanting to avoid Raphael’s stare, Tav appraised the items that sat behind impervious shields. The Amulet of Greater Health and the Gauntlets of Hill Giant Strength remained on their marble pedestals, but the center pedestal was empty of any item or any contract belonging to a specific person.

Raphael stepped closer. “I’ve yet to find anything to match the significance of what was there.”

“Yes, the contract of your Crown’s courier,” Tav answered. She rotated to face him, and her heart stuttered; Raphael was closer than expected - well within arm’s reach. “Congratulations, by the way. As I understand it, you’ve achieved a number of victories since gaining the object of your heart’s desire.”

“Yes, but, as is natural when a desire is fulfilled, another must take its place.” His eyes drifted to her lips, and the rapid beating in her chest hurt. “Would you like to know my latest heart’s desire, Little Mouse?”

“Please share - unless you’d like me to find out through the reading of your diaries.”

His expression turned calculating at the recounting of her indiscretion, and Raphael invaded her space further with a single step, his head leaning in for her ear as he had earlier in the armor shop. A chill coursed through her when the back of a finger ghosted along her arm. “It’s my heart’s desire that each pedestal be cleaned to pristine perfection.”

He pulled his smirking (and stupid) handsome face away, and Tav quelled her own heart’s desire to punch it.

Snap!

At their feet, a bucket of sudsy water and a number of rags appeared from a plume of smoke and embers.

“Be sure to do a better job than the debtors - I’d hate to have to punish my wife.”

Tav internally fumed; he thought to lord himself over her? When there is no contract between them? She could win right here and right now; she could forget the breastplate! She could leave - leaving Raphael a thousand gold short with a breastplate he didn’t need or want, and with the remnants of a bargain to be made between him and the dwarven shop owner!

Tav mentally burned the List of Regrets (to avoid adding her next decision to it).

Oh, she’ll show him! She’ll make him beg!

“I’d hate to be disobedient.” She smiled demurely as she gracefully lowered to a crouch while looking at him. Her head came to be at the level of his crotch as she picked up the rags and then the handle of the bucket with the same hand. Her eyes fell from his face to consider what lay beyond the fabric of his breeches, and Tav caught a sliver of her lower lip between her teeth.

She rose without a second glance to the cambion and swayed her hips on her way over to the first exhibit displaying the Amulet of Greater Healing.

Raphael prowled after her.

“Oh, does my lord husband have nothing better to do than to watch his wife clean?” Tav asked as she stepped up the few stairs. She set the bucket down on the top step, just shy of the pedestal’s base.

“Past experience has told me that I can trust none else in this House to see to it that a mouse doesn’t get into mischief,” Raphael answered, landing at the foot of the stairs and effectively blocking her path from leaving the golden, fenced-in enclosure in which she stood.

“I’m sure the mouse meant no harm in seeing where the cat - no, pardon me, the fox - conducts his business.” Again she crouched, and Tav stuck out her backside as she grabbed a rag and dunked it into the foamy water. The rag was rinsed of any excess before she arranged herself to begin.

“Had there been harm, the mouse would have suffered for it.”

“Duly noted.”

She would clean to the best of her abilities, and she would do it whilst posing in the most provocative manner possible. Currently, this meant placing herself beside the pedestal - her position remaining low as she spread her legs and hovered above the floor on the balls of her feet, giving pedestal and floor an eyeful of her sex.

Nothing for Raphael, of whom she did not bother to acknowledge while ‘focusing’ on her task.

Hand and rag slowly moved up the smooth, arched portion of the pedestal before making its way back down again, wiping the marble of any accumulated dust and grime. When it came to more ‘stubborn areas’, Tav decided to add a bounce to her body in rhythm to her vigorous scrubbing.

“What are you doing, Little Mouse?” Raphael inquired with a substantial drop in his pitch.

“I’m cleaning in the nude - per the terms of our agreement,” Tav said pleasantly, moving to re-dunk her rag.

“Do you typically clean in this manner?”

“No, I typically clean with clothes on.”

“You know my meaning.”

Tav shifted the bucket over and threw a smirk over her shoulder as she once more sunk down and spread her legs - providing the front of the pedestal en eyeful of her front and the cambion a nice picture of all that her backside had to offer. “No, Raphael, I’m afraid I don’t know your meaning.”

“Then let me speak plainly - do you typically clean as if there were a cock beneath you?”

With the bucket slightly out of reach, and because she hadn’t rinsed her rag fully, Tav squeezed a nominal amount of water from the cloth, providing Raphael the illusion that her sex was soaked to the point of dripping.

“Not typically.”

She heard a low growl behind her, which pleased her to hear in more ways than one as she progressed on in her cleaning of the pedestal’s surface. After a handful of minutes, Tav got to her feet to return to the bucket but was stopped by a new directive.

“Move on to cleaning the center pedestal.”

The roughness of his voice drew her attention, and Tav knew she was doomed to live out her fantasies - if not solely due to the look Raphael was giving her; his eyes were dark and glazed over with want, and he gripped the stiffened outline of his cock through his breeches.

The devil was unraveling - because of her.

Tav grabbed her rag and bucket to then sidle up to him.

“Do you typically get aroused while watching debtors clean, Raphael? I wouldn’t put it past you,” she murmured whilst glancing from his eyes to his parted lips - the top of which was frozen in a partial curl.

“Only when watching you,” he replied huskily.

Tav tightened her hold on the bucket handle, lest it slip from her fingers and she make a genuine mess. The urge to kiss and taste that mouth of his was churning within, but she could not give in per the rules she created; he must bend and break first.

“I see.” She smiled as she stepped past him, and Raphael trailed after her to the center enclosure where the empty pedestal awaited to be cleaned.

Tav was at the top step when she paused and thought better of the placement of her bucket. She pivoted and slowly strutted back over to Raphael, who, yet again, acted as a guard to the section’s entrance and exit. The bucket was gently set down to the side, and she half-kneeled before him while she drowned her rag within water. With her eyes on that-which-couldn’t-be-ignored, Raphael capitalized and worked to free his erection from confinement.

It was then that a string of happenings happened within seconds of one another; Tav came face to face with the cambion’s well-endowed and well-engorged cock, her mouth went dry somewhere in the middle of ringing the water from her rag, and there was the painful realization that she might end up as the one begging.

Raphael languidly began to stroke himself - precum gathering at the tip.

Needing to clean and possessed by desire, Tav leaned in and swiped her tongue across the exposed head of him, causing Raphael to groan and twitch. She looked up, meeting brown, dilated pupils that were filled with longing, and there was the cursory thought that he, with his fiendish arrogance and pride, would simply take what he wanted rather than-

Tav’s musings were cut short when Raphael’s other hand wove itself into her hair.

“Tav.”

The sound of her name was perhaps the closest she would hear to a plea, and her response was automatic. Tav licked her lips before bringing them around the head of his cock, taking him into the heat of her mouth and planting her tongue against him. The rag was dropped and forgotten as her hand came to replace Raphael’s in wrapping around his shaft, and she took over in pumping him slowly, causing an audible breath to leave him. His hips reacted, matching her pace, and his fingers entwined in her hair - adding a gentle pressure to the back of her head as it moved.

Raphael’s heady gaze emboldened her to gradually increase her pace - her tongue circling and licking at his head, her cheeks hollowing out as she sucked. His shaft became slick with her saliva, assisting her in her strokes…

And then she stopped with a teasing smirk. He growled in disapproval as Tav removed his cock from her mouth, and she did not blink as she snatched her rag and stood.

“Forgive me for getting distracted - I’d better go clean what was requested,” she rasped.

Every purposeful step she took away from Raphael and towards the pedestal caused her cunt to throb with need, and Tav decided to play out her fantasies; she would be the one to bend for him.

Up the few stairs she went with his eyes never leaving her, and she began to leisurely wipe down the top of the pedestal.

Oops! How clumsy of her to drop the rag behind the massive obstruction!

Needing, of course, to retrieve her item, Tav bent over the pedestal, positioning her stomach against the cool surface, and she made a half-hearted attempt to reach the rag while presenting herself to the cambion.

She gently wiggled her ass in invitation, and, at the sound of a burst, bootsteps became jingling bootsteps in their approach.

Her wiggling ceased the moment she sensed and felt Raphael behind her. The fabric of his clothes pressed against her bare skin, his cock nestled between her legs, and a delightfully warm, clawed hand splayed across her back to then follow down the line of her spine. The hand palmed her ass before giving her a firm spank.

Tav yelped in surprise and twisted to glare at the fiendish, winged and horned form of her ‘spouse’.

“A punishment for being so careless,” he said lowly, treating himself to a handful of her smarting cheek. “I warned you, did I not?”

“I suppose you did,” Tav conceded with a sigh. Her expression changed to include a charming smile as she batted her eyelashes. “But, be a dear and get me another rag so I may continue in my duty?”

“No,” Raphael said. His other hand gripped her hip while the hand on her ass traveled to her aching sex. Fingers slipped between her soaked lips and across the sensitive bud of her clit, causing her to jerk and keen. Raphael practically purred at his findings, and Tav gasped when two digits pushed inside her after a moment of exploration. “I have my mouse right where I want her - squirming under my claws.”

He began to pump, and the mouse squirmed as she held onto the pedestal.

“Have you always wanted this, my dear?” Raphael asked, curling his fingers to elicit a cry of a moan from her lips. “Why else would you offer what you did?”

“Yes, I’ve thought about this - too often…” Tav admitted in between breathlessness.

The claws at her hip dug further into her flesh, and Raphael hummed - sounding positively pleased by what he heard in the middle of positively pleasing her with his fingers. Once she was substantially wound up and to the point of nearly-begging, the cambion removed his digits, leaving Tav feeling empty and needing to be filled.

Eagerness and anticipation spiked her blood at the feeling of his ridged cock sliding between her lips. He coated himself with her desire for him before the head of him pushed at her entrance. 

“As have I,” Raphael said, easing himself inside her walls with a shudder.

“Oh, gods!” Tav moaned. The size of him stretched her, and she choked on breaths as they both acclimated to one another.

He began to move, ripping pleasure through her body while both of his hands gripped her hips.

She clung to immovable marble as the devil she knew fucked her from behind. Raphael buried himself within her cunt with each thrust, and his rhythm seemed to match that of primal need. Her head turned to look at him, and his eyes ensnared her with a blazing fire that held flames of possessiveness.

“My Little Mouse,” he growled.

Danger manifested before her, and the meager amount of wisdom Tav had fought to keep her mouth shut - to neither confirm or deny his claim over her.

But every other aspect within her stupidly liked how it sounded…

“Oh, my lord husband! My Archdevil Supreme!” she exclaimed, causing Raphael to shudder again.

Well.

Her wisdom tried.

As he continued to fuck her, Tav wished to have access to her clit to help push her over the edge, but even if she was not to come undone herself, there was immense satisfaction to be felt and seen in the cambion’s undoing. He became absorbed in having his way with her, which was an ego boost as much as it was a turn on, and Tav was confident that her time for sexual bliss would come in the hours ahead.

Cleaning the House was no longer a priority for either of them.

“You should also know how often I’ve thought about you coming inside me - filling me with your seed...”

In exchange for her confession, Raphael growled something feral. A hand roamed across her skin before pushing into the small of her back, and she was held to him and pedestal both as his pace signified that his climax was nearing.

With a last, rough jerk of his hips, Raphael finished and spilled inside her cunt - his fingers trembling against her skin while every drop seeped into her womb.

His hold left her as he leaned forward and braced himself upon the sides of the pedestal surface. He panted over her, getting his bearings, and Tav was stunned when the cambion eventually leaned over to plant a kiss on her shoulder before slipping out of her and stepping back to give her room to move.

Tav peeled herself away from the marble, leaving perspiration behind.

“I would get my rag…” she cheekily remarked. “But I’m afraid I’m not done soiling this pedestal.”

Raphael’s head snapped to her, and he ravenously watched as she hopped up to properly sit upon the marble top, her legs spreading to showcase his come that leaked from her.

“What's next, dear husband?"

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

In Love and War (8)

Summary: The aftermath of all her family secrets might be more chaotic than Reader bargained for when her powers suddenly start to flare. Good thing her Warlord has more than a few ideas how to help navigate it ;)

Content Warnings: Depressive thoughts, Reader mentions wanting to die; Suggestiveness, Slight SMUT; Canon Typical Violence

Author's Note: To make up for the last chapter being so short, please enjoy that flirty little bastard being a menace! ;)

Chapter 7/Masterlist

---------------

I don’t sleep at all that night. I lay there, Rhysand sleeping soundly beside me, exhausted from the events of the last couple of days. He’d barely kept his eyes open long enough to eat. I’d barely managed to choke down a few bites myself. The guilt has my stomach in a perpetual knot. I’ve dedicated so much of my life to hating this male, only to be wrong about all of it, and now I’m in too deep to even do anything about it.  I can’t go home. There is no home to go back to. My family slaughtered an innocent mother and daughter. Rhys received their heads in boxes like some sort of twisted gift. They were supposed to be allies and my father betrayed them in the worst possible way. He paid for it with his life, with my mother’s life; it should have been the end of it. Tamlin was given a mercy and he should have taken it. He should have abandoned my father’s teachings and become a better lord, a better man. Instead, he perpetuated the cycle of abuse and suffering. He encouraged me to hate these people, to covet everything they had as if they were undeserving of it. All these years I loathed our miserable existence thinking the Mother hated us and was being unjust in giving these people all these things that we were never allowed. But we deserved it! We were the bad guys all along.

I roll over onto my side to look at him. He still sleeps in his armor, knife still strapped to his thigh, sword resting against the tent pole only a foot away. He’s ready to be up and fighting in a moment's notice. Our father’s were so similar, and yet, he turned out to be merciful and kind and somehow, so startlingly gentle that I often forget he’s still capable of intense prowess. He is the only male I’ve ever truly felt comfortable with, because that gentleness came as a response to the violence he’d seen, not because that violence was never there. He’d felt the cold sting of it, and chose to be something gentle instead of returning it.

And here I am, with all that righteous anger that had kept me warm on my coldest days, choosing to return all the violence that had been inflicted on me onto others. Just as Tamlin did. Just as my father did. 

And looking at it I don’t want to be him. He ruined my mother! He took something good and kind and locked it away and used her for his own ends! I don’t even know if he ever really loved her. Why would you keep the things you love in a cage?

I sit up abruptly. Maybe he was as scared of being alone as I am. 

I can’t sit in this tent anymore! I can’t-

Rhysand jolts awake as soon as I move, hand twitching for his knife, shadows swirling off his body in response to what his sleep muddled mind thinks is a threat. “What’s wrong?”

I put a hand on his chest, spinning onto my knees so I can kiss his forehead. “Nothing, I just need to relieve myself.”

He lets me push him down onto the mat, body relaxing and pliant beneath my touch. “You sure?”

“Positive.” If he tried to follow me out now I think I really might explode. My stomach feels like it's ripping itself apart. My bones ache, my skin feels like it's stretched too tight over them. There is too much nervous energy bound inside my body. I just need to get out and stretch my legs; get some fresh air and clear my head. I will be fine if I can clear my head.

“Take your knife,” he says, eyes already drifting shut again. 

I strap it to my thigh as I slip from the tent, gulping down lungfuls of crisp, mountain air as I go. I just need to clear my head. Is finding a way to survive this fucked up world really me acting like my father? I’ve never killed innocent people. I’ve never withheld necessities or lorded my power over people. I’m just not being honest about my intentions. It’s shitty. I’m using a mating bond I’m still not wholly sure is real as a means to getting food and shelter and, hopefully, a decent helping of mind blowing sex.

Cauldron that sounds really, really fucked up.

But how am I supposed to tell him? Hey, I know that you really don’t like my family and they’ve done nothing but screw you over but I also accepted your offer to try and ruin your life and take all of your land and kinda only just changed my mind about it yesterday. And it would be really super cool if you just let that slide because I have nowhere else to go.

That would go over soooooo well. He’d be totally fine with it! 

I ground my palms into my eyes as I walk behind a couple trees to at least make it look like I really did need to go pee. There are men on guard duty, no doubt someone is going to see me wandering around camp.

My brain feels like it’s being squeezed by my skull. There has to be a way to go about this that doesn’t get me tossed out into the coming snow, while also not lying so deeply about it. I do care about him. It was a lie at first but now…

I put my back against the tree and slide down until I’m sitting on the rocky ground, head still in my hands. I don’t know if he’s my mate. There’s something there, I feel it pulling at me, even now, but I can’t give it a name. And I want to be here. Not just because of the story he’d told yesterday. When Lucien tried to get me to leave, I really didn’t want to go back with him. But how am I supposed to live with the truth? How am I supposed to look at him and see that he wants this so much more than I do, despite everything?

Actually, why does he want this, despite everything? He’d asked me why I stayed. I never asked him why he brought me here. There’s certainly enough bad blood between our families to make even a mate hesitate to bring me in.

I lean back against the tree, the rough scrape of the bark against my aching skin a relief. My body feels so strange, being around Rhysand’s magic has made it feel like there’s something beneath my skin.

Tomorrow, in the morning, I will ask him why he still brought me back. Then I will decide what to do. 

------

He certainly doesn’t make asking him easy. Rhys wakes me up with his lips on my throat, along the fading marks he’d left a couple days before,  trailing them down as his hands hike up my sweater. The heat of him against the early morning chill has my resolve slipping, all my plans slipping through my fingers as he runs his tongue over my peaked nipples.

I can’t think past the roaring in my ears; the ache in my body for more, more, more. There is nothing and no one but him as he trails lower, each kiss more forceful than the last as he heads for the waistband of my pants.

“Rhys,” I moan, voice still thick with sleep, even as my body arches under him. I want him everywhere. I need him everywhere. The stirring feeling beneath my skin is worse today, only quelled by the trail of his hands on my body. For once, my racing thoughts are quiet. If only we could stay like this. 

“Hmmm,” he hums into my stomach, just beneath my navel. There’s a bit of stubble along his jaw, the scrape of it against my oversensitive skin makes my eyes roll back into my head. “Did you want something, mate?”

“You,” I groan, hand reaching out to tangle in his hair to try and move him where I need him. 

He grins, I can feel the upturn of his lips against my stomach, but he refuses to budge. Just nips at the skin visible above my waistline. “You have me.”

Bastard! My whole body trembles beneath him. I can’t get a breath down fast enough. I need him everywhere all at once. “Need you inside me,” I bite out.

He simply hums again, hands tugging at my waistband with an inhumane slowness that makes me feel like I’m going to burst out of my skin. I use the hand not in his hair to grip the mat, trying to ground myself, trying to find some semblance of control again. I’m gripping so tight my bones ache, fingers feeling like they’re breaking. There’s a tearing sound, a pricking sensation in my palm and then a gush of something wet across my hand. 

Even he looks up at that, and when I turn to look, I’m more than a little surprised to find that I’ve grown claws, and I’ve just tore them right through my hand!

“Shit!” He’s gone from between my legs in an instant, all the heat in my body leaving with him. 

I can’t unfurl my hand. Can’t retract the claws, they’re stuck through my palm with my fist closed around it. I’ve only ever grown them in anger, how the hell had I done it now?

Rhysand comes back with a towel as I manage to sit up. “I thought you smelled different this morning,” he muses.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I hiss.

“Our magic can be protective. It can hide itself if it doesn’t feel safe. I don’t think you were born with too little, I think you were born with too much.” His fingers massage my wrist, trying to find the right pressure points to help me unclench my fist. “I think that it buried itself inside you to keep you safe. And I think, now that you’re here, it’s manifesting, and like the wards, it has its own scent.”

Fan-fucking-tastic!

“Well I’d like it to un-manifest,” I hiss. “I was doing just fine without it!” There’s blood dripping through the towel, if anything it feels like my claws are burrowing deeper into my palm. I can practically feel them trying to tear right through the back of my hand.

He can’t seem to find the right spot and trying to pry my fingers out of my palm is a no go. He frowns, lifting the towel for a better look. “I’m gonna try something.”

I’m prepared for a blow from his own magic, some form of glittering starlight or shadowy darkness, I am not prepared for him to kiss me again. The sound I make in surprise is somewhere between a growl and a gasp because what the hell is he doing? But even though my head is struggling to catch up, my body is not. On instinct, I lean back to allow him better access, his tongue slipping behind my teeth. The rolling feeling beneath my skin lessens, the tightness in my palm slowly releasing. I thread my functioning hand through his hair as my body gives what I can only describe as a sigh of relief. A moment later, the claws retract and I can finally unfurl my fist.

“Flair ups can be heavily tied to your emotions,” he says, lips barely off mine. “Probably wasn’t the best idea to tease you in the middle of one.” 

It takes him all of thirty seconds to find some rags and tie up my hand, even though the blood flow is already lessening. All I can do is stare at it while he does it. This is certainly a new and unwelcome development to this whole mess.

“Is that going to keep happening?”

Azriel pops his head into our tent, unannounced as usual. “Are you two done in here or what? I, personally, cannot live with Cassian if he beats us around the mountain.”

“We’ll be right there,” Rhysand huffs.

“I’m seeing a trend with him,” I mutter. 

He smirks, “It’s one of Azriel’s many charms.” 

He helps me to my feet, holding onto me like he thinks something else might just burst out of my skin. Truth be told, I can still feel something shifting around, a prowling animal begging to be released from its cage. I’d thought it was my unease this whole time, but maybe it’s worse than that. 

“We don’t know how deep your power well is,” Rhysand says. “And if it’s never fully manifested…” He blows out a breath. “When mine first started manifesting, I shredded a whole section of camp with starlight. There was a whole twenty-four hour period where my shadows blocked out the sun. And you’re my equal so, yes I think that will keep happening.”

Cauldron boil me!

“As long as you remain calm, it shouldn’t be too bad.”

“I should think you would know better than to tell a female to be calm, Rhysand.”

He grins, “Well you can also spend the day making out with me, since that seems to be such a lovely little distraction with you.”

I go to hiss an insult at him but the only thing that comes out is an actual, animal-like growl. I clamp a hand over my mouth in embarrassment while he bursts out laughing. 

“This is going to be fun!” He declares.

I am not at all inclined to agree.

----

I only manage to ride with him for an hour or two before the pull of his magic makes my skin start to itch. He was right about magic having a scent. Half way through the hour I suddenly become very aware of the jasmine scent of him. It’s everywhere. In every breath. Every brush of his chest against my back, every movement of his hands along the reins. My body is hyper aware of every place we do and don’t touch.

“Getting all worked up again, aren’t we?” He purrs in my ear.

My jaw feels like it’s snapping as a set of fangs tear through my gums, spurting blood into my mouth. Somehow his magic is the catalyst for my transformation and the balm all in one. I can’t be near him and I can’t be away from him, as I soon learn. When I jump off the horse and declare I’m going to walk beside him, my claws return, in both hands this time. At least they shoot out my nail beds and not my knuckles like Tamlin’s.

The thought of him makes another growl rumble through my chest and something that feels suspiciously like fur sprouts from the back of my neck.

“Wouldn’t recommend,” Rhysand warns.

The itchiness of my skin is even worse on the ground. I feel the wards tugging at me like I’ve been tied to the glittering magic that builds them with a string.  The jasmine and overripe fruit scent of them is enough to make my nose crinkle. Apparently the transformation heightens my senses as well.

“I’m gonna tear off my skin,” I snarl, fidgeting with my collar. Why is it so itchy? Is it supposed to be like this?

He slows his mount to keep pace with me and I do not miss the grumbled complaints of the males behind us. My ears twitch every time one of them speaks, the sound sometimes like a shout and others like a far off echo.

“Breathe,” he says gently. “The more worked up you get, the worse it will be until we can find a way to safely expel it.”

I draw a shaky breath, then another. 

“Good girl.”

A shiver works its way up my spine at that.

“Now come here,” he leans so far out of the saddle he’s only holding on with his thighs, and my first thought is how we can get this little caravan to pause so I can be the one beneath him. He gets an arm around my waist and hauls me back up onto the horse and damn if that’s not the hottest thing I’ve ever seen a male do!

“Let’s get these wards up-” I’m hyper-aware how every word rumbles through his chest, the way his body shifts on the horse. “-And we’ll find a place to camp soon enough, then you and I can work on this.”

“Make it stop,” I gently beg. “I don’t want it!” The itch beneath my skin is becoming unbearable! My claws scratch up my arms, tearing up my sweater. 

His free hand covers mine, intertwining our fingers, even as the horse begins to move. “Focus on me.”

I focus my attention on the way his body molds against mine. The way the leather of his glove slides over the back of my hand. I let my eyes drift shut, focusing on the brush of his chest against mine, the swaying motion of his hips as the horse moves over the rocky terrain. It’s not enough. Not like the feel of his lips on mine had been this morning. As if he knows it, he drops his head against my shoulder, nose brushing over the exposed skin of my throat. 

“I’m right here,” he continues. “Focus on me, just like you did this morning.”

This morning there had been a lot less clothes between us. 

“Breathe for me.”

It is a physical effort to draw a deep enough breath in; another to pull my claws away from my itching skin. He settles our joined hands against my stomach. 

“Again.”

I manage to do what I am told, just barely. 

“Good. Just like that.” His voice makes a shiver run down my spine as my mind spins with all the other things I want him to talk me through. I think I could do just about anything if he explained it to me in that rich, husky voice he was using in my ear. “Part of learning to control it is finding your center. Find a safe mental space to retreat to.”

“Like what?” There are few places in the world I have ever felt safe. Thinking about how I used to sit in the rocking chair with my mother and listen to her stories only fills me with pain now. Or perhaps a couple weeks ago I might have thought about all those summers I spent at the creek with Lucien, but now it only makes the thing beneath my skin rumble and shake like there’s some sort of animal that lives caged beneath my ribs and is trying desperately to break free. What makes me feel safe?

“A good memory, a happy time,” he lists. 

I have nothing. My eyes start to water and my throat starts to close, talons growing longer and sharper at my fingertips. I feel the give of my leather chest-piece beneath them. Everything good in my life has been a lie! Everyone that was supposed to protect me only ever hurt me in the end. None of it was ever real.

And this, this thing that could be something, that could be real, I had ruined it. I have to lie to keep it. I have to pretend that I had every right to hurt him, when it was really the other way around. The only person who had ever told me the truth, who could see me for what I was, and I had ruined any chance of it being real before it had even had the chance to start.

A sob slips out of me and with it, the tree we pass erupts in a flurry of leaves and twisting, screaming bark that makes the horse rear. The earth rumbles, random cracks splitting in the rock face, gnarled vines crawling out of them like tentacled monsters. The itching in my skin won’t stop! The more I try to trap it the more the world around us screams in protest. 

“Breathe, Y/N,” Rhysand orders in my ear. “You have to breathe.”

“I can’t!” I choke out. 

He slides his hand out of mine and brings it up against the side of my temple. It feels like a shadow unfurling from his fingertips, but the brush of it is not against my face, but inside my skull. Darkness clouds my vision from the inside out. It feels as if my brain is being emptied, piece by piece with shadows until there is nothing inside my mind but him. 

“Breathe,” he commands, the voice of a Warlord. “Now.”

I choke on each breath. 

“You are safe, Y/N,” he says, gentler. There is nothing in the world but the two of us in this dark little bubble. Nothing but the press of night chilled jasmine and calming, all consuming night. From somewhere far off, I hear music on the wind, the swell of stringed instruments pulling my attention away from the itch running beneath my skin.

“Why is this happening?” My body feels so impossibly small, yet like it’s being stretched beyond its capacity, my bones trying to tear through the confines of my skin all the same.

“Our powers can very easily get tangled with our emotions,” he explains, the hand on my temple drawing shapes into my skin. Somehow, after looking at the stitches in the tent walls, I know he’s spelling something out in Illyrian, but I’ll never know what. “The last twenty-four hours have been a lot for you, I’m sure.”

There is no room to think about it in this headspace, no twisted memories to plague me, only the music and the faint twinkle of stars for company. I let myself fall into it, let it swallow me and fill me until I feel disconnected from the pulling of my skin.

“I don’t want this power,” I whisper into the darkness.

The darkness caresses me, wraps itself around me as surely as his arm around my waist. “I know, but we don’t get a say in what we’re given, only what we do with it.”

When have I ever truly had a say in anything?

“What if I hurt somebody?” What if I am just as bad as my father in both intentions and power? If I am capable of plotting to ruin someone’s life based on a lie, how much more capable am I of turning these claws on someone else? Maybe power is passed from my mother, but that will never change the fact that I now carry the same weapons that were used to scar me, and Rhys, and probably his mother and sister. 

“You won’t,” he assures. “I’ll be right here to teach you. You can control it.”

He has far more faith in me than he should.

----

Once we’ve stopped for the night and camp is set up, Rhysand takes me by the hand and leads me out into the empty, grassy plains beneath the mountain. The knee-high yellow blades are brittle this time of year, cracking under our boots as we walk until only the smoke from the campfires pinpoints where we left the others. We’re far enough away that I won’t hurt anyone if I lose control again.

Shame flushes my cheeks. I’ve always prided myself on being the calm one of the family; always able to keep my emotions shoved deep down beneath the surface to keep them from getting the better of me. I thought I was good at it. I was wrong. It’s only been the constant brush of Rhysand’s shadows against my mind all afternoon that have kept me from tearing everything I touch to shreds. Even now, my hands ache from often my new claws have sprung and retracted from my fingertips.

I must feel about as awful as Rhysand looks. The circles under his eyes have not lessened in the slightest, and every once in a while I’ll see him start to sway, like it’s an effort to stay on his feet. The scent of his magic has lessened, the night blooming jasmine fading behind the citrus and salty scent of him. He shouldn’t be out here with me, he should be resting, recharging his own magic so he can be prepared for more warding tomorrow. According to Azriel and the scouts’ reports, we should meet up with Cassian and Mor’s group by this time tomorrow and Rhysand will need all his energy to ensure both ends of the wards are fully meshed together. 

We stop once we’re cushioned between two large hills, nothing but the chirp of crickets and the stars to keep us company. The Mountain looms dark and shadowy beneath the small sliver of the moon. 

“This looks like a good place,” he says as he finally releases my hand.

I keep my lower lip between my teeth, hands shaking at my sides. I don’t want to do this! Entertaining the idea that I have powers to train and use is foolish. I don’t need to learn to use them; I need to learn to shove them back down into the darkest parts of me where they can’t hurt anybody. 

“Let’s start with something simple,” he suggests. “Tell me where you feel your power the most.”

My hand comes up to poke between my rib cage, where the stirring and itchy feeling is the most concentrated. “Feels like something is trying to break out of my skin,” I say softly.

“The claws and the fangs could be a beast form,” he muses. “Or it could just be some shape-shifting powers you inherited from your father?”

The mention of that bastard makes the stirring in my chest feel like a tidal wave, raw energy crackling so hard and fast through my veins that I feel it crest out my fingertips. The grass around me withers and dies, the ground beneath it crackling and rumbling with what feels like the early stages of an earthquake. I can’t have powers like my fathers!

There is no shortage of pity in those violet eyes and I press my palms into my eyes with a groan. I can’t do this! It needs to stop! I need to bury it now before it runs away with me; while I still have some control over it. Because if it goes any further than this…

Maybe Tamlin was right to send me away. Maybe he did know about my powers and that was why he got rid of me. I couldn’t hurt anybody if I was alone in the woods.

Rhysands shadows drift along the floor until they can slither up my calves, rubbing affectionately against me in a way that reminds me of a cat. “It’s ok,” he soothes.

Tears stream down my cheeks. “Make it stop!” I beg. “Show me how to bury it again.”

His shadows trail higher, winding over my hips and waist, even as he steps closer, leaving barely a breath between us. “Y/N…” he shakes his head, trying to find the right words and I feel a strange pang beneath the movement in my chest.

“Please,” I whimper. “I’ll do anything! Just make it stop.”

He cups my cheek and I give myself the briefest moment to fall into the warmth of his touch.  “I know it’s scary, and that it hurts, but this is good. It has to be released. You will die if you don’t.”

Then let me. The words freeze on my tongue when a tendril of his power flicks over his shoulder, down his wrist, to brush against my cheek, but that doesn’t stop the spiraling of my thoughts. Let me be free of this pain. Let me go out before I become a monster like my father. Let that awful bastard be right; let me be useless and worthless and incapable of doing anything he could be proud of. 

As if spurred on by my thoughts, the grass around me continues to wither, until there’s a whole circle of dead earth surrounding me. The harder I try to draw it in, the wider the circle becomes. Power sizzle through my nerve endings, a fire that digs itself into my veins and when I curl my hands into fists to try and stop it, I pull weeds through the cracks in the earth, the gnarled, leafy branches reaching up like skeletal hands that wrap around my, and Rhysand’s ankles.

“Focus on that spot,” his free hand taps gently against my ribs. “Focus until it feels like you’re holding it.”

I try to imagine the power like a bowl filled with sloshing, dark liquid. I imagine myself reaching for the lip of the bowl, the cracked edges and rough wood a mirror to the one that used to sit on our kitchen table, full of apples I’d sneak when no one was looking. If I make it familiar, it feels easier to focus on. I imagine every crack in the bowl, every worn edge, focusing until I get a mental hold around the edges. Now all I need to do is tip the bowl over. If I spill out its contents, there will be nothing left inside me to unleash… right?

“Once you can hold it, focus on containing it. Imagine it like a bottle, get all that energy into the bottle, and put a lid on the top,” Rhys says like he can hear my plans.

The liquid inside the bowl bubbles and hisses as my conflicted feelings run circles through my head. He hasn’t been wrong this far, I should do as he says, but I can’t help but feel like indulging this is a mistake. I can hear my father’s voice inside my head, telling me that this is not how females are supposed to behave. 

I can feel the weeds I’d summoned dying around me. Can feel every blade of grass as if it was somehow attached to my skin. The longer I hold that imaginary bowl, the more aware of this power I become, but it doesn’t feel like control. It just feels like more things pulling at me, trying to move me in directions I’ve never decided I want to go in. 

The ground rumbles beneath my boots again as my mental grip slips, and when I open my eyes the weeds, dead as they are now, have slithered all the way up my chest, reaching for my throat like some decrypt hand. 

The air leaves my lungs in a rush and with it, the dead vegetation crumbles and turns to dust on the wind.

Rhysand should be looking at me like I’m a monster. He should be stepping away, shadows swirling, that giant sword in hand. We are supposed to be enemies and he should be looking at me like I am one. But he’s not. He reaches out and brushes some of the ruined plant off my shoulder instead.

“It’s ok,” he assures. “No one gets it on their first try. Not even me.”

That compassion and understanding makes my chest ache worse than any restless power ever has. I don’t deserve it. I wish he would treat me like the horrible creature I am. He would be better off if he tossed me out into the woods like Tam.

He stiffens and I can’t help but wonder if I accidentally said that out loud because his eyes darken as he closes the gap between us and takes my face in his hands. “Maybe I’m taking the wrong approach.” His voice is clipped, husky. 

Good, maybe he can finally see me for what I really am.

I am wholly unprepared for him to crash his lips against mine. My brain short circuits, the agitation I feel morphing into that desperate, needy thing I had felt this morning. Just as I tilt my head back, lips parting to let him in, he pulls back. 

“Let’s play a game.”

The power in my chest feels like it’s going to rip out of my skin again. 

“Match what I do and you’ll get a reward,” he explains. “If you can’t…” He takes a step back and it is an effort not to chase after him, but the message is clear enough: Matching his efforts means his hands, his lips, his body is on me again, fail to do so, and he puts space between us. It shouldn’t work. It shouldn’t make me want to try, but I do. Gods I do! 

“Ok,” my voice shakes a little. In the back of my mind I still think it’s a bad idea. Maybe I will regret it in the end, but this thing between us is the only thing that makes sense. There is nothing between us when his lips are on mine. I need that distraction tonight.

He holds out a hand and a ball of shadows emerge, the tendrils of darkness crawling out from beneath his skin to form the swirling shape. “Find that spot in your chest and push it into your hand. It’s a part of you, it answers to you. Make it answer to you.”

I hold out my hand, matching his position and then close my eyes, reaching for that bowl of darkness again. Hesitantly, I tip it sideways, sloshing some of the dark liquid over the edge and imagine pulling it through my limbs. It makes my muscles spasm, my claws shooting out of my nail beds in defense.

“Breathe through it, you’ll pass out if you hold your breath.” 

Selfishly, I want to impress him. Want to show him I can. I want the reward of his lips on mine again. Want to not have to think about whether I should be doing this or that, the only thought in my head him and how good he feels. I do as he says, drawing in a breath as I keep pushing that bit of darkness in the direction I want it. It makes my head hurt, trying to focus so intently, but I’m nothing if not persistent. 

I feel the rumble of movement beneath my palm, and just when I’m starting to think that maybe I’m more capable than I thought, the tiniest, most wilted looking dandelion grows from my palm. And then immediately turns to ash. It’s the saddest excuse for power I’ve ever seen and I growl out a complaint like a literal beast as even the thing in my chest shows its disappointment.

Rhysand snorts out a laugh too, which makes it worse.

So much for powerful. 

He clears his throat as he steps back into my space. “It was a good attempt.”

“Don’t patronize me,” I hiss. “That was embarrassing.” 

He wraps his hand around my wrist and places his lips against my palm anyway, never mind that my claws are still out and drifting over his temple as he kisses right where my powers flared. “You still tried.”

I shiver at the contact of his plush lips against my skin, his breath warm against my palm. My senses are still incredibly heightened and even that bit of contact makes my skin buzz with excitement. 

He quirks a dark brow as he looks at me from where my hand is still pressed against his lips. “Try again for me?”

I nod, not trusting my voice when he’s looking at me like he wants to devour me. His pupils are blown wide, barely a ring of violet left to see. He keeps his lower lip between his perfect teeth as he watches me with an intensity that makes my thighs clench. 

Just like before, I imagine myself holding that bowl, this time, I draw a breath and tip it over, letting more of that strange darkness spill into the abyss that is my soul. It is strange to see it like this, to have some parts of it so clear and yet the rest of it is shrouded in fathomless depths. There might be anything living within the confines of my skin. I’d never bothered to look until now. 

I push it towards my fingertips, just as before. The same spasm in my muscles returns, a knot forming in my bicep that I do my best to ignore as I keep pushing my power towards my hand. I remind myself to breathe when it flares in my wrist, making my claws retract and pop back out. 

“Just like that,” Rhysand coaxes.

Cauldron his voice makes my insides feel like jelly. 

Crawling vines emerge one by one from beneath my palms, twining around my fingertips like tiny snakes. In the center sprouts another dandelion, a little taller than the last. I manage to hold it for all of five seconds before the knot in my bicep and wrist become too much and the vines and flower die together. My bones ache. How does he do this so easily?

“Better,” Rhysand praises as he places the next kiss on the inside of my wrist, his fingers massaging the knot forming there. 

“Is it supposed to hurt?” I grumble.

“It’s a process,” he murmurs into my skin, lips trailing higher, causing a shiver to run down my spine. “Think of it like building a muscle. The first couple days of using that muscle will hurt. You’ll be sore. But the more you build it, the stronger it becomes, and the less it hurts. Eventually, you’ll be able to perform bigger and bigger feats with less and less discomfort.” 

That sounds exhausting! 

I’m going to have to do this for the rest of my life? The thought sours my mood, once again turning my thoughts away from this lovely little distraction he’s been offering and back into the darkness that’s been threatening to overtake me all afternoon. 

I swear he can hear the thoughts spinning through my head as he suddenly nips at the tender flesh of the inside of my wrist. “You think you can give me one more?”

I have a headache just thinking about doing it again, but he keeps looking at me through those long lashes, the intensity in his gaze making all rational thought fly out the window. 

“I’ll make it worth your while,” he promises, lips trailing higher. He’s so warm and intoxicating, I think he might be capable of making me do anything, as long as his lips remain on my skin.

I focus on that spot, paying extra attention to breathe as I reach for that imaginary bowl a third time. Maybe if I let myself relax, lean a little heavier into the warmth of his touch, and stop trying so hard to hold on so tight, it won't hurt so bad. It has been like fighting a tide all this time; if I relax, go with the wave, will that make it easier?

I imagine that darkness spilling from the bowl like water instead, letting it flow like a river. The path from my chest to my fingertips is kind of like a stream, right? The water bubbling and rushing through me. There must be something to that thought process, because, when I open my eyes, there are more vines twining around my fingers and wrist, but this time, tiny yellow and pink flowers bloom from them. There is nothing dead or angry crawling out from beneath my skin, but something beautiful and alive. My claws retract as the vines spin around my fingers.

I can’t help but grin as I look to Rhys for his approval. “I did it!”

He grins right back, the sight so dazzling I think I might just stand here for hours summoning flower after flower to see it again. “That’s my girl!”

Instinctively, spurred by the excitement rushing through my veins, I stretch up on my toes and place a quick kiss on his lips. “You’re a good teacher,” and I mean it. Whatever this is between us, I am grateful for him, even if this is all we have. “Thank you.”

He slides a hand in my hair and kisses me back. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

I don’t know what it is I feel about it. It still feels wrong, or maybe it just feels different. Everything feels different these days, I’d rather not think too long about it. “Feels like I can breathe a little easier.” 

“Good.” He kisses me again. “We’ll practice some more tomorrow.”

I slide my hand into the silky strands of his hair, nails scraping lightly over his scalp as he rests his forehead on mine. I won’t let myself think about tomorrow, or about these new powers. There can only be this moment.

“Just promise me,” he continues, “that you’ll keep trying?”

“I might need some convincing,” I return, clinging to this distraction with every last bit of willpower I possess.

He grins at the challenge. This is the best I can give him today; the closest to the truth I can admit without laying everything bare. 

“I can be very persuasive,” he purrs and the next thing I know I am on my back in what’s left of the grass, the solid weight of him on top of me. “Maybe we should work on some self-defense while we’re at it. That was alarmingly easy.”

“The words every girl wants to hear when she’s beneath a man,” I retort.

“I just want you to be safe, is all,” he says as he kisses the tip of my nose. 

I reach up a hand and brush some of the hair that’s falling over his forehead into his eyes out of the way. He is breathtakingly beautiful under the moonlight. I wish I could paint or sketch, immortalize every glorious sharp edge of him in ink and paper. “I’m with you, how can I not be safe?”

Cauldron boil me, I mean that too.

It’s not until later that night, long after I’d fallen apart on his tongue in that field and then tumbled back into camp, nearly asleep on my feet to nestle down against his warm body that I remembered I’d meant to ask him this morning why he’d still let me in after everything between us. By now I’m too exhausted to care; maybe I’ll find the courage to ask in the morning.

-------------

Taglist:

@judig92 / @randomperson1234sblog /@nyxbranwenn /@lilah-asteria / @barb00235

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@blessthepizzaman / @bxtchopolis / @erencvlt / @mylittle-flower-loves

Thank you all for being so patient with this update! As always, let me know if you want to be added to the taglist :)

[arachine]

. . . 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 ! ˚₊✩‧₊

— pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader

general tags: college! au, established relationship, fluff, suggestive

content warnings: period cramps, reader is a baby, ellie is patient, kissing, allusions to sex, brief mention of dealer!ellie + not proofread and also not my best work bc i was in pain !

note: this is super self-indulgent bc i am, unfortunately, on my monthly, and so, i am making it everyone’s problem >.<

ellie’s annoyed. actually, she’s concerned—maybe, slightly, kind of more than that too, but right now, she’s annoyed. this wasn’t like you—not answering messages, not answering calls.

she’d understand it if you were busy, especially since finals season was steadily approaching as the days passed, but she knew you didn’t have any plans today. that much was confirmed the last time she’d spoken to you, which was, if she could recall (she could recall it perfectly), last night at 8:00 p.m.

future wife 👰‍♀️: gn baby, see you tomorrow for breakfast! get some sleep ok? <33

ellie: alr goodnight baby. i’ll come get you at 9 ok? don’t oversleep this time, wanna get some french toast before all the athletes take it :/

future wife 👰‍♀️: never gonna let me live it down, huh?

ellie: never!

future wife 👰‍♀️: god alr, i won’t oversleep!!! promise :3 now gn fr this time!!! gts!!!

ellie: ok bossy i’m going to sleep 🫡 love you

that was the last message she’d sent to you that night. this morning, however, she made an effort to send you a slew of follow-up texts before making her way over to your dorm:

ellie: good morning sexy, you up?

ellie: it’s french toast time ☝🏻

ellie: don’t tell me you’re sleeping…

there was five minutes sent in-between each message, and yet, still no response. that’s when she got the bright idea to call.

“alright, this should wake her up,” she raised the phone to her ear, pacing around her apartment while waiting for the line to go through. to her dismay, it rung a few times before going straight to voicemail—to which she almost got excited over because you’ve got one of those annoying ass voicemails that sound like someone picked up the line.

“hey […], this is (name). sorry you can’t reach me right now, but leave a message and i’ll get back to you as soon as i c—”

“fucking hell.” ellie pinches the knot between her brows and sighs, ending the call before voicemail you can finish your sentence. again, she calls, thinking this time you’ll answer, but to no avail. it goes right to voicemail.

“the fuck…” she doesn’t even bother leaving a message. beelines right to her closet and grabs her sneaks, a hoodie, and her wallet, then heads out of her apartment building and begins the trek to your dormitory.

when she gets there, she buzzes in with her student keycard, and pads right up to the security desk. just as she’s about to open her mouth, one of the guards sitting interrupts her.

“can i see your proof of residence, please?” he says blankly, raising a fig bar up to his mouth.

“randy, really? you know me, i’m here almost every other day—just without my girlfriend—who i’m actually here to see,” she raises a finger, forearms leaning forward over the desk. randy feigns indifference, and opts to stuff the last of his bar in his mouth.

“you’re not a resident here, ellie. sorry, but you know the rules.”

“how about you shove the rules up your a—actually, that’s alright. my buddy right here will sign me in as a guest.” she grins devilishly at the dark haired man across the lobby, blinking once, twice, before flashing him a smile.

“jesse! my life saver, my best-friend, my messiah, my—“

“what do you want, ellie?” he rolls his eyes, pulling out his student keycard to flash randy. ellie purses her lips as if she’s been found out, then pulls jesse aside by the cloth of his jacket. she leans in real close so that what she says is out of earshot.

“sign me in as a guest and i’ll give you free weed during your next visit,” she bargains, wiggling her brows like she knows the offer is too good to pass up. jesse doesn’t answer her right away. instead, opts to tease her. puts his index finger on his chin, and opens his stance as if he’s really mulling it over. ellie’s not impressed.

a beat, then, he shrugs, mumbling a quick ‘better keep your word williams’.

ellie grins, something real big and cheshire-like, because she knows him. who’d be stupid enough to pass up free weed? exactly, no one. especially not a stressed college student, that’s for sure.

“thanks man, you’re really doing me a solid, you know,” she pats his back, to which he mutters a knowing ‘yeah, yeah, whatever’. she watches intently as he signs her in under his name, then makes a face at randy when she hands over her student keycard for him to keep.

“see ya later rand’!” the auburn haired girl says with the flick of a hand, turning the corner of the desk to get to the elevators.

“yeah, whatever.”

. . .

once the elevator comes to a halt on your floor, ellie gives jesse a final thank you before departing. as she walks down the winding hallway, she can’t help but to think the worst. what if you were unconscious? what if you’d been axe-murdered? what if you’d been kidnapped? all very unlikely, she knows, but not impossible.

when her mind sifts through a few more frightening scenarios, she realizes she’s already made it to your door. should she knock? she feels like she should knock, but then she figures if all her previous attempts to wake you up were unsuccessful, then who’s to say a few measly knocks would do the trick?

she decides against it. instead, she unhooks her carabiner from her jeans and fiddles around with her set of keys until she finds the spare you’d given her. until now, she’d never used it. the day you’d given it to her, you’d told her it was strictly for ‘emergencies’, and what better time to use it than now? this was surely an emergency, right?

the door unlocks and she immediately goes to twist the knob, pushes the door open and then shuts it closed behind her.

“babe, you here?” she calls out, walking through the kitchen, “you alive?” turns down the hall, “you in one piece?”

a beat. silence—save for the heavy padding of her boots as she makes her way towards your bedroom. the door is cracked open, just by a sliver, but she can see—or at least somewhat make out—the beginnings of a sleeping silhouette.

she pushes the door open and ambles to your bedside. you were fast asleep. curled up into a tight little ball with the duvet pulled up to your chin, and a mean little pout on your lips. it was adorable, and it made ellie’s heart twang with relief. at least now that she was able to verify your safety, she could forget all those terrible thoughts that she was getting herself all worked up over.

“hey, sweet girl,” she cooed, brushing the pad of her thumb over your cheek. your brows cinched in response, but you didn’t move. not even an inch. “baby,” ellie drawled in a sing-song voice.

she let her hand fall from your cheek to your back, and she rubbed it in slow, steady circles in an attempt to rouse you. after a while of this—a combination of her rubbing and cooing—you started to react.

“mmm,” you groaned, curling your knees up higher, “it hurts.”

“what hurts? what’s wrong?” opening your eyes, you were able to pair the voice of concern with a familiar face.

“ellie? what are you doing here?”

she lets a small chuckle escape her lips, then raises a hand to rest atop your head.

“what am i doing here? what are you doing here? had me worried sick about you,” she smooths a hand over your head, “missed our breakfast date.”

sighing, you slap a clammy hand over your head, then reach over ellie to grab your phone from the nightstand.

ten messages. three missed calls.

“god, i’m sorry, bellie. took some midol and melatonin last night so that i could beat these cramps, but i guess they worked a little too good, huh?”

“yeah, you nut.” she takes a glance at your nightstand and picks up the bottle of pills, shakes them around before settling them back down. “how many did you take?”

“just two…maybe three?” ellie’s eyes widen in disbelief.

“three? babe, these are 500 mg. why would you do that? the bottle says take two every six hours, and here you are taking more than the recommended amount, on top of taking melatonin,” she chides, though, it’s more out of genuine concern than it is her actually being upset.

you laugh at your own expense, but it’s short-lived because a second later, you’re clutching for your belly and writhing in pain.

ellie sighs, kicks her boots off and fully climbs up onto the bed and under the covers. once she settles into a comfortable position, she pulls you into her side.

“i know, baby, let me take care of you,” she strokes your back soothingly, “but next time, please don’t take that much. were you planning on sleeping forever?”

“maybe.” you jest, snuggling further into her warmth. admittedly, mixing both of those drugs was kind of stupid—maybe really stupid, but in your defense, you were in pain!—and really desperate. when you have cramps this bad, sometimes death sounds like mercy.

“oh, yeah?” the laugh she lets out is a deep rumble, and you can feel the vibrations of it as you lay on her chest. it’s soothing. a remedy that you should’ve utilized sooner, and you would’ve, had you been in the right headspace.

“mhm…” you purr, looking up at her, at her lips. ellie scans your face for pain, then dips down and pilfers a kiss from your lips. it’s slow, and sweet, and ends far too soon for your liking. before she can pull away, you tug her by the collar of her shirt. look up at her with pleading eyes, and fist it tighter between your knuckles.

“more,” you drawl, pulling her back down to meet your lips. she indulges you, because of course she does, and pushes you onto your back.

“thought,” a kiss, “your,” another, “cramps were bothering you?” she queries, breathless as she holds herself up above your sprawled out body. she thumbs with the hem of your shirt, waits expectantly for you to answer.

“they are,” you say, “so why don’t you make ‘em go away?”

and what kind of girlfriend would she be if did otherwise?

© arachine 2023

[withleeknow]

for the requests — i'll send two songs that i've liked for quite a while and you can choose the member that you see who fits the vibe?

sand by dove cameron

and

make you mine by madison beer

conversations with strangers.

pairing: seungmin x gn!reader genre/warnings: exes to ??, non-idol au (i wrote this with seungmin in mind as a celebrity/singer or musician of some sort so it's pretty vague and it's not explicitly mentioned what he actually does, so if you wanna imagine him as an idol it still fits the narrative. i can't tell you what to do lol), Angst™️! (i think. i liked this at first but then i was looking at it so much that i became desensitized to it and idk if it's that sad anymore lol); the ending is a little ambiguous maybe?, mentions of drinking, mentions of sex, could've been more edited word count: 2.9k note: this might be one of my favorite things that i've written lately but i am also in my fish freshly dropped on land era so i am fully prepared for this to flop like ass lol bye

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation / request masterlist / ko-fi

I saw the end when we began You couldn't love the way I can I tried to bargain with the stars For more than half of your heart But you have more pieces of me than the desert has sand And I have less pieces of you than I can hold in my hand

Sand - Dove Cameron

"Why did you call me?"

"Why did you come?"

There isn't a good answer to his question, so you choose to ignore it in favor of keeping your eyes on the road, your fingers holding tightly onto the steering wheel. You don't know what to tell him. You yourself aren't even sure why you came to that bar, why Seungmin is sitting in your passenger seat right now just because he was drunk and he wouldn't let anyone take him home but you.

"I asked you first," you say. It takes an effort to keep your voice even, an effort not to look over at him.

"Don't know," he sounds like he couldn't care less, but that's always been Seungmin for you. "Old habits die hard, I guess. You were the only one I used to call."

You round a corner without even having to look at the GPS. The route to his place is still ingrained in your brain even after all this time. On some nights when you feel too stuffy indoors, you would go on a walk by yourself. Directionless for an hour or two, you just want to feel the wind wrap around your body and solid ground beneath your feet.

On these same nights, you would find yourself at Seungmin's door.

It's always unintentional, the way your feet would carry you to his home without your permission.

"Used to," you reiterate. "Past tense. You don't get to call me anymore. I'm not your chauffeur."

You feel his eyes on the side of your face. Then his voice, ever so calm and collected, "You came anyway, didn't you?"

His words irritate you for some reason, even though he means nothing bad. No malice in his voice; he's just simply stating a fact. You did come when he called, and perhaps the person that you're really annoyed with is only yourself, because why did you come?

He should be a stranger to you by now, and yet, you're here.

Maybe you know the answer. Maybe it's not a hard question at all.

You let the both of you wallow in silence for the rest of the drive. When you pull up to Seungmin's building about ten minutes later, you finally turn to cast your gaze upon him with your eyebrow slightly raised, a polite Get out if there ever was one.

Instead of taking the hint like a normal person and going on his merry way, he just stares at you with his big eyes and his hair still styled to perfection even after a night of celebrating and drinking. Seungmin loves to be difficult, this you can't ever forget.

"Well?" you press. "You're home."

He blinks, then swallows thickly. He looks around your car for a few seconds, unsure of himself. If he wasn't intoxicated, you would think he's trying to stall.

"I... I can't go up by myself," he says.

"Are you serious?"

He just nods, something expectant in his gaze.

"You're a grown man."

"Help me up." He doesn't sound all too drunk, but maybe he's just got a way of masking it because Seungmin would never outright ask for help. He's stubborn, and he thinks it makes him look weak. Incapable.

In the end, you give in to his request. You let him lean on you in the elevator on the way up to his floor, the scent of his cologne still overpowering the bourbon he had all night and it makes you just a little nostalgic.

At his door, you hold onto his waist and look away when he punches in the passcode. The door unlocks and this should be it for the two of you, your unexpected reunion should be ending the moment Seungmin crosses over to the other side of the threshold, but he just turns around and looks at you, his body against the frame of the door this time.

"There, you're home safely," you say. "I've done my part. Goodnight."

"Come in."

"Why?"

"I'm tired. Come in." And with that, Seungmin retreats into the apartment, leaving the door open for you to follow without any further explanation at all. For a moment, you stand there by yourself, not really sure of what to do. You hear him shuffling inside, before the sound of his body plopping onto the couch carries over to your ears.

What business do you have here? What business did you have with Seungmin in the first place today?

And yet, you find yourself trailing inside, closing the door behind you until the lock clicks into place. Maybe you're curious to see what the place looks like since the last time that you were here. The two of you never lived together - you weren't foolish enough to agree even though he did ask - but you were over often enough to consider this your second home.

Not much has changed. It's still the same minimalist four walls that you were used to. Same light gray paint, same black couch. Same framed signature of his favorite baseball player and same tiny crack in the decorative bowl on the coffee table. There's a photo on the credenza lying face down seemingly on purpose, but you don't say anything about it.

"What am I doing here?" you ask.

"Why did you come?" he shoots you the question for the second time tonight.

You blink at him. He only stares back.

"Why did you call me?" you repeat. "Why did you really call me?"

Questions thrown out but no answers received, like you're both running in circles, with neither of you knowing why you're even running in the first place.

Seungmin purses his lips before he stands up, the suddenness of the movement leaves him unsteady on his feet, makes him hold onto the couch's armrest for support. "Do you want some water?"

You bite the inside of your cheek. "Okay."

"Give me a second. Have a seat."

You watch as he pads into the kitchen a little wobbly, then returns a few minutes later with two glasses of water. He sits back down on the couch next to you, some distance dividing the two of you. He takes a sip, you do the same.

"Called you because I missed you," he says, casually admitting it like he was merely discussing the weather. The place hasn't changed, but maybe he has.

The last time you spoke to Seungmin was about six months ago, when he dropped off your things two weeks after you broke up. You haven't had any contact since, and that's exactly the way it should be for you and him now. You went your separate ways and that was it. A mutual agreement that hurts, but it was mutual nonetheless. For the past half a year, all he's been to you is a stranger. You know why it had to happen. You agreed to it.

But, just because you haven't talked, doesn't mean that you haven't thought of him. You wish he only crossed your mind in passing, wish your brain only conjured up the image of him whenever you saw something that he would like, or whenever you caught a glimpse of him on the TV or radio. In reality, it's been much more pathetic. You think of him almost every day, despite your best efforts to cleanse yourself of everything that's remotely related to the name Kim Seungmin. His absence carries itself with you all the time, a hollowness that seeps into every crevice of your life.

You know he means it. Seungmin doesn't lie, least of all to you. His honesty twists inside of you like a knife. Salt, meet wound.

You have no words to offer him, no response you can think of that would make sense to say out loud so you don't say anything. The only sound that falls from your lips is his name, like a warning, a plea, a consolation all at once.

But he doesn't seem to mind. Not his sudden vulnerability, not your reluctance to entertain that split second of honesty.

"I answered your question. Now you have to answer mine," he says. "Why did you come?"

"What do you want me to tell you?"

He doesn't respond right away. Instead, he takes a moment like he's mulling it over in his head. "Thought maybe you missed me too," he says eventually, ending the sentence with a bitter chuckle. "Just a little bit."

You tongue your cheek, stall with another sip of water before you place the glass on the table. On a coaster of course, Seungmin hates cup rings on his fancy table.

You lean back to rest on the couch, staring up at his boring ceiling. There are memories of you on this very couch, ones of you lying with your head on his lap as he plays with your hair, the two of you winding down after a long day. Or ones that are far too inappropriate to bring up ever again, of nights where you were both too desperate and impatient to take it to the bedroom. Those gentle reminders are still here somewhere, tucked between the cushions perhaps.

"Sure." You hum, nodding along. "Let's go with that."

Another chuckle, humorless. Though, you think he's pleased enough with that non-answer but you're not sure. He mirrors your position, falling into the couch with a sigh. From your peripheral vision, you think he's scooched closer to you, just by a few centimeters, in the process of settling into the sofa.

"My turn," you say. "Why do you want me here?"

"What is this, 21 questions?"

You shrug simply. "You asked me to come in. I'm just curious."

When Seungmin stays silent for a beat too long, you turn your head to watch him, thinking maybe he's knocked out because of the alcohol in his system. But you find him wide awake, his eyes staring ahead, looking like he's already sober.

His face is unreadable when he says, "Wanted to see something."

"See what?"

"See if something is still there."

It's your turn to remain quiet as you process his words, and it's Seungmin who has to turn to gauge your reaction.

"And? Is anything still there?" you ask.

"I don't know, you tell me. You're the one that stayed."

"Does it matter? If I say there is?"

"Of course it does."

"What would you do about it?"

He goes still once more. You know he doesn't have an answer to your question. What would he do? What could he even do? Patch things up only for them to fall apart again in a couple months? Once upon a time, you were naive enough to think that you could find a way to make it work. You had enough blind faith to think that it would all work out in the end; that if you wanted it enough, maybe the universe would let you have this one thing.

You return your gaze to the ceiling. He's shown you his cards, maybe it's only fair that you show him some of yours too.

An uncertain inhale, then the realization that this is the only time you would be able to have an honest conversation with him about this.

"Wanna hear something funny?" you ask.

"I have a feeling you're gonna tell me anyway."

It's anything but funny, and Seungmin is certain that you're not building up to a punchline. Sure, it's a little tragic that nothing matters, but there's some freedom, some comfort in that too. You can tell him everything that's plagued your mind for the past couple hundred days or so without having to worry about the repercussions. Even though not all is said, everything is already done.

"You know, you were mine before you were anyone else's," you say. You feel his eyes on the side of your face. The silence persists, and you aren't sure if you can take it as a sign to continue, but you do so anyway because at least he's not pumping the brakes on it, right? "I used to be jealous of your life. Toward the end, I mean."

"Jealous of what?"

"I don't know. Just your life, your dream. All of it."

Seungmin blinks. "You were jealous that I got to live my dream?"

"I said I was jealous of your life, not you," you correct him. "Because you always seemed to want everything else more than you wanted me."

"You make it sound like I was the bad guy." He turns a little defensive all of a sudden, an edge in his voice when he says, "That's not true."

You still remember him well enough to know that it is.

And it's not such a terrible thing; it's simply the truth. You can't fault him for having a dream and for having enough courage to see it through, even if it means unintentionally leaving you behind in the process. You could foresee the end even from the beginning. If you wanted to blame someone, you would have to blame yourself too.

You swerve around his metaphorical walls, his make-believe suit of armor. If you'd been nervous around Seungmin tonight, then that anxiety is now chipping away brick by brick the more you internalize the fact that nothing matters anymore.

"Remember your last show before we broke up? You were so happy, I was so proud of you. You belong on stage and I never wanted to take that away from you. But then I noticed the crowd, the thousands of people out there cheering your name and I realized that I would never compare to them. Their praise meant more to you than mine, and it was only a matter of time before you outgrew me to look for bigger and better spotlights.

"I'm not saying you were wrong for any of it. I don't blame you. You were always going to outgrow me. It's sad, but it's okay. I always knew that you'd have to leave me behind at some point. It's on me too; I just fell too hard too fast for someone who could never stay. It's your dream, you can't help it. But that night... that was the nail in the coffin for me, knowing that one day, to you, I would be just one of the faces in a crowd that you can't even tell apart."

It doesn't hurt as much as you thought it would. In fact, it's even a little cathartic to pour out the words that have been sitting heavy on your chest. Although it's not until a single tear spills over that you realize your eyes have welled up somewhere along the way. You quickly wipe it away with your thumb, then you feel his hand reach for yours after a few beats.

Seungmin calls your name, and you can hear the regret in his voice. When you look at him, his eyes have softened, no longer on the defense now that you've beat him to the offense. "I'm not drunk enough to forget about this in the morning, you know," he says.

"Does it matter? What are you going to do about it in the morning?" you ask. "We're already broken up. It's not like we can go anywhere from here. But at least now you know what it was like for me."

It seems to be a common theme tonight - stretches of silence in between admissions of truth so that one of you can gauge the other's reaction, trying to assess what path would be worth it to take at this crossroad you find yourselves unable to move on from.

Then he's tugging on your hand, pulling you to him until you're in each other's orbit again. Close enough for him to wrap his arm around you. Close enough that you're weak, not that you were ever that strong to begin with. It doesn't really come as a surprise that you let him.

"I..." Seungmin starts, full of uncertainty as he tries to string together a sentence. "We could go back."

This isn't a surprise either, that you're considering his words.

"What happens when it ends again?"

You can practically taste the residual bourbon on his breath when he leans into you, his lips brushing your cheek just slightly. "Then it ends again," he says, a little pained, all too selfish. "But it'll be worth it. It's worth it to me."

"What if it's not what I want? What if it's not worth it to me?"

He pulls back, putting some distance between your faces so he could see you better, the deep brown of his eyes searching for something that you're both aware of.

"You came tonight," he murmurs, as if that in and of itself is a sufficient enough explanation. "You stayed."

Not all is said, but everything is already done.

You had chance after chance after chance to leave, to shut this down - whatever this is - but you didn't, not even once. You're still a willing participant even though you've lived through this ending before. You know he loved you, know he loves you even if the way he goes about it is selfish.

Because you do know the answer to his questions. It's clear as day; anyone can see it from a mile away.

When your world eventually comes crashing down again some time from now, you won't blame Seungmin. You won't blame yourself either, despite having option to walk away from all of this right now.

Because maybe some pains are worth enduring twice, aren't they?

Why did you come? Why did you stay?

Is anything still there?

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 08.06.2024]

[nighttimeclassics]

so im just thinking about the Orpheus and Eurydice metaphor in Dead Boy Detectives again...

so i really cant get over the symbolism in the show's comparison between Edwin and Charles and Orpheus and Eurydice. I'm sure someone else more succinct than me has already talked about it but man i just have to because as a classicist it has been consuming my brain since it happened... this is going to be a shitty ramble, but we vibe

so in the show, it is Edwin who first realises his feelings for Charles, and is the first to to truthful about them. Given that, in most translations of the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice, Orpheus' devotion to his wife is seen as the "stronger love" between the pair. highlighted in later adaptations such as Hadestown, as Eurydice makes the active choice to go to the underworld and leave her husband rather than their wedding being overshadowed by issues "worse than any omens". therefore, Edwin could initially be seen as the Orpheus parallel. particularly when you consider that Edwin 'guided Charles from the darkness' when he was dying of hypothermia with the lantern

however, unsurprisingly, given that is it Edwin who escaped from Hell, and is returned to it, Charles appears as the Orpheus parallel, with Edwin being his Eurydice. this is obviously then made super explicit in the show with it being Charles rescuing/ leading Edwin out of Hell. but even then it is not that simple

In Ovid's Metamorphoses, when pleading with Hades and Persephone, Orpheus states "my wife is the cause of my journey. A viper [...] robbed her of her best years. I longed to be able to accept it, and I do not say I have not tried: Love won." and obviously at the core of both of these relationships, is a deep deep love between them, regardless of how that manifests. Something i think is a massive parallel that i haven't seen anyone talk about yet is the willingness to remain in the Underworld/Hell for their respective partners.

going back to Metamorphoses, when Orpheus is requesting Eurydice's return to the mortal world, he gives Hades and Persephone an alternative solution of sorts. he says "if the fates refuse my wife this kindness [of returning to life], I am determined not to return {to the mortal realm]: you can delight in both our deaths." now is this not effectively the same thing Charles says to the Night Nurse when bargaining with her to open a door to Hell??? Charles says "then open up a door and I'll go get him, then we're stuck in Hell and you know where we are, or, I bring him back and we're all yours. It's a win-win." tell me that these aren't the same. you cant.

But i do think the most interesting parallel is when Charles and Edwin are running up the spiral staircase. i am not mentioning the times when escaping Hell, Edwin overtook Charles running, because let's be honest, we all know he is the faster sprinter of the two given the 70 years he spent practising. so I am disregarding that. but what I do find fascinating is this - and why I said it was more complicated earlier; in the metamorphoses Orpheus is obviously given the stipulation that he must not look at Eurydice when guiding her out of the underworld, or the agreement "would be null and void". and its here that we see another reversal. during the majority of the run up the staircase, Charles is behind Edwin, because like we have established, he's speedy. but in this key moment, Charles takes the lead in their escape, walking in front of Edwin whilst making it clear that they need to keep moving. just like in the tale, Charles, fulfilling Orpheus' role, "Afraid [they] was no longer there, and eager to see [them], the lover turned his eyes", turns to look back at Edwin, delivering the ridiculously romantic, 'sorry, no version of this where I didn't come get you is there?'. however, after this he refocuses on continuing up the staircase, which is where Edwin steps in:

as you can see in the gif, currently, Edwin is in, what I'm going to call the 'Eurydice position', following the lover out of the afterlife. and it is Edwin, as Eurydice, who basically chooses to condemn himself to the underworld/ hell, allowing the demon to catch up with them just to 'see [his] lover' and ensure Charles knows that '[he] had been loved'. t

im just going to put the section where Orpheus looks back at Eurydice in here because I think its all relevant:

"Afraid she was no longer there, and eager to see her, the lover turned his eyes. In an instant she dropped back, and he, unhappy man, stretching out his arms to hold her and be held, clutched at nothing but the receding air. Dying a second time, now, there was no complaint to her husband (what, then, could she complain of, except that she had been loved?). She spoke a last ‘farewell’ that, now, scarcely reached his ears, and turned again towards that same place"

by forcing Charles to turn around and face him, Edwin is fulfilling the roles of both Eurydice and Orpheus. in this instance, he is the one 'stretching out his arms' to hold Charles, but he is also the one that could be sent/ dragged back to the afterlife for this, but he just had to make sure Charles was aware of his feelings for him, to know that he was 'loved'. and I think Edwin was potentially prepared to return to the Doll House, or at least believed he would be able to find it more bearable knowing that he had been able to bear his soul to Charles, eve if that meant Charles couldn't come back again and try to rescue him for a second time, which Orpheus tried to do in the Metamorphoses, "Orpheus wished and prayed, in vain, to cross the Styx again, but the ferryman fended him off" and I feel like we all know Charles would have also kept trying if he lost Edwin again.

i guess, what im trying to say, in the most long-winded way, is that Charles and Edwin don't fill binary roles of one of them being Orpheus and the other being Eurydice, they are both of those things to one another throughout the show and I think that's really beautiful and I have to give massive credit to whoever did episode seven because I really feel like they did their homework. even after all the ramble I have written I still feel like I haven't fully made the point I was trying to make, but I definitely got some of the way there I think

[squinch-depraved]

Bro PLZ write something about teds mustache PLZ🙏

here u go short while i work on other stuffs

"i promise you you aren't too heavy, please sit on my face," ted begged.

"your mustache is gonna feel so weird though!!" excuses. to tell the truth, he just made you really nervous. you honestly didn't expect that mentioning that you had never been eaten out to your best friend would land you in this situation. "i dunno, ted..."

"c'mon, please trust me. i promise we can stop if you don't like it but i wanna try to make you feel good at least once. please?" he made that stupid face that gets him whatever he wants and leaned back on to his couch, resting his head flat on a pillow and patting his chest for you to hop on.

with a scoff, you rolled your eyes and started to climb onto him, but he stopped you and pointed to your pants.

"off," he instructed simply. his bossiness left a damp spot in your panties once you slowly, carefully removed them, folding both them and your pants and setting them on the coffee table. "there we go." you could hear the grin in his voice before you spun back around to glare at him.

"you're so annoying, you know that?"

"you love me."

he wasn't wrong. in what way, you weren't sure, but you did love your best friend.

"hop on!" he waved you over, intertwining his fingers with yours when you straddled his chest. "my face is up here," he joked when you hesitated.

"oh my god, fine, i'll sit on your face if it'll shut you up," you teased, trying to hide the nervousness in your voice. ted, who couldn't stop smiling, helped you scoot forward until you were hovering over his face. once he had a clear view of your wet hole, he groaned and wrapped his arms around your thighs, pulling you down and holding you tight while you squirmed.

his tongue worked deftly in and out of your cunt, flicking and swirling around your sensitive bud and drawing frantic wails from you. you had never felt anything so pleasurable; everything he was doing was sending white hot electricity straight to your core.

"teddy, fuck!!" you screamed, bucking your hips furiously on his face. his mustache provided just the right stimulation, brushing against your thighs when he pulled his mouth away from your pussy to plant sloppy kisses everywhere. "feels so good..." you trailed off.

he moaned into your folds as he slid his tongue back in you, the vibrations causing your legs to tremble.

"ted, please, you're so good, so good to me, fuck! why did you wanna- nghh, do this so bad?" your voice was shaky, and he pulled away with a lewd noise to answer your question.

"because i think you deserve to feel good. this doesn't have to be anything more than two friends helping each other, if you don't want it to be. just, shut up and let me taste you, please?" he bargained, brushing his mustache along your skin to soothe you.

"how am i helping you?" you asked, puzzled.

"you think i'm not gonna get off to this for like, the rest of my life?" he chuckled, pulling your cunt back to his mouth. staring down at him made your stomach flip- the way his hazel eyes peered up at you as he worked his mouth was intoxicating.

"teddy, i think i'm close," you whined, rolling your hips forward. his grip on your thighs tightened as he furrowed his brows and began eating you faster, sloppy noises filling the room. letting out a constant string of moans and swears as you tossed your head back, you let him devour you and arched your back.

he guided you through your orgasm, grunting when you began to claw at his arms where they were holding you down. he overstimulated you just a tad, unable to resist his cruel desires, not knowing if he would get to do this again. once you rode out your high, you scrambled backwards off of him, panting, and collapsed onto the couch.

"was that good?" he asked nervously, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. you couldn't form words yet, but nodded solemnly. smiling, he rose from his seat and walked to the kitchen, returning with a water bottle, which you accepted gratefully.

"can we do that again?" you asked quietly once he sat back down.

"uh. yeah, if you really want to," ted offered, scratching the back of his neck.

pulling him in for a deep kiss, you grinned at the faint taste of yourself still on his lips. his mustache tickled your upper lip as the kiss deepened, and soon he was on top of you, kissing between your thighs and enjoying every noise that spilled from your lips.

[ladystoneboobs]

an examination of theon greyjoy's feelings about and (implied) relationship with evil uncle euron

Theon searched for his uncle Euron's Silence. Of that lean and terrible red ship he saw no sign, but his father's Great Kraken was there, her bow ornamented with a grey iron ram in the shape of its namesake. [...] It might be only a caution, now that he thought on it. A defensive move, lest the war spill out across the sea. Old men were cautious by nature. His father was old now, and so too his uncle Victarion, who commanded the Iron Fleet. His uncle Euron was a different song, to be sure, but the Silence did not seem to be in port. It's all for the good, Theon told himself. This way, I shall be able to strike all the more quickly. -Theon I, aCoK

the first we read of euron is in theon's first pov as he searched the harbor at lordsport for euron's ship. no reason is given for singling that ship out nor an initial reaction to its absence. later down the page euron is described as different from balon and victarion, with none of an older man's caution to be expected from him. that's why theon thought it for the best that euron's ship was not in port, though at this point it appears his only concern is being the boldest greyjoy around, commanding the fleet all the more quickly for its already being assembled, and not being outshone by euron. the only hint at more is his description of the ship as "terrible".

"You can marry off your sister," Esgred[Asha] observed, "but not your uncles." "My uncles . . ." Theon's claim took precedence over those of his father's three brothers, but the woman had touched on a sore point nonetheless. In the islands it was scarce unheard of for a strong, ambitious uncle to dispossess a weak nephew of his rights, and usually murder him in the bargain. But I am not weak, Theon told himself, and I mean to be stronger yet by the time my father dies. [...] [Asha-as-Esgred, to Theon:] "Euron Croweye has no lack of cunning, though. I've heard men say terrible things of that one." Theon shifted his seat. "My uncle Euron has not been seen in the islands for close on two years. He may be dead." If so, it might be for the best. Lord Balon's eldest brother had never given up the Old Way, even for a day. His Silence, with its black sails and dark red hull, was infamous in every port from Ibben to Asshai, it was said. -Theon II, aCoK

by theon's next chapter, when he and (unknown, to him) asha discuss their greyjoy uncles, theon has learned that euron hasn't been seen in the iron islands for two years. atp, rather than just noting that euron's not at home, theon has decided it's for the best if he's died somewhere and can never return. the word terrible is again used wrt euron and it's also said that his ship is infamous all over the world. euron is the only greyjoy never to have given up the old way in any sense, and the implied danger to theon is that he could also partake in the old tradition of a strong, ambitious uncle murdering his nephew. euron has thus been establishled as a villain, a threat, and possible kinslayer more specifically but we have yet to learn all the other, more unique aspects of his villainy. i think it likely that grrm, with his gardener-writing, had not yet decided that euron was an incestuous sexual predator. the risk of nepoticide is enough to explain theon's nervous shifting at the mention of euron's cunning and the terrible things said of him, but it could also apply to euron's full characterization only revealed years later in aeron's pov, one of those little half-open seeds gardener-grrm could decide to grow later.

[Robb Stark, to his assembled bannermen and his mother:] "Euron Greyjoy is no man's notion of a king, if half of what Theon said of him was true. Theon is the rightful heir, unless he's dead . . . but Victarion commands the Iron Fleet. I can't believe he would remain at Moat Cailin while Euron Crow's Eye holds the Seastone Chair. He has to go back." -Catelyn V, aSoS

our next clue about theon/euron is not from his own pov but in the book between his arcs when he's "offscreen". i'd say the fact that theon had confided to robb at all about euron is significant, let alone that he related enough things about euron for robb to rhetorically dismiss half of what theon told him and still feel confident of ironborn infighting with euron on the throne. (with theon's status unknown and asha absent from the isles too, euron would have a claim to that throne and a better one than victarion regardless as the eldest surviving greyjoy. vic is the dutiful younger brother who wouldn't normally make any power play, so for robb to know that euron's rule would be challenged by his younger brothers shows he does indeed have insider intel wrt euron.)

this accurate read from robb stands in pretty, ahem, stark contrast to everything theon must have told robb and himself about the likelihood of a robb/balon alliance. an impartial observer who knew (as theon did) that balon's first rebellion was about bringing back the old way more than just independance from the iron throne would have known those goals were not in line with the kitn's cause and that alliance was a no-go from the start. we see in the quoted portion of theon i above how he lied to himself about balon becoming a cautious old man and this being his time in the sun, yet it seems euron was the one family member he couldn't lie to himself about. not only did euron make such an impression on him that theon always remembered him very clearly but the effect was such that amid all his hostage time at wf fantasizing about his return home, he felt the need to tell robb the truth about this one scary relative by confiding in him with multiple stories. (though if euron had sexually abused theon, i can't imagine him ever explicitly revealing that to robb or anyone else.)

"My uncle[Victarion] is never coming back," Reek told them[the ironmen Victarion abandoned at Moat Cailin]. "The kingsmoot crowned his brother Euron, and the Crow's Eye has other wars to fight. You think my uncle values you? He doesn't. You are the ones he left behind to die. He scraped you off the same way he scrapes mud off his boots when he wades ashore." -Reek(/Theon) II, aDwD

this is euron's only name-drop in theon's dance pov, significant only in that it shows theon had recent news of his uncles, enough to know that euron dgaf about keeping balon's northern conquests and had instead drawn vic and the other captains far away. which brings me to ...

Crowfood. Theon remembered. An old man, huge and powerful, with a ruddy face and a shaggy white beard. He had been seated on a garron, clad in the pelt of a gigantic snow bear, its head his hood. Under it he wore a stained white leather eye patch that reminded Theon of his uncle Euron. He'd wanted to rip it off Umber's face, to make certain that underneath was only an empty socket, not a black eye shining with malice. Instead he had whimpered [...] -Theon I, tWoW

here, we have theon meeting a non-bolton northman he's known before, no different really from all the non-bolton northmen inside wf or any others he'd met growing up there, none of whom really seemed to scare him as his captors did, yet the mere sight of mors "crowfood" umber's eye patch is enough to freak theon the fuck out, wanting to rip off the eye patch for reassurance that crowfood was just a regular guy. this is the kind of terror we'd expect wrt ramsay, which would make sense in that regard, as ramsay had been his most immediate abuser, torturing theon in every sense for around a year almost right up until the moment of his escape, and ramsay's still right there in wf, so theon had good reason to still fear recapture by him. euron, though? that's an uncle he hadn't seen in over ten years, who theon knew to be far from wf as seen in the above dance quote, so he had no reason to expect to see him again in that part of westeros and one would think he had enough immediate problems not to worry about someone he hadn't seen in so long. you'd think his pre-ned, pre-ramsay childhood with all the greyjoys would feel a lifetime away with all he'd been through since, esp the reekening. but whatever impression euron left on him was still just as clear and fresh as ever, so that anyone with an eye patch could suddenly make him feel fear of an uncle hundreds of miles and a decade removed from him. from this moment i take away two things: 1) theon will survive stannis and have to meet uncle euron again bc otherwise i don't see the point of grrm throwing this in here and 2) it now feels a helluva lot more likely that theon was another csa victim of euron's bc i don't think this kind of sudden fear could be accounted for with just general scariness from euron. feels more like being triggered by a trauma flashback (just as aeron had as soon as he heard that euron had taken balon's throne), doesn't it? and after having been recently sexually abused by ramsay all that time it makes sense that he'd be even more sensitive to reminders of another abuser as soon as he'd finally escaped ramsay, moreso than when he was just nervously shifting as he and asha vaguely talked of euron's terribleness.

after all, theon/aeron are already linked in the feastdance as both are youngest greyjoy siblings who happen to also be victims of abuse who had buried their old selves in a new identity. aeron's old self even sounds a lot like pre-ramsay theon. theon remembered pre-born-again aeron as the "most amiable of his uncles, feckless and quick to laugh, fond of songs, ale, and women", and aeron described his younger self as "a sack of wine with legs. He would sing, he would dance [...] he would jape and jabber and make mock. He played the pipes, he juggled, he rode horses and could drink more than all the Wynches and the Botleys, and half the Harlaws too." doesn't that sound like the ever-smiling and joking unserious theon we first met, fond of wine and womanizing, once a good dancer, and better ahorse than most ironborn? the only part really missing for theon is aeron's ability to always win literal pissing contests. you'd think being sexually abused by two different evildoers (euron and ramsay) would be enough of a parallel, but this winds preview chapter certainly makes it seem like they also shared the specific experience of being abused by euron in childhood too. our poor youngest kraken really did never have a chance, did he?

shoutout to this post detailing the evidence of theon's sa by ramsay for inspiration. ik i'm not the first to suggest abuse by euron too, but thought it useful to make the case by laying out all the relevant quotes as evidence.

[quiteliterallyilliterate]

If you are open to requests, I would like to request anything with Fae!Hyrule or maybe a feral Fae!Hyrule (follows classic Fae rules, protect your name, don’t thank a Fae, don’t make a deal, etc) , or even a cute fluffy Fae!Hyrule X Reader fic. There just isn’t enough fairy Hyrule, especially X reader fics, they are practically nonexistent. I just read your last post of a fairy/malice Hyrule X reader and am hooked. Your previous work has fed my obsession, thank you 🙏 .

Order up!

Sorry that this ended up taking so long! Just wanted to make sure everything worked out. This unintentionally got really long and i didn’t wanna convolute things as I intend to do. Special thanks to @litrllyvoid who proofread this.

Hope you enjoy~

tw: Dementia loosely described

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

Your mother always told you that you were blessed. You’d watch from your little stool as she weaved her fabrics, shuttle passing through the rungs of yarn with precision. Her words were low and hushed, embellishing every word with an air of mystery. You were six months old, she said. The forests were cold and menacing as they still were, and within those woods, she sung. An odd act many of the people now would warn against for the very same reason she did it. The fae. Tricksters of the woods with sharp tongues and sly deals, your mother had them bless you. Now, you see the price. While you never were injured as a child and never fell ill, your mother took the brunt of your illnesses. She sat now in her rocking chair, hands too worn to use her loom as her mind withers. Wrapped in the great blankets she used to weave, she doesn’t remember that she made them. She doesn’t recall who she used to be. You read her books about the fae sometimes and her tall tale is all she ever mentions anymore. The small smile she has is all that’s left of her —truly her— anymore. So, with a book, a green cloak and some payment, you set off into the forest with the hopes of recovering what’s since been lost.

You’ve since grown increasingly thankful for your cloak, the furry lining keeping you blessedly warm as the fog only grows thicker and thicker. The light begins to dwindle from your path despite it only being sometime around noon. The birds are gone now. Their chitters and chortles are replaced by wind whispers and the quiet sway of your breath. You stop at an odd formation of rocks stuck in the ground, crocus and clover flowers blooming around the edge of each rock that forms the circle. Carefully you step in, leaving a velvet bag of silver coins as payment for your intrusion. The air stands still and the humidity increases, each breath uncomfortable.

“Hello there” The voice is as cautious as you feel, and yet clearer than your vision at the moment. You turn to see a thin, scruffy looking boy, brown-blonde waves of hair tousled like a sea of their own. His head is tilted to the side, hazel eyes combing over you carefully. He holds out a hand in expectations. You hesitate as you hand him the bag, especially as his thin lips twitch towards a frown. “I do not want your money” He shakes his head, his nose crinkling at its bridge.

“Wh-“ You turn fully now to face him and he doesn’t feel as scary as the stories paint his kind to be, perhaps that makes them even more terrifying. “Then what do you want?” His lips part to a tight smile, the edges of his teeth showing, you can’t tell from where you stand if they’re pointed.

“Your mother could sing, couldn’t she?” A chill skitters down your spine as his deceptively innocent voice calls. You don’t even dignify him with a response, suddenly feeling unwelcome on the grass you stand. “My mentor actually dealt with it— not me” He chuckles at the end of his words, complimenting them like birdsong does to sunrise. “We love a good song you know” You can’t for the life of you tell what it’s supposed to mean, what he intends behind the simple words. And yet his pointed ears wiggle as he smiles reassuringly, as if you weren’t bargaining over a life.

“That’s the thing-“ You choke over the words, feeling yourself root down to your cause. “She’s unwell because-“ Looking at his curious eyes picking you apart, you feel bad at the sentiments you hold. It feels as if your mind is being mixed, and yet there’s nothing apparently wrong. “Because of the deal. I want to know how to fix it.” You’re unsure exactly of how you managed to keep your voice so even, but the boy in front of you buys into it. He nods in acknowledgement before his lips pursed, his sharp cupid bow shifting.

“An eye for an eye” The wind picks up, ruffling the trees. Suddenly the small boy in front of you no longer feels nearly as harmless. “A life for a life, one must understand.” His eyes close and he sinks in on his feet, speaking so calmly of mortality. Truly because his kind holds so much over it “To save yours, she sacrificed her own. That cannot be easily undone” His words make you sink as well. Nothing to be done. Not even for the ones who’ve done it. “Be not afraid. There is a solution” His smile is back, tight and lacking the warmth of a human. “A life for a life.” He giggles, as if the words were funny “Say you managed to bear me a child- Oh that won’t do. Too cliche. And horribly disrespectful” A freckled hand curls around the base of his chin as he ponders. “Are you unwed?” His eyes glint with a silvery light that you failed to see before. In the pure shock of the moment, you shake your head, shuffling back slightly. “Really? Wow- Sorry. If you are willing to spend the remainder of your life with me, I will save your mother. Only if we are married —wholly married, not simply for the sake of the spell— then will I save your mother. You'll still be able to visit and what not, but you'll live with me, as is proper.” He holds a hand out to you, and your fingers twitch at your side.

“Uh-“ You sip in some of the uncomfortably humid air and feel your head get lighter. An eye for an eye. Your life for hers. She was a good woman, one of unfortunate circumstances. Feeling calloused hand meet your own sealed your fate to something you could only hope to be respectable. The fae aren’t known for breaking deals. Nor are they known for breaking their pacts. Till death do you part, afterall.

[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

the same sweet shock | alpha!rhett x omega!oc

Summary: Tessa, an omega, has a problem. She can't seem to get laid and she needs it - desperately. And when her friends suggest that she go off her suppressants for a bonfire she might just get more than she bargained for. (wc: 5288)

Warnings: omegaverse stuff/lore (of which i am not well verse do not hang me), language, background ocs, a flashback, a pinch of angst, alpha!rhett abbott my beloved, trevor is a dick, attempted assault, protective rhett, SOME FAIRLY SEXUAL CONTENT OBVS SO 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI (masturbation mention and thigh riding)

✎……listen i...something came over me...and i already have bits and pieces of the second part written so like...lemme know if ya want more

✎……MASTERLIST

“Guys, I don’know about this…” Tessa sighed as she glanced warily down at the injection needle in her hand, filled with a blue liquid.

Her suppressant dose for the following day that she usually injected just before going to sleep. But now there she sat on her bed, rolling the syringe in her hand — filled with the thing she was always told would keep her safe — debating whether or not she should take it. Just because her friends had a semi-decent point: 

It had been nearly a year since she had sex, and she needed it, desperately. 

She felt like a spring wound too tight, ready to explode with all that built up energy and force. And no matter what she did, no matter how many new toys she bought and tried out, nothing helped. It just created a stronger itch, a stronger desire. To be well and truly fucked by someone else. Held in their arms and kissed and maybe even wanted for a night. But, yet again, no matter what she did, she couldn’t find the right person to hook up with. One night stands were never her thing, and living in a small town where everyone knew everyone and she went to high school with every guy around her age, made it difficult. 

Well, she might have found someone she could see getting in bed with, but he was just a friend. Even if, for the past several months, every night when she touched herself she thought of him.

She knew you weren’t supposed to think of friends that way. But it was hard when that friend was none other than Rhett Abbott. The boy she had a crush on in high school but had only recently reconnected with. The man who, half the time, she couldn’t tell was flirting with her or not. Who looked so good in a pair of Wranglers and a stetson; rode bulls like an artist would paint. Who grinned at her like they shared some secret and blinked at her bashfully when she complimented him. How was she supposed to not think about him that way?

But it wasn’t just her lack of sex life that left her anxious and irritated most nights. It was that ever-present and gnawing feeling that there was something missing. Like there was some itch she couldn’t quite scratch. Like she left something behind and she couldn’t remember what or where. But she knew it was gone. Knew there was a hole where it should be. A gaping emptiness in her that she feared, one of these days, would consume her whole. 

She knew, on some base instinct, what it was she was missing. What it was her biology craved and longed for. But it was something she was unsure if she’d ever be able to have.

“S’gonna guarantee y’get laid, that’s f’r sure,” Chessler replied from the video call on Tessa’s laptop she was on. 

“Or I get torn t’pieces,” Tessa said.

“Oh, y’won’t get torn t’pieces!” Laney scoffed with a flick of her hand. “All them stories’re exagerated!” 

Like you’d know, Tessa thought, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. It was difficult being the only Omega in her friend group. They were all Betas, they didn’t have to worry about heats or anything like that. They got to live normal lives for the most part. They didn’t have to worry if their supply was running low or get turned away from jobs just because of their biology. Jealousy, green and ugly, snagged at Tessa’s heart as she gripped the syringe tighter in her grip. 

“We even know if any Alphas’re gonna be at the party?” Riley asked.

“Walker’ll be there, but ll’keep’im distracted.” Laney winked and the rest of them groaned. 

“Pretty sure Cash n’his brother Trip’re comin’.”

“The Jenkin’s boys? Haven’t they been workin’ in Cheyenne?” Tessa questioned.

“I don’know tha’s just wha’I heard.” Chessler shrugged. 

Tessa took a deep breath, moved the syringe to her other hand. “Trevor’ll prolly be there…”

Trevor Tillerson. She was with him for a few months, the last man to ever touch her. And if she could go back in time and slap her younger self for getting with him, she would. He seemed nice at first. Made her feel special and showered her with gifts. That was, until he figured out she was an Omega. Then suddenly it was all pressure to get off her suppressants and expectations for her to submit to him like the Omega she was — like the Alpha he was. She broke it off and he got mad. It opened up something deep and terrifying within her to wonder what he would do if he caught her off her suppressants and possibly in a heat.

“N’so’ll Rhett,” Riley pointed out with a knowing grin.

“Yes! Rhett Abbott! Oh, s’perfect!” Laney squealed.

“Guys, we — we don’even know f’r sure if he’s an Alpha,” Tessa said, her entire face feeling hot as she looked down at her injection needle again.

“Babe, there’s no way he’s not. Have y’seen’im?” 

“Yeah, no Beta’s that confident or has that kinda…Presence.”

“S’just that…He’s never mentioned it…” she replied. 

“Maybe he’s the type t’keep it to himself. Plenty people like that.”

“Not everyone’s a complete dick about it like Trevor.”

“I guess, but…I don’know, m’just scared of what’ll happen,” Tessa said.

“Look, how ‘bout this,” Riley jumped in, “You don’take y’r suppressant tonight n’go t’the bonfire tomorrow with all those Omega hormones lurin’ the boys in, n’we’ll make sure nobody unsavory gets anywhere near ya. Deal?”

Laney and Chessler nodded in agreement. And while Tessa was still scared, still terrified that it would only end in disaster like her parents had warned so many times before, she agreed. Set her suppressant aside with a dramatic flourish so her friends could see over the video call.

What could possibly go wrong?

She felt fine for most of the day. Even normal. Going about her usual routine with only a knot of worry growing and twisting in her stomach. Mostly about what would happen that night at the bonfire, when she knew she would be surrounded by Alphas and Betas alike. She didn’t feel a heat coming on, though she hadn’t dealt with one since she was a teenager.

Tessa remembered what it felt like, despite the passage of time. Despite only experiencing it once before her parents took her to the doctor and got her on suppressants. The signs and symptoms burned into her. The memories of those days locked in her bedroom etched into her mind.

It was mostly confusion. Hatred of her own self for being this way instead of normal like all her friends. Pain and just wanting it to stop. Some instinct from deep within calling out for her Alpha to come and help her. Make it go away. Knowing that everything would be good when he was there. And it still brought some sort of embarrassment and shame to her heart that even back then, the face that came to her when she begged for her Alpha to come, was Rhett’s.

The pain started as her sister was driving her to school. Her breasts felt sore and swollen, a swirling in her gut that she couldn’t quite explain. Shiloh asked if she was alright as she pulled up in front of the school, and Tessa assured her everything was fine. Just some odd pains that she really didn’t feel like discussing with her sister in the school parking lot. It would probably go away in a few minutes.

But it didn’t. It only grew worse. By third period biology Tessa was squirming in her seat. She felt desperate for any sort of friction, everything felt swollen and wet. Hot all over and head spinning so much she couldn’t concentrate on the lesson. Her stomach was even beginning to cramp, jolts of pain with her mind screaming empty at her. 

She didn’t understand, she didn’t understand. 

And it certainly wasn’t helping that Rhett Abbott kept looking back at her every five seconds with a hungry look in his eye. 

After class, she called her mother in tears. Trying to explain without going into too many details how she was feeling and that she just wanted to go home. A bleak understanding took over her mother’s voice when she told Tessa to go to the nurse and wait for her to come get her. Tessa didn’t like the sound of it. Was she dying?

She went to the nurse and again tried to tell her what was happening. Stumbling over words and symptoms even as she felt sweat sticking to her shirt and her head became more and more clouded. Stuffed up like there was nothing else in there besides empty and Alpha. Again, understanding took over the nurse’s face and Tessa felt a sense of dread mix in with everything else as she was directed to take a seat. 

The nurse said something about making a call but Tessa couldn’t really hear her. Not when her heart was practically beating in her ears and she was trying desperately to hide the fact that she was rubbing her thighs together — trying to find some relief.

But she looked up, startled and afraid, when the door to the nurse’s station swung open.

And Rhett Abbott stood there staring at her with wide eyes, almost like he was shocked he was even there himself. Hair cropped short with a few curls dangling over his forehead, a line in it like he had been wearing a hat and been yelled at to take it off. He held a backpack with one strap on his shoulder. Lanky and tall and unaware of the fact as he took up nearly the entire doorway. 

They looked at one another for a moment. Tessa with her chest heaving and her vision going fuzzy, another cramp going through her when she caught some scent in the air. Leather and wet earth. It made something inside her ache. Made her hands itch to reach out for him, somehow knowing he could make everything better but not understanding why or how.

“M’sorry, I don’...” he trailed off as he took a step forward.

There was that smell again. So familiar, so calming — and yet she had to grip her stomach as it cramped. A whimper tumbled past her lips as she felt the first tears slip out. Rhett made to drop his backpack, take the last few strides to cross the room to her. 

But then the nurse came back into the room and gasped at the sight of him. 

“Rhett Abbott you get outta here right now! Out!”

It was a memory she didn’t like to think back on. That made her cheeks heat and her palms sweat and something inside her ache. But still that scent came to her from time to time. Leather and wet earth. Rhett, something inside her whispered every time and she had to force it down. No. Nothing ever came of it. He wouldn’t even really look at her when she came back to school a week later and hadn’t talked to her up until a few months ago. She wondered if he even remembered that day. When they both somehow knew he could fix what was wrong with her. 

Maybe that was why she tried to deny that he was an Alpha. Maybe that was why she feared going to the bonfire in the state she was in, knowing he would be there.

What if he got pulled away from her again? What if he just rejected her like she had heard Alphas do before? The worry and fear grew inside her, an open pit she was on the edge of falling into.

Riley came and picked her up for the bonfire around eight. It was a perfect summer evening. The sun already starting to dip between the trees but the sky still a brilliant shade of blue. The air was just beginning to cool from sweltering hot to a more bearable temperature. Perfect for a bonfire out in the middle of someone’s back field.

“Ya woulda looked cute n’a dress s’all m’sayin’,” Riley commented as they pulled out of Tessa’s driveway and out onto the main road. 

Tessa looked down at her old pair of jeans and quarter zip. Something comfortable when she felt distinctly uncomfortable was at least sort of helpful. She wasn’t about to wear a dress to a bonfire, something she would never do normally, just because she was looking to get laid. Or claimed? Or fucked? Or…Something else she couldn’t quite put her finger on?

“N’freeze my ass off? No thank you,” she replied lightly with a smile.

Riley gave her a sidelong glance, curiosity bubbling in her deep brown eyes. “So…How ya feelin’?”

“I — I really can’t tell,” she sighed, “I mostly feel nervous. But I can’tell if m’just doin’ that thing where y’give y’rself symptoms? Like I expect ‘em t’be there so there they are?”

“Like what?”

“Like my tits hurt.” Riley laughed and she had to shut her up with a playful smack to the arm. “M’bein’ serious! They’re sensitive!”

“What, like y’re pregnant?” Riley chuckled again.

“No, not like that.”

But the thought, the thought of being pregnant and filled, brought one screaming idea to the forefront: empty. An unconscious hand moved to rest over her stomach. Just like when she got her first heat back in eleventh grade. With a deep breath, she shoved it down deep inside herself. Smashed it up into a box and locked it up tight.

She wasn’t going into heat. She wasn’t going into heat. She wasn’t going into heat. It was just one missed suppressant dose. Surely it couldn’t do that much damage.

“You do smell different,” Riley commented.

Tessa looked over at her with furrowed brows. “How can y’tell?”

“I may be jus’a Beta but I can still smell the…You coming off ya. S’kinda strong.”

“Doesn’t smell bad, does it?”

“No! S’like uh — like — this’s gonna sound weird, don’judge me — like early mornings and honeysuckle,” Riley said with a chuckle.

“That’s…Oddly specific.” 

“You asked!”

The bonfire was at Olivia Barlow’s family ranch, out in their south pasture. A small thing that made quality, pricey beef that got shipped all over the country. And there were at least twenty other cars there by the time Riley and Tessa pulled in. 

Probably more people than Olivia told her parents would be there. But it wasn’t like they were going to know or mind. They were miles away from the house and they were all adults. Or at least pretended like they were during business hours. Now though, now it was like they were all back in high school. Passing around coolers and kegs of beer and dancing to country music blaring from someone’s sound system in their truck. A classic Wabang bonfire if Tessa ever saw one.

By the time Riley and Tessa joined their other friends closer to the massive fire with grey smoke billowing up into the darkening sky, they already had chilled drinks pressed into their hands. And Tessa had nearly forgotten about her suppressants and her heat and the soreness in her breasts.

And the beginning aching feeling between her legs. 

That was, until Rhett joined their group. Grinned at her all shy and small and gave her another drink because he saw hers was empty. Stood close to her side as he listened to the long time friends chat and laughing when he would catch Tessa’s eye. Until, somehow, it was just the two of them. Standing by the fire and talking about games he had been playing recently and shows she liked. About their days on the high school rodeo team and memories they didn’t even realize they shared. 

It astounded her how easy it was to talk to Rhett. How naturally their conversations flowed and how normal it felt to stand so close to him. To feel the heat coming off of him and feel his breath, like cheap beer and chewing tobacco, against her face. And she didn’t even mind it. She felt safe and cared for and thought of when she was with Rhett. And she couldn’t help the yearning and longing and love that welled up inside her as she looked up into his deep blue eyes illuminated by the fire’s glow — half shadowed by the bill of his trucker-cap.

“You smell nice,” he suddenly muttered, voice deep and graveled as he flashed her a small smile.

A heat bloomed in her cheeks. “Thanks.” 

“S’like honeysuckle,” he went on, narrowed his eyes at her slightly. “S’it new?”

“N-No. M’not — M’not even wearin’ anythin’.” 

Rhett grunted at that, those cobalt eyes flicking down then up again as he looked at her. As he took a step closer. “I’member that smell.”

Leather and wet earth. The scent of it filled her lungs and made her breathe clearly for what felt like the first time in years.

The heat spread everywhere. Like she was standing in the fire and didn’t care if she burned. Her mind became blissfully blank as she stared up at him. As a flood of arousal soaked her panties. And she watched, unable to move in fear of breaking the spell, as Rhett’s eyes darkened. Like he could sense it. His hand reached for her and she stepped just that little bit closer.

“Holy shit! Tess Abernathy’s about to put out ladies n’gentlemen!” A loud, boisterous voice exclaimed as an arm was thrown around Tessa’s shoulders.

And the spell was broken.

Rhett snapped his head up to look at who was now hanging all over her. Eyes darkened by something else now. She knew who it was. She didn’t have to look over to know.

“Fuck off, Trevor,” Rhett hissed.

“Oh, come on now, Abbott. Jus’a little fun,” Trevor replied, squeezing Tessa in closer to his side. “Isn’t that right, little Omega?”

Tessa felt tears sting the backs of her eyes as she looked around. Everyone was trying to just stick to their own conversations, but she could tell they were looking over. Glancing and whispering and talking. It was like the fire was inside her very chest. She tried to pull away from Trevor but he just pulled her in tighter. Arm nearly curled around her neck.

And she couldn’t help but feel some shame when Rhett glanced at her when he said the word Omega.

“What? You didn’know?” Trevor laughed, “Big Alpha like yourself an’you can’t just smell it on her? She fucking reeks. Practically screamin’ f’r someone t’breed her.”

Ashes and deer hide — Trevor’s scent that always made her feel nauseous. 

With his arm around her neck, Rhett looking at her like that, and Trevor’s scent choking her lungs — she felt like she couldn’t breathe. Could feel a cramp beginning to form in the pit of her stomach. The world turning hazy as her thoughts blurred and blended together. She just needed to get away. Needed to find some place alone and secluded so she could try to breathe and maybe get ahold of Riley to take her home.

She managed to slip out from under Trevor as Rhett charged forward. Poking a finger into his chest and grumbling out something about just shutting his mouth and leaving her alone.

The cramp, powerful and immobilizing, finally overcame her as she stumbled away from the two of them. Into the small patch of trees in the Barlow’s south pasture, just outside the edge of the bonfire’s circumference. The sounds of the party faded into background noise as she tumbled past the thicket line. Where a larger tree stood just beyond that she found purchase against. 

The rough bark was grounding against her palms. Brought her back to her body and what needed to be done. She felt like she was boiling. Between her legs felt slick and swollen, desperate for attention. Her heart beat rapidly inside her chest and even she knew, from the way eyes followed her as she stalked away, that people knew. They knew she was an Omega about to start her heat.

And she was doomed.

Turning, she leaned back against the thick trunk and took in a deep, shaking breath. She wasn’t in a full heat yet. But she was just on the precipice. Anything could set her off. She needed to get home and fast. Hopefully, if she took her suppressant and just laid down for the night the symptoms would subside. If only her hands would stop shaking enough to pull her phone out of her pocket. 

“There you are, little Omega,” Trevor called out quietly, followed by the breaking of branches. 

Her head snapped up to see him walking slowly towards her. Devilish smile on his face as he flicked his blond hair out of his eyes. He was wearing some ridiculous “Western” purple button up with a shining belt buckle he had not earned. Another cramp ripped through her abdomen as his scent filled her nostrils.

“No,” she managed to mutter out as she pointed weakly back at the party.

“No? You can’t be serious right now. You need me,” he replied, still continuing closer. 

And all she could do was try to back herself further up against the trunk. Praying by some miracle the bark would open up and swallow her whole. The closer he got, the heavier it felt she was becoming. She sagged against the tree. Her mind fogged of nothing but empty and Alpha. Trevor could fill her. Trevor was an Alpha. 

“Y’re about t’go into heat, aren’t you?” Trevor questioned, so close now all she could smell was him, could feel his breath on her face. “Need me t’knot you up n’knock you up, don’t you? Let me be your Alpha, baby.”

Yes. “No.”

The single word came out slurred, slow and heavy on her tongue. Trevor just chuckled and pulled in close. Put one hand on her waist as he leaned down, mouth brushing over that swollen gland in her neck that made her shudder. Suddenly, she was taken back to when the two of them were like this before. When he got tired of asking and nearly bit into her mating gland. Nearly forced her to be with him for the rest of her life — against her will. She had screamed then and she opened her mouth to do it again. But it was like her muscles wouldn’t quite work. The sound wouldn’t quite come up and out of her throat. All she could manage was some broken squeak as she pushed weakly at his chest.

“Don’fight it, you know you want it.” 

She did want it. She wanted to be filled and touched and knotted and just full for once in her life. But she didn’t want it from Trevor Tillerson. She tried to scream again but still, nothing came out besides another garbled no that Trevor didn’t heed and a few tears. 

Then suddenly, Trevor was yanked away from her. Leaving her cold and barely able to hold herself up as her knees buckled, her back slipping down the rough bark.

Leather and wet earth. Rhett.

She looked up just in time to see Rhett push Trevor away, the two of them chest to chest as Rhett backed him away from her. 

“You touch her again n’I’m gonna put you in the fucking ground,” Rhett seethed as he stared Trevor down.

A gush of arousal soaked her panties as she whimpered, hand gripping her stomach as another cramp hit her at full force. She was panting and doubled over and clawing at the tree to try and stabalize herself. But it was no use.

Rhett looked over his shoulder at her, eyebrows furrowed in concern. His nostrils flared as his eyes darkened beneath his cap, something like understanding taking over his features.

And Trevor laughed. “You can smell it now can’t ya? That little Omega’s in heat n’somebody needs t’claim her before the Jenkins brothers get over here and tear her limb from limb. N’she’s mine. Always has been, always will be.” 

Turning back to look at him with eyebrows pulled low and a curl in his lip, Rhett practically snarled before he pulled back his fist and got Trevor with his knuckles square in the jaw. Trevor retaliated with a growl, tackling Rhett in the chest. But Rhett didn’t go down, he only stumbled back a few steps, and another few when Trevor’s fist connected with his side. But with another shove and another punch to the face, Trevor was flat on his back, staring up at the stars with a groan.

Rhett turned to Tessa immediately.

She was still leaning back against the trunk of the tree, chest heaving as she clutched at her stomach. She could barely think, thoughts all consumed by the slick between her legs and the empty feeling in her chest, but someone was coming. Probably Cash and Trip, maybe even Walker, lured in by the scent of her heat. Her heat that had been set off completely, brought on by an Alpha defending her.

Rhett Abbott defended her. Protected her. He was so good. A good Alpha. He would treat her well. He would make everything better, just like she always knew he would. He would make everything alright…

“Tess, you okay?” Rhett asked quietly.

She didn’t even realize he had moved from standing over Trevor. Not until one of his big hands cupped her cheek and forced her to look up into his face. His expression crumbled at the sight. A soft groan slipped past his lips. No doubt her face was flushed. Her eyes half-lidded and pupils blown to consume all of their usual blue. He squeezed her cheek just a little harder, drew in just a fraction closer. 

“Fuck, sunshine…” he whispered under his breath.

Her hands, against her own will, shot out to him. Took hold of his waist and tried to pull him in closer. Get him inside her skin. Alpha, who would make everything good.

“Please,” she heard herself say, but did not realize her mouth had opened. “Hurts.”

Rhett groaned again, ripped off his hat so he could press his forehead against her own. “I know, I know. You got…Got any’a that medicine with ya?”

“N-No, I didn’t think…” Her throat swelled with tears before she could finish, tears blurring her vision as she let out the smallest sob.

She didn’t think this would happen. She didn’t want this to happen. If she could, she would slap herself for agreeing to this scheme. Just to get laid. Another sob slipped out of her as Rhett shushed her. 

Her stomach cramped again and she fell forward into his chest. He caught her with ease, unintentionally putting one thigh between her spread legs to help keep her upright. A whimper escaped her at the sudden contact, her hips wriggling against all logical thought to get more friction. To just make the pain stop. 

“Fuck, this isn’t how I wanted t’do this,” Rhett muttered as his hands fell to her hips.

No, no, no, no, he doesn’t want me, she thought. And it took all of her remaining will power to stop her minute movements, a whine punching out of her as she looked back into his face. “M’sorry, m’sorry —”

A twig snapped somewhere to the west, from the direction of the party, and Rhett hunched over her further. Nearly curled around her as he pressed a hand into the tree bark and leaned in close to that swollen gland in her neck. From his behavior, other Alphas and Betas were coming. Drawn in by her scent or just curious as to what the commotion was all about. Either way, she didn’t want to be seen like this. In the middle of a heat, in the middle of nowhere, with an Alpha she was sure was about to reject her.

“M’not gonna bite ya, promise,” he whispered, before tilting his head, presenting the side of his own strong neck to her. “Just gon’mark ya. Let everyone know to fuck off.” 

In a moment, she was overwhelmed by his scent. It filled her lungs, her pores, her very soul. He scent marked her. Let the world know she was his and his only. At least for the night. Rhett growled as he shoved in closer to her, head turning to sink his teeth into the hinge of her jaw. A tiny scrap of his canines that left her moaning. Alpha Alpha Alpha. It made her head spin and her knees fail her once more. Her hips dropped even harder onto his thigh, and she moaned as he guided her to move against him. Not tentative and trying to be impreceptible, but purposeful rolls against his jean clad leg. It was like ice on burns as she threw her head back and gripped tightly at his shirt. 

“Wanted this t’be your choice,” he muttered, mostly to himself.

“W-What?” she asked, some clarity returning to her as the ache was eased between her legs.

“Tess, I’ve been thinkin’ about you n’y’r heat — n’y’r smell’ve honeysuckle n’early morning air since I’s seventeen,” he gruffed out, lips pressed to her temple. “You…I think y’were always meant t’be my Omega n’I just — after meetin’ you again — fuck, I wanted t’take it slow.”

In response, she whined wantonly, openly. High in her throat with her head thrown back and hips working even faster against his leg. He wants me, he wants me, he wants me.

“Y-Your Omega,” she stuttered out with a breathless smile.

Rhett grinned back at her, nudged his nose with her own. “Yeah. Mine.”

More rustling from the west. And Rhett snapped his head up to look at who was intruding on them. Teeth practically bared as he blocked her from view. Tessa ducked in close to his chest, trying to hide. Her hips stopped moving on instinct. Embarrassment and thoughts of her Alpha protecting her flooding her veins.

“Fuck off,” he growled to whoever it was.

“Shit, Abbott got here first,” the distinct voice of a Jenkins brother said, most likely to the other.

“S’not too late, y’could just pass’er off when y’re done with her. Let us have a turn,” the other Jenkins said, “She smelled real fuckin’ pretty before you covered it up.”

“I said fuck off, she’s mine,” Rhett repeated on a bark, voice echoing through the trees.

“Alright, alright, okay. We’ll back off.”

Rhett turned his attention back to her, hand tilting her face up to look at him again with the softest expression she didn’t think he was capable of. Eyes big and blue as the near nightime sky. A piece of hair he now kept long dangled in front of his face. She wanted to push it back, knowing he didn’t like it in his eyes. But her limbs wouldn’t cooperate. She could barely lift her arm from his waist before it fell against his chest.

“We need t’get you outta here,” he whispered, calloused fingers slipping down to massage gently into her swollen gland. “Somewhere safe.” 

“Home?” she mumbled back.

“I don’know if y’re gonna be able t’make it all the way home, sunshine. We could go t’my place? S’close — five minutes. If y’re okay wi’that.”

His place. Surrounded by his smell and his things and him. Tessa was nodding before she knew she even had an answer. And Rhett smiled as he pressed his lips to her burning forehead. Then he scooped her up into his arms like she weighed nothing, head tucked into the crook of his neck, and he carried her away.

i no longer have a taglist, please follow @anniesocsandlibrary and turn on notifications for updates

[deancasbigbang]

Title: La Frontera

Author: Owco

Artist: rezal

Rating: Mature

Pairings: Castiel/Dean Winchester Jesse Cuevas/Cesar Cuevas

Length: 24000

Warnings: No archive warnings apply, canon typical violence, internalized homophobia

Tags: canon divergent, case-fic, established relationship

Posting Date: October 28, 2024

Summary: Something is picking off men along the Rio Grande river. Luckily, Cas, Dean, and Sam are on the case. As they hunt the mysterious monster, Dean gets more than he bargained for as he is forced to confront his ongoing ill-defined relationship with Cas.

Excerpt: “Sorry, didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I was going to the car to get something and I heard voices.” Dean doesn’t mention that the ‘something’ was whiskey because he’d been laying in bed thinking about how nice it would be if Cas showed up.  “I understand. She wished to ask me about God and Heaven, and a series of other questions I’m afraid I couldn’t answer,” Cas says ruefully. He looks tired and worn, Dean has often wondered what it would feel like to never sleep. Cas never catches a break, not even for a night. Not really. Dean steps forward and pulls him into a kiss. Cas melts into it, he always does. It’s like coming home each and every time. He puts his hands on Dean’s hips, then breaks the kiss to rest his head on Dean’s shoulder. Perhaps this is as close to rest as Castiel ever really gets, in the dark liminal spaces they carve out together.  Cas looks too wrung out to be interested in sex, so instead Dean wraps his arms around him and gathers him into his chest. Cas puts his weight into Dean and lets himself be held.  Cas tilts his head out of Dean’s shirt just enough to say, “She knew the name Cassiel, and asked if that was another of my names. I haven’t been called that in some time, not since I was a soldier of Heaven, certainly. It was my name to many, but somehow when she said it I almost told her that wasn’t me. I’m so different now, it felt unfair to tell her I was the same Angel. I am, yet I’m not.”  Dean strokes his back. He understands not recognizing yourself. He sometimes has a hard time believing that the hunter living out of his car while his brother was away at Stanford is the same man whose voice is still rough from screaming for forty years in Hell. He doesn’t say it, Cas knows. Cas was the one who had pulled him out. Instead Dean answers his own question from earlier; his touch does ease the tension out of Cas. Dean has only known his touch to hurt and burn, so he marvels at how Cas’s muscles loosen under him as he runs his hand up and down his back. “Thank you, Dean.” Cas’s voice is muffled by Dean’s flannel.  “Anytime, buddy.” He should touch Cas more, he doesn’t deserve thanks for a little hug.  It shouldn’t be something special.

DCBB 2024 Posting Schedule

[ellievickstar]

Between Two worlds (Discontinued)

A/N: I AM SO EXCITED FOR THIS. Okay so basically my debut of my series: Between two worlds, where I make a series with a love triangle where it is between my two biggest characters: (I'm not gonna spoil the character read the fic to find out) and Azriel. I hope you guys enjoy!!! PS. nothing much really happens yet, but I am doing a time skip for the second chapter after this, this chapter is more so that you understand the AU.

Summary: After fifty years of being under Amarantha's reign, you finally reunite with your brother, can have a leisure day with a friend, and secretly meet up with an old enemy.

Request: N/A

Pairing: Azriel x Reader, -find out later- x reader

Warnings: This is a build up to a love triangle. More of a AU building chapter. Also mentions of abuse, sexual assault and harassment. Weapons.

Between Two Worlds / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 (coming soon)

~*~*~*~*~

“She's my mate! She's my mate!” Rhys exclaimed as he suddenly winnowed in front of you. You nearly jumped back in shock as you began to process what was happening. “Firstly, welcome back, it's been fifty years. Secondly, who?” You asked patiently as Rhys breathed heavily, keeling over on his knees as magic seemed to burst out of him, causing you to take a step back. Mor bent down as she checked Rhys's condition to make sure he was not delusional.

Eventually your brother managed to get off the floor with the help of Azriel and Cassian and explained everything. Feyre, how Amarantha was dead, how he had had his visions. When he finally finished you didn't know whether you were surprised…or relieved. To be honest, you sort of expected that your brother would get into some sort of shit during the fifty years he was in captivity.

However, after everyone else left you lingered for a moment, sensing that your brother was holding something else back. He met your eyes as his shoulders slumped, and you approached slowly as you sat on his bed next to him. He brought you closer using his wings as you sat next to each other in silence. You smiled at the memories it brought back.

“I know you're not telling me something. You have the same expression from when you came home after father died,” You said softly, Rhys hummed as he closed his eyes and leaned back against the headboard. At first, you thought that he wouldn't answer your question but a soft knock on your mental shields spoke what hadn't been said. You show me mine, I'll show you yours.

And so you did. You know that showing him the effects of the curse wouldn't help his probably festering guilt, but you knew that you couldn't hide from him. You only had each other, it would do more harm than good if you didn't confide in each other. Rhys took the guilt of letting you follow him to that party all those years ago, and as a warning to him, Amarantha had placed a curse on you which forced you to live through your worst years of struggles. The times you were in the Illyrian camps as a female, the times your father berated you for defending yourself with magic and had you hung and whipped. Rhys made a strangled noise.

When he finally showed you his memories, you were aghast as you wanted to throw up. This…this felt worse than the time you were harassed at the Illyrian camps. At the time Azriel and Cassian had come to save you, but this? You were nauseous. Desperately, you flung yourself against your brother as he let a stray tear fall. “I am here with you,” You said. The phrase was sacred, it showed how you would always stand by his side no matter who or what opposed him, you would be there fighting for him, with him. And you knew he would do the same for you too.

You both stayed like that for a while, staying in each other's comforting and ever-loving embrace. Making a joke about how he had been so desperate to spend time with his mate he made a bargain to kidnap her once a month. It was then that he nearly elbowed you in the ribs and you ran off squealing while he pretended to chase you.

Crashing into a wall of muscle, you hid behind the looming shadow singer who seemed to be in shock as he raised the blade he was polishing away from your head. “Az save me!” You shouted as you clung to the spymaster, he politely smiled at Rhys as he pretended to 'guard' you. Rhys scoffed, muttering something about favouritism as you stuck your tongue out at him. After a while, he sighed and went to find Mor, mumbling to himself about a less biassed family.

Azriel turned to face you, eyebrows raised as you shrugged and perched yourself onto a stool next to him, picking up a bloody dagger, wanting to help police and sharpen the various weapons to pass time, however, Ariel tutted as he set down the dagger in his hand, “You’ll hurt yourself, and I don’t need Rhys coming after me for letting you play with a knife, sweetheart.”

You scoffed as you snatched the dagger back up. “Rhys can go to hell if he thinks he can control any aspect of my life,” Azriel just smiled in return. You had a good friendship with Az, after all, when the three of them were younger he was the one who hung out with you the most after finishing all the daily training. Cassian was busy training even more, and Rhys was off doing whatever royal duties he had to attend to. Azriel was also the same person who first taught you how to fly, seeing as the camp you went to refused to see as you were a female. Devlon was a bastard then and he’s a bastard now. Or so Azriel says. On top of all that, Azriel also trained your combat skills - in which he will always hold over your head because you have only ever beaten him once at a fight - and he also taught you how to read.

Yes. Funny enough, Azriel had taught you how to read after Keir had deliberately said that you should focus less on books and more on looking pretty and being good enough to marry off. Your father promised to teach you eventually, but Azriel thought it would be funny to stick it to Mor’s father. He soon regretted it because you eventually loved reading so much that every time he went to visit a small town near the camps, you begged him to bring you back at least one or two new books for your enjoyment. He did use it as leverage from time to time during training, so eventually it worked out.

“So, any good books you’ve read recently? Or is it just the usual book porn,” Azriel teased as he set to work on a sword. You groaned inwardly and would have slumped over the table if you weren’t holding a blade. “It was one time that you caught me reading that Az, and besides, it’s ROMANCE books. Anyways, yes I have read a good book recently, but I doubt you would bear any interest,” You replied.

Smirking at you, he motioned for you to continue, the bastard knew you were aching to tell him every single detail of the book, probably suspected that you were about to attack someone with a rant. As you went on about the newest fantasy read, he chimed in with a few remarks here and there, and eventually it just turned into a whole session with both of you debasing every single thing that was wrong with the male lead in the book. Well, the second male lead.

“You don’t understand Azriel, he was so hot! And the grovelling!” You squealed as you recalled how the two leads had finally reconciled after a horrible mistake. It seems like you were more interested in the romance than the actual plot of the high fantasy novel. “Must have been nice,” Azriel hummed as he finished the last dagger. Wait- the last dagger!? You turned to a clock on the wall as you realised just what time it was in the evening. Oh god, you were late. Jumping from the stool, you quickly excused yourself as you ran towards the open balcony doors that Azriel had left open when you both decided that the room you were in was stuffy.

“I have to meet someone, but please read the novel! Maybe if you read more books you wouldn’t just be a pretty face!” You yelled back, wings springing from your back as they flared and flapped, allowing yourself to take off before Azriel could say anything. And just like that you were off.

~*~*~*~*~

“I am so so sorry I am so late I promise it will never happen again,” Breathing in and out you folded your wings away. The male chuckled as he leaned against a tree, letting out a full on laugh as you fell to your knees from exhaustion from flapping your wings so hard just to get here fast, to meet him.

“Well, if you weren’t so set on leaving if I didn’t show up after 15minutes on our routine time, I wouldn’t have had to rush here!” You hissed. He just grinned down at you and that’s when you realised you were on your knees, looking up at him. Letting out a snarl, you pushed off the ground, standing up and crossing your arms to face him, he just let out a mock look of regret.

“Shame, I thought you were finally tearing me like the High Lord’s son I am,” He teased. You wanted to throw a branch at his face but instead settled for a light burn on his ego. “Well I would respect you if there was anyone to respect, Eris.”

That’s right. Eris Vanserra. The lord of the Autumn Court was smiling down at you and exchanging insults with you. He clenched his heart at your words. “You wound me, little flame, how can I ever recover?” You folded at the old nickname, flinging yourself at Eris as you jumped up and hugged him. Fifty years since you last saw your old friend. Fifty years. And you missed him dearly.

When Mor had been found by Azriel, she relayed the events that happened and you had been furious, and as it had just happened to be, you father was taking you and your brother on a little trip to the Autumn Court to show you both everything, however, as Rhys was now to enraged to go, you needed to go alone. Eventually your father and Beron had left you and Eris in a room together to ‘bond’ while they really discussed matters between courts, and you had grabbed that opportunity like your life depended on it and lunged at Eris, as you were quite small compared to him, he tackled you easily and growled at you to stop being a child.

You had demanded an explanation from him and he had given one, explaining how his father was physically, emotionally, mentally and verbally abusive, and if he hadn’t left Mor to die, he would have subjected her to a life just like his mother’s. And he would never knowingly do that to anyone. Being the open-minded person and amazing you were, you heard him out. However, till this day you prompted him to finally put down his pride and apologise for the way he did things, sure it came from good intentions, but it was still flawed. He, of course, refuses, and you don’t want to push the matter.

“So, any updates about the ‘how-to-kill-your-father’ plan? Or have you just been sitting around these fifty years?” He smirked at your words, laughing as you sat down, your legs being extremely tired for absolutely no other reason than standing for the short period of time you had. Quickly joining you on the floor, he spoke about the events that happened on his side before you shared yours.

“Amarantha is a bitch,” You muttered, “True that,” He agreed, raising a fist as if in solidarity. Humming, you leaned against the tree behind you, Eris doing the same as you both sat shoulder to shoulder, while Eris fiddled with the ends of your hair, you played with the various rings on his finger, slipping them on and off and turning them around in your hand.

When you reached his middle finger, you pulled off the ring. It was simple gold band had small carvings that decorated the entire ring, some even had small diamonds that tied the ring together nicely, but the carving that really caught your eye was the fox.

“My mother had that crafted and made for me when I was young. Every carving is something special and unique to only this ring,” He explained. You made a small noise of amazement as you tuned it over in your hand again, “I love it, it’s so pretty,” You admitted. Smiling down at you, he seemed to think for a moment before removing one of the various chains around his neck, and handing it to you as well. “Keep them both, just promise me you’ll wear it,” Stunned, you tried to give the chain and the ring back but he refused, claiming that he wanted you to have it.

The chain was obviously so you could wear the ring as a necklace seeing as it was far too large for any of your fingers. With Eris’s help, you put it on and he grinned, smirking about how you looked absolutely dazzling with your new accessory and you should thank him that you can look so utterly divine.

You slapped his shoulder, which honestly probably hurt you more than it did him.

It was at this point that you both finally parted, him winnowing away but not before he hugged you and murmured his goodbye as he rested his head on top of yours. And as you felt blood rush to your cheeks, he was gone. As if he was never there, the only proof of your meeting was the ring that now hung around your neck.

~*~*~*~*~

A/N: SO!? What do you think :D I'm curious about feedback. Also some additional warnings about this series is that there will be angst, it would not be me without angst. There will be A LOT of angst. ALSO AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO THINKS ERIS WOULD BE A BIG RING-WEARER!??

taglist: @positivewitch

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Seeking the Sky

I want to go higher and higher. I won’t be contained any longer.

This is part 18 of 20. Her will and the curse’s clash.

***CONTENT WARNING: drowning (implied/mentioned), self-harm (stabbing hand with pen nib).***

The Tale of the Cursed Raven: Part 1 I Part 2 I Part 3 I Part 4 I Part 5 I Part 6 I Part 7 I Part 8 I Part 9 I Part 10 I Part 11 I Part 12 I Part 13 I Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17

Once.

The first word is always the most difficult to lay down. It determines the shape the sentence will take, leading into the rest of the story. For fairy tales, there’s a comfortable default.

Once, once, once.

Because it was like that before, but no longer. It's change, it's challenge. It's a rose in the winter, a promise in the midst of despair, a light in the dark.

Only with Once Upon a Time is there a Happily Ever After.

So that's what she begins with.

Raven writes with the ink that doesn't yet have a name. In the bottle and on her quill nib, it appears as a deep blue--but scrawled on a blank canvas of paper, it's a brighter, jauntier hue. The color of an endless sky laced with sunshine.

I've decided, she thinks. This story is mine and mine alone. Even if I'm told it's going to end in doom... I still want to imagine an alternative. A happier conclusion.

I’ll end this tale on my own terms. If I cannot be free, then I can at least dream of it until the very end. This is... my act of defiance. Proof of my existence.

Her nib firmly presses to the page.

It starts as it always does.

Once upon a time, there was a common Raven.

She lived all her life in the forest where she was born, doing all the things that a common raven would. And for a while, she was content.

As time went on, the Raven became aware of a world beyond her own. Those beings called humans would wander into the forest, and from her perch up above she watched with great interest. Their feathers changed constantly and they spoke in strange tongues. With each passing day, her curiosity swelled until she could stand it no longer.

The Raven decided to leave home and explore the world afforded to humans. On wings as black as the night, she found herself sailing out to a place blanketed by tumultuous waves. She had never seen such a vast expanse of water before, and so foolishly descended to observe it close up.

That was when the sea swallowed her up.

The Raven came close to death in that icy grip, for a bird's wings can only flounder when weighed down by water. But... by a miracle of miracles, she was rescued by a prince. The face and name she did not know--but upon waking up safe on a golden beach, she felt in her chest that she was more meant for this world than ever before.

The infatuated Raven returned to that beach, hoping to meet her prince once more.

He never reappeared before her.

She was crestfallen. "Of course," thought the Raven. "How silly of me to think that a mere raven could catch the eye of a prince... that she could be a part of his world."

So the Raven went home to the forest to nurse her broken heart.

On some particularly lonely days, she would nest by a pond and gaze at her mournful reflection in it. A creature with feathers as dark as the night, heralding bad omens--who could ever learn to love such a thing? The Raven shed a tear into the pond.

It was then that a withered man in a tattered cloak appeared. His ominous visage startled the Raven, but his voice was a whisper.

“What troubles you?” he asked of the bird.

“It is the prince,” the Raven lamented. “He will never look my way, for I am just a raven.”

“It is possible,” said the stranger, “for a raven to win the eye of a prince.”

There, he offered a bargain. In exchange for becoming his writing apprentice, he would grant the Raven the form of a girl so that she might pursue her prince.

She accepted his hand and picked up the pen.

And for a while, she had a place where she belonged. The Raven learned of both writing the humans from her new mentor, the Storyteller. He was a stern man, a perfectionist in his craft—but he was her family, her home. All she had ever known.

She was not yet allowed out on her lonesome, but would always hand over her drafts accompanied with questions like, “When can I?”

“Soon,” he would say cryptically. “Soon.”

She believed him.

Then one morning, the Storyteller was gone—passed away in the night.

He had packed a suitcase before his spirit had slipped from his mortal form. It came with a letter addressed to her, a letter full of frightful confessions.

The Raven was to inherit both his legacy as a storyteller... and the curse he had been shouldering. Eternal life she would have, but never would she be able to find the human connection she sought out--for should she utter "I love you", she would vanish into a speck of light.

The naive little Raven was overcome with great despair. The things she had longed for had been torn away. The hope she had for her future, extinguished like a candle's flame. The happy nest she had found, gone.

Her trust, betrayed.

When at last she had no sobs left to give, she picked up the shattered pieces of her heart and set out, seeking a new home.

The Raven arrived at Night Raven College, a place described in the Storyteller's letter. There, she was intent on stowing away and focusing on her new art. She is a storyteller now, she reasons, and storytellers never meant to step into their stories, to mingle with their characters.

In the highest room of the tallest tower… The Writing Raven roosts to this day.

She stops on the dot punctuating the sentence. There’s finality in a period, that which marks the end of a thought.

This isn’t the full story. Not even close. Raven dips her quill in an inkwell, watching as sky blue creeps up the nib. It’s only the start.

Her hand resumes its dance.

At Night Raven College, she met many new faces. Kind people, cruel people… People who showed her things her stories never could. The Raven had many happy moments and many sad moments too.

There is an uncle who is bumbling and vain but means well. He grants her a home and acts as her guardian. He is strange but warm.

There are older students who are reliable and tough. Visions of what she could be when she grows up.

There are students who are as immature as she is. Chicks freshly hatched from their eggs, still unsure of themselves and what they should do.

Then there is the boy that broke her heart. He had a gentle smile and demeanor, even seemed familiar somehow. It was all lies—yet the Raven still found herself drawn to him.

She was told that those feelings were doomed, not meant to be. That she was destined to dissipate as light.

The curse, claiming her.

The ending, tragic.

Again, Raven loads her quill. Her hand has grown heavy, shaking.

But she still d—

She has frozen.

What?

Raven tries again, straining with her writing implement. She knows the motion, the rounded flick of the lowercase a. D-a-r-e, easy. She has never had an issue writing before.

But she still dared to dream.

It is like hitting an invisible brick wall. She can push all she likes, but her hand will not budge from its place.

The shaking gets worse, turning into tremors.

Her hand rockets off, but not by her own will. There is no feeling in her nerves as the sentence completes itself.

--id not dream!

"Th-That's not what I wanted to write!" Raven squeaks. She stares at her hand, thinking it possessed. It doesn’t feel like a part of her anymore

On a piece of scrap paper, she tests a few strokes, a couple letters. Nothing seizes—not until she returns to the story on a new line.

But she sti—

The tail of her l trails off. She crosses out the sentence, but the next attempt stops at the s of she. More words prematurely cut off.

Raven’s eyes blow wide open.

What is this? Why can’t I…

The feeling floods back into her hand, but it's entirely wrong. It's like a pile of cinderblocks has been dropped upon it, crushing her muscles and bones. Her blood screams. A searing pain shoots from her fingers and to her wrist.

She clutches it with her other hand, hissing through her teeth.

“Yours is a fate meant to end in tragedy,” a laugh booms in her head. “You cannot hope to escape it.”

Raven hunches over her desk, coughing up a raspy breath.

Realization.

The story. It’s snapping back into place, trying to correct itself. It doesn’t want to change its course.

Her brow scrunches. Part of it is the barking pain, part of it is the wheels spinning in her head.

But that is, in of itself, proof. Proof that it is possible to change things. Isn’t it…? If the story is attempting to ‘fix’ things, then it was ‘broken’ by something to begin with.

I did this.

Me…!

She takes her other hand and lets it pick up her quill. Raven involuntarily grips her wrist, the original hand silently demanding the implement back.

“No…!”

Her chair clatters to the floor. Raven throws itself across the room. She collides with a bookcase, knocking several volumes off. Ink-spattered papers and dust fly into the air.

She jerks the other direction, ramming into a wall. Hurt spikes up her back, her shoulders. The phantom hand pulls her this way, that way, like a careless child dangling a doll.

Her small, battered frame falls to the floor—a toy, discarded.

The Raven vanished in a blink of light, never to find happiness, a voice she recognizes as her own snarls. It is dark, distorted. Alone, forgotten, insignificant.

You know it to be the truth. You know that is where this path leads.

W r i t e i t.

Tears spurt from her eyes, running like broken faucets.

She clenches her jaw, refuses to let a scream escape. Her insides claw and twist in agony.

The room is a foggy haze, rectangles and muddy colors. The floor, cold and hard as she lies there, writhing. A streak of black in the corner of her eye—her quill.

Raven reaches for it, managing to graze it with the tips of her fingers. When she clenches it, it is with her whole fist, her grip so tight it may as well be on a spider’s thread in hell.

“I will complete this story. I will write my own happy ending,” she grunts through her fresh splitting headache, “if it’s the last thing I do…!”

Raven wrests herself up on trembling legs, using the ledge of her desk for support. Collapsing into her seat is a relief, even if every part of her throbs.

One hand lays out to keep her canvas steady. She has her quill, brings it downward—

—skewing clear off the page, leaving only a murky blue trail where it had touched the page.

The hand clutching the quill crunches the shaft, snapping it. The hand raises, hovering over the marred paper. She wills it, wants it to strike white.

Then the quill plunges.

Down, down, down.

Into the back of her own hand.

There's a terrible crunch. Flesh tearing, bone cracking, as the nib punches through her glove and skin like it's nothing. Something thick and black oozes out.

She feels faint.

Is it blood or ink or blot? She cannot tell.

The pain magnifies, cresting at the puncture wound. Her mind threatens to split in half at its seams.

The things on her desk are jostled. Pens and papers scatter, her glass inkwell tipping over. A beautiful blue paints a sorrowful sea on the page.

Her backstabbing hand goes to retrieve the ruined quill, and her heart stops. Once it is pulled, she knows whatever flows inside of her will gush out uncontrollably. By the time her uncle will find her in the morning, it will already be far too late.

No.

She pushes against the force, attempts to reel her hand back. The immense effort causes sweat to dribble from her brow.

Stop…!!

It fights her, advancing. The pain is nothing compared to the sirens wailing in her head.

Her tears heat. She glares at the spilled ink, the few words that peek through the blue fog.

This can’t be where it ends. It can’t. The story isn’t done…!

Faces, scenes.

They dart by at a rapid pace. Life flashing before her eyes.

Happy times, sad times. All precious moments, priceless and glittering treasures.

Wobbling, unsure steps into the Mirror Chamber, donning her ceremonial robes. The sting of betrayal, chocolates crushed at her feet. Lessons in the library, one-on-one, testing new sounds out on her tongue. The slick of something awful rising in her throat and spilling over her fingers. The thrilling energy of a live concert. The stiffness after an argument. The sweetness of a schoolgirl crush.

The little things she loves about each dorm and the campus. Ghostly staff, fire pixies, the grand buildings rich with stories history. The flowers of Heartslabyul and Pomefiore, the vastly different sceneries of Savanaclaw and Scarabia. The mystique of Diasomnia, the cold unfamiliar composition of Ignihyde… The romantic sea of Octavinelle, stretching out beyond a glass wall.

The hand extended, beckoning.

Hope courses through her. The sun itself is in her veins, a warm blossom in her center.

It dullens the pain like some miracle inoculation. Her vision clears.

She knows.

I want to see that endless blue sky that's full of endless possibilities. I want to see it here, at our Night Raven College. I want to see it with everyone, to walk beside them.

I want…!!

Summoning the last vestiges of her strength, Raven releases a guttural shriek. There is both bird and human in her raw voice, naked animals flailing for survival. Blood pumping, spirit soaring.

And she rakes her ink-stained hand across a blank page.

So Quoth the Raven.

Jade slips out of Octavinelle in the dead of night. It’s not too terribly difficult—he moves swiftly, making nary a sound that might rouse Floyd from his slumber. Stepping over discarded bags of chips (half-finished) and clothes, he easily lets himself escape.

In his pocket is the letter. He fears that if he puts it down, lets it out of his sight, it could disappear in a fine mist. A dream—a figment of his imagination. As he briskly heads for the mirror, a hand goes to the letter, stroking it, to ensure it is still where it should be.

That it is still real.

I have something important to tell you. Too important to scrawl on paper. It must be said face-to-face.

The mirror ripples as he passes through its face. When he comes out the other side, the chamber is frigid, bleak.

In the dark, his eyes glow.

The apple tree in the courtyard is in bloom. It’s so very beautiful this time of year. I wish I could stare at them forever and ever. In the language of flowers, apple blossoms can mean many things. Love, peace, rebirth, good luck... a long life too.

He walks, thinking he should keep cool.

Let’s meet there, in the shade of the apple tree and under the cover of stars.

His pace picks up. He is restless.

Tomorrow, right before the stroke of midnight.

He breaks out into a sprint. He doesn’t know why.

I will give you my answer then.

Something feels wrong.

Best regards,

The letter, still with him. It has never left.

Raven Crowley

He makes it to the meeting location. Stops to catch his breath, to seek out a familiar bird-like shape in the shadows.

And Jade waits.

But one comes for him under that desolate apple tree.