#I've never encountered a kind summer

[dfwbwfbbwfbwf]

What does "kind as summer" even mean?

When I think of summer, I don't think of kindness. Where I live, it's either "you'll melt if you even think about going outside" or "you'll melt if you even think about going outside, and it's raining", and sometimes "you won't melt immediately upon going outside, but you might get hit by a tree or lightning, or possibly a tree getting hit by lightning".

I really hope Elrond isn't like that.

But I guess Tolkien lived in a place where the summer was a nice, mild 50-70 degrees Fahrenheit, so there's that.

Still, because of how summer is where I live, I characterize Elrond like this:

Elrond is kind, but he's not always nice. He is blunt and straightforward, and he says what he means and means what he says. He is usually gentle enough for his work as a healer, but if this is, say, the fifth time you broke your leg doing something stupid, he'll give you the Eyebrows of Doom™. He has a temper that he keeps well under control, but you can see the signs of him losing patience from afar off (so act accordingly). He's not above acting passive aggressive when he loses his temper, but it is very hard to push him to that point.

Maybe be more specific with your simile, Professor.

[misskamelie]

Officially two exams away from graduating!!!

[headspace-hotel]

Nature is healing.

I burned the Meadow a couple weeks ago. At first it looked like nothing but charred ashes and dirt, with a few scorched green patches, and I was afraid I'd done something terrible. But then the sprouts emerged. Tender new leaves swarming the soil.

My brother and I were outside after dark the other day, to see if any lightning bugs would emerge yet. We had been working on digging the pond. That old soggy spot in the middle of the yard that we called "poor drainage," that always splattered mud over our legs when we ran across it as children—it isn't a failed lawn, and it never was.

Oh, we tried to fill in the mud puddles, even rented heavy machinery and graded the whole thing out, but the little wetland still remembered. God bless those indomitable puddles and wetlands and weeds, that in spite of our efforts to flatten out the differences that make each square meter of land unique from another, still declare themselves over and over to be what they are.

So we've been digging a hole. A wide, shallow hole, with an island in the middle.

And steadily, I've been transplanting in vegetation. At school there is a soggy field that sadly is mowed like any old field. The only pools where a frog could lay eggs are tire ruts. From this field I dig up big clumps of rushes and sedges, and nobody pays me any mind when I smuggle them home.

I pulled a little stick of shrubby willow from some cracked pavement near a creek, and planted it nearby. From a ditch on the side of the road beside a corn field, I dug up cattail rhizomes. Everywhere, tiny bits of wilderness, holding on.

I gathered up rotting logs small enough to carry and made a log pile beside the pond. At another corner is a rock pile. I planted some old branches upright in the ground to make a good place for birds and dragonflies to perch.

And there are so many birds! Mourning doves, robins, cardinals and grackles come here in much bigger numbers, and many, many finches and sparrows. I always hear woodpeckers, even a Pileated Woodpecker here and there. A pair of bluebirds lives here. There are three tree swallows, a barn swallow also, tons of chickadees, and there's always six or seven blue jays screaming and making a commotion. And the goldfinches! Yesterday I watched three brilliant yellow males frolic among the tall dandelions. They would hover above the grass and then drop down. One landed on a dandelion stem and it flopped over. There are several bright orange birds too. I think a couple of them are orioles, but there's definitely also a Summer Tanager. There's a pair of Canada Geese that always fly by overhead around the same time in the evening. It's like their daily commute.

The other day, as I watched, I saw a Cooper's Hawk swoop down and carry off a robin. This was horrifying news for the robin individually, but great news for the ecosystem. The food chain can support more links now.

There are two garter snakes instead of one, both of them fat from being good at snaking. I wonder if there will be babies?

But the biggest change this year is the bugs. It's too early for the lightning bugs, but all the same the yard is full of life.

It's like remembering something I didn't know I forgot. Oh. This is how it's supposed to be. I can't glance in any direction without seeing the movement of bugs. Fat crickets and earwigs scuttle underneath my rock piles, wasps flit about and visit the pond's shore, an unbelievable variety of flies and bees visit the flowers, millipedes and centipedes hide under the logs. Butterflies, moths, and beetles big and small are everywhere.

I can't even describe it in terms of individual encounters; they're just everywhere, hopping and fluttering away with every step. There are so many kinds of ants. I sometimes stare really closely at the ground to watch the activities of the ants. Sometimes they are in long lines, with two lanes of ants going back and forth, touching antennae whenever two ants traveling in opposite directions meet. Sometimes I see ants fighting each other, as though ant war is happening. Sometimes the ants are carrying the curled-up bodies of dead ants—their fallen comrades?

My neighbor gave me all of their fallen leaves (twelve bags!) and it turns out that piling leaves on top of a rock and log pile in a wet area summons an unbelievable amount of snails.

I always heard of snails as pests, but I have learned better. Snails move calcium through the food chain. Birds eat snails and use the calcium in their shells to make egg shells. In this way, snails lead to baby birds. I never would have known this if I hadn't set out to learn about snails.

In the golden hour of evening, bugs drift across the sky like golden motes of dust, whirling and dancing together in the grand dramas of their tiny lives. I think about how complicated their worlds are. After interacting with bees and wasps so much for so long, I'm amazed by how intelligent and polite they are. Bumble bees will hover in front of me, swaying side to side, or circle slowly around me several times, clearly perceiving some kind of information...but what? It seems like bees and wasps can figure out if you are a threat, or if you are peaceful, and act accordingly.

I came to a realization about wasps: when they dart at your head so you hear them buzzing close by your ears, they're announcing their presence. The proper response is to freeze and duck down a bit. It seems like wasps can recognize if you're being polite; for what it's worth, I've never been stung by a wasp.

As night falls, bats emerge and start looping and darting around in the sky above. If the yard seems full of bugs in the day, it is nothing compared to the night.

I'm aware that what I'm about to describe, to an entomophobe, sounds like a horror movie: when i walk to the back yard, the trees are audibly crackling and whirring with the activity of insects. Beetles hover among the branches of the trees. When we look up at the sky, moths of all sizes are flying hither and thither across it. A large, very striking white moth flies past low to the ground.

Last year, seeing a moth against the darkening sky was only occasional. Now there's so many of them.

I consider it in my mind:

When roads and houses are built and land is turned over to various human uses, potentially hundreds of native plant species are extirpated from that small area. But all of the Eastern USA has been heavily altered and destroyed.

Some plants come back easily, like wild blackberry, daisy fleabane, and common violets. But many of them do not. Some plants need fire to sprout, some need Bison or large birds to spread them, some need humans to harvest and care for them, some live in habitats that are frequently treated with contempt, some cannot bear to be grazed by cattle, some are suffocated beneath invasive Tall Fescue, Kentucky bluegrass, honeysuckle or Bradford pears, and some don't like being mowed or bushhogged.

Look at the landscape...hundreds and hundreds of acres of suburbs, pastures, corn fields, pavement, mowed verges and edges of roads.

Yes, you see milkweed now and then, a few plants on the edge of the road, but when you consider the total area of space covered by milkweed, it is so little it is nearly negligible. Imagine how many milkweed plants could grow in a single acre that was caretaken for their prosperity—enough to equal fifty roadsides put together!

Then I consider how many bugs are specialists, that can only feed upon a particular plant. Every kind of plant has its own bugs. When plant diversity is replaced by Plant Sameness, the bug population decreases dramatically.

Plant sameness has taken over the world, and the insect apocalypse is a result.

But in this one small spot, nature is healing...

[sophiamcdougall]

I am never going to complain about Greek Duolingo again

I mean, I am. But still.

So, as some of you know, my family has been coming to this tiny Greek seaside village for several years. Just over a week ago I came out here with my mum, under the impression that early September, after the height of the summer heat, would be a good time to have a holiday. ANYWAY Storm Daniel had other ideas about that. Locally things are improving (I'm actually really pissed off about the disaster-porn tone of most English-language media coverage, but that's another post). The power is back on, there's running water most of the time, and though the latter is not drinkable, a truck from the government came and handled out free bottled water yesterday. But we are currently kind of stuck. Can't do tourist things. Can't go home. There aren't any local flights out until Saturday and the road to Thessaloniki is still closed.

So this evening, feeling kind of aimless and depressed, I go down to the nearest beach with a couple of binbags and start cleaning up in an effort to at least do something positive. I always try to do this at least once out here and obviously, after the storm, there's a lot more plastic and rubbish than usual.

At some point I find this large, round bit of metal - some kind of machinery part, I think -- that's too big for the bag, so I take it to the bins on its own, leaving the rubbish bag on the beach. And when I come back for it, something among the stones beside it moves.

Specifically, it pulls its head sharply inside its shell

So, meanwhile I've been trying to learn some Greek with the help of Duolingo.

I currently have a 33-day streak and... I have questions. Shouldn't I be able to use the past or future tenses by now? Shouldn't I be able to say "x is like y"? I can't do those things. But one thing I absolutely can say all day long is έχω μια χελώνα : I have a turtle.

This is far from the limit of Duolingo Greek's turtle-related content. "An obsession with turtles" is my mother's characterisation. I can inform you that the turtle is not a bird, and, improbably, that the turtle is drinking milk. I can introduce you to a turtle in company with a horse and an elephant. As far as Duolingo is concerned, it really is turtles all the way down.

Now this, you may be able to see, is not a turtle. It has claws rather than flippers. It is a tortoise. I know there are wild tortoises in Greece: my aunt once rescued a pair of them shagging in the middle of the road -- but that was up in the mountains. I've even seen one myself, but it was also on a road and very dead.

I am 95% certain they don't belong on beaches. There's nothing for it to eat, except, unfortunately, a lot of plastic. Even if it gets off the beach it will immediately find itself on a road where it could get hit by a car. I'm pretty sure it must have been washed down by the floodwater and has been just sitting there, dazed, ever since.

Now obviously the first thing I want to do on encountering this unusual animal is to go and tell my mummy, so I do. The tortoise immediately brightens her day. She agrees that the tortoise is not happy on the beach and needs to be taken somewhere safe. it gets surprisingly wriggly when picked up so we put it in a carrier bag with some grapes and cucumber and go looking for somewhere to rehome it.

We find a path leading up between the houses towards a likely-looking field, but before we get very far a dog in a yard goes berserk and a man's head pops over a fence and demands to know what we're doing. He does this in English, as evidently we're just that obviously tourists.

"I found a tortoise on the beach!" I explain. "We want to find somewhere to put it."

"A what," he asks.

"It's like a, you know," I begin and then to my astonishment I find myself saying... "μια χελώνα"

"Oh! A turtle!" he says.

"But from the land. δεν είναι χελώνα", [it is not a turtle,] I say, as I am worried he will tell me to put it back near the sea where I found it. As it turns out it actually IS a χελώνα, Greek does not distinguish between turtles and tortoises, but I don't know that; I can't even name the days of the week or identify any colours other than pink yet, give me a break.

The man's entire demeanour changes and thaws. He does not worry about my turtle-that-is-not-a-turtle conundrum. He knows where οι χελώνες come from and where η χελώνα μας belongs. He leads us through a gate into a courtyard area.

"[somethingsomething] μια χελώνα," he explains to the assembled onlookers, of whom there are, suddenly, a surprising number.

"ΜΙΑ ΧΕΛΩΝΑ!!!" crows the throng of delighted small children, who are, suddenly, everywhere.

"μια χελώνα!" I agree, accepting that at least for current purposes, that is what it is.

"Μπορούμε να δούμε τη χελώνα σας; [can we see your turtle?]" asks an adorable little girl, shyly, and I understand??

The children fucking love looking at the χελώνα and showing it to them is kind of magical?

I finally put the tortoise down on the grass of this wild area off to the side of the courtyard, and marvel aloud that it is weird that I barely know any Greek except how to say μια χελώνα.

"I think she will soon run off," a kind lady called Aspasia assures me, seeing I remain slightly anxious about its fate. "I don't know why I'm saying 'she'. I suppose because χελώνα is feminine in Greek."

"Yes! I know that!" I exclaim, thrilled.

"Well done!" she says. And also she asks if we are OK for drinking water after the storm and if we need any help with anything and is just generally incredibly lovely and now we know more of the neighbours!

So "μια χελώνα" has just become, by a long way, my most-used and most understood and all-around most conversationally successful phrase in Greek. So I guess I have to admit I was wrong to doubt Duolingo's wisdom: it is correct to be obsessed with turtles. And I concede that prior to learning how to count to ten or to distinguish right from left, the simple ability to yell the word TURTLE over and over again is, it turns out, a crucial element of the responsible traveller's social skills.

(I am pretty fluent in Italian and turtles haven't come up in conversation even once?)

[loveanton]

melting point | lee anton

ꕤ DESCRIPTION: after spending the last few months as anton’s hidden secret you finally reach your limit with his inconsistency.

❥ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: situationship!anton x f!reader

❥ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 2.8k

⟶ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: desperate anton, some jealousy, kissing, and brief mentions of sex and alcohol

⏤ 𝑎/n: first riize post ^-^

You’re at your limit.

The bass pounds in sync with the rapid thump of your heart. The club is a kaleidoscope of pulsating lights and swirling laughter, but your focus narrows on one person: Anton. He's across the room, surrounded by a cluster of people, his magnetic charm drawing them in like moths to a flame. And there she is, Minji, hanging on his every word, her laughter tinkling like glass wind chimes.

You clutch your drink, the ice cubes clinking against the red solo cup in a rhythm that matches the turmoil in your mind. This isn't the first time you've found yourself in this position — watching Anton flirt effortlessly, his attention a fleeting commodity you crave but can never fully grasp. 

You take a deep breath, trying to quell the rising tide of emotions threatening to engulf you. It's a familiar battle, one you've fought countless times before. But tonight feels different, heavier somehow, as if the weight of your unspoken desires has become too much to bear. The two of you aren't exclusive, you remind yourself. You’re just...something. 

Yet, seeing him engrossed in conversation with another girl ignites a flurry of emotions within you.

As you stand there, grappling with your emotions, the thumping bass seems to echo the rhythm of your racing heart. A familiar voice breaks through the haze of your thoughts, pulling you back to the present moment. "You okay?"

Turning, you see Heejin, your closest friend and roommate, her concern etched into the lines of her face. She knows you better than anyone, sensing the storm brewing beneath your calm facade.

You offer her a small smile, though it feels feeble against the weight of your emotions. "I'm fine," you reply, though the words ring hollow even to your own ears.

Heejin studies you for a moment, her gaze searching and knowing. "No you're not. I can see it written all over your face."

Tears threaten to spill from your eyes as you meet her gaze, the floodgates of your emotions threatening to burst open. "It's just... Anton," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Understanding flashes in Heejin's eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the pain you're feeling. "I know," she murmurs, her voice soft but steady. "I've seen how much he means to you."

As you stand there, with Heejin's comforting presence beside you, memories flood your mind, tracing back to the moment when you first met Anton.

It was a late summer night in Seoul, and you were still adjusting to the bustling city, the unfamiliar sights and sounds overwhelming your senses. A craving for a midnight snack led you to the nearest convenience store, where you stumbled through the aisles in search of something familiar amidst the sea of unfamiliar products.

Lost in your own thoughts, you barely noticed the figure standing nearby until he spoke, his soft voice breaking through the fog of your confusion. "Need help finding something?"

You turned to see Anton, a friendly smile on his face, his easy demeanor putting you at ease. Relief washed over you as you realized he spoke English, a rare find in a country where you struggled to navigate the language barrier.

With his guidance, you found the sweet treat you were looking for, and as you parted ways, a sense of gratitude swelled within you. Little did you know, that chance encounter would become the start of something more.

Every Friday night after a long week of lectures, like clockwork, you found yourself drawn back to the same convenience store, hoping to catch another glimpse of the stranger who had shown you kindness in a foreign land. And without fail, there he would be, waiting for you in the back near the ramen section, a knowing smile on his lips as he greeted you with a simple "Hey."

In those moments, surrounded by the hum of refrigerators and the soft glow of fluorescent lights, you found solace in Anton's company.

You shared stories and laughter over steaming bowls of ramen, forging a bond that grew stronger with each passing week. And as you navigated the complexities of life in a new country, Anton became your anchor, a constant presence amidst the chaos of change. Eventually though the late night ramen runs shifted into late night hookups at his dorm.

You never intended to fall so hard and so fast for Anton but something about his soft spoken nature and charming smile rendered you a fool and now, as you stand here, grappling with the ache in your chest, you can't help but wonder if your bond with Anton was nothing more than a fleeting moment in time. The uncertainty of your situationship weighs heavily on your heart, overshadowing the warmth of those Friday night encounters.

You take a shaky breath, the weight of your unspoken feelings heavy on your chest. "What should I do?" you ask, your voice tinged with desperation.

Heejin listens to your question, her gaze softening with empathy as she considers her response. She reaches out, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder before speaking. "You deserve someone who sees you for who you are, not just a fleeting lay in the dead of night," she says gently, her words carrying the weight of truth.

You bristle at her words, a surge of defensiveness rising within you. "But maybe he just... he's busy, you know? Maybe he's just not good at showing his feelings," you protest, the familiar excuses falling from your lips like a well-rehearsed script.

Heejin's expression remains unchanged, her gaze unwavering as she meets your eyes. "You've been holding onto this hope for so long, but deep down, you know it's not enough," she says firmly, her tone gentle but resolute. "Anton's status as an idol may complicate things, but that doesn't excuse his lack of effort outside of those late-night meetups."

You falter under her scrutiny, the weight of her words sinking in with each passing moment. She's right, of course. Anton's gestures, while comforting in the moment, were little more than crumbs of affection scattered at your feet, never enough to sustain the hunger in your heart.

"He invited you to this party, right?" Heejin continues, "But look around you. Do you see him anywhere near you? Or is he off, charming someone who's 'socially acceptable' to be seen with?"

A bitter taste rises in your mouth as you glance around the room, taking in the sight of Anton across the crowded space, his attention focused on Minji, someone who fits seamlessly into his world of fame and glamor. And suddenly, the illusion shatters, leaving behind nothing but the harsh reality of your situation.

You take a shaky breath, the truth settling over you like a heavy blanket. "You're right," you whisper, your voice barely audible above the noise of the party. "I've been fooling myself, thinking there was something more between us."

Heejin squeezes your shoulder in silent solidarity, her presence a source of comfort in the midst of your turmoil. "It's okay to let go," she says softly, her words a gentle reminder that sometimes, the hardest part is acknowledging when it's time to move on.

Tears sting your eyes as you feel the weight of regret settle upon your shoulders. "I feel so stupid," you admit, your voice trembling with emotion. "I wasted half my summer on a boy who wasn't worth it."

Heejin pulls you into a comforting embrace, her arms a shelter from the storm raging within you. "You're not stupid," she reassures you, her voice soft but firm. "You took a chance on something that felt real, and that's nothing to be ashamed of."

Despite her comforting words, you can't help but feel a pang of disappointment in yourself. You had allowed yourself to be swept away by the allure of Anton's charm, only to realize too late that it was nothing more than a facade.

"But hey," Heejin continues, her tone brightening with a hint of optimism, "at least you made some fun memories to last you through the upcoming semester, right?"

You manage a small smile through your tears, grateful for Heejin's unwavering support. "Yeah, I guess you're right," you concede, the weight on your heart easing ever so slightly at the reminder of the good times you shared.

Just as you and Heejin decide to leave the club, your resolve wavering but firm, you excuse yourself to use the restroom. As you navigate through the crowded space towards the restroom, a familiar voice calls out to you, stopping you in your tracks. "Hey, can we talk?"

You turn to see Anton standing there, his expression unreadable as he pulls you aside, away from the prying eyes of the partygoers. Despite the ache in your chest, you can't help but feel a flicker of curiosity at his sudden appearance.

"He invited you to this party, right?" Heejin's words echo in your mind, a stark reminder of the reality you had tried so hard to ignore.

Anton's voice interrupts your thoughts, his words cutting through the noise of the club like a beacon in the darkness. "I missed you, angel," he confesses, his arms encircling your waist in a familiar embrace.

You freeze at his touch, the conflicting emotions raging within you like a storm. His warmth against your skin, once a source of comfort, now feels suffocating in its familiarity. You remain silent, unable to form coherent words amidst the chaos of your thoughts.

Unfazed by your lack of response, Anton leans down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers softly, "Do you want to head home with me tonight?"

The question hangs in the air between you, heavy with unspoken implications. But before you can consider his offer, a surge of frustration and indignation rises within you, breaking through the haze of confusion and growing horniness.

"No," you reply firmly, your voice tinged with a hint of defiance. "I need to know, Anton. What are we? What do you want from me?" You pause, your gaze searching his face for any sign of sincerity. "Because this... this isn't fair to me."

Anton's expression shifts, a flicker of surprise crossing his features before being replaced by a mask of indifference. "What do you mean?" he asks, his tone casual, as if your question holds no weight.

But you refuse to back down, the fire burning within you fueling your resolve. "You know exactly what I mean," you insist, your voice rising with each word. "You reel me in with compliments and empty promises, but you never follow through. You only ever want to see me at night, where no one else can see us. I deserve more than that, Anton. We both do."

Anton's grip tightens slightly around your waist, his brows furrowing in frustration. "It's not that simple, okay?" he retorts, his voice tinged with defensiveness. "You know how hectic my schedule is with my job. I can't always be there when you want me to be."

You shake your head, the bitterness of his words leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. "It's not about being there all the time, Anton," you counter, your voice tinged with disappointment. "It's about making an effort, about showing me that I actually mean something to you."

He opens his mouth to respond, but you beat him to it. "I'm tired of the excuses, Anton," you continue, your tone weary but resolute. "I need more than empty promises and late-night hookups. I need someone who's willing to put in the effort, someone who's not afraid to show me off to the world."

Anton's jaw tightens, his frustration palpable as he struggles to find the right words. "You think I don't want that too?" he finally blurts out, his voice edged with exasperation. "Do you have any idea what it's like to live under the constant scrutiny of the public eye? To have every move you make dissected and judged?"

His words hang in the air between you, heavy with the weight of his own insecurities. You understand the pressures of his career, the sacrifices he's had to make to maintain his image in the spotlight. But it's hard to reconcile his struggles with the hurt you've endured in silence.

"I know it's not easy," you concede, your voice softening with empathy. "But that doesn't excuse the way you've treated me, Anton. I've been patient, I've been understanding, but I can't keep pretending like everything's okay when it's not."

Anton's gaze flickers with a mixture of regret and resignation as he takes a step closer, his hand reaching out to brush against your cheek. "I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice laced with sincerity. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I just... I don't know how to do this."

Your heart aches at the vulnerability in his eyes, the raw honesty of his confession stirring something within you. But before you can respond, he closes the distance between you, his lips capturing yours in a desperate kiss.

For a moment, the world falls away, leaving behind only the heat of his touch and the softness of his lips against yours. And in that fleeting moment of intimacy, you're tempted to forget all the pain and uncertainty, to lose yourself in the familiarity of his embrace.

As Anton pulls away from the kiss, desperation flashes in his eyes, pleading with you not to leave him. "Please, don't go," he whispers, his voice cracking with emotion. "I can't lose you, not like this."

His hands tremble as they cup your face, his lips trailing soft kisses across your cheeks, each touch a silent plea for forgiveness. "I'll do better, I promise," he murmurs against your skin, his breath warm against your ear. "I'll put a label on what we have, I'll make it official. Just give me another chance."

You feel a surge of conflicting emotions coursing through you, torn between the pain of the past and the hope of a future where things could be different.

"I don't know, Anton," you murmur, your voice trembling with uncertainty. "I want to believe you, but... how can I be sure this time will be different?"

Anton's expression softens, a flicker of determination crossing his features. "I'll show you," he vows, his words laced with conviction. "I'll make it up to you, every single day. Just tell me what I need to do, and I'll do it."

You hesitate, torn between the desire to believe in him and the fear of being hurt again. But as you meet his gaze, a glimmer of hope flickers within you, a belief that perhaps, just perhaps, there's still a chance for redemption.

"Okay," you whisper, your voice barely audible above the chaos of the club. "But this is your last chance, Anton. No more empty promises, no more excuses. Show me that you mean it this time."

Anton leans in once again and captures your lips in another kiss, this time with a depth of emotion that leaves you reeling. It's as if he's pouring all of his love and regret into the fervent press of his mouth against yours, a silent plea for your forgiveness.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the space between you. "I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm so sorry for everything."

You feel a lump forming in your throat as you listen to him speak.

"Can I make it up to you?" Anton asks, his voice barely above a whisper. “Come home with me, let me show you how sorry I am, angel.”

You take a step back to look into his eyes but Anton quickly scoops you back towards his body. His other hand is on the side of your face, pulling you in. He dips his head and crashes his soft lips against your waiting lips. You let out a moan at the force behind the kiss but don’t object. He turns his head to deepen the kiss and slips his tongue into your mouth.

The kiss only gets hotter and hotter as you continue, Anton tilts his head to the side and you move yours in the opposite direction. Parting from your lips, he moves down gently to the corner of your lips, the tip of his nose buried in the junction of your jaw to take deep breaths of your intoxicating scent.

The male lays more open mouthed kisses down your neck, making you feel nothing but pure bliss. Your eyes shut as you moan into the air.

His hands move from your waist downwards, sliding over your jeans to caress your ass and thighs. He places one more love bite on your neck before bending a bit and lifting the back of your thighs as if you weigh nothing. You gasp in surprise and wrap your arms around his neck tightly so as to not fall.

You tug at his hair before responding to his previous question. “Take me home, Chanie.”

[midastouch013]

"Find Me Attractive Again"

Based on this request

Summary: You had a wonderful girlfriend, and so what happens when you discover she has an eating disorder

Warnings: Eating disorder, Hurt Nat, Sad Nat, Neglecting Y/n. Panic Attacks. Purging, throwing up. Major hurt/comfort, from both sides.

P.S I wasn't really satisfied with the ending, so I apologise. I also took my own spin on it since it was kind vague, so I hope you like it'.

P.S.S And also, after such heavy fics, I'd really like for someone to drop me a fluffy one, Not just Nat, any Marvel woman please.

-----------

It was a typical summer day in New York City when your paths first crossed. You, wrapped up in the chaos of your medical residency, were rushing through the streets, white coat flapping behind you like a superhero’s cape, while Natasha Romanoff, the infamous Black Widow, was navigating the crowds with the ease of someone who had seen it all.

It was at a street corner where fate decided to intervene, in the form of an iced coffee and a collision. Natasha, in her sleek elegance, accidentally bumped into you, sending her cold drink cascading down your front.

“Shit, I’m so sorry!” Her voice was a mix of genuine contrition and a hint of amusement.

You blinked, the cold seeping through your shirt, but you couldn’t help but chuckle at the situation. “Well, at least it’s a hot day,” you replied, trying to brush off the mess.

Natasha quickly handed you some napkins, her green eyes twinkling with amusement. "You're a humour one I see"

"That I am" you grinned "I've also cost you your coffee"

Natasha went to open her mouth, but you spoke instead.

“Let me make it up to you. Can I buy you another drink?”

"But I'm the one who spilt mine on you?" her eyebrow raised as she questioned.

"And?"

"I should be the one buying for you?"

You're smile didn't falter " Where's the chivalry in that?"

And that was the start of it all. What began as a clumsy encounter turned into a friendship neither of you expected. Natasha’s charm, mixed with her trademark snark, drew you in like a moth to a flame. Soon, the two of you were spending your precious free time together, swapping stories over drinks or taking long walks through the city.

Despite her guarded nature, Natasha opened up to you in ways she hadn’t with anyone else. You became her confidante, her sanctuary in a world filled with chaos and danger. And in turn, you found solace in her presence, a respite from the relentless demands of your residency.

As your friendship deepened, so did your feelings for her. You found yourself falling for the enigmatic Avenger, captivated by her strength, her wit, and the vulnerability she only showed to you. And one day, gathering every ounce of courage you had, you asked her out on a date.

To your delight, Natasha said yes, her smile lighting up the room in a way you had never seen before. And just like that, your friendship blossomed into something more, a new chapter in both of your lives.

Now, as you walked hand in hand through the bustling streets of New York, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of contentment wash over you. With Natasha by your side, you felt invincible, ready to take on whatever challenges life threw your way.

Little did you know, however, that behind the redhead’s confident facade lay a secret she was desperate to keep hidden. An invisible battle she fought every day, one that threatened to consume her from within.

And so, all it would take for you to find out, as a plate of untouched food, and certain other stuff

---

The elevator door opened with a ding, admitting you into the familiar warmth of your shared home (Floor in the compound that Tony had so happily given) with Natasha. The faint scent of breakfast lingered in the air, a reminder of the meal you had meticulously prepared before your short 12-hour shift at the hospital.

But as you stepped further into the living space, your brow furrowed in confusion. The plate of food you had set out for Natasha sat untouched on the dining table, a solitary fork resting against the edge.

"Nat?" you called out, your voice echoing in the quiet apartment. There was no response, just the eerie stillness of an empty room.

Concern gnawed at the edges of your mind as you ventured further into the living space, scanning every corner for any sign of your elusive girlfriend. But Natasha was nowhere to be found.

However, before you could think what to do next, the sound of retching echoed through the apartment, sending a shiver of dread down your spine. Without a moment's hesitation, you bolted towards the bathroom, your heart pounding in your chest.

As you flung open the door, the sight that greeted you was enough to make your stomach churn. There stood Natasha, hunched over the toilet, her face contorted in agony as she forced herself to purge.

Instinct took over as you rushed to her side, your hands reaching out to grasp hers and pull them away from her mouth. "Nat, stop," you urged, your voice laced with urgency and concern.

For a moment, she resisted, the muscles in her arm tense with the effort of her struggle. But slowly, reluctantly, she relented, allowing you to pry her fingers away from their self-destructive task.

The sight of her trembling form, tears glistening in her eyes, tore at your heartstrings like nothing else. You wanted to wrap her in your arms, to shield her from the demons that haunted her, but you knew that this was a battle she had to fight on her own terms.

Gently, you guided her away from the toilet, leading her to the sink where you wet a washcloth and pressed it against her clammy forehead. "It's okay, Nat," you murmured, your voice a soothing balm against the turmoil raging within her.

As you helped Natasha up from the cold tiles of the bathroom floor, her silence weighed heavily in the air, a palpable barrier between you. You guided her to the bed, her movements sluggish and unsteady, and gently urged her to sit down while you prepared a bath.

With practiced efficiency, you filled the tub with warm water, adding a few drops of lavender oil to help soothe her frazzled nerves. But as you turned to help Natasha undress, you noticed the way she recoiled from your touch, her body tensing at the slightest contact.

Your heart ached at the sight, a pang of sadness settling in the pit of your stomach. You had always prided yourself on being there for Natasha, on offering her the unwavering support and love she so desperately needed. But now, faced with her silent withdrawal, you felt utterly helpless, like a bystander watching helplessly as a storm raged on the horizon.

With a heavy sigh, you stepped back, giving Natasha the space she seemed to need. You watched in silence as she rose from the bed, her movements slow and deliberate, before making her way to the bathroom.

It was only then that you noticed the small click of the lock as she closed the door behind her, a barrier sealing her off from the outside world. The realization hit you like a punch to the gut, a stark reminder of the walls Natasha had built around herself, walls that even you, with all your love and devotion, could not penetrate.

For a moment, you stood there in the empty room, the weight of Natasha's silence bearing down on you like a leaden cloak. But then, with a resolute shake of your head, you pushed aside your own doubts and fears, determined to stand by her side no matter what.

Taking a deep breath, you squared your shoulders and made your way to the bathroom door, your hand poised to knock. But at the last moment, you hesitated, the sound of running water and Natasha's soft sobs echoing through the wood.

But when the sound of retching pierced through the closed bathroom door, a surge of panic shot through you like a bolt of lightning. Without a second thought, you abandoned your plans to change and rushed back to the bathroom, your heart pounding in your chest.

With a swift motion, you twisted the doorknob, but to your dismay, it refused to budge. Locked. The realization sent a fresh wave of fear coursing through your veins, igniting a primal instinct to protect Natasha at all costs.

"Nat, open the door!" you called out, your voice tinged with desperation. But there was no response, just the sickening sound of her struggle echoing through the small space.

With a burst of adrenaline-fueled determination, you threw your weight against the door, the wood groaning in protest as it gave way beneath your force. For a moment, everything seemed to blur together in a haze of motion and sound, until finally, the door swung open with a resounding crash.

And there she was, hunched over the toilet once more, her body wracked with violent spasms as she forced herself to purge. Without hesitation, you rushed to her side, your hands reaching out to grasp hers and pull them away from their self-destructive task.

"Nat, please stop," you pleaded, your voice cracking with emotion. But this time, there was no resistance, no struggle against your touch. Instead, Natasha collapsed against you, her tears mingling with the cool touch of your skin.

With a sense of resolve, you refused to leave Natasha alone in the bathroom this time. Instead, you stayed by her side, offering silent support as she struggled with the demons that haunted her.

As the water continued to run, filling the tub with warm, comforting steam, you gently guided Natasha towards it. She hesitated for a moment, her eyes cast downwards, before finally sinking into the water with a heavy sigh.

You stood by the tub, your presence a silent reassurance as Natasha submerged herself beneath the surface, her shoulders tense with the weight of her burdens. With a soft exhale, you reached for the shampoo, pouring a small amount into your palm before lathering it into her hair with gentle, soothing strokes.

"I won't look," you murmured softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I promise."

Natasha remained silent, her gaze fixed on some distant point beyond the confines of the bathroom. But you could sense the tension in her body, the invisible barriers she had erected to keep you at arm's length.

Undeterred, you continued to wash her hair, your fingers working through the tangles with practiced precision. With each stroke, you hoped to chip away at the walls she had built around herself, to offer her a glimpse of the love and acceptance that lay waiting on the other side.

But despite your best efforts, Natasha remained distant, her silence a heavy weight in the air between you. It was as if she had retreated into herself, lost in the labyrinth of her own thoughts and fears.

With a heavy heart, you finished washing her hair, rinsing away the suds with gentle care. Then, reaching for the washcloth, you began to bathe her body, moving with slow, deliberate motions as you washed away the stains of the outside world.

Gently, you lifted Natasha from the bathtub, her body feeling almost weightless in your arms. The sight of her frail form, bones protruding beneath the thin veil of her skin, sent a shiver of concern down your spine. It was a stark reminder of the toll her eating disorder had taken on her body, a silent battle she fought day in and day out.

With tender care, you carried her back to the bed, laying her down with the utmost gentleness. You tucked the blankets around her, the soft fabric a comforting cocoon against the cold reality of her struggles.

As Natasha lay there, her eyes distant and unfocused, you made your way to the kitchen, your mind racing with thoughts of how to help her. You knew that she needed nourishment, both for her body and her soul, but convincing her to eat was a battle in itself.

With a determined resolve, you rummaged through the pantry, searching for something light and easy to stomach. Finally, you settled on a plate of sliced fruit, the vibrant colors a stark contrast to the darkness that threatened to consume Natasha from within.

Returning to the bedroom, you found Natasha still lying there, her gaze fixed on some invisible point in the distance. Carefully, you placed the plate of fruit on the bedside table, hoping that the sight of it would stir something within her.

"Nat," you said softly, your voice a gentle reminder of your presence. "I brought you a snack. It's just some fruit. Would you like some?"

For a moment, there was no response, just the steady rise and fall of Natasha's chest as she breathed in and out. But then, slowly, almost imperceptibly, she reached out a trembling hand, fingers curling around a slice of apple.

You held your breath, watching intently as Natasha brought the fruit to her lips, her movements hesitant and uncertain. But then, with a small nod of encouragement from you, she took a tentative bite, the sweetness of the apple filling the air between you.

A sense of relief washed over you as you watched Natasha eat, each bite a small victory in the battle against her eating disorder.

As Natasha slowly nibbled on the fruit, you settled beside her on the bed, the familiar weight of her body a comforting anchor in the storm of uncertainty. With a soft click of the remote, you turned on the television, the familiar theme song of F.R.I.E.N.D.S filling the room with its nostalgic melody.

You glanced over at Natasha, her gaze fixed on the screen, her lips curved ever so slightly in the beginnings of a smile. It was a small victory, a glimmer of light in the darkness that threatened to consume her.

With a tender smile of your own, you wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close against your side. The warmth of her body pressed against yours, the steady rhythm of her breath a soothing lullaby in the quiet of the night.

Together, you watched as the familiar antics of Ross, Rachel, Monica, Chandler, Joey, and Phoebe unfolded on the screen before you. The laughter of the characters, the camaraderie of their friendships, served as a reminder of the bonds that held you and Natasha together, even in the darkest of times.

And as the episode came to an end, you turned to Natasha, the ghost of a smile still lingering on her lips. "Feeling a little better?" you asked softly, your voice a gentle caress against the silence of the room.

Natasha hesitated for a moment, her eyes flickering with uncertainty. But then, with a small nod of her head, she leaned into your embrace, her body relaxing against yours.

It was a small victory, a flicker of hope in the midst of despair. But for now, in this moment of quiet intimacy, it was enough. Together, you would face whatever challenges lay ahead, knowing that as long as you had each other, you could weather any storm that came your way. As you snuggled into Natasha, the fragile contours of her body pressed against yours, you couldn't help but feel a surge of emotion welling up inside you. With each delicate curve of her form, you could feel the sharp edges of her bones, a painful reminder of the toll her eating disorder had taken on her.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you held her close, the weight of her fragility pressing down on you like a leaden weight. "Why, Nat?" you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "Why do you do this to yourself?"

For a moment, there was only silence, the weight of Natasha's unspoken pain hanging heavy in the air between you. But then, as your grip tightened around her, almost as if you were clinging to her for dear life, she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I..." she began, her words faltering as if caught in the tangled web of her thoughts. But then, with a small shake of her head, she fell silent once more, the words hanging between you like an unspoken promise.

--

As you thought Natasha had drifted off to sleep, you reached for your phone, the glow of the screen illuminating the dimly lit room. With a deep breath, you dialed the number for the hospital, your heart pounding in your chest as you prepared to make a decision that would change everything.

"Hello, this is Dr. Y/l/n," you began, your voice steady despite the nerves that churned in the pit of your stomach. "I need to take the next month off."

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line, followed by the sound of a hesitant voice. "Dr. Y/l/n, are you sure? We're short-staffed as it is, and your patients—"

"I'm sure," you interrupted, your tone firm and unwavering. "I've already made up my mind."

The person on the other end of the line hesitated, clearly taken aback by your sudden decision. "But Dr. Y/l/n you're one of our top surgeons. We can't afford to lose you—"

"I understand that," you replied, your voice tinged with frustration. "But right now, I need to take care of someone who needs me more than anyone else."

There was a moment of silence as the gravity of your words hung heavy in the air between you. And then, with a resigned sigh, the person on the other end of the line relented, agreeing to grant you the time off on the condition that you'd go unpaid for the month.

As you ended the call, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over you. You knew that taking time off from the hospital was a risk, but in that moment, the only thing that mattered was being there for Natasha when she needed you most.

But as you turned to check on her, you realized that she had been awake the whole time, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Natasha's voice cut through the silence of the room, her words heavy with emotion. "Why did you do that?" she asked, her eyes searching yours for answers.

You met her gaze, the weight of her question hanging heavy in the air between you. Taking a deep breath, you reached out to brush a stray strand of hair from her face, your fingers lingering against her cheek.

"Because you needed me," you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "Because I love you, Natasha, and I would do anything for you."

Tears welled in Natasha's eyes as she listened to your words, her expression a mix of gratitude and disbelief. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the steady rhythm of your heartbeat. "For everything."

As Natasha's words hung in the air, a heavy silence settled between you, punctuated only by the soft hum of the room's ventilation system. You could see the turmoil swirling behind her eyes, the weight of her burdens threatening to crush her beneath their weight.

"Why did you do that, Natasha?" you asked gently, your voice laced with concern. "Why do you hurt yourself like this?"

Natasha hesitated for a moment, her gaze drifting away from yours as she searched for the words to explain the unexplainable. "It's… it's complicated," she began, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Try me," you urged, your tone soft and understanding. "I want to understand, Natasha. I want to help you."

With a heavy sigh, Natasha began to speak, her words halting and uncertain at first, but gaining strength with each passing moment. "It's not just me," she confessed, her voice trembling with emotion. "It's… it's the comments, the stares, the whispers behind my back."

Your heart ached as you listened to her words, the pain and anguish etched into every syllable. You knew all too well the harsh realities of the world Natasha inhabited, the constant scrutiny and judgment that followed her wherever she went.

"It's like… like I'm never good enough," Natasha continued, her voice cracking with emotion. "No matter how hard I try, no matter how much I achieve, it's never enough. And the news, they… they only make it worse."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you watched Natasha unravel before you, the weight of her suffering a burden too heavy for her to bear alone. In that moment, you felt a surge of anger rise up within you, a burning indignation at the injustices Natasha had endured.

"And..." She trailed off

"And?" You pulled her into your arms, holding her close as if to show that you were there for her. You could feel the ache in her voice, the raw vulnerability laid bare before you.

"I just... You," Natasha began, her voice trembling with uncertainty. "You used to look at me with such... such longing. You'd initiate everything, your touch, your kisses... But lately, it's like you don't even see me anymore."

Your heart clenched at her words, unsure of what to do or say.

"I thought... I thought maybe it was because of how I looked," Natasha continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "I thought if I worked out more, if I stopped eating, if I... if I purged, maybe you'd find me attractive again."

Your breath caught in your throat at her confession, the pain of her self-inflicted suffering tearing at your heartstrings. How could she think such a thing? How could she believe that her worth was tied to her appearance?

But you remained silent, allowing Natasha to speak, to purge the demons that haunted her soul. For in that moment, you realized that the only way to help her heal was to listen, to truly listen, without judgment or condemnation.

"I just wanted to be enough for you," Natasha whispered, her voice breaking with emotion. "But I was so wrong, wasn't I? I was so wrong."

And as she buried her face in her hands, her words seemed to sink in, making you feel like the ground beneath you is crumbling away, leaving you adrift in a sea of guilt and self-loathing.

Your hands trembled as you pushed yourself away from Natasha, the weight of her words crashing down on you like a tidal wave. You stumbled backward, your eyes wide with shock as you realized the role you had played in her pain.

"Oh my god," you whispered, your voice barely audible above the sound of your own ragged breaths. " I did that"

Natasha's eyes widened in concern as she watched you retreat, her voice tinged with fear. "Y/n? Are you okay?"

But you couldn't answer, couldn't bring yourself to face her, not when the guilt threatened to suffocate you. You hated yourself in that moment, hated the way you had let work consume you, the way you had neglected the person you loved most in the world.

And then it hit you, a wave of overwhelming emotion crashing over you like a tsunami. You sank to the floor, your body racked with sobs as the weight of your own self-loathing bore down on you like a heavy burden.

Natasha's voice was a distant echo in the darkness, her words lost amidst the chaos of your own thoughts. But you could feel her presence beside you, her hand reaching out to touch your shoulder in a silent gesture of comfort and support.

But you couldn't bear it, couldn't bear the thought of her touching you, not when you were the reason she was in pain. So you pushed her away, stumbling to your feet and retreating further into the shadows.

"I'm sorry," you choked out, your voice barely audible above the storm of your own despair. "I'm so sorry, Natasha. I didn't mean to… I didn't know…"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," the words tumbled from your lips in a frantic mantra, each repetition a desperate plea for forgiveness. But the only one you blamed was yourself, your own self-loathing swallowing you whole.

Natasha's voice was a distant echo in the chaos of your mind, her words lost in the tumult of your own despair. But you could feel her presence beside you, a steady anchor in the storm.

But even as she reached out to comfort you, you recoiled from her touch, the weight of your guilt too heavy to bear. You felt betrayed by yourself, , the person who had allowed this to happen.

"I'm sorry," you choked out once more, your voice hoarse with emotion. "I'm so sorry, Natasha. I didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't mean to…"

But the words fell flat, empty and hollow in the face of your own self-condemnation. And as you sank further into the darkness, the weight of your own despair threatening to consume you, you knew that there was no escape from the demons that haunted you.

"Y/n, listen to me," Natasha's voice was firm, cutting through the haze of panic that clouded your mind. "You need to breathe. Deep breaths, okay?"

You nodded, your chest heaving as you struggled to regain control of your racing heart.

"That's it," she encouraged, her voice a soothing balm against the storm raging within you. "Inhale... and exhale. You're okay, I've got you."

You focused on her words, on the steady rhythm of her breathing, allowing them to anchor you in the present moment.

"I'm not going anywhere, Y/n," Natasha continued, her grip on your hand reassuringly firm. "I'm right here with you, and I'm not letting you go."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you clung to her, the weight of your own self-loathing threatening to crush you beneath its suffocating embrace.

"I'm so sorry, Natasha," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "I didn't-"

Natasha silenced you with a gentle finger against your lips, her eyes soft with understanding. "Shh, it's okay," she murmured.

With trembling hands, you grasped Natasha's palms in yours, feeling the warmth of her touch seeping into your skin like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. Without a word, you pulled her into a tight embrace, needing to feel the steady rhythm of her heartbeat against your chest.

"I love you, Tasha," you whispered, your voice cracking with emotion. "I love you more than anything in this world."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you pressed kisses against her forehead, her cheeks, her neck, each touch a silent testament to the depth of your love for her.

"I'm sorry for everything," you murmured between kisses, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry for making you feel unloved, for neglecting you when you needed me most. I promise, I'll do better. I'll be better for you, for us."

Natasha's arms tightened around you, her own tears mingling with yours as she buried her face against your chest. "I love you too, Y/n," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "And I forgive you. We'll get through this together, I promise."

---

Over the next few days, you devoted yourself wholeheartedly to supporting Natasha, determined to make amends for your past neglect. You woke up early to prepare nutritious meals for her, ensuring that she had the sustenance she needed to fuel her body and soul.

You gently guided her through each day, offering words of encouragement and reassurance whenever she needed them. You deleted all the news apps from her phone, shielding her from the harsh judgments and scrutiny of the outside world.

And when you learned of the agents who had dared to badmouth Natasha, you wasted no time in tracking them down and giving them a piece of your mind. With a fiery determination burning in your eyes, you confronted them head-on, refusing to let them tarnish Natasha's reputation any further.

"You have no idea what she's been through," you spat, your voice laced with righteous anger. "She's one of the strongest, most resilient people I know, and she deserves nothing but respect."

The agents cowered before you, their faces pale with guilt and shame. And as you walked away, leaving them to ponder the consequences of their actions, you felt a sense of satisfaction wash over you.

Every time you sensed Natasha spiraling, you were there, a steady anchor in her stormy sea. You showered her with kisses, peppering her face with affectionate gestures, a silent reminder of the love that enveloped her. Your touch was a constant presence, your fingers entwined with hers or softly tracing patterns on her skin, a tangible reassurance that you were there for her, always.

You made sure she had everything she needed, anticipating her wants before she even voiced them. Whether it was a warm meal or a comforting hug, you were always one step ahead, ready to offer her solace in her moments of need.

But even as you tended to her, Natasha noticed the turmoil brewing beneath your surface. Despite your smiles and jokes, she saw the shadows lurking in your eyes, the weight of your own struggles weighing heavily on your shoulders. And though you tried to hide it, she knew that your sleepless nights were spent wrestling with demons of your own.

---

As the time came for you to return to work after a month of devoted care for Natasha, a sense of dread settled in the pit of your stomach. The thought of leaving her alone, vulnerable to the demons that had haunted her in the past, filled you with a gnawing anxiety.

You found yourself making up excuses, delaying your departure in a futile attempt to hold onto the precious moments you had shared together. But Natasha saw through your facade, her eyes searching yours for the truth that you were desperate to hide.

"Y/n, what's going on?" she asked, her voice gentle but firm. "You've been acting strange lately, avoiding going back to work, making excuses to stay. Is something wrong?"

Your heart constricted at the concern in her voice, the weight of your own fears threatening to suffocate you. But you couldn't bring yourself to voice the truth, to admit to the depths of your own insecurities.

"I… I just don't want to leave you," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm afraid that if I go back to work, things will go back to how they were before. I'm afraid of losing you Tasha."

Tears welled in your eyes as you spoke, the vulnerability of your confession laying bare the depths of your fear. But Natasha's response was immediate, her arms wrapping around you in a tight embrace, her warmth a comforting balm against the storm raging within you.

"Y/n, listen to me," she said, her voice steady and unwavering. "I'm not going anywhere. We've been through hell and back together, and I'm not about to let anything tear us apart."

With a heavy heart and a sense of resolve, you made the difficult decision to resign from your position, knowing that your place was by Natasha's side. As you prepared to leave, a fierce determination burned within you to make the most of the time you had left together.

With a hunger born of love and longing, you pulled Natasha into your arms, your lips seeking hers in a passionate kiss.

An so as you hold Natasha close, your heart overflowing with love and devotion, you feel the need to express the depths of your feelings to her.

"Nat," you begin, your voice soft and tender, "I need you to understand something. I love you more than words can express, more than I ever thought possible."

You press a gentle kiss to her forehead, savoring the warmth of her skin against your lips before continuing.

"I love you for who you are, not for your past or your appearance. Every part of you, every scar, every imperfection, it's all part of what makes you so incredibly beautiful to me."

Your fingers trace the contours of her face, your touch reverent and adoring.

"And I want you to know that my love for you will never waver. No matter what challenges we face, no matter what obstacles come our way, I will always be by your side, loving you with every beat of my heart."

Tears shimmer in Natasha's eyes as she listens to your words, her own heart swelling with emotion.

"I love you too, Y/n," she whispers, her voice choked with tears. "More than you'll ever know."

---------

[merrybloomwrites]

Cheese is a Good Thing (Larry x Reader)

Summary: Attending your first Louis Tomlinson concert doesn't exactly go as planned. A trash can full of cheese and a chance encounter on a tour bus lead to a night you'll never forget.

Content Warning: smut, threesome (m, m, f) p-in-v-sex, protected sex, light dom/sub dynamic, one night stand

Word Count: 5.2K

Authors Note: This was supposed to be a very silly oneshot inspired by me actually almost falling in a trashcan full of cheese in order to move out of Oli's way at a concert. And then the devil took over and now it's possibly the smuttiest thing I've written?

I also know that I said I was taking a hiatus from posting, but I already had this started and people expressed interest in Louis x Harry x Reader so I wanted to get one story out there. Hope you enjoy!

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

“Y/N, you know I don’t like when you go to things like this by yourself.” 

You roll your eyes at your mothers voice, glad that this is just a phone call so she can’t see the gesture. 

“Mom, I’m almost 30 years old. I’m smart. I know how to take care of myself.”

“I know. Still makes me nervous. Call me when you get home okay?”

“You know you’ll be asleep before Louis even gets on stage,” you reply. If there’s one thing about your mother that’s never changed, it’s her habit of going to bed early. 

“I wish we’d set up that app on my phone so I can see where you are,” she says. 

“We did set it up,” you state. “You just don’t know how to use it.”

“Oh, that’s right. How do I find you again?”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes again at the question, since you’ve taught her how to use Find My Friends about one hundred times.

“I’ve really got to get going, parking is going to be tough so I don’t want to be late.”

“Of course, okay. Have fun and be safe!”

“Thanks mom, I will. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“You’d better, I want to hear all about it!”

You almost laugh at that, since your mother literally has zero idea who Louis Tomlinson is, but you appreciate the effort. After a final goodbye you hang up the call. 

Before leaving, you glance in the mirror one last time to make sure everything is in order. Your hair is pulled up in a ponytail, your make up looks perfect, and your simple shorts and tank top sit just right. It’s a hot day, the middle of summer, and the last thing you want is to overheat.

The drive to the venue doesn’t take long, as it’s only a couple of towns over. It’s a smaller place, basically a big parking lot that got turned into a space for concerts. After waiting in line, you finally make your way inside to find a spot. It’s all general admission so you can choose to be anywhere.

The front right by the stage is already completely filled. You could get into the middle of the crowd, but you’d rather hang towards the back. While you do love Louis, it’s still broiling hot out and being surrounded by people doesn’t sound like a fun time.

Towards the back of the space is a large tent which seems to be the control center. Sound and lighting techs are working from there, as well as security personnel. There are metal gates around the tent, with an opening on the side for the staff to come and go.

This is where you station yourself. You’re outside the fence, just behind the opening. There’s a trash can behind you which essentially means no one will be able to press closely to you. Plus, if you lean over towards the fence you get a less obstructed view of the stage.

All in all, you think you’ve secured yourself a pretty good spot. You have a great time listening to the openers, and then Giant Rooks leaves the stage. It’s almost time for you to watch Louis perform live for the first time in your life.

There’s activity in the tent, and you see a man who looks kind of familiar walking out of it rolling some equipment. You try to move back a bit more to be out of his way, but the cart he’s moving still bumps into you.

It doesn’t hurt you, but it does cause you to lose your balance. And honestly, you have the worst coordination, and even worse luck. So it’s no surprise to you when you fall backwards and land not on the ground, but in the garbage can. 

There’s something warm and sticky, and you vaguely remember seeing lots of people eating nachos. Cheese. You’ve landed in basically a vat of cooling liquid cheese. Well, that’s unfortunate. 

“Holy shit, Are you okay? I'm so sorry.” A strongly accented and very worried sounding voice asks you from above. You look up and see the same man, now realizing that you recognize him from Louis’ documentary. It’s Oli, his best friend and manager. And he’s just sent you flying into a trash can. 

“I’m okay,” you reply, more shocked than anything. 

“Here,” he says as he thrusts his hand towards you. “Let me get you out of there.”

You place your hand in his and he helps pull you out until you’re standing in front of him. 

“Seriously, Are you okay?” He asks. You take a moment to assess if you have any injuries before reassuring him that you are not hurt. 

“I am literally covered in cheese sauce though,” you add with a laugh. 

“Shit, again I am so sorry. Here, come with me and we’ll get you cleaned up and in some new clothes.”

You decide to trust this man, though you really don’t have a reason to. Maybe your mom was right to be worried about you going to a concert alone, seeing as you’ve landed yourself in quite a predicament. 

“You can rinse off in the shower on the bus and there should probably be some clothes you can have. I can grab you a merch shirt to wear if you’d like.”

“Uhm, yea anything not coated in cheese would be perfect,” you reply. 

He leads you behind the stage and over to the buses. “I share this one with Louis and a couple guys from the band. They’re due to be getting ready with the sound techs so the bus should be empty,” Oli explains, pointing to the bus at the end. When you reach it he opens the door gesturing for you to enter first. 

As it turns out, Oli was wrong. Because the bus certainly is not empty. 

“Oh shit!” You exclaim as you process the sight in front of you before you quickly turn to face the other way. Oli walks into the bus and first notices the wide eyes on your face before looking behind you. And what he sees behind you is an image you’ll never erase from your brain. 

Because what you’d just walked in on is Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles shirtlessly making out on the couch. 

“Oli you better not have brought this girl in here to-”

“To do exactly what you and Harry were doing? Obviously not,” Oli replies. 

“Then explain why she’s here.”

“I accidentally pushed her into a garbage bin full of cheese sauce.”

You’re still facing away from them meaning they can easily see the mess on your clothes and skin. There’s a rustling sound and then Louis says, “You can turn around love, I promise we’re decent now.”

You do as instructed and see that the pair are now wearing shirts and are seated next to each other, rather than with Harry straddling Louis' lap like he was when you’d entered. 

“Did he really knock you into a trash bin?” Harry asks. 

“Yea, he was moving a cart with equipment and it bumped into me,” you explain. 

“Mate, you are an idiot,” Louis says with a laugh. 

“In his defense, it is pretty difficult to move through the crowd out there,” you clarify. 

“Well, it doesn't change the fact that you obviously came here to clean up and find new clothes, right?” Louis asks. 

“Exactly,” you answer. 

“What’s your name,” Harry asks. 

“I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you guys,” you reply. 

“I’m going to grab her one of the merch t-shirts, do you think there’s any shorts in here that’ll fit her?” Oli says. 

��I think I have something that will work,” Louis replies. 

“And bring back an NDA with you,” Harry adds. Oli just nods in understanding and walks out, closing the door behind him. 

Harry turns to you and says, “I hope you understand about the NDA. It’s not that we don’t trust you but we’ve been keeping this secret for a while. We’d really like to know that you won’t go around telling people about what you saw.”

“Oh, I totally get that,” you reply. A blush paints your cheeks as you think about what you witnessed. 

The two boys watch your reaction and share a look with each other. They seem to communicate silently for a moment before Harry takes a step towards you. 

“Did you like what you saw?” He asks. His tone isn’t judgemental, nor is it angry. In fact, it seems to be teasing, or almost hopeful. 

“I mean, I promise I looked away the second I realized. I really didn’t see anything,” you answer. 

“Would you like to?” Louis asks. 

This has your mind basically going offline. Did Louis Tomlinson really just ask if you want to see him and Harry Styles make out? Or maybe even do more than that? 

“Aw, babe, she’s blushing. I think he wants to join us,” Harry says to Louis, in a voice certainly meant to make you squirm. 

“Oh you’re right, love, she definitely wants to,” Louis replies. 

He walks forward, until he’s standing right in front of you. His hands move to cup your face and he asks, “Would it be alright if I kissed you? Wouldn’t want to leave you out of the fun.”

You nod, but he gives you a look, silently telling you to use your words. “Yes, it’s alright,” you confirm. And then his lips are on you. They’re plush, yet demanding, and in no time his tongue is breaching your lips, caressing the inside of your mouth. 

As quickly as it began, the kiss ends. It leaves you breathless and dizzy. Louis steps back and you feel like you’ll fall to the floor, except now Harry is there, his hands on your hips. After once again asking your consent, he leans in for a kiss of his own. He’s softer, gentler and yet you’re still melting in his arms after just a moment of his lips pressing against yours. 

He pulls away and moves back, giving you space. And not a moment too soon because a second later Oli is reentering the bus holding a bag. 

“Lou, everything’s ready, time to go,” he says as he hands you the bag. 

“Got it, I’ll meet you out there in a second,” Louis replies.

“You’d better,” Oli lightheartedly threatens before leaving once again. 

“Listen,” Louis begins. “You know about the two of us now. And you enjoyed what you saw earlier. And those kisses, well that’s just the start of what we can do. We're staying at a hotel here in town tonight. If you’d like to join us, the invitation is open. Think about it and tell us after the show, okay?”

You look at both of them and see their serious expressions before saying a quiet, “Okay.”

“I have to run before Oli kills me,” Louis says, tuning to kiss Harry goodbye. 

“Break a leg babe, I’ll make sure Y/N has what she needs and get her out to watch you,” Harry says. Louis exits the bus and Harry turns to you, adding, “I have a spot we can watch from, the view is perfect. But you need to not be covered in cheese. The bathrooms over here if you want to rinse off and change.”

Harry leads you to the small bathroom, shows you how to use the shower, and hands you a towel before giving you some privacy. You undress and hop in the shower, quickly rinsing off all grime from the trash can. You wrap yourself in the towel and look in the bag of clothes, realizing it’s only shirts. No bottoms. Crap. You’d gotten distracted and forgot to get a pair from Louis before he left. 

One glance at your shorts proves there’s no way to salvage them for the evening. After making sure the towel covers you enough, you open the door and poke your head out. 

“Hey Harry?” You call, hoping he’s still nearby. 

“Yea?” He answers and walks around the corner to see you. When he sees your undressed state there’s an irrefutable look of lust on his face. He quickly schools his expression and says, “Need something?”

“Uhm, Louis was supposed to grab me some shorts?” You say uncertainly. 

“Oh right! Let me get something, hold on.”

He’s back a second later handing you a pair of shorts, and you change speedily. Once you finish you start hearing Louis’ intro. You shove your dirty clothes into the bag and Harry leads you out of the bus. 

There’s a building just next to the pit that he walks into. The two of you go upstairs to a room with windows. They’re obviously tinted so no one can see in, but you guys can see literally everything from here. There’s speakers as well so the sound is perfect. 

Other people are in the room, people who must be close to Louis in some way because none of them are shocked by Harry being there. The show is amazing, Louis does a fantastic job, and you’re so enthralled you almost forget about their offer from earlier. 

Almost. 

When the show ends, the room clears out, but Harry stays there and asks you to wait with him. A few minutes later Louis enters, literally glistening in sweat. He rushes to Harry, and they meet in a dirty kiss. You audibly gulp at the sight, your body temperature rising. 

They turn to you then, and Louis asks, “Did you make a decision?”

“We don’t want to pressure you,” Harry says, and Louis nods seriously beside him. “But we’d love for you to join us if you want.”

You hesitate for a moment. This would be new territory for you. Never before had you slept with two men, let alone two famous men. 

And then you stop debating. Because really, you’d be crazy to turn down this offer. “I want to,” you reply, happy to hear how sure and confident you sound. 

“Well then, our ride is just downstairs,” Louis says and he leads you both out to a waiting car. 

The driver asks no questions as the three of you slide into the backseat. You’re squished in the middle, and highly aware of each point of contact you have with the boys on either side of you. It’s scary, but mostly, it’s exhilarating. You find yourself anxious for the ride to end, eager to get somewhere private. 

You enter the hotel through the back door and take a service elevator to the top floor. Louis’ suite is immaculate, and you’d normally be exploring every inch. But you’re not the only one antsy to get things going. 

As soon as the door latches shut, Louis is pressed against your back, his arms wrapping around your waist and his half hard cock obvious where it pushes on your bum. Harry stands in front of you,  his hand going to your face, but he doesn’t lean in. Not until Louis tells him to, and then his mouth immediately finds yours. 

You can tell there’s definitely a slight power dynamic here, and Louis seems to be in charge. Which is more than fine by you. Truthfully you’re a bit out of your depth and would love for someone to lead you here. 

It’s easy to see that Harry was holding back during the kiss earlier. There’s no more hesitance, and while he may be submissive when it comes to Louis, he definitely has a dominant side if the way he takes control of the kiss is anything to go by. 

Harry curls his tongue around yours at the same moment as Louis, now fully hard, grinds against you. The two sensations together pull a needy moan from your mouth as your body goes lax. Louis tightens his grip and Harry moves closer in order to keep you upright. 

“My turn,” Louis says and Harry immediately removes his lips and moves his hands away from your face. One of Louis’ finds your chin and he grips it lightly in order to turn your head to the side. He crashes his lips against yours and Harry’s hands start to explore your body. 

“Please,” you whimper out, unsure what you need but knowing that it’s just more. 

“Sound so pretty when you beg,” Louis says. 

“And while you do look fantastic in my husband's merch,” Harry says, “how about we get you out of it for now?”

You nod, loving the sound of getting rid of the clothes that now feel unpleasant on your sensitive and overheated skin. Harry slips your shirt over your head as Louis shimmies your shorts off, leaving you in your simple bra and panties. Both boys then remove their own shirts, and you pause a moment to take in their bare torsos. Their skin feels so smooth as you run your fingertips over their newly exposed tattoos. 

Your hands continue moving south, until they glide over both of the boys' hard cocks, causing the sweetest sounds to ring out. Emboldened by their noises of desire, you slowly sink to your knees. 

“Please,” you say again, this time clearly knowing what you want. Harry and Louis know as well, and waste no time removing the rest of their clothing. Your mouth waters at the two beautiful cocks as they’re revealed to you. While Louis is a tad longer, Harry is definitely wider. But truthfully, you have no doubt that they both would satisfy you immensely. 

You start by wrapping a hand around each of them, gripping just firm enough to give a hint of pleasure. You lean to Louis first, licking his tip before moving to do the same for Harry.  You feel them shiver in pleasure and decide to take it further. Turning back to Louis, you wrap your lips around him, moving down a couple inches until he brushes the back of your throat. You pull back slightly and begin to move up and down, using your hand for the base that doesn’t fit. 

When his moans grow louder you pull off, turning to Harry and repeating the process. Your lips stretch around him, and you feel more arousal drip into your already wet underwear. After a minute, you’re being pulled to your feet and both boys kiss you messily before maneuvering so you’re lying on your back in bed. 

“Harry, why don’t you show her how much we appreciate what she just did for us,” Louis says. Once again, Harry doesn’t think, just acts. You jolt at the feeling of his lips pressing a kiss to your clit over your panties.

“Jesus, love, you’re fucking drenched. Lou, you have to see this.”

Next you feel Louis’ fingers moving along the gusset of your underwear before he says, “You’re just gushing baby. Why don’t we get this off, they’re ruined anyway, won’t do you much good.” 

You nod vigorously, wanting him to remove them and hoping he’ll do the same with your bra so you can be completely free, completely bare in front of them. You’re in luck, because as he slowly slips the material down your legs, Harry takes care of your bra for you, leaning down to wrap his lips around each breast in turn. 

“She’s ready for you,” Louis says. “Switch with me.” 

Harry does so, and he immediately begins eating you out. It starts gentle, but just for a moment. A couple kisses to your thighs quickly turns into him running his tongue along your folds and then drawing circles on your clit. 

He teases your hole more than once, but never enters which drives you wild. He continues working you up while Louis takes over playing with your breasts, kissing and placing light bites to your nipples. That’d never brought you pleasure before but mixing with what Harry’s doing, it has you seeing stars in no time at all. 

Together the two of them bring you to your first orgasm of the night. It crashes over you in waves, and leaves you moaning and thrashing on the bed. 

You try to catch your breath, but they barely give you a break before switching spots and starting the process over again. But this time Louis does more than tease your hole. His tongue breaches your entrance first before he replaces it with two fingers. 

They curl just right and he instantly finds that perfect spot inside of you. His mouth moves to your clit, sucking it in while his fingers continue their ministrations inside you. 

Meanwhile, Harry’s hands are roaming your body, leaving tingly hot sensations over every bit of skin they find. He’s also murmuring in your ear, his warm breath blowing on your neck as he says things like, “Love those pretty noises you’re making for us,” and,  “Just listen to how wet you are,” and, “Gonna be a good girl for us? Come again, all over Lou’s hand?”

The combination of those words being said in Harry’s low, gruff voice, and Louis fingers and tongue working you up just right has you hurtling into your next orgasm. You cry out again and it rolls through you, even more intense than the last one. 

“Fuck,” Harry says. “You just squirted, why didn’t you tell us you could do that? I might’ve worked harder, which you’d gushed on my face like that.”

“I didn’t- I what? I’ve never done that before. I didn’t know.” Your mind is fuzzy but you try to reply. You can’t believe that just happened. And they liked it? They weren’t grossed out?

You must’ve said that last question out loud because Louis is up by your face a moment later saying, “Not at all. That was one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen. Think you have one more in you? Can you take Harry in that perfect cunt?”

“I think so,” you reply, laying bonelessly on the bed. 

“You think? Do you want to stop here? We don’t want to push you too far,” Louis says, his voice gentler now. 

“No! I don’t want to stop. I can take it, I promise,” you reply. You don’t know what’s gotten into you, but the idea of stopping before they’ve both come has you feeling almost guilty. You want them to feel the same kind of pleasure they already gave you. 

“Okay, just let us know if it’s too much and we’ll stop,” he says before stepping away for a moment. 

He comes back with two foil packets and a small bottle. He and Harry both open a packet and you watch as they each slide a condom down their lengths. 

“Lou’s gonna fuck me while I fuck this pretty pussy, does that sound good to you?” Harry says. 

“Sounds perfect,” you answer. 

You’re still laying on your back, definitely earning a pillow princess title but everyone seems to be fine with that. Harry’s hands gently grip your thighs and he pushes your legs open wide, kneeling in between to get into position. But instead of lining up with your entrance, he gets on his hands and knees. 

You realize that they’d opened you up already, but Harry needs prep too before he can take Louis. You expect Louis to finger him open, but gasp along with Harry when Louis pulls a plug out of Harry instead. You realize that’s been there all night, was probably put in shortly before you walked in on them earlier. 

The thought sends another wave of desire through you, and while a second ago you weren’t sure how much more you could take, now you're desperate to be filled. 

“You ready baby girl?” Louis asks, coming over to press another kiss to your lips. The gentle peas of his lips to yours settles you, and when he pulls away there’s a calm smile on your face and you reply, “I’m ready.”

“Okay. Harry, show our girl what you can do.”

A moment later you feel Harry’s tip at your entrance. You thought they’d opened you up before, but you must’ve underestimated Harry’s size, because you feel each second of him gently pushing inside. It’s a pleasant pain that quickly shifts to only pleasure. 

“One more thing,” Louis says before lifting your hips to slide a pillow under you. Harry moves as well, and you moan as he hits even deeper inside you. This also puts him in a better position to take Louis from behind. 

You feel, more than see, when Louis slides into Harry. He thrusts gently inside you, and leans down to bite your neck while letting out the neediest whine you’ve ever heard come from a man. It’s also possibly the hottest sound you’ve ever heard from a man. 

They fall into a rhythm, controlled by Louis, and the three of you fall speechless. The room is filled with a cacophony of moans and whimpers, as well as the noises being made by your bodies connecting over and over. 

You come first, your walls squeezing around Harry’s cock, pulling him in impossibly deeper. Your body feels almost numb, somewhat tingly, and your brain grows even fuzzier. It’s like there’s a disconnect between the two. It’s a weird feeling, but not unpleasant. 

Harry’s thrusts start to grow sloppy and he tucks his head into your neck as he comes. You feel the pulsing of his cock inside you, and his moans vibrate against your neck. Even after he’s finished, he remains inside and you can feel the way Louis is moving in him as it jostles you as well. 

Louis whines grow higher until he stills, holding himself flush to Harry before finally pulling out. Harry slides out of you as well, slowly and gently, knowing you’re probably sore after three rounds with them. 

They lay on either side of you, each wrapping and arm over your waist. After you all catch your breath Louis asks, “You okay love?”

A smile spreads on your face as you reply, “I’m so, so okay. That was amazing.”

“Glad you liked it,” Harry says. 

You continue to bask in the afterglow until Harry finally states, “We should probably get cleaned up.”

You suddenly become aware of how sticky your legs are and reply, “That’s probably a good idea. Any chance you have spare sheets?” Your mind and body are fully reconnected now and you can feel how soaked the bed is under you. 

“Better yet, there’s a second bedroom. Completely unused bed in there,” Louis informs you. 

He gets up, reaching a hand out, helping you stand as well. The three of you end up taking a shower and they gently clean you up, pressing only the gentlest kisses to any marks they left on your skin. 

After drying off you end the night in a soft, comfortable bed, Harry on one side and Louis on the other. They whisper praises, telling you how good you were, how much they enjoyed their time with you. You fall asleep feeling more satisfied than you can remember ever being before. 

Soft light filters through curtains the next morning when you wake up. Harry is still in bed, awake and scrolling on his phone. 

“Good morning,” you say. 

“Good morning. How did you sleep?” He asks.

“Wonderfully. How about you?”

“Best rest I;v;e had in weeks,” he answers with a soft smile. “Lou’s just getting everything ready. We need to leave in an hour to get to the next venue,” he informs you. 

“Oh, yea, I should probably be going.” No sense dragging it out anymore, now that the night is over. 

“Of course not. You can’t go until you’ve had breakfast with us. I mean, we didn’t buy you dinner before getting you into bed, the least we can do is get you some breakfast after,” he says with a laugh, his dimples showing and making you blush. “It should be here soon. We didn’t know what you’d like so we got a few options.” 

“Thanks, that’s really kind of you.” 

Harry pulls you in and you relax in his embrace until Louis pops into the room saying “Food’s here.”

You move to get out of bed and then realize that you’re not wearing anything. Louis notices your predicament and disappears again before returning with the other t-shirt Oli had gotten you the previous evening, as well as a clean pair of boxers and shorts and your own bra. He leaves again giving you privacy to get dressed, which you do quickly. 

You join them for breakfast, happy to see they've gotten pancakes, your favorite. Louis also pours you a cup of tea, making it a perfect start to the day. 

“Oh, by the way, where is your car parked?” Louis asks. 

Truthfully you’d forgotten you had a car. Had forgotten life outside this hotel exists. So you pull up your phone and look at the dropped pin you’d placed last night to remember when you’d parked. 

“It’s just a few blocks from here,” you say, showing him the screen. 

“Ok perfect, a member of my team will be here in a minute to grab your key and pick it up to bring it to the hotel.”

“Oh that’s alright, I don’t mind walking.” Though as you say it, you realize it’d be a walk of shame, which you’re not thrilled about.

“I insist. Don’t want you walking that far, especially not after last night,” he adds with a cheeky smile. You blush for the thousandth time, knowing exactly what he’s thinking about. 

Someone does come to grab your key, effectively ending the walk down memory lane. The three of you chat for a bit, the boys asking you questions about yourself before Louis shifts awkwardly and says, “I noticed the NDA in the bag when I was grabbing your shirt. I truly hate to ask but-”

“You don’t have to ask. Of course I’ll sign.”

“Thank you love, it just gives us peace of mind.”

“I’m more than happy to.” You promptly get up to grab the papers and a pen, handing it to Louis once completed. “I really enjoyed spending the night with you guys. And not just the sex, but everything else too. You really take aftercare seriously,” you say with an awkward laugh. 

“Well, we do pride ourselves on being gentlemen,” Harry replies, flashing you another dazzling smile. 

Louis receives a text a minute later and says, “They’ve got your car downstairs, and we really should be getting going.”

You all stand up and they each pull you in for a hug. 

“I think I speak for both of us when I say we really enjoyed last night,” Harry says. 

Louis adds, “Absolutely. We’re so glad you agreed to be with us.”

“Well I’m just happy falling into a trash can full of cheese actually had a good outcome.” 

They both laugh at that before each giving you one more kiss and saying goodbye. 

You drive home in a daze and spend the day just thinking about the events of the previous night. You call your mother as promised, telling her a mostly fabricated story of your night which to her knowledge, ended with you arriving home before midnight.  

And when you watch a livestream of Louis’ show that evening and hear him mention how much he loves nacho cheese, you know it’s his way of saying he’s thinking of you. 

You know you’ll remember that night for a long time, and hope they will as well.

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

AN: Thanks for reading, I'd love to hear what you thought about this first Larry x reader story! Requests are open if there's anything you'd want to see in the future

[gazetto-no-ki]

2024.08.06 Ruki on IG:

"August. Lately, I feel like I keep encountering passing showers in Tokyo. Were there always this many passing showers? 🌂

Even now, I can hear thunder.

For about the past month or so, there have been days when I wanted to block out music for a while.

But I wanted to feel with my own ears and eyes what makes me happiest.

So, I deliberately went out of my way to go to festivals I had never been to before, and attended live performances of artists I've been listening to since my teenage years.

I finally got the courage to actually go and experience music in person.

Every live performance by the artists was wonderful, and I discovered new music that I came to love.

Thinking that I wouldn't have encountered this music if I hadn't gone, I'm truly glad I made the effort.

The time I spent shutting everything out was necessary for me, but after all, live performances are the place I love the most.

Not only watching the stage but also seeing the faces of people around me enjoying themselves, I realized that live performances, where you can participate freely regardless of age or gender, are truly the best.

Why was I drawn to it? What made my heart dance? I felt with my whole being that this is the kind of irreplaceable time that cannot be substituted by material things as I immersed myself in the sound.

These are the moments that take me away from reality and give me intangible treasures allowing me to get back to my everyday life. They are truly precious times.

Being able to stand on stage as Ruki and deliver music and feelings to everyone as a vocalist is such a blessing.

Those continuous precious moments reminded me of the meaning of standing on stage and deeply inspired my heart to create more of my own music.

Next month, it will be my turn. I plan to use this experience to give my all in the live performance.

I can't wait to see everyone. I'll look at each person's face carefully and sing with all my heart, hoping that my feelings reach you.

It's still going to be hot for a while, but let's take care of ourselves and get through the summer. 🙏

#RukiUpdate"

[storywriter007]

Thank you for answering my other two requests, I loved them!! I have two more if you are interested!

1) Can you do a Percy Jackson x reader (I'm imagining this occurring on the Argo II) that's basically an enemies to friends to lovers? Where maybe they both just don't really like each other based on the encounters they've had, but then end up going on a small quest off the ship just the two of them and some sort of trauma happens that makes them friends, and then you can decide how they get to lovers from there! Basically just want some angst!

2) This one has a little bit of a trigger warning with suicidal thoughts, so I understand if you don't want to write this one. Percy Jackson x reader (this one I'm also envisioning on the Argo II, but this one could also be just at camp when Percy is like 17) where they are good friends and the reader is struggling mentally but tries to smile for everyone else, but she is sitting alone in the woods at some point holding her knife to her wrist just kind of thinking about it but not sure about it, but then Percy appears to check on her and scares her so the accidentally slips and cuts herself there, and from there basically Percy comfort. Idk if that made sense but basically Percy angst and comfort.

You're amazing!!! 🩷

Friends? - Percy Jackson x Fem!Reader

author's note: this is request one. thank you for your request :) i kind of had to cut it short bc this was getting too long.

warnings: cursing, mentions of suicide, betrayal, mentions of death, battle scenes, kissing

genre: angst ending in fluff

word count: 1.8k

-> heroes of olympus masterlist

✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒

send me requests here! (these are my guidelines)

✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒

y/n took her seat at the table alongside seven other demi-gods. she noticed percy scowl at her and she rolled her eyes back at him. they'd never gotten along. and chances were, they never would.

her intense hate for the son of the sea god had begun a few summers back during capture the flag. they were on the blue team, and she was assigned to offense with annabeth and percy. suddenly, four members from the red charged at the trio, swords in hand. y/n and percy swung and slashed at two of them until they fled. one of them yanked off annabeth's invisibility cap and decided she was their next victim. the other one came for y/n, hitting her ankle hard. percy was quick to defend annabeth and run away with her.

but he left her. y/n was left to fight two members of the opposing team, who were merciless. they were violent, they were twice her size, and to y/n's dismay, her ankle didn't provide her any support to run away. it was a terrible and cruel beating. the two kept going even when they didn't need to. she could barely see by the end of it. y/n remembered that capture the flag game as "don't trust your teammates."

ever since then, y/n had made her distaste for percy clear. everyone admired his loyalty, until they were on the receiving end of his betrayal.

"we need to find a map." annabeth started.

"it's our key to finding out which way is the safest to go." jason explained. "it's somewhere in the woods, according to what hecate told hazel."

"we're going to have to split up." annabeth continued. "it's a huge forest, and we need to cover ground efficiently."

"i've split you guys up. i don't want to hear any whining." jason said, looking at the group, but his gaze lingered longer on percy and y/n. "annabeth, piper, and i are going eastwards towards the mountains. frank, leo, and hazel are going south to the rest of the woods. percy and y/n will head north, towards the shore."

"why is it 3-3-2?" hazel asked curiously.

"because we need a power balance." annabeth said politely. "it's matched with each person's strengths."

"strengths?" percy chuckled. "i'm the strength. she's going to slow me down."

douchebag, y/n thought.

"i don't want to go with you either, but i'm not bitching about it, am i?" she snapped back.

"you don't have to bitch because going with me does you a favor."

"i'd rather drown."

"lucky you, i can make that happen."

they stared at one-another in an intense fury.

"we'll meet here again in four hours." jason instructed. "and when we do, all eight of us better be here." he said, eyeing percy and y/n.

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it was already eight. and they had to search the stupid northside until midnight. she couldn't even run away if she wanted to.

they continued walking. the sun slowly set as the night sky arose. the woods looked scary at night. tall, thick trees hovered over the two demi-gods as strange creatures and noises came by. after what felt like a long time walking, y/n could hear the sea.

"do you hear it?" she asked him.

"i can feel it." he said, walking quickly.

she trailed behind him as they reached sandy terrain. the sea was dark and terrifying. y/n and percy searched the shore for what felt like another eternity.

suddenly, it got colder and y/n heard a voice. it was a sweet, soft voice.

look at me it whispered.

"do you hear that?" she asked percy.

"yeah." he said, shakily.

look at what you've done it demanded.

suddenly, y/n was watching something in front of her. it was a battle. she looked at the gory scene in front of her. it took her a minute to realize it was the battle of manhattan. she felt a lump in her throat as images of dead campers raced through her mind. silena, charlie, ethan, and luke.

this is your fault the voice said, but it wasn't sweet anymore. it was hoarse, raspy, and cruel.

look at what you've killed. look at what you've brought it continued.

the images flashed terrible battle scenes. it replayed deaths of each and every camper.

you did this the voice yelled.

"n-no, i didn't." y/n whispered, shaken by the images.

look at what you've done

"i didn't do it!" she pleaded.

you did! you did it all!

"i had no choice." she said, tears spilling from her eyes.

terrible, tortuous images kept playing. the deaths of the campers she'd grown up with, the reactions of their mothers and fathers, and the destruction that had been caused.

you deserve to die.

"i know." she whispered. "don't you think i know?"

do it the voice encouraged. do what you should've done years ago.

y/n tried to think through it. this voice, this voice wasn't human.

do it.

it was a siren. it was trying to get her to sacrifice her life.

"no." she said, standing her ground. "i did what i had to. i can't be blamed for it."

then who can you blame?

"kronos." she said, gripping her sword.

the siren showed it's demented face and y/n quickly slashed it. she snapped out of her trance, and the images faded and so did the voices. she turned to see percy holding his sword to his neck. she saw the twisted siren circling around him. she swiftly ran up to him and took his sword from his hand, before slashing the siren. percy too snapped out of his daze, and stumbled a little. y/n caught him, and looked up to meet his sea green eyes. they were teary, and he looked so disheartened.

"you saw it too." she confirmed.

he nodded.

"thank you." he said, his voice low and sincere. "i would've done-well you know what, if you hadn't saved me."

she nodded.

"we should probably get back to the ship." he said quietly.

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when percy and y/n got back, it was half-past midnight, and everyone was already there.

"we ran into sirens." y/n briefly explained.

they all nodded as the ship entered the air, sailing to its next location.

"we found the map." hazel informed. "goodnight guys."

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y/n tossed and turned in her bed. she couldn't get those images out. those dam sirens. she needed to talk to someone. someone who would understand. she sat up and opened her door. she trailed the hallway until the came across the door that read percy jackson. she lightly knocked before pushing the door open.

"couldn't sleep either?" he asked, laying down and staring at the ceiling.

"yeah." she said. "i can't get what the sirens showed me out of my head."

"c'mere." he said, patting the area next to him.

y/n laid down next to him.

"i know it's not our fault." he said quietly. "but it feels like it is."

"i know." she said softly. "it's like i should've done something. but there was nothing to be done."

"exactly." he said. "on one hand, i know i couldn't have saved them no matter what i did. but on the other, i feel like i should've figured it out."

"mhm." she agreed. "they were good people. that's what makes it hurt more."

"they didn't deserve death. and i don't deserve the hero title." he chuckled. "i let them die."

"you had no choice." she reminded.

"did i?" he questioned.

"percy, i saw and heard the same things you did. it just wanted to get in our heads." she explained. "and they did it through guilt. guilt that isn't ours to carry. it's kronos'."

"you're right." he agreed.

y/n had spent years hating him. but maybe, just maybe, he was alright. they had both seen the same things growing up. the same wars, deaths, and betrayals. in an odd way, she felt almost identical to him.

a few moments of silence passed by before y/n realized percy had fallen asleep. and after a few more minutes, she felt herself drift off as well.

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the next morning when y/n awoke, percy was already awake.

"morning." he smiled.

"oh dear god." she said, sitting up. "what time is it?"

"it's five-thirty. and i'm sorry." he said, sitting up as well.

"for what?"

"for how i treated you all these years." he exhaled, as if this was something he'd been meaning to get off his chest. "i'm sorry for leaving you in capture the flag."

"so you did know what you were doing, huh?" she retorted.

sure, the cuts and scars from that beating had been healed a long time ago. but, the betrayal never did.

"i didn't know you." he explained. "i didn't care about you. i just wanted to get annabeth to safety. that was wrong of me. you were on my team, i should've helped."

"'sorry' and 'i should've' doesn't fix anything. we're not best friends because we got along for a day." she said bitterly. "i know for a fact you would've left me in the woods the way you did all those years ago."

"that's not fair y/n." he frowned. "i would never do that to you."

"and you get to decide what's fair now?" she chuckled. "are you forgetting you continued tormenting me instead of swallowing your pride and apologizing?"

"i-"

"that's the thing about your loyalty, jackson. everyone admires it until they're on the receiving end of your betrayal." she said coldly, getting up.

"y/n, you might not trust me today, hell, you might not trust me for the rest of our short lives. but believe me when i say, from the bottom of my heart, i'm sorry."

"how do i know you're never going to do the same thing again?" she asked.

get got up and moved closer to her. he was practically towering over her. she felt her back hit the wall.

"you have my word." he promised, looking at her eyes.

she nodded in agreement, feeling herself breathe heavily being this close to him. she could feel him leaning in, and she did too. their lips pressed against one-anothers in a passionate kiss. his hands were placed on her waist, and her arms snaked around his neck. he tasted like salt and blue frosting. she felt herself get pushed backwards towards the wall as he continued to kiss her. it grew more passionate and ferocious until they both pulled away. she rested her head underneath his.

"friends?" he asked.

"we just made out. we are not friends." she laughed.

"i thought it was too bold to say lovers."

"lovers." she agreed.

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hope you liked it :) sorry for the wait!

[obislittleone]

Your Beauty Never Ever Scared Me

Dbf!Joel Miller x College!Reader

A/n: Listen… I don’t have any excuse for ditching my other three active series except for tiktok made me do it… That, and the CLM series by @macfrog has ascended me to a new level of crazy and I just needed an outlet for it somewhere. Another shoutout to @theatrelove3000 who keeps putting up with my dbf joel shenanigans, they are indeed insane.

Warnings: girl this whole concept should be a warning but anyways… age gap, some fluff, light smut, uncomfortable situations with readers father… probably some editing mistakes bc ya girl is tired ok its 2am

Please be kind to this chapter, I actually like it, despite the horrors.

Decided on the song ‘Mary On A Cross‘ by Ghost for this one bc it fits ig.

MASTERLIST

Age gap is approximately 15 years or so, reader is over 21 and joel is about 37

"I think I'd probably only slow'ya down," you chuckled, looking to Sarah who seemed to read the displeasure off your face from your dad's offer. "I'm studyin' to be an archeologist, dad. I don't know nothin' about framin' and all that house buildin'..."

Maybe it had been your dad's idea, but he wasn't the one who planted it into his own head. Joel subtly turned to you and cooly uttered a response.

"You could work on interior stuff with me."

It had been almost three days.

You looked out the window to the front of your house repeatedly to try and remember it clearly. The drive home, the kiss, and how abruptly it ended with a promise to see each other around. You thought about it so often you almost wondered if it happened the way you perceived it, if any details had been skewed in your mind simply because you wanted to keep it there, fresh, untouched. Maybe he thought of it differently... but maybe he didn't.

"Did you bring home the stuff I asked ya?" Your dad came into the kitchen with a smile, embracing you with a side hug and turning to help you unpack the groceries.

"Course' I did, Pa," you handed him the bag with the six-pack of bud and the other one full of snacks.

It was the first Rangers game night, and as per tradition, that meant the company of the next-door neighbors. It had been a while since you'd been around to enjoy it, but now that you were back, there were quite a few more reasons why you were on edge to now participate. It would look weird if you came up with an excuse not to be there, and you knew that. You also knrw that you'd gotten into a rather complicated entanglement with your father's closest friend, and weren't sure what the outcome really was.

Had that driveway light not spooked you both apart, and had that little black stray cat not made an appearance, how far would it have gone? Things were pretty heated, but even still. Would he have said something? Maybe along the lines of 'I've known you since you were sixteen, and this isn't appropriate at all.'

You didn't have time to think about it, you were set to work on helping your dad cook dinner for the soon-arriving neighbors. Dinner and a baseball game, once a relaxing and enjoyable time to bond with your dad, now turned into an anxiety fest where you were convinced you'd have to walk on pins and needles around every topic.

"So," your dad piped up from his silence at the stove, stirring the pot of chili he'd been prepping. "Joel told me he gave you a ride 'few nights back."

You knew it was harmless, and that he wasn't asking for any reason, other than that he was probably curious. You hadn't seen Joel in a while, not since two Christmases ago. Your dad had driven up to Dallas to spend both Thanksgiving and Christmas with you last year, and you didn't come home for summer break given an internship opportunity. You must have seemed different to the man in some way. All grown up.

"Yeah, gave me a ride n' saved me at the bar," you chuckled, trying to seem playful and unsuspicious about the encounter.

He seemed to be confused, his brows furrowed and a funny look on his face.

"Whad'ya mean he saved ya?" he of course was continuing to speak all the while dumping his favorite spices into the pot of chili, looking across here and now to keep engaged.

"Just scared off some weirdo who couldn't take no for an answer," you let a sweet and genuine smile fall across your features, but didn't let it get out of hand. Your relationship with your father was airtight, and he could read you pretty damn well. You weren't going to give anything away, not with what was potentially on the line.

"Glad he was there," he replied with a chuckle, sending you a soft glance. "Never thought you'd have grown up so fast, now I gotta carry a shotgun whenever we go places. Fend off the wild beasts."

His jokes were only so funny now, because in this situation, you knew he wouldn't hesitate to shoot Joel if he found out what had happened. All in the nature of protecting you, but it made you sad to think of the situation that way. Joel wasn't just another weirdo following you around at a bar.

"It's only because I'm so pretty," you did your best to respond lightheartedly, making a quip that would soothe the silence. "And I believe that's yours and Mama's fault, givin' me the genes and what not."

You'd finished chopping a nice garden salad by the time the doorbell rang. You ran upstairs to change your shirt to the Jersey your dad bought you for your birthday, claiming it was good luck for the team. Truth be told, you didn't wanna be downstairs when Joel and Sarah got here.

Sarah was here, too. Her, you could easily handle. You were almost hoping that she would be in a rather talkative mood, that way the attention could be swayed to her inconspicuously. You doubted Joel would even try to talk to you, anyway.

"Lovebug, come on down, Millers are here!" Your dad shouted up, even though he saw you run upstairs right when the doorbell rang to change your shirt.

"I'm comin', hold on," you replied sassily while heading for the staircase.

You got to the bottom and had to take a breath before turning the corner into the entryway. Joel stood there with a sweet smile to you, and you tried your best to hold back the one you wore. It was too bright, too happy to see him. All despite your nerves.

You were quickly embraced by Sarah, whom you paid immediate attention to.

"My lordy, girl," you held up your hand by your shoulder to show the height difference, "last time I saw you, you must've been this tall."

"Dad tells me I'm growing like a weed," she tossed a finger over her shoulder to where he was standing, and you gave him a small glance and a smile.

"Us daughters do have a tendency to grow up," you laughed, slinging an arm around Sarah and pulling her along to the kitchen as your dad and Joel did the same behind you.

Why had you been so anxious? Joel is happy to see you. He makes causal conversation with your dad, but he catches your eye every chance he gets. His expression doesn't change, except for the tug of his lips in a smile that's barely there. Joel doesn't smile too often, except apparently when you and Sarah are around.

It doesn't take long for everyone to get situated with their food at the table, playful banter between Joel and your father filling the air as you made less rambunctious chatter with Sarah.

She's doing pretty well since last you saw her. She was always a bright girl, but as she grew it became more apparent that she would probably excel further than anyone in her graduating class. You were sitting across from a future valedictorian, you were sure.

You'd tried to ask her about her out of school interests before your dad interrupted with a question.

"How about you, lovebug?" He watched your eyes flick over to him with a turn of your head. He added context, given you hadn't been listening to them earlier. "Are you gonna look for a summer job?"

You really should, if you're being honest. There's not much work in your aspiring profession located here, but you weren't as lucrative as you used to be, given your educational expenses.

"I've thought about it," you tilted your head back and forth, and your dad seemed to need more from your answer. "I need to earn some cash before I get back to Dallas, but I'm not really sure where to apply."

Sarah seemed to know where this was going before you did. She'd been around the last time your dad was begging Joel to find some help for the contracting team they worked with. But surely your dad doesn't expect you to build houses, does he? Your dream job is to dig holes in the ground, not fill them in and put homes on top.

"We got some spaces to fill, you should come work with us 'few months. The pay's good and you don't have to stay on long, probably just till the end of July."

You gave him a look, and he instantly knew you weren't interested, but you figured you'd try and justify your reasoning. It was an argument either way.

"I think I'd probably only slow'ya down," you chuckled, looking to Sarah who seemed to read the displeasure off your face from your dad's offer. "I'm studyin' to be an archeologist, dad. I don't know nothin' about framin' and all that house buildin'..."

Maybe it had been your dad's idea, but he wasn't the one who planted it into his own head. Joel subtly turned to you and cooly uttered a response.

"You could work on interior stuff with me."

Did he just-?

"S'not much more fun than what your dad's been doin,' but at least it's out of the sun, and easier to learn."

You were almost dumbfounded. Your dad offering you a job that potentially could give you heat stroke with your lack of experience seemed like the worst idea in the world... but working on interior projects? With Joel of all people? Well, that didn't sound so bad.

You didn't want your dad to catch on, of course. Being so protestant of his suggestion, but then falling right into it as soon as Joel was the one to offer would be a dead giveaway to some sort of favoritism to his best buddy. It simply wouldn't look right.

"What kinda interior stuff?"

He smirked. The motherfucker was smirking. He knew you'd changed your mind, but couldn't exactly just come out with it. He understood, but it was still slightly amusing to him.

"Flooring, cabinets, countertops... 's things like that," he explained, knowing you really didn't care what all it entailed. He was still happy to play along. "S'not as fun as archeology, but it pays alright."

You nodded, acting as though you were turning the thoughts over in your head.

"Well, if you're sure I won't mess it up, I'd be happy to try it out," was your final response. You figured it left some leeway in case your father became suspicious, but gave a good enough answer to end the conversation on.

"That's my girl," your dad clapped a hand on your shoulder in excitement. Truth be told he would very much enjoy your presence on a work site. "I'll go ahead and call Eddie in the morning, let 'im know I found someone to replace Charlie for interiors."

It was said more to Joel, you figured, because you didn't really know who either of those people were. He'd nodded to your dad, taking a sip of his beer and then looking back to you. You smiled sweetly, nobody catching it but the one it was meant for.

"Game's gonna start soon," Joel spoke aloud, drawing everyone's eye to the clock over the stove.

Sarah cleared her throat before jumping in on the conversation.

"About that," she looked to her dad with the same puppy dog eyes she used to use against you. He was just as poor at saying no to her when she pulled those bad boys out. "Sammy texted me to ask if it's okay to stay over at her place tonight?"

Joel sighed. He knew that no matter the attempts he made for her to like baseball, it wasn't her thing. It was summer vacation, and he had no reason to say no, so he didn't.

"Is she coming to pick you up?" He began, fishing his keys out of his pocket to drive her if need be. The girl lived five minutes away, he'd be back only a few minutes after the game started, but he didn't really want to leave.

"I can ask her," she pulled her phone back out of her jeans, opened her screen, and checked her messages.

"No need, I can take you," your voice rang out, standing from the table and taking your bowl to the sink. It was a genuine offer, but it was also to get out of the house and process what just happened with the job situation.

Joel was the first one to stand up with you.

"You don't have to-"

"It's fine," you cut him off, leaving no room for discussion. It was lucky he liked you, otherwise, Joel Miller might have put up quite the argument for such a small dilemma. As was his way, of course. He huffed, but accepted he had been overruled.

"Thanks, then." It was mumbled, but there was gratitude in it.

"We gotta hop over to ours real quick and grab my stuff," Sarah told you, waiting for you to return from the kitchen before beginning to head out through the front door. You'd grabbed your keys off where they hung on the wall before going behind her.

"I'll be back soon," you called over your shoulder into the house, and got a chirped 'alright' reply from your dad.

You walked out passed your driveway, seeing the light flicker on as you both went passed the censor on the ground.

"Y'know, I didn't think you'd have caved so fast on that job thing." She had piped up once you were almost to her porch. You found it only slightly funny that she chose the exact topic which had been swirling in your mind since it happened.

"Not sure I really wanna do it, but your dad made it sound better than every time my dad's talked about it, guess he just convinced me," you chuckled, playing it off in a way that she absolutely was about to use against you.

"That's another thing," she turned to you as she backed into the house through the door, only turning once she was inside. "Since when are you friends with my dad?"

She said it in a joking tone, but having known a few things she didn't about interactions that occurred between you and her father, you felt constricted to answer seriously. Probably with a lie if need be.

"I've always gotten along with your dad," you gave her a confused look, accompanied after by a playful smile.

She grabbed her backpack and opened it, checking to make sure she'd taken all the school stuff out before starting to shove things in, her charger, headphones, etc.

"Yeah but... you're just all young and cool and stuff," she shrugged, turning around to walk towards the staircase. "My dad is all old and boring and only talks about baseball."

"Thirty-seven isn't old, babe. My dad is two years from fifty, and I don't even think he's old, yet. Boring? Maybe..." you reasoned, hearing her laugh before she sprinted up the stairs, giving you time to think of some answers before she asked any more questions. Had she really caught onto you that fast? You didn't think you'd acted noticeably. If Sarah was able to see it, then maybe your dad did, too. You needed to be more careful, in that case.

Sarah returned a few minutes later, her backpack now stuffed and her pillow under her arm. You nodded out the door and headed back to your driveway to open the door for her, seeing as though her hands were full.

-

The drive after Sarah had been dropped off felt so much longer. Maybe it was just your thoughts, or maybe you consciously drove slower to avoid getting home too quickly. Your dad was waiting, but above that, Joel was there, too. Probably sitting back on the leather couch, relaxing with his feet kicked out on the floor. He usually leaned onto the armrest with his elbow, and held his face against the hand it supported. You'd noticed it years ago. He only ever spoke up when your dad did, usually in reply to him.

He was content simply watching the game in the presence of a friend. It was endearing.

When you pulled into the driveway, you had come up with an excuse to not remain downstairs for the duration of the game. It was too risky, and you weren't apparently as good with self-control as you'd thought you were.

You went inside and hung up your keys on the hook, immediately passing the living room on the way to the stairs.

"Hey, lovebug, you missed the top of the first," your dad called. He knew you liked baseball, so if you were to lie and say you didn't want to watch, he'd know something was up.

"Y'know, pa, I think I'm just gonna watch it upstairs, I forgot I still got some stuff to unpack," you peaked your head into the room to respond, and saw that Joel, just as you had pictured, was sitting in his most usual position on the couch, feet out on the floor, arm up with a hand holding the side of his face.

"Can't you do it later?" Your dad pleaded, but you knew, seeing as how your father occupied the recliner, you would have no where else to sit but on the floor or next to Joel. You didn't trust yourself with that.

"I could, but I might fall asleep if I wait too long."

He sighed, throwing an arm in your direction and shooing you away. He wasn't annoyed, but he'd admit he missed watching these games with you. It had been like a tradition, but if Sarah wasn't here either, he wasn't gonna make you stick around.

"Sure you don't wanna stick around? We could use your lucky jersey down here," Joel piped up, lifting his face from his hand and giving you a pair of soft eyes. That was exactly the reason you would not be staying. He didn't even realize how much he affected you, but you'd make sure he did at some point. Maybe you could just tease him a little.

"You're right, it would be a shame to take the lucky jersey with me."

You walked behind your dad's chair, out of his sight, and tauntingly stripped the jersey over your head, revealing the tight black tank top beneath it, just like that night at the bar. Joel's jaw clenched and his eyes turned darker, even under the bright light of the flatscreen in the living room. You never took your eyes away from his as you slung him the jersey.

"Hey pa, can I get you anything from the kitchen before I go upstairs?" You leaned over the back of his recliner, looking at him upside down. He chuckled and shook his head, trying to move your hair from obstructing his vision.

"We're all good, lovebug," he spoke in addition to his physical response, his laughter dying down as you stood back up. "Come on down if you change your mind."

"I'll probably be down later," you spewed a half-lie. You weren't sure if you would be or not, especially if Joel was still lurking in the living room.

You gave those brown eyes one last look before heading straight upstairs.

You grabbed your remote and flicked on the TV. It was already on the right channel, so you tossed the remote aside onto your bed and flopped back into it. You didn’t actually have anything left to unpack, but they would never have known.

Your phone buzzed beside you, and you lifted the screen to your face to see a text from an unsaved number:

Missin you down here…

You’d never put Joel in your contacts, because in highschool, your friends thought it was weird to even text or call him regularly, but you had his number for years, always just as a backup. You’d known it by heart, now, and nearly had it memorized back then, too, for the times you needed his help.

I’d come back if there was an open seat.

A bit sassy of a response, maybe, but you were hoping he’d understand the hidden meaning behind it… Although, Joel didn’t usually pick up on those things very easily.

Open seat right next to me

Yeah, that’s why I’m up here…

You huffed, realizing it wouldn’t be that easy. The three little dots indicating his next response was on the way slightly nerved you. Maybe he took the last text you sent the wrong way. You didn’t mean it to sound badly.

What’s that supposed to mean?

Means that I can’t keep my hands to myself.

You quickly rectified the situation, although you might have gone too far. He was taking far too long to answer, now. The little dots that before nerved you would now be your saving grace if it meant he would just fucking respond, already. You dropped the phone on your chest, raising up and down in a scattered rhythm while you wiped your hands over your face. Your phone vibrated over your shirt and you immediately opened it.

I can’t either. Stay up there.

You breathed out a sigh of relief. He was thinking the same things you were, and likely was under more stress for it, given he sat right across from your dad, responding to his comments about the game here and there. Your dad had no idea what was happening right under his nose.

Wasn’t thinking about leavin.

This little back and forth went on, the majority of the game, in fact. It was more-so about the plays then on, because you didn’t have anyone to talk to up here.

Joel thought it a bit funny, your dad would say something oddly specific about one of the players, and then you’d text him right after saying the exact same thing. You’d been a product of watching baseball with your old man for just about ever.

“I’m thinking about gettin’ some tickets over the summer for a game or two. They’re always cheaper in them group packages, you n’ Sarah should come along,” your dad was barely paying any attention to the words he spoke, but they came flowing out anyway, clear and cool. “Could be fun.”

Joel knew that there was only so much group interaction he could handle with you, and you with him. It stands to why you’re upstairs, an he’s down here, fist wrapped tightly around your lucky jersey. All out of your father’s sight, of course.

“It could be. Don’t think Sarah’s much for baseball anymore, though.”

He’d hoped that your dad would drop it. Halfway through his third beer, he hoped the man was a little more than tipsy, and maybe didn’t even mean the words he was saying.

“Doesn’t mean you can’t still tag along,” your dad was definitely still sober enough to keep it up, although the way he spoke became slower. Maybe he was getting sleepy.

“I’ll think about it.”

His response was followed by a hum, then a lull of silence that endured the rest of the game. He sat all the while and thought about his predicament a bit more.

He couldn’t stop thinking about you. It was insane… like you’d leeched yourself to the inner workings of his mind and he wouldn’t be able to pull you off without hurting himself, too. You were just upstairs, and had been texting him. You were within his vicinity, and yet… so unreachable.

He’d wished for you to be down here, or for him to be up there with you. Obviously, that wouldn’t go too well with the man sitting next to him, but he’d be asleep soon. If he could just touch you again, just kiss you one more time, maybe his cravings would be satisfied and he could go about his days… but what would happen if he kept feeling the addictive urge to do more? What if he was never satiated enough to quit you?

The game was called, and you’d texted him a small ‘victory’ at seeing the Rangers had won.

It was wrong, and the presence of his friend beside him was a constant reminder that you were his kid, and he would have a final say. Even though you were an adult, he understood this was completely taboo, and you should be off with guys your own age... but he’s made up his mind about the thoughts spinning in his head.

He didn’t respond, though. Your dad stood up out of his chair, his arms stretching outwards with a loud yawn as he took a few steps forwards, clapping his hand down on Joel’s shoulder.

“I hate to kick you out…” your father joked, a low and tired chuckle under his words.

“It’s alright, I got some stuff to sort out anyway.”

They started making their way towards the door when light but fast footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs.

Joel turned quickly, a smile on his lips and in his eyes when he saw you trying to catch your breath after sprinting down here.

“Leavin’ already?”

They both laughed heartily. As if Joel hadn’t been here almost three hours, most of which you spent upstairs. Your heart was beating far too fast for your liking, but there didn’t seem to be a way to stop it. Now that you were present again, in the room with him, you didn’t know what else to do.

“Your dad’s half asleep as it is, if I stay any longer I’ll send ‘im into hibernation,” Joel’s response made you giggle softly, although you withheld most of the laughter, because in all honestly, it wasn’t that funny, and you needed to learn to control yourself.

“He’ll be over next week, we’ll talk about gettin’ you into that job.”

You nodded, turning back to Joel as your dad opened the front door. What were you supposed to do? You couldn’t hug him, could you? That’s too much… maybe just wave, or maybe-

He held his hand out… for you to shake it. A hand-shake. Yeah, sure, fine.

You shook it, but he pulled you in half way, tapping your back once and then letting go.

He just bro hugged you. This man just-

He turned and did the same to your dad, giving you one last glimpse as he stepped out the door. Your dad closed it behind him and you were almost clean out of words to say. That had to have been the strangest interaction you’ve had.

“I’m beat, love-bug. I’m gonna head to bed,” he slung an arm around your neck and kissed the top of your head before turning and going down the hall to the stairs. “Don’t be up too late.”

“I won’t, just got a few things to do.”

You waited approximately ten more seconds before running to the garage door, going as quickly and as quietly as you could through to your front yard. Joel was still on his porch when you got out there, but was about to go inside.

You ran out to the sidewalk in font of his house and called out to him, all the while still barefoot.

“Hey Miller,” you crossed your arms, watching him turn around and lean in one direction. “Did you just bro-hug me? Or did I imagine that?”

He stepped closer to the edge of the porch, leaning against one of the wooden beams closest to him.

You slowly walked up to him, tilting your head to side as you observed his stance. he looked rather good. Hair tousled, body adorning a black t-shirt and some dark jeans. He was a sight, even in the dark light of the neighborhood.

“I reckon I oughta’ try again?”

"Seems like the fair thing to do."

“You’re takin’ your sweet time, baby,” he irked, grabbing gently under your elbow and pulling you up onto to porch once you were close enough.

You smiled to him, and wrapped your arms round his neck, over his broad shoulders. He pulled you close, tucking a head into your shoulder. The anxiousness you felt before fell apart, the rapid beating of your heart slowed, because you were comfortable. You felt immense peace in his arms like you’ve never felt before.

He backed away too soon, but still kept you relatively close to him.

“Was that better?”

“Yeah, I’d say so.”

There was a moment of silence, of contemplation, but it wasn’t stiff, and it wasn’t awkward. It was just there, a nice and pleasant quiet, and you standing still with Joel Miller on his porch.

“You wanna come inside a while?”

Sarah wasn’t home, and wouldn’t be till morning. Your dad was probably passed out in bed by now, leaving the opportunity completely open. You had nothing to lose, no risk to be had.

“Yeah, I think I will.”

He didn’t let you go, he just walked you both backwards until he was able to reach the door, reaching with one hand to open it before stepping slightly to the side to allow you entrance first.

“Ever the gentlemen,” you smiled, walking inside before he followed you in.

“Gotta make up for all that nonsense earlier,” he closed the door, taking your hand and walking to the kitchen. He pulled out a stool at his counter and let your hand fall to your side as he made his way to the fridge.

He pulled out two beers and uncapped them with the tool hanging on the side of his fridge. You think you remember your dad buying it for his birthday one year. You can remember sitting in this exact seat many times before, actually. Never alone, though. Never just you and Joel, and nobody else near.

He slid you one beer an you smiled at him in thanks, taking a sip.

“Last time you had one of these, I didn’t know if you liked it or not,” he gestured to his own bottle, drinking some and setting it down on the counter.

“I don’t know, I think it’s growing on me.”

He looked straight to you, leaning both hands on the edge of the counter. You leaned forward, mimicking his more stern face of features before he said anything else.

“I didn’t wanna say so with your dad around, but you look awful pretty tonight,” he spoke the compliment smoothly, but he had to drop his head after he said it. Seemed that giving you compliments alone in the night was something of a struggle for him, since he was blushing still even when he looked back to you.

“I seem to be feelin’ a lot prettier as of late whenever I’m around you. Think you’re just good for my self esteem,” you paused, leaning back onto the stool to take a drink of your beer. “That, or it's just nice to be complimented by a handsome guy like yourself.”

He didn’t seem to believe you. His scoff was loud and heard immediately after your compliment returned to him.

“You think I’m handsome?”

He’d always thought he was average. Maybe even slightly below. As he got older, that notion grew until he felt that maybe he was beyond trying for a woman on behalf of his looks. Perhaps there were women from time to time that would agree to a date, but there were none since Sarah’s mom who actually stuck around, not until you… but you were different as far as relationships go, because technically, you shouldn’t even be considering one with him.

“Absolutely, I do. Why wouldn’t I?” You were curious, because he was clearly attractive. Maybe you’d spent too much time around the more traditionally preferred young men in dallas, but something about Joel intrigued you that never did with anyone else. Maybe it was the forbidden aspect of what you two were doing, but before that, it was something else. He was rough and rugged, and good looking in a mature way that the boys your age couldn’t mimic if they tried. Those dark brown eyes with little crows feet at the edges every time he smiled were a dead give away to his age, but it was so appealing somehow.

“Don’t know. Guess I’m just old,” he spoke, trying to hide the insecurities that phrasing brought about. He was too old for you, he shouldn’t be sitting here with you you alone and calling you pretty, and yet…

“Maybe that’s a good thing. Too many boys my age are still very immature these days.” And it was very much true. Too young, too immature, and too stupid to see what’s in front of them and really appreciate it. Older men have a tendency to take care of the things they have, because they know that with time they can lose them.

“That so?”

“Mhm.”

“They don’t even realize what their missin’ out on, do they?”

You shook your head in reply. Nope. Not a single one of the younger guys you’ve dated has treated you with the care you know he could. He’s always treated you with care, before… why would that change now?

“They probably figure there’s a million girls linin’ up after me that they can take a shot at,” you raised your eyebrows and drank some more. Maybe it was just a thought of some past experiences, but this beer was tasting better and better to you.

“I pity them,” he said nonchalantly, without really thinking about it.

“Who, the girls? I mean, I kinda feel bad, but other times, I think we all know what we’re getting ourselves into n’ we just try to ignore the red flags.”

It was meant as a joke, but he was being genuinely serious.

“No, the guys. I pity ‘em.”

“Oh, do you?”

“I do,” he nodded, thinking of the right words to say. “They lost you, didn’t they? Biggest mistake of their lives and they didn’t even know. Pity ‘em just for that.”

You didn’t know what to say. You figured the wide smile you wore was doing a fine enough job, but he wasn’t looking like he had anything else to voice yet.

“You think I’m somethin’ special, Joel Miller?”

He set his bottle down on the counter and walked around it to stand right in front of your barstool. He took both your hands and pulled them to his chest, just holding them there and looking to you with the sweetest expression you’ve ever seen from him. He’s so different than what you remember in your earlier years. He used to be so stoic and serious. Sometimes even a little grumpy. Guess time changes things.

“I wouldn’t be gettin’ myself into sum’ this crazy if I thought anything else,” he mumbled it almost, but he definitely meant it. His words rang true in every aspect of the implications they made. This was crazy, it was very unlikely in the first place, but even still, it was happening. Neither of you backed down, neither of you said no.

“If it helps, I happen to think you’re pretty damn special, too.”

He didn’t respond, just leaned closer towards you, nudging his nose against yours, before letting your lips meet in a kiss. it washed rushed and hazy like the last time. It wasn’t forceful or fast or anything of that sort. It was gentle, and it was meaningful. All the years he’d known you, but never like this. You knew this attraction was new, but it was still real. You wondered how many women pined after him over the years, only for you to now gage his attention when clearly no one else did. The man’s been single since Sarah’s mom left, and otherwise, you didn’t know him to be much of a ‘dating around’ kinda guy. Standing here with him, now, you felt such excitement in knowing he’d pursue you, the off limits woman, over anyone else. It was a true victory, or at least you thought so, sitting on a stool in his kitchen while he kissed you softly, his thumbs going over the backs of your hands that still lingered in his.

When the kiss broke, you inhaled deeply, the scent of him so close to you, surrounding you. He was like a warm blanket you just pulled out of the dryer. He was comforting, and soft, and his skin was currently hot to the touch. You could only hope that you had something to do with that.

“Baby,” he breathed, hands letting go of yours and finding a new home at your waist. You left your hands on his chest, feeling his heart rate fluctuating. “Gotta know something before this goes any further…”

You hummed in response, still trying to even your breath intake. He backed away a few inches to be able to look you in the eyes correctly. He’d spent enough time with you in the past to know if you were telling the truth, and he was going to use it just this once to his advantage.

“What we’re doin’, you sure you’re okay with it?” He knew better than to jump into this without clarification. “Don’t want you feelin’ pressured if you’re not.”

“I want this,” you spoke softly, just loud enough that he could hear. “Promise.”

You had thought you’d been the instigator to this, if memory serves you correctly. Even still, you know now that whatever happens, he won’t take it somewhere you don’t want it to go. This show of good faith was something you could put trust in him over. He’s a good one, you always knew that.

And again his lips were on yours, differently this time. It was a bit more hasty and fervent like the first time, but there was still something different from then that you couldn’t quite decipher.

You absent-mindedly opened your legs and he instantly came between them, letting your bodies become flush with one another. His hands ran up and down your sides, every once and a while dipping to your hips and somewhere below on your thighs.

There was a heat between them that you didn’t realize was there until he came so close to touching it. He never actually did, though, and you were both endeared by and upset about it. He was the one making that heat spread, he can’t just leave it there… but he’s testing his limits, and you think it’s respectful that he is.

He doesn’t want to cross any lines… as if this entire entanglement has not already done that. This situation in every sense of the definition, has crossed the line. Him hugging you that tightly on his porch, him inviting you in after dark when it’s only you and him alone, having a beer with some very personal conversation, and now making out with you in his kitchen. They all crossed the line of what should happen between a man and his best friend’s daughter.

“Tell me to stop,” he mumbled against your mouth, almost as if reading your mind. His hand on your thigh drifted between your legs, just barely caressing the heated pool sitting there, waiting for him. It was still very reserved, and you had to buck against his hand for more friction, but at least it was something.

The taste of him somehow made it worse, the feeling growing inside you without an end in sight. The arousal was evident, but you weren’t sure he would be able to do anything about it, yet. You could tell it was weighing on his mind, what was okay for him to do, and what wasn’t. You would beg him if you had to, you just needed more.

He had an idea, one that could allow both of you to explore this dynamic easier, and one that could potentially keep him from overstepping like he was afraid to.

He removed his hands only for a minute, bringing yours up and over his shoulders before he settled his back down below your ass.

“Hold on,” he told you, lifting you from the seat and walking until he got to the living room. From there, he let the space guide him until the back of his knees hit the edge of the couch. He sat almost abruptly, and when you relaxed your weight onto him, you felt the stirring between his legs as well. You moaned into his mouth at the mere size and feeling of it, beginning to slowly grind down onto him. He encouraged your movements, and used his hands to guide your hips as you went, back and forth, getting into a rhythm.

“That’s it, baby,” he praised, tearing himself away for a moment to expel his breath from his lungs at the new feeling. Your head fell against his, and suddenly it was the movement of your lower half taking you over.

He let his hands move over your body a bit more freely, now, but still careful not to make any harsh movements, or grab in places he felt he shouldn’t linger too long. He knew you wanted this, but something inside him questioned how comfortable you really felt… that was until you started doing the same, roaming his body with your delicate touch, making him feel like the most important man in the world. You could have sworn you marked the exact moment he snapped, rolling his hips upwards into yours shamelessly. It was so deliciously addicting, the feeling of his body pleasing yours, and vice versa. His rough and sturdy hands, though still gentle, ravished any part of you available to him.

The air between you was hot and thick, and you could swear that by breathing it in, you were drawing even more arousal into your body.

The motions kept going until there was a quickening of pace brought on by you both simultaneously. You couldn’t mark a distinction of when it increased, you just knew that the speed you were going wasn’t where you started. All you could think of was that your spend was fast approaching, and you wondered if his was, too.

“Gettin’ close,” you murmured, barely able to get the words out for the moans that slipped passed your lips. “M’gonna…”

He heard you, and understood. Truth be told, he’d started getting hard since that moment on the porch, so this was just nothing but sweet relief to him. He kept on, trying to meet you at your finish.

“Let go , baby.”

You had no qualms about being told twice when it came to him. You gave it up easily, the muscles in your body contracting when you felt the wash of utter ease through every inch of you. He tensed beneath you, but relaxed with a groan of relief right after, and you could feel his length twitch in his jeans.

You just dry-humped Joel Miller on his couch. Like a horny teenager. What the fuck.

The dawn of realization was cut short by his hand softly coercing the back of your neck, bring your lips back for him to claim as he did earlier. Soft, and gentle, no rush, no heat. Just that feeling between you both that started this mess.… and it was indeed a mess.

“You wanna stay over?”

-

Tags (open):

@justanothersadperson93 @moonchild-warrior @hopplessilse @brittmd115 @michilandcof @untamedheart81 @just-someone-broken @joelalorian @xybil @yvonneeeee

If i tagged you wrong, or you want to be taken off at any time, just lmk!!

[heartbreak-sandwich]

Summary: Getting caught speeding has its consequences. When you realize it's all fun and games for the both of you, you're willing to play along for the reward. A secret and spontaneous getaway in the woods -- it's the perfect place to work out your differences, don't you think? Words: 2.2k CW: Gator being kind of a dick, police encounter (pulled over for speeding), unprotected p/v sex, fem!reader, misogynistic overtones if you squint, minor oral fixation, technically public encounter. A/N: I'm sorry it has taken me so long to post! I really struggled through this one, but I've gotten it to a place where I'm okay with it. I hope you enjoy it, and thank you so much for reading my thing!!!

NSFW below the cut, 18+, MDNI as usual ✨

The air is thick with fog, and you let out a long sigh while you wait for the deputy to approach your driver’s side window. The red and blue lights flash in your rearview mirror, and you start to feel heavy with resentment for last night’s power outage that reset your alarm clock, causing you to wake up half an hour later than usual. You know you were speeding; you can’t deny that. You’re late for work, and this pitstop is the last thing you need right now.

You sigh with disappointment when you realize Gator Tillman is trudging through the roadside gravel to your window. Why did it have to be him?

“Mornin’, sunshine.” Gator grins smugly, a toothpick hanging half out of the side of his mouth. “Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

“I’m late for work,” you grumble, avoiding making eye contact with him.

You two have a history, if you can even call it that. Half-memories flash through your mind of the one night stand you had after a heart to heart and one too many at the saloon downtown. If you’re being totally honest with yourself, Jack Daniels and summer evenings still make you think of him, but you’d never say it out loud.

“Goin’ 69 in a 60, huh?” Gator holds back a giggle as he waits for your response.

“Really, Tillman?” Your eyes narrow at his juvenile comment, and his smile falls flat. His mood shifts in an instant, and you see him push a small button on his body worn camera followed by a series of small beeps as it powers on.

“Just so you’re aware, you’re being audio and video recorded. The reason I stopped you is you were going approximately 69 miles per hour in a 60 mile per hour zone, clearly marked. License and registration,” he demands coldly, holding out his hand expectantly. You search through your glovebox for the documents and hand them over, steeping in the icy silence surrounding you, thinking that maybe if you had just laughed at his joke, he would have let you go on your way.

Gator takes your documents, shuffling them as he looks each one over before speaking to you once more. “You sit tight. I’ll be right back.” You prop your elbow up against your door and rest your head in your hand, letting your mind wander as you try your best to be patient.

After just a few minutes, you see Gator sauntering your way again through your sideview mirror. The way he walks makes your stomach flutter as more flashes of your night together run through your train of thought – his teeth sinking into your plush thighs one by one, the hungry growl rumbling from deep within his chest as he tasted you, and the pathetic whimper he couldn’t hold back as he pushed his desperate, twitching cock into you for the first time –

“Here you go, Miss.” Your daydream is cut short by his drawl as he hands your papers back to you. “I’m going to need you to step out of the vehicle now.” Your eyebrows shoot up in disbelief at his request. Why the hell is he doing this?

“Excuse me?” You ask, incredulous.

“Am I speakin’ Chinese?” Gator was serious. He wasn’t budging. You’re kicking yourself on the inside at this point, knowing he was only doing this to get back at you for bruising his ego over his stupid joke. A pang of regret hits low in your chest as you realize telling him you were late for work was a mistake.

“Gator, please –”

“Don’t make this harder on yourself, sweetheart. Step on out now.” He looks far off into the fog as he waits for you to comply, but you don’t move. Taking the toothpick out from between his teeth, he points it at you, cocking his head to the side. “You don’t want me to ask again.”

“What is it you want from me?”

“What do I want from you?” Gator chuckles, bending down to rest his forearms on your car, his head dipping into your window to meet your eyes. He hits the small button on his body cam once more, and you hear the device power down. “You know what I want,” he whispers softly, being careful not to let the rest of the world hear him. He leans in further until your faces are only inches apart. Your heartbeat hammers in your ears as you take in the scent of his musk mixed with remnants of fruity smoke, and you’re suddenly feeling lightheaded.

And just like that, you’re drowning in flashbacks again – the candy sweet taste of watermelon flavor on his tongue, his hair falling into his eyes as he fucked into you hard and slow, and the way he begged you to say his name as you came for him – and now you’re aching to play his games. You know exactly how to get him going. Softening your expression, you concede to the heat building in between your thighs, and despite the bone-cracking urge to mouth off to him, you try something new instead.

You decide to comply and let yourself out of your car, closing the door behind you, and you see a hint of shock flash over his features as he fights to keep his composure. He clears his throat.

“Place your hands on the hood of the vehicle,” Gator orders, and you follow his instruction dutifully. You palm the hood of your car, a seductive curve in your spine, and you can tell his resolve is starting to crumble with the way he’s eyeing you up and down, biting his bottom lip.

“Do you like me like this? Helpless?” Your eyes grow round and wide with innocence – the look of prey – and you notice Gator’s eyebrows raise just a fraction, but he ultimately maintains his poker face.

“Maybe,” he admits, his voice low and gravelly, dark chocolate eyes boring into yours. “Maybe I like having that kind of authority. Maybe I like knowing I could do whatever I wanted to you right now, and there isn’t anything you could do about it.” He approaches you slowly, each step making your anticipation burn brighter.

“Just maybe?”

“Okay,” he admits with a scoff. “You got me. I do like it.” He leans in closer to you so you can feel his breath on your lips. “I like you helpless because I like knowing that if you were to beg and pray, I would have the power to tell you no.” He lets the tips of his fingers brush up against your arm gently. “I like knowing that there would be nothing you could say or do to stop me from…” he trails off, a smirk playing on his lips as he licks his teeth.

“From what?”

Gator’s hands glide up to hold your wrists, removing your touch from the hood of your car. He pulls one of your hands to meet his jaw, grazing your soft skin over his stubble before pressing an almost chaste kiss to the tips of your fingers.

“From doing anything and everything I could dream of doing to a woman,” he murmurs, grinning against your skin. He grips both of your wrists firmly in front of him once more and pulls you against himself roughly as he makes his demand. “Now, ask me again, politely, what it is I want.”

“I think I already know,” you whisper against his lips playfully before he crashes them into yours, his strong arms circling your waist. He grips your asscheeks from underneath and pushes you up onto the hood of your car as he licks along your bottom lip, and you deepen the kiss. His tongue rolls over and over yours, lips locking perfectly together, and you can taste his familiar sweetness as he pushes his hips into you, grinding his already hard cock against your sweet spot over your jeans.

You moan into his mouth as his thrusts become even more needy, and your nails dig into his shoulder blades through his shirt. You’re not even thinking about the fact that anyone could drive by at any moment and see what’s happening – you’re too tangled up in each other to care. In a swift motion, Gator swipes at the bill of his hat and throws it to rest on the hood of the car beside you. His body weight presses into you before he finally breaks away, taking a deep breath and looking at you with wild eyes.

You suppress a smile as you take in the way he surveys you, soaking up his energy, loving every sick second of stroking his ego, giving him glimpses of the control he craves and getting your own physical satisfaction in return. You have him right where you want him, and he has no idea.

“Should we go somewhere?” Gator’s crooked smile makes your knees feel weak as his gaze flicks back and forth between your eyes and lips, and you can tell he’s doing his best to behave at least long enough to pose the question.

“Where?”

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

The ground underneath the picnic blanket is hard and uneven, but you don’t even feel it anymore. The sun speckles everything around you through the trees, and you vaguely notice the rustling of leaves and twigs as the birds change branches above you every so often. Gator had taken the two of you in his cruiser just far enough up the nearest hill to escape the fog, and the nip in the air didn’t bother you at all as soon as he was on top of you, in between your legs, tactical gear still in place while he ran his hands over your body, his hungry eyes feasting on every curve.

He started slow and gentle, purring soft requests in between light touches everywhere you wanted them. It didn’t take you long to realize he was playing you the same way you were playing him, and now you’re here, rolling your hips languidly as you ride him, using the straps and pockets on the front of his vest for more leverage.

He’s a moaning mess underneath you, his blunt nails digging into the flesh of your thighs as he grips them to stay grounded in reality. You let yourself wonder for a split second if anyone has ever pleased him like this before – if he has ever been so loud, so free, so incessantly desperate for more of someone like he is right here, right now, with you.

You pick up your pace and lean back just enough to put yourself on full display for him, his length reaching the perfect angle inside of you, eliciting a filthy whine you couldn’t stifle if you tried. Your eyes brim with tears as the pleasure builds at your core like an explosion threatening to detonate at any moment. You reach down and pry one of Gator’s hands from your thigh, bringing his fingertips up to your kiss-swollen lips.

He grins through his own bliss as he realizes what you’re about to do. Almost unable to form words, he breathes, “I swear, you’re tryin’ to kill me, woman.” With a sinful smile, you graze two of his fingers past your lips and teeth along your tongue until they reach the back of your throat. Creating the perfect amount of suction, you move his fingers in and out of your mouth in time with your hips, your pussy flexing around his cock with the idea of being just a little bit more full of him.

A strangled half sob slips past Gator’s lips through his gritted teeth as his brows knit together, and his free hand pulls you down onto him harder and faster, the lewd sounds of flesh on flesh filling the space around you.

“Gonna cum. Don’t fuckin’ stop,” he demands, a string of expletives following just as the wave of your own climax crashes over you. Sordid sounds pour from your mouth as you release his fingers from its grasp, gushing and writhing on his cock in a way you know you’ll be ashamed to relive after this.

You feel a bruising grip on your thighs as he holds you down, burying himself up to the hilt in your soaked pussy while his hips buck and spasm against his will.

“Gonna fill you up so good,” he growls just before you feel a hot rush inside of you, his thick release coating your walls in bursts as his mouth falls open and his eyes roll back, his fingertips clawing into your skin, holding on for dear life.

Coming down from your high, you use your hands on his chest to steady yourself, resting your weight on your knees as you both catch your breath. The sounds of the woods in the background become louder again as you take in your surroundings.

“Damn,” Gator breathes, letting out a sigh and a small chuckle.

“Been a while,” you muse, a smirk playing on your lips as your eyes meet his once again.

“Sure has,” he agrees. “Can’t keep me waitin’ like that again.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you promise with a cheeky wink.

tagging: @mrprettywhenhecries @b1tchywheeler @stevesxyellowxsweater @atinyliliflower @darleenjade @floredaqueen - ily guys, thank u for your encouragement and love, it means the world to meeeee!!! 💕

[crepesuzette2023]

In honor of @ilovedig's Birthday: some Beatles fanfics with rare (read: beyond 'straight' mclennon) pairings and unusual POV's!

McHarrison

The @beatleskinkmeme Summer of Love Fanworks Collection has some great new McHarrison fics.

Grateful for Him (@johangeorghohman). Five times George regrets John is in Paul's life, and one time he's grateful. An absolute heartbreaker of a story—so beautiful.

Invisible String (@scurator). Paul and George meet again at the Venus and Mars release party. They moved on; they will always belong together.

Knocking at Your Door (@eveepe). Paul and George kissing through the years, from childhood to Anthology. Special appearance by Paul's eager little prick (and you know I'm sold).

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Polycule Beatles

The same collection also has fantastic stories about the Beatles as a four-sided love story:

Deeper than oceans you run (@wonderwall1968). The four of them are reeling in the aftershock of a health scare. A dark, dream-like, intense story. John POV.

Everybody Loves Somebody (@bewareofdarkness). Soulmark AU: The four Beatles are meant to be together. But it doesn't happen without a hitch.

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Paul McCartney/Mal Evans

You Won't See Me (@swinginglondon42). Mal is in love with Paul, and can't see he moved on.

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John Lennon/Keith Richards

Emotional Rescue (@ohjohnnysblog). Near wordless comfort in the aftermath of a party—and Brian's death.

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George Harrison/ Yoko Ono

Miss Oh No (@aquarianshift). Yoko and her obsession with "real men" meets George and his resentment of the band he's nevertheless willing to protect from her. Brief, tense and hot encounter.

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John/Paul/George

I'd Love to Turn You On (sleeprettydarling). George knows Paul and John are lovers. He's curious. They show him.

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Brian Epstein/ Alistair Taylor

Another Kind of Love (Naraht). Lovely story about deep friendship and loyalty.

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George Harrison/ Bob Dylan

On the Avenue (@aquarianshift). Two weird men desire each other. George's soul splits from the Beatles. Dream-like and strange, but absolutely grounded in sensuality.

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George Harrison/John Lennon & George Harrison/Paul McCartney

Sour Milk Sea (You & You & Me) (cloudy_blue). John and Paul and George through the years. Relationship study.

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George Harrison/John Lennon

At Mercy (@eveepe). George and John are girls and in the same band. John was never more John than in this story. "How was I?"

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Paul McCartney/ Peter Asher

still mates (@pauls1967moustache). Perennial favorite, because it makes so much sense for Paul and Peter to have a misguided one-night-stand while Lennon/McCartney are falling into Mount Doom. If you didn't think you could fall in love with Peter Asher, think again. He's brave and wonderful in this story.

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Paul McCartney/ Donovan

Bound to be the very next phase (downtothelastdrop). Paul satisfies his curiosity in Rishikesh.

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Paul McCartney/ George Martin

Fixing A Hole (@m1ssunderstanding). Very much a George vs. Jim story.

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Linda McCartney/Paul McCartney/Denny Laine

Red Light, Green Light, Strawberry Wine (@savageandwise). Another all time favorite. Linda POV. A hot and angry threesome while Paul is waiting for John to call him back again.

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Unusual POV's

The Macs (@revollver). 1969 'we eloped to Scotland' John and Paul through the eyes of Mike McCartney.

Playing the Mind Guerilla (Anonymous). John and Paul through the eyes of George, Stu, and (wait for it) Nigel Walley.

I've Seen You, Beauty (bakerstreetafternoon). Paris '61 John and Paul through the eyes of Jürgen Vollmer.

Another Girl (@boshemians). AHDN Beatles through the eyes of Astrid Kirchherr.

Why Buy the Cow (RedheadAmongWolves). Early Days John and Paul through the eyes of the milkman.

I only have eyes for you (ififellinlovewithyou). John's collage and body horror.

Butts and Beatles: What the Ciggie Carton Saw (@waveofahand). The Beatles through the eyes of their cigarettes.

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Paul McCartney/Yoko Ono; Paul McCartney & Yoko Ono

Raglan Road (@savageandwise): Paul and Yoko make love after John's death. "He was their shared language. He was their lexicon. Their language was John."

White Swan, Black Swan (@savageandwise). Companion piece to the above. Yoko writes a poem to Paul. Incredible. This is the stuff I live for.

mesmerized by mythology (peculiar_mademoiselle). Paul and Yoko through the years.

Opposites (Selena). 1975. A visit from Paul and Linda to the Dakota. From Yoko's point of view.

Regeneration (@scurator). Yoko and Paul as widows. Paul is flirting. Yoko is not disinclined.

a great threat (@pauls1967moustache). Paul and Yoko are both women, and artists, and John's partners, and it makes everything so much worse.

modern love (caesdoublesteps). To break the angsty mood: Paul and Yoko meet to discuss her handing over the movie Self Portrait. Yoko POV; very amusing!

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Paul McCartney/Stuart Sutcliffe; Paul McCartney & Stuart Sutcliffe

The Bass Lesson (@aquarianshift). I sill stop reccing this hot, awkward, throbbing-with-resentment Paul/Stu sex when I'm dead.

Baselines (cloudy_blue). Stu hands over his bass guitar to Paul.

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And finally: Some @ilovedig Originals!

I Lost My Little Boy (Paul/Ian James, Paul/John). The Woolton Fete, but it starts as a date for Paul and Ian James.

Jane Did an Interview (Paul/everyone). Open-ended series with self-contained chapters. Old Paul and a possible life partner respond to Jane Asher's ominous refusal to mention Paul in an interview. Mini relationship portraits, from John to Klaus Voormann.

Happy Birthday! I hope the universe will send that epic and romantic Paul McCartney/Werner 'Icke' Braun-fic your way...sooner rather than later!

[golbrocklovely]

outsiders // colin and penelope

A/N: i know this is unlike anything i've posted before on here. i'll be honest, idk how else to explain this other than i direly need to see luke newton play a vampire, so this is about as good as it's gonna get until then. this is also very vaguely based off of a tweet that said this picture of polin makes them look like a cunty vampire couple and you know what??? they ain't wrong about that lol i used direct lines from the show, particularly in the drinking scene with the boys and the carriage love confession (which will be in part two). there are also some quotes and line sprinkled throughout that are similar to those in the show/book. but most of the dialogue is not from the show/book directly. also this is the first time i've ever written a fanfic using characters rather than real ppl… well minus a spn fanfic i never finished. so, please be kind since it's all fiction anyway. hope you enjoy and lmk what you think :)

prompt: Colin is trying to deal with the fact that he is not only in love with his best friend, but that he is incredibly lost as to who he is as a person. It also doesn't help that he's a monster; a vampire. Pen just wants her freedom, her ability to be Whistledown without anymore people finding out. And in her mind, Debling is the solution to her problem. But one fateful night brings Penelope and Colin together in ways they never imagined.

trigger warning: jealous!colin, protective!colin, AU!vampire, the entire bridgerton family are vampire, colin's friends are dicks lol, formal english (but that's a given), vampire powers, manipulation, ANGSTY AS HELL, idiots to lovers (not until part two), somewhat of a cliff hanger but not really since the next part will be out soon, mentions of blood/blood drinking

word count: 3054

~~~~~~~~~~~

Colin knew deep within himself that going out with Fife and the rest of his so-called friends was a mistake. Mostly because his mind was preoccupied tonight, many thoughts swirling around him; all of which pertained to a certain red head he had known since childhood. The mistake was thinking that he could relax while being around these exhausting men and their childish ways.

However he really did need some revelry after what he witnessed during the day.

When he walked into the library party and caught Pen with Debling, smiling and laughing at whatever he was saying, his blood boiled. A permanent frown etched into his face and had stayed there the entirety of the day.

"Say, what ails you, Bridgerton? Are you not enjoying your night?"

Colin turned to Stanton, blinking slowly. He took a swig of his drink, shaking his head. "I am well. Please continue with your story."

Stanton smirked, turning back to the table, "On my Grand Tour, I encountered this Greek girl in the Balkans. My bear leader..."

Colin zoned out again, unable to truly listen much longer to the men's stories of different conquests they had over the summer. His mind was still reeling, his thoughts ever consumed by the image of Penelope. Of their shared kiss. Of his constant reoccurring dreams of her and him. 

"She sounds like the young woman who made my time in the French Quarter worth the length of the voyage. Much to offer upstairs, and I do not mean her mind." Lord Wilding motioned with his hands, causing all three men to burst into laughter. Colin sighed, staring at the ground for a moment.

Fife looked up at Colin, "What about you, Bridgerton? You were gone for quite a while. I am sure the girls of summer made your trip quite... fulfilling?"

The gentlemen chortled, and Colin could feel them all eyeing him, waiting for an answer. "I did tell you my story of the contessa, did I not?"

"Yes, but you did not give details." Stanton whined.

Colin half-heartedly smiled, "Well, a gentleman must keep some things to himself."

Wilding pffted, "Oh, come now. I do not see a gentleman amongst us."

"I concur with you there." Colin shook a finger at them. The gentlemen gave him a quizzical look, freezing him for a moment. "Oh, forgive me… But it is tiring, is it not? The necessity imposed on us to remain cavalier about the one thing in life that holds genuine meaning. Do you not find it lonely?"

Colin gazed upon the men, hoping to see agreeing eyes; but instead the table chuckled at his expense. He sat back in his chair, defeated.

"This wouldn't have anything to do with a certain Featherington girl, now would it?" Fife teased, his glazed eyes staring at Colin's face.

"You know, Bridgerton? Congratulations are in order. I heard that apparently Debling plans to propose to her." Stanton raised his glass, "The marriage mart whisperer actually made a match. Cheers."

"May God have mercy on that poor man's soul." Wilding whispered, finishing his drink.

Colin narrowed his eyes, "I beg your pardon?"

"I know you have a fondness for the girl, but I cannot fathom what type of wife she would be. I would never marry a Featherington, but especially Penelope." Wilding remarked, almost disgusted.

"Maybe that's why Debling plans to travel for years." Fife quipped.

"Well, like your lady in the French Quarter, she at least has a lot to offer upstairs." Stanton snickered.

Colin leapt to his feet, his chair slamming to the floor. His hands were clenched tightly at his sides as his anger raged through him. His red eyes shot up, glaring deeply into the gentlemen's souls, captivating them instantly.

"You will never speak about Penelope or the Featheringtons ever again. And if ever asked about them, you will say nothing but the kindest of words." Colin grunted, his gaze shifting from man to man, "If I ever hear you speak badly about her or her family again, I will tear your throat out with my teeth. Your trivial existence will be ended, and the ladies of the Ton will be better for it... Know this as true, but forget I said this."

The gentlemen blinked rapidly, clearing their throats and looking at each other confused. Fife glanced behind Colin, "What happened to your chair?"

Colin smoothed out his vest, calming himself, "Oh, it must have fallen over when I stood up. Goodbye gentlemen, I am growing rather tired of this night."

~~~

Colin had the privilege of being born a vampire; and with that privilege came the ability to manipulate those around him. However, there were only two types of people he couldn't manipulate: other vampires - which really only applied to his family since he knew of no others - and those he was in love with. That applied to all the Bridgerton siblings. It was their own little family quirk, as they so lovingly called it. In a way, it kept everyone in check. Because they knew out of everyone in the Ton, the people they loved couldn't fall victim to their ability.

But luckily for everyone in the Ton, the Bridgertons were a good family. Violet had taught her children to seldom use their ability, and the children all followed suit. Hyacinth and Gregory did occasionally use it on the maids in the house, so that he could get extra sweets or she, the latest issue of Whistledown before bed; but for the most part all of the Bridgerton siblings fell in line with Violet's beliefs. 

While most of the Bridgertons enjoyed being vampires, Colin did not. Maybe it was because he was battling with himself over who he truly was. All this did was make him feel even more like an outsider. He wanted to be normal, to be known and loved for who he is, but how could he? He was a monster.

And now this monster, deeply annoyed by the past couple weeks of events, was on the search for blood.

Colin did not enjoy hunting. In the day, when he couldn't hunt, it was easier to forget what he was. But at night, his cardinal urges always came to the surface. 

Hunting on the poorer side of London wasn't challenging. There was always someone out and about. And Colin only needed a little bit of blood. None of them ever killed; the rule was only take what you need and leave no trace. And they were all excellent at that.

The worst that could happen was being caught by authorities. Or even worse, somehow ending up in Lady Whistledown.

Colin lurked around a corner, waiting impatiently for a passerby. He glanced at the printer shop, the light inside telling him someone was there. He needed to move further away, in case those inside would hear his victim if they were to scream out suddenly.

He casually walked down the cobblestone street, his sense of smell picking up someone near. It was a woman; that he was sure of.

He knew he should have just drank from the prostitutes, the ones he couldn't even bring himself to sleep with tonight. But he didn't like the idea of drinking from them. They oddly had shown him kindness, something he couldn't even acquire from his friends.

A woman rounded the corner. She was young, and her dark black hair was slightly unkempt. Colin rushed over to her, their eyes meeting instantly. The only sound she was able to make was a small gasp.

"Don't be scared, Miss . This will be over quickly. I'm just so...." he swallowed hard, "hungry."

Colin cupped the woman's face, turning her head so her neck was more on display. His fangs grew, his mouth watering at the thought of blood. Her pulse had quicken when he rushed her, her blood now calling his name. He sunk his teeth in, moaning as the liquid poured into his mouth. He closed his eyes, his thoughts shifting slowly back to familiar ones...

Penelope. 

He hated admitting it, but he had wanted to drink from Pen. His dreams not only consisted of touching her in the most inappropriate ways or confessing that their kiss was all he thought about; it was how he longed to bite her neck, taste her salty skin and rich blood. He knew she would be heavenly, but he never allowed himself to ponder on it too long. These were fantasies after all. She would never, ever find out what he was. And he would not damn her to a life like this.

He groaned against the woman's neck, lapping up spilt blood. Penelope was haunting him, even in real life. How was it that he could smell her, even right now? Even with his mouth on a different woman's neck, drinking her life essence, was he able to feel Pen's presence? It's like he could hear her say his name.

Colin glanced up, the printer shop illuminating the archway leading onto the street. A short person stood frozen, watching him. 

He froze too, his eyes focusing on the figure. The woman in his arms slurred incoherently. His eyes connected with her for a split second, telling her to forget what occurred and to go home. He pushed her off down a separate street, his eyes remaining on the silhouette.

He took a whiff of the air, his eyes widening.

The person ran the opposite way, racing back towards a carriage nearby. Colin made it there long before they could, grabbing them by the shoulders and pushing them up against the wall. His hand covered their mouth instantly, staring deep into the blue eyes he was captivated by since childhood.

"Penelope?"

~~~

Penelope had known the Bridgertons were vampires for years. While she might have met Colin first, Eloise had been her closest friend; mostly because it took Pen a while to really strike up the courage to actually talk to Colin. But when Eloise and her were young, outside and playing in her mother's garden, El casually told her what she was. At first, Pen didn't believe her. Who would believe such a thing without proof? El suddenly waltzed up to a butler nearby and told him to start doing a dance for her, and he did. The girls laughed at the sight, and from that moment on, Pen knew.

She never asked questions, but she was curious as to what vampires were really like. El wouldn't confirm anything to her, understandably wanting to keep some things private. And once Lady Whistledown rose to power in the Ton, El was even more hush about vampirism. Pen could tell she was nervous about her family's secret getting out there. But Pen assured her that Whistledown would never write on such a thing, otherwise she would become the laughingstock of Mayfair.

And now with El completely ignoring her because of Whistledown, she hoped that El understood that statement still rang true. While she would write about what everyone was talking about, no one but her knew their real secret. She would never share it, even if her and Eloise were no longer close.

The carriage came to a stop, the footman opening her door swiftly. She stepped out, the newest addition of Whistledown in her hand. She smirked as she read it over, noting how many in the Ton were speaking on her and Debling's possible engagement. While Pen did not enjoy being the center of attention, she did enjoy knowing that the sniveling mamas of the Ton were wrong about her.

Not only was Penelope courted, she was going to get married. That is, assuming she accepted Debling's proposal. Or that he actually planned to ask her mother tomorrow.

A life with Debling seemed... fine, to her. And if that's all she could get, she would take it. She wanted a love filled marriage, that was true; but maybe time would change that. It's possible that Debling one day might love her. Or that she may grow to fully accept what she had.

Part of her hated admitting it, but her feelings for Colin were still there too. But she accepted that reality as a fantasy and nothing more. Somehow, vampires were real, but Colin reciprocating her feelings wasn't. 

God had a very wicked sense of humor.

She walked down the street, turning the corner to the printer shop. When she raised her hand to knock, something caught her eye. She gazed down the street, two figures stood out in the open. It appeared to be a man and a woman. She squinted her eyes, watching them. The man cupped the woman's jaw, burying his face into her neck. Pen blushed at the notion. She had thoughts similar to that of her and Colin. Dreams, even. But to see two people doing something like that, so out in the open, was very scandalous to her. She wanted to look away, but curiosity got the better of her.

The couple swayed into the light unintentionally, and Pen's eyes widened.

The man's mouth was latched onto the woman's neck, and she was limp in his arms. It almost appeared like he was biting her. As she took in the man, she noted his dark brown coat. His tall stature and quaffed hair were familiar to her. It almost looked like...

"Colin?" She whispered.

The man looked up, locking eyes with Pen. She gasped, seeing his face for the first time. Dear Lord in Heaven, it was Colin. His mouth was stained red from blood and his fangs were prominent, even from such a distance away.

Her heart raced, and she knew she needed to get out of there, now.

She spun on her heel, running back to the carriage. Before she was able to get remotely close, her body was pushed up against the wall, her mouth covered.

"Penelope?" Colin hissed, his red eyes almost glowing in the dark.

She studied his face, taking in the features she had yet to see of him. His eyes were the most surprising, but his fangs were shocking up close.

"I am going to remove my hand. Please don't scream." He moved his hand slowly, her face feeling hot from his skin touching hers. "What are you doing out here?"

"I could ask you the same question, Colin." Pen argued.

"It is none of your concern, Pen. Whatever you saw..." Colin fought to speak, "was not what it looks like."

Pen suddenly became aware of the Whistledown papers in her hand, "Well, if that's the case, then I should be heading back home."

"You didn't answer my question. Why are you-" He began.

She cut him off, trying to sidestep him. "Colin, I need to-"

"What is that in your hand?" He questioned, pointing down.

Her blood ran cold. "W-What?"

Colin grabbed the papers from Pen's hands before she could stop him, her heart dropping instantly.

He gazed at the papers, reading over the words hastily. She backed up, her body hitting the wall. His stare hardened, eyes watering. "You're... Whistledown."

The hurt in his eyes, his voice, made Pen instantly tear up, "Colin, please I can-"

Colin backed away from her, "I cannot believe this. How could you?"

Pen wiped away her tears, "I am terribly sorry, Colin. Please let me expl-" 

"No, no. I do not want your explanation. What is there to explain? Clearly you are the one who has been writing such horrid things about my family. I cannot believe you would do this to us. To El." He choked out, "To me."

She begged, "Colin, let me explain myself."

"On top of being Whistledown, you come out here in the middle of the night to do your dealings. Unchaperoned, and presumably with no one knowing where you are. You could seriously get hurt! Not only could you ruin your reputation, but you could be harmed. How can you be so careless, Penelope?" He furrowed his brow, his eyes boring into hers.

Pen hated being talked down to. Who was Colin to act so scared for her safety, or her reputation for that matter? He was a vampire, for God's sake. She spat, "The only thing out here that seems to be harmful is you, Colin."

She knew she made a grave mistake. Damn her mouth.

Colin's eyes glowered at her, his body tensing. "What did you say?"

"I-I," Pen took a moment, gathering the courage to speak. "I saw you, Mr. Bridgerton. You weren't simply... caressing some random woman on the street. You were feeding on her. You're a vamp-"

He glared into her soul, demanding, "You are going to forget we had this conversation. You are going to forget what you saw moments ago. You are going to go home. Now."

Pen copied his gaze, shaking her head. "Who are you to tell me what to do? Have you gone mad?"

This was a terrible time to find out that Colin was, in fact, in love with Penelope. He knew he was, but the timing of it all really could not have been worse.

Colin growled, walking up to Pen's carriage door and opening it for her. "Get inside, Penelope. We will talk about this on the way back to your home."

"How can I trust to get in a carriage with you? Are you still hungry?" She sassed, her hands on her hips.

He lowered his gaze, his eyes darkening. "Do not make me force you inside."

Her skin felt hot suddenly, his tone hitting deep within her body. She had never seen Colin like this, and she wasn't sure what to make of it.

Her mind was cautious, nervous. But her body... felt something else entirely.

She sighed, stepping inside her carriage with the help of Colin. He followed her in, sitting across from her. He called out to the footman to go to the Featherington residence.

"Take the long way, please." Colin sat back against the seat, staring at Pen.

"Make a stop at the Bridgerton's house first... please." She called out. The footmen acknowledged their commands, and Colin rolled his eyes at her petty attempt of control. She squirmed under his gaze, unable to make eye contact with him.

He asked bitingly. "Should you start or should I?"

|| Part 2 >>

[hier--soir]

under the night | one

summary: joel miller is a grump, but he likes to think old dogs can be taught new tricks pairing: joel miller x f!reader, set in jackson after the end of tlou part I warnings/tags: [18+ only, minors dni] language, nightmares, discussions of sex, slow-ish burn, age gap [20ish years], grumpy!joel, potential jealousy word count: 7.3k series masterlist | main masterlist a/n: first time i've posted any of my own stuff in ages, but i've been loving writing for joel so thought i'd share!

Wyoming was a state you had never visited before the outbreak, so it was strange that 22 years on, it had become your home. It was Summer when you and Cal arrived in Jackson, and six months on, you could feel Winter’s grip steadily descending upon the town. The area seemed to be cloudy year-round, but the way the air had begun to chill as of late was something you’d not quite experienced before. Cold as it was, living there was quiet, and peaceful.

The settlement was led by a strong woman named Maria, and her husband Tommy, who had welcomed you and Cal with a wary kindness. Offered you safety, and a place to live, in exchange for hard work and your dedication to supporting the community. After so many years travelling the barren, infected country alone, the pair of you were awkward, and fumbled your way through meeting so many new people.

Jackson wasn’t the first place you’d tried to settle down in. Over the span of a decade, you’d crossed the country what felt like twice over, relying solely on each other, but never quite feeling like anywhere was home except for when you were alone together. This place proved you wrong though – the people proved you wrong. They were self-sufficient here, a working community, where everyone was equal, and the leaders were kind, and trustworthy; two characteristics that you and Cal hadn’t encountered in other people in a long time.

The home Maria and Tommy provided you was modest, and a fixer-upper if you had ever seen one. God, the day they’d arrived, you’d let out an exhausted laugh when Tommy pulled on the knob of the front door, and it cracked off its hinges.

“Nothing a good screw won’t fix,” Cal had chuckled, wanting to appear optimistic in front of Tommy.

Regardless of the state of the place, you and Cal made it your home in quick work. Cal made friends quickly, the way he always had. He was tall and gangly; all long limbs and sandy blonde hair, and he had a crooked toothed smile that endeared people to him almost instantly. You, on the other hand, were blunt, your body lean and strong as a result of years of physical exertion, and you were always the more stubborn of the two. You were a perfect dichotomy beside each other; sweet and salty. Stony, and withdrawn, you had always used your closest friend as a crutch during rare social interactions. You were familiar with all of the violence, and pain that came with the world, and as you grew up, had become so delightfully unsure when it came to being shown warmth.

Maria took you under her wing, introducing you to the people at the stables you would be working alongside, and encouraging you to find solace in the group of warriors that made up the women of Jackson. For the most part, people were kind and welcoming. With time, they didn’t pause and stare when you walked along the street, unsure of the newcomers.

People shared stories about others who had come through Jackson before you and Cal, and about the histories of those who still lived there. Sometimes, as you sat on the porch of the house, you’d watch people walk by, share a polite wave, and try to pin the stories to the faces you were seeing.

“I met Tommy’s brother today,” Cal started one evening. “Bit of a prick.”

Your eyebrow raised slightly, amused that someone could piss off one of the more jovial people you’d ever known. “What’s wrong with him, was he wearing double denim?”

Cal lifted his bowl of soup to his mouth and slurped down the last few drops. Wiping his mouth messily, he shook his head. “I don’t know about that guy. Remember Tommy told us about him?” You did remember Tommy vaguely mentioning that his brother had arrived on the settlement a year or so before you and Cal arrived.

“He keeps to himself for the most part,” Tommy had jested, his eyes glazing over for a moment as he thought of his brother. “But he’s a goodin, does good work for this town.”

“Whatever,” Cal changed his tune. “I shouldn’t let it bother me, he was just rude is all. Called me newbie twice, even though he knows my name. Seems to like being a big dog around here.”

You hummed to show you were still listening, tearing off a piece of bread and stuffing it in your mouth. “Seems only fair that if Tommy is kind, his brother would’ve turned out an ass. Isn’t that how we work?” He snorted out a laugh, and that was the last you spoke of it.

It wasn’t for another week or so until you met the man yourself. It’d been a long day spent at the stables, basking in the beating sun while working alongside a few others. The horses were huge creatures, and it took you a while to get used to their nature. It’d been so long since an animal hadn’t been a threat to you, but a few weeks on, and you’d found yourself ending the workdays by taking a ride around on your favourite mare Dot.

You and Cal’s home was on the opposite side of town, and on your walk through you passed faces that had become familiar. You small talked and smiled until your jaw ached, and by the time you bumped into him, you’d already reached your pleasantry quota for the day.

He had a bag of vegetables hung over his shoulder in a linen sack, and was making quiet conversation with his brother, when you walked by.

Tommy called out your name, waving you over to them. Your feet and shoulders ached, but you slapped a half smile on your face as you sidled up to the pair. “I’d been hoping to catch you, Maria’s wondering when you’re free for dinner this week.”

“Oh, whenever she wants me,” you nodded, chest warming in an odd way at the invitation. Your gaze flitted curiously to the tall man standing beside Tommy. You’d seem him around before, many times actually, but never realised he was the infamous brother.

Oftentimes, you’d noticed him because, 7 times out of 10, the same young girl would be plodding along beside him, chattering away incessantly. You had assumed they were a father and daughter on those occasions, but now understanding this was Joel, you knew better. Cal had explained it to you when he found out, about how Tommy’s brother had a kid living with him, but it wasn’t his. The idea of it didn’t seem too strange to you, considering most of the people living in Jackson were found families, not blood. 

He was tall, taller than Tommy, with a more wrinkled and tanned face. Dark hair with streaks of grey, and a short beard. Obviously. the older brother. Thicker than Tommy too, the invasive thought flashed through your mind, as your eyes glanced over his arms.

Ignorant to your curious eyeballing, Joel jerked his head in your direction, and asked, “The other newbie?” He had a distinctly husky Texan drawl, and his voice was deep, as if he spoke from the very depths of his stomach.

“Yeah,” Tommy nodded, and introduced the two of you with a smile. “She’s doing some great work for us round the stables, the horses have taken a good liking to her already.”

You shared a polite nod and held out your hand for greeting. Joel barely met your eyes, before gripping your hand once. One firm shake, before dropping it like it stung him. You thought you noticed him even wipe his hand off on his jeans. Rude motherfucker.

He didn’t say anymore, and seemed to just wait for you to go so he could continue his conversation from before you showed up.

“Well,” you said. “I’ll get out of your hair boys. Be good.” A short laugh fell from Tommy’s mouth, and you thought you caught a surprised expression on Joel’s face as you turned and continued walking in the direction of home.

You crossed paths a few more times that Summer, but always briefly. He constantly had somewhere to be, or a job he was on his way to completing – never without an excuse to cut a conversation with you short. You didn’t particularly mind his disinterest in small talk. In fact, you found it somewhat refreshing after a few interactions with him. Finally, one other person in this town who wasn’t friendly, or willing to fake interest in you just because you were new in town.

One day you and Cal went on a ride along with Tommy as he patrolled the area surrounding the settlement. Nothing serious, just him showing you both around the area, telling you about what abnormalities he kept an eye out for when he went out of the safety of the gates.

The trio had been out for an hour or so before a rustle in the woods a hundred metres back caught their attention. Your hackles rose, and you reached for the gun strapped to your hip instinctively, prepared to see an infected emerge from the brush. But Joel Miller rode up to your group quickly, a deep scowl settling on his face when he spotted his brother’s company.

“What’s wrong?” Tommy asked his brother.

“Maria wants you back home,” he said gruffly. “Said it’s getting late; said if you’re not back in time for dinner she’ll lock your ass out.” His gaze twitched quickly over to you and Cal, who were watching him curiously. “Why are the newbies with you?”

Joel wasn’t afraid to talk about you two as if you weren’t there, didn’t care how it came across, and you understood this was probably why some people in Jackson weren’t very fond of him.

“Just showing them the area, they oughta know what we get up to out here every day,” Tommy said amiably. “The real question is, why are you doin’ my wife’s bidding?”

He huffed in response, shaking his head ever so slightly. “Maria’s the boss,” is all he said, before gripping the reins and encouraging his horse to take off in the direction he came from. When it was just the three of you again, you felt your shoulders sag, and let out a low whistle, as if to say, jeez, lighten up.

Not a week later, Cal told you, “His face has the same thing yours has, you know.” You were sharing lunch outside the stables, when Joel had shown up to take one of the horses for a patrol.

“What the fuck does that mean?” you’d asked incredulously. He held his hands up in defence, coughing lightly around his mouthful of food.

“No, no, don’t bed mad,” he paused, laughing more. “But… c’mon, I couldn’t help but notice…”

“Notice what? Why the fuck can’t you finish your sentence.” You were impatient, and the sun was beating down on you, and Joel was only 10 metres away, saddling up.

“You both have this set of wrinkles in between your eyebrows,” he finally admitted, smirking. “I’d say it’s because you’ve both been frowning for the past twenty years straight, if I had to guess.” You relaxed the frown on your face instantly, making Cal laugh harder. A warmth rose in your face as you realised you’d attracted Joel’s attention, and he was glancing at you from across the grass.

“I don’t frown all the time,” you muttered under your breath, giving Joel a courteous nod goodbye as he rode out on the horse.

“Of course you don’t, sunshine, my mistake,” Cal had agreed sarcastically, waving a hand at Joel in farewell.

After that, whenever you saw him, your lips twitched as you noticed the wrinkle in the middle of his forehead, and you reminded yourself to relax your own. Not enough room in Jackson for two permanent frowns, you thought to yourself, and his takes the cake. ‘Grumpy’ was a good descriptor for him. On the rare occasion you saw him smile or laugh, it was when the girl was around.

You had noticed the way she’d tell him a joke and a begrudging smile would grace his face, only for him to cough, or reach up and place a hand over his mouth, to avoid anyone else taking notice. Of course, you would notice the girl grinning with glee at making her companion laugh. It was sweet. The fondness between them was palpable, and you had to fight the curiosity inside you that wondered what had brought them together.

When, at long last, you finally met Ellie, it all made sense. The girl was insufferably chatty with some precocious snark to boot, and she had an impressive attention to detail; a 5’4” spitfire with a mess of mousy brain hair. She was no bullshit, and you trusted her instantly.

“I was wondering when I’d meet the newbie I’d been hearing about,” Ellie had smirked, holding out a sweaty hand in greeting.   

“Sorry it took so long, everyone wants a piece of the me these days,” you feigned a sigh, smiling when the young girl laughed.

“Do you like it here?” she asked inquisitively, and you nodded. “I’ve seen you a few times, but you always seemed busy, or were with that other guy.” “Jackson is great, me and Cal are happy to be here,” you confided. “I’ve seen you round a lot too, with your-“ you cut yourself off before the word ‘father’ came out. “With Joel.”

“Oh, you know Joel!”

“No, not really,” you clarified quickly. “He pops up here and there… what a laugh that guy is.” For a moment you were worried the joke wouldn’t land, but when a squeaky laugh pealed out of Ellie’s mouth you relaxed, and laughed with her.

“You’re telling me!” the girl barked, shaking her head.

Through those first six months in Jackson, life slowly started to make sense again for you. For the first time since the outbreak happened all of those years ago, you found yourself with a proper home, and a community of people around you who you had come to know and respect.

But even with newfound light in your life, the darkness inside of you wasn’t going away quickly. Even a friendly place like Jackson couldn’t stop the nightmares that plagued you. After spending over a decade traversing the United States with Cal, seeing death and decay and infection firsthand, you had to train yourself to focus on the good.

When you passed by a group of kids on the street, you urged yourself not to see the faces of Cal’s late brothers, whom you grew up with. Had to fight the memories of the settlement not unlike Jackson that you spent years in, only to watch it burn to the ground. Not everything ends badly, you would whisper to yourself. People can be trusted.

As insistent as you were with opening yourself up to the light, the nightmares still came fast and hard. It was the same one, most nights. The same memory. In time, Cal had begun to sleep through you crying out for help in your sleep, after learning years ago that being woken up by him sometimes scared you just as much as the dream itself. Sometimes, solitude after an awful night was the only remedy.

You woke slick with sweat, your shirt sticking uncomfortably to your skin. Heart racing, you stumbled out of bed and gulped down some water in the kitchen. Through the light fog outside, a warm orange glow lit the street, as the sun rose slowly over the town. Thank god, you thought. Early, but not too early to rise without worrying Cal. You dressed slowly, limbs heavy with fatigue, and walked numbly toward the stables. Winter had crept into Jackson like a thief, and the morning’s icy cold breath licked at your hands and face, stealing all the warmth you had to offer.

A few of the horses startled awake when you arrived, and you soothed them quietly, your voice hoarse from crying only an hour prior.

“It’s just me,” you murmured, kissing Dot’s speckled nose.

A morning ride seemed a good way to wake up all of your senses, so you set to saddling up. But only a short while after your arrival at the stables, a sound outside made you start. A flash of the nightmare shot through your brain, and your heart stuttered. Footsteps, padding softly through the grass outside, could clearly be heard. Dot’s ears pricked up, and her large head swung toward the stable doors to watch. Although you had been sure you heard someone approaching, when he stepped into view, you still let out a yell of surprise. 

“Woah,” Joel held his hands out in alarm, eyes wide. “I didn’t expect anyone to be here.” His arms lowered as he recognised you, warily noting your defensive stance, positioned half behind Dot with tensed fists.

You didn’t say anything immediately, breathing heavily out of your mouth, and still trying to calm your racing heart. You watched each other from across the space, and he took a few slow steps inside. “I’m sorry I scared you,” he apologised genuinely, in a tone gentler than you’d ever heard him use.

You ignored his apology. “What’re you doing out here so early? The sun’s hardly up.”

An eyeroll. “I could ask you the same question.”

You contemplated lying, but exhaustion wore on you heavily, and you found yourself unable to think of a fib worthy of his time. “Bad dreams,” you settled on, not caring how childish it made you sound.

He nodded slowly, looking unsurprised by your admission. After a measured pause, he offered, “I get those too, sometimes.”

Your heart, which had only just slowed down, found itself beating out of time again, although you weren’t sure why. This was the longest conversation you and Joel had ever had, and by far the most private one – if you didn’t count the horses listening in. When you didn’t answer him quickly, his hand raised to scratch awkwardly against his beard. Not for the first time, you were hit with an unwelcome thought about how handsome he was.

“You look cold,” he changed the subject quickly, and with a down turned mouth. He was wearing a thick brown jacket, which made the thin jumper you were wearing look like a sheet of paper in comparison.

“Cal’s been borrowing my good jacket these days, since it’s gotten cold.”

Joel watched you speak, and it seemed like he didn’t how to respond. His hands settled on his hips, and he mumbled something under his breath that you missed. When you prompted him to repeat it, he just said, “You spend a lot of time with Dot.” You were happy to finally shift the topic of conversation away from yourself, and agreed. 

“Yeah well, Percy over there isn’t too fond of me,” you gestured behind you to a tall grey horse, who you had discovered months earlier would huff loudly and rear his head up whenever you stepped near him. In that respect, Percy reminded you somewhat of Joel when the two of you first met.

“Percy’s old, he’ll warm up to you with time,” he advised.

“I thought the saying goes that you can’t teach an old dog new tricks?”

A small huff of air escaped his mouth, and if you weren’t so sleepy, you would’ve sworn it was the start of a laugh. Quietly, he said, “I’d like to think that’s not true.”

It was the next morning, after you’d awoken from another nightmare, and stepped outside to head to the stables again, that you saw it. A gift, or maybe a token of understanding.

A large black jacket, folded neatly on your doormat.

Winter kicked in like a punch in the gut, but you decided you liked the festivities that the cold weather inspired in Jackson. Suddenly every morning your windows had a delicate layer of frost over them, hiding the view of the street, making every day a new surprise, waiting for you to discover when you finally stepped outside. It didn’t rain often, but you could sense how the clouds seemed to sag, and knew that snow wouldn’t be far around the corner. You wore Joel’s jacket most days, and appreciated how the cold made your face tinge red, so that when he spotted you in it, he wouldn’t notice you were blushing.

To celebrate the changing of the season, Maria had organised a bonfire night to bring the town together. She enticed you to come along with promises of mulled wine and live music, but the truth was that you had already promised Cal you’d go along.

“She is going to be theeeere,” Cal had sung dreamily from the kitchen, a week before. You had been lounging on the chair in your living space, drowsy from an impromptu afternoon nap, and it took you a moment to understand who he was talking about.

“Luisa?”

“Luisa,” he confirmed wistfully, sipping a cup of tea as he stepped into the room. “She invited us, and you have to come along, you know. I can’t go without my wingman.”

“If she invited you, you probably don’t need a wingman,” you laughed, but agreed to go nonetheless. It was sweet watching Cal talk about Luisa over the past few weeks, and watching his crush develop more every day that they spent time together. Not for a long time had either of you been romantically involved with someone, and it made your heart sing for him. Of course, you would go. For Cal, you’d probably go anywhere. 

Jackson was a hub of excitement when the day finally rolled around. During your shift at the stables, the women you worked with chatted keenly about wanting to dance to live music, and it caused a bubble of excitement to form in your own chest. It had been so long since you’d seen a musical instrument, let alone seen someone play one with any skill. On your walk home, people were toting around decorations, headed towards a big open dirt field, where you knew a set up effort had already begun. You passed Joel’s place halfway through town and smiled upon spotting him on his porch, rugged up and chatting away with Tommy and Ellie.

Since that morning in the barn, you and Joel had settled into a sort of comfortable ease with one another. There was less rigidity when you spoke; less apprehension when it came to sharing things about yourselves, and your days. Being around him became a source of calm, rather than tension. You never sought him out for conversation, but you found yourself quietly elated when he appeared on one of your aimless walks, or passed by the stables unexpectedly and chatted to you while you worked.

The more you came to learn about him in those quiet moments, the more you appreciated him. You felt that you had formed a kind of mutual understanding between you; that you wanted the same things. A shared desire to enjoy this quiet life that neither of you felt you deserved, but were both lucky enough to have fall into your laps.  It was true that you hadn’t made friends there the way Cal had – people gravitated towards his energy naturally. But with Joel, you felt understood.

“Well don’t you lot look cosy,” you called from the street, and were met with a round of friendly waves. “What’s on the menu?” you pointed at the mugs they all gripped, eyeing the hot steam that rose out of them.

“Just a second.” Joel disappeared inside for a few minutes, before returning with a cup of coffee for you. You leaned against the banister and sipped at the hot liquid greedily, nodding in appreciation.

“How are you doing?” Tommy asked you genuinely. You liked the sweet crow’s feet that appeared next to his eyes when he smiled. You chatted absently about work and patrols, and how one of the families in town were expecting a new baby in a few months, before finally the topic of the bonfire came up.

“Oh, you’re coming right?” Ellie pondered eagerly, sitting up in her chair.

“Only if you’ll be there, kid.” Her face lit up at this, grinning smugly at Joel and Tommy. You could feel Joel’s eyes on you, but held your gaze steadfast on Ellie. It felt like your skin burned a little when he was looking at you – you could always sense his stare.

“And Cal too?” Ellie asked. She always asked you about Cal, and you’d just come to understand that she liked to be in the loop about most things. She held that teenage curiosity to know about everyone, and all their comings and goings.

“Yes,” you smirked conspiratorially. “He mentioned wanting to see Luisa.” The younger girl raised her eyebrows suggestively, garnering a chuckle from even Tommy.

“Can you believe,” Ellie suddenly chuckled out, sticking out a hand and placing it on Joel’s shoulder. “That Joel thought you and Cal were married or something?”

As you and Tommy laughed, you thought you noticed Joel gently kick his boot against Ellie’s shin, as if to say, shut the hell up kid. He didn’t quite meet your eye when you looked at him, and appeared somewhat embarrassed as he turned to glare at Ellie.

“Well, he wouldn’t be the first to think that,” you conceded. “With the amount of years we’ve known each other, we might as well be married at this point.”

Joel looked at you properly then, his curiosity getting the better of him. Tommy asked the question that seemed to be on his lips.

“Remind me how many years you’ve been together? I can’t remember what you told me all those months ago.”

“We’ve known each other for something like two or three decades.”

Ellie let out a low whistle, eyes wide just thinking about that many years. She was so young, and you felt a quick pang in your heart to remember it.

You drained the last of your coffee, and placed the mug softly into Joel’s outstretched hand before stepping off the porch. “Speaking of the old ball and chain, I’d better get home to make sure he hasn’t burned the place down in my absence.”

“See you tonight,” Joel shared a half smile, and you nodded, before turning and heading in the direction of home. As you walked, you listened to their conversation start back up again.  “Oh kiddo, I almost forgot. Tommy told me this joke yesterday that reminded me of you. You’re gonna love this…” And then you were too far gone to hear the rest.

After giving Cal advice on which shirt to wear, the pair of you made your way toward the field where the party was being held. He was adamant you had to arrive casually late, so that he didn’t seem too eager. You went along with his ideas amiably, happy to please him. And although you didn’t tell Cal, you could admit to yourself that you weren’t going just for his benefit anymore – there were other people looking forward to seeing you. You couldn’t help but wonder if you would get to spend any time talking to Joel, and your heart squeezed in a way you chose to ignore.

The sun had set hours ago, and the party was in full swing when you arrived at the gathering. Flames blazed high into the air from two huge bonfires, crackling loudly and lighting the wide-open space with a warm orange glow. Small twinkling lights had been strung up through the surrounding trees, providing more light. A small group of musicians stood off to the side, playing soft folk music that flowed beautifully into your ears.

Busy marvelling at your beautiful surroundings, you were shocked back to reality by Cal thrusting a warm mug into your hands.

“Liquid courage,” he winked, taking a swig. You stared at the deep red steaming liquid in your own cup, and sipped it tentatively. Soft notes of cinnamon and star anise hit your tongue, mixing with the tart red wine, and you hummed happily. “Oh, there she is!”

Cal bid you a quick farewell and wandered across the field to sit beside Luisa on a thick log. You watched as the pair embraced, but averted your eyes quickly when Luisa leaned in and pressed a kiss against Cal’s cheek. He would tell you these things in his own time, and deserved his privacy. Allowing your eyes to flicker over the rest of the crowd. It seemed everyone in Jackson was there. Families talking and laughing, couples and friends swaying together near the band. A feeling of intense loneliness hit you in a sudden wave, but as quick as it came it was gone, as you spotted Joel sitting alone, staring into the fire.

Before you could convince yourself not to, you found your legs meandering in his direction, as if out of your own control. You half hoped someone would stop you for a conversation along the way, but everyone was distracted, and you seemed to blend into the crowd without drawing much attention. Ellie could be seen watching the band play with some other people around her age and hadn’t noticed your arrival. In less than a minute, your black boots were stopping a metre behind where Joel sat.

He wasn’t aware of your presence yet, leaving you with a moment to take him in. Although you couldn’t see his face yet, you admired his broad strong back, and thought absently that either all his clothes were too tight, or he must’ve been built like a brick house underneath them.

Unsure of yourself, and feeling awkward in your own skin, you hesitated for a moment too long. A quiet crack sounded as you adjusted your footing, and crunched onto a wayward twig, making Joel’s head tick ever so slightly to the side.

“Hey there,” you rushed, not wanting to spook him, and he turned fully to see you. He looked handsome, wearing his normal brown jacket, and holding his own mug of ruby red liquid courage. The corner of his mouth quirked up and those earthy brown eyes took her in quickly, flicking from her head to her feet, and back up again in an instant.

“You gonna sit down or just stand there all night?” You were torn abruptly from your reverie when he spoke, and you hoped that the darkness hid your blush. Stepping over the log he was on, you sat down beside him heavily, holding out your free hand to feel the warmth of the bonfire. You were close. Not enough to touch, but enough that the sleeves of you jackets brushed ever so slightly when one of you moved your arm.

“You havin’ a good time?” you enquired quietly, realising that from this vantage point, you could actually see Cal and Luisa, on the other side of the fire.

“Better now, I’ll admit.” You turned her head to look at him, surprised by his forthrightness, and he held your gaze evenly, still doing that half smile that put you at ease. “The people in this town are so friendly, but you run out of things to talk about after knowing them all for a year and a half.”

“Well lucky for us,” you suggested. “I’ve only been here 7 months. We haven’t exhausted all avenues of conversation yet, have we Joel?”

From behind the rim of his mug he chuckled quietly, his eyes shining with the fire’s reflection. “I’d say we haven’t, no.” Considering his height and broad stature, he always held himself in a naturally authoritative manor. But sitting there beside him, you enjoyed seeing him look so relaxed, lounging comfortably, with a few drinks in his system. It was a version of him that you hadn’t met before, and you liked it.

“How is he?” Joel asked, nodding in Cal’s direction. You looked over to see him and Luisa chatting together, their foreheads knocking together as they leaned into one another. You smiled.

“He’s good. Fitting in like no one’s business,” you snorted, shaking your head in a sort of wonderment. “Doesn’t surprise me though. People always liked Cal, everywhere we went.”

“And they didn’t like you?” His tone was disbelieving. A prickling heat tickled across your face, and you knew he was staring.

“Not that they didn’t like me, I’m just…” you trailed off, trying to choose your words carefully. “More of an acquired taste, I suppose.”

“An acquired taste.” He repeated gruffly, and made a scoffing noise from deep in his throat.

“Ah, you know what I mean.”

“I don’t think I do.”

“Well, even then, I suppose the saying goes... about acquired tastes getting better with age… or something like that.” You looked at him out of the corner of your eye and relished in seeing his large frame shaking with silent laughter.

“We can agree to disagree on this one, but I’m happy to let you chop together sayings to fit your idea of not being likable.”

You stared at him a little longer, enjoying the tight-lipped smile on his face. Gaze locked onto his mouth, your brain suddenly filled with ideas about his lips, and what they would feel like. He was so rough, so brawny, but you liked to imagine they’d be soft, like he was now that you had gotten to know him more. His tongue darted out to wet his lower lip and your eyes drifted up, to find he’d caught you staring. Joel exhaled heavily and reached up to scratch at the little scar on the bridge of his nose. You wondered how he’d gotten it.

You’d noticed plenty of scars along his arms, during the warmer months in Jackson. It seemed he had a long history of violence that you knew nothing about, but you certainly wasn’t surprised by it. Even as you grew closer to him, and to Ellie, nothing was ever revealed about how they came together, or what led them to Jackson. It almost made you want to keep your own history private, until he shared more with you. But then he smiled at you, and your heart did that skipping a beat thing it was always doing these days around him, and your defences would lower again.

Across the fire, your attention was caught by the sound of Luisa laughing loudly at something Cal whispered to her. You and Joel watched them silently for a moment, both entranced by the giggling couple across the field.

Joel raked a hand through his hair and cleared his throat quietly. “You and Cal…”

“Me and Cal what?” you prompted.

“You two, did anything ever…” he seemed to hesitate; his eyes boring into the dirt in front of you while he struggled to articulate himself. It was bizarre to see such a strong man seem so unsure. “You never… anything more than friendship?”

A beat of silence. you wondered how much to tell him. Certain memories of you and Cal ran through your mind and you shivered a little. It had been a long few years since you’d thought about that time in your lives.

“It’s complicated,” you spoke slowly, not wanting to lie to Joel. “We were alone for so long. Sometimes there would be other people with us while we travelled around, or when we lived in other settlements, but…”

“But they were temporary?”

“Temporary,” you nodded. The band were playing an upbeat song, and you were momentarily distracted by the contrast between the group of people lively dancing a few metres away, and you and Joel sitting there talking in hushed tones.  

“They would get themselves killed, or infected, or…” you paused, feeling your eyebrow twitch at the thought of some of you and Cal’s past acquaintances. Of one in particular, whom you was still plagued with visions of while asleep.

Embers from the fire were floating through the foggy air, and you inhaled a deep breathe, watching as they disappeared into the night sky. Little pieces of crackling sparks, shooting up and evaporating. The smoke from the fire burned your eyes and throat. Don’t think about it.

“Or…” he pressed. He might as well have poked you with a stick to bring your attention back to the conversation; his curiosity rolling off him in waves. Joel with a few drinks in him proved far nosier than sober Joel. 

Your gaze stayed on the sky. “Or prove themselves untrustworthy.”

Joel was smart enough to read between the lines, and not push any further on the matter. You observed fondly that when you were speaking to him, Joel angled his head ever so slightly to have his left ear closer to you. Upon noticing, you remembered it was true that whenever he’d approached you in the past few weeks, he’d position himself on your right side. You figured the hearing on his right side was a little shoddy. 

For a few moments you just sat and watched the people around you. Some of the families started to leave, herding little ones away from the band, and in the direction of town.

“So?” Joel prompted, with a deep wrinkle in his forehead that let you know he wasn’t happy about having to ask again.

“You really want to know?”

You couldn’t read the expression on his face. He fiddled with the mug in his hands and nodded once.  You didn’t like the way he’d gone from relaxed and boozy, back to his regular grouchy countenance.

Your tongue clicked against the roof of your mouth in acquiescence.

“We’d been friends for twenty years before it, and we’ve been friends for a decade after it. It happened twice, or… or maybe three times. It gets a bit hazy in my memory. We figured we knew each other so well, and after so many years alone, it had started to seem like there would never be anyone else to…” you trailed off, uncertain of how much to reveal. Joel waited.

“As much as we wished it was more it just wasn’t. It never could be.” It was impossible not to picture those times, as you talked about them. Your stomach rolled remembering the way you and Cal had stood awkwardly together, skimming stones over a lake you’d stumbled across, agreeing to never do it again. It was one of the worst moments of your friendship; both fearing you were about to break your only friend’s heart. “We love each other but… there’s a barrier there, in our heads. All the memories of us as kids, of playing soccer on the weekend with him and his brothers, of watching each other grow up and become the people we were going to be…” You rubbed the itchy corner of your eye with grimy fingers, taking a breath. Joel’s eyes flicked over to see Cal and Luisa standing up, and the pair began walking away from the bonfire hand in hand.

“When we fucked, the first time, it was just a tension release, I suppose.”

Joel flinched beside you, his shoulders tenser than they had been a moment before. A twinge of regret tickled in your chest, for using such matter-of-fact language. You weren’t trying to push him away, but it felt sneaky if you were to lie about your past with Cal. There was no denying what had happened; not if you wanted Joel to know you, truly. It was a part of your story, and neither of you could afford to be ashamed of it. 

“And after that, we tried again but it just… didn’t work. We couldn’t be together that way, as much as we longed for the connection. He may as well be my brother. Thankfully, the sibling sentiment was mutual.”

You turned to watch Joel’s face. His stoic expression was hard to read, but the wrinkles around his mouth were made prominent by how he clenched his jaw, and you could sense an undercurrent of thoughts and emotions clearly rolling under his skin. Yet he stayed silent, brooding. Jealous? You shook the invasive thought off. No.

“I don’t say it lightly, that I would die for Cal,” you said quietly, your voice as firm and wary as the day you arrived in Jackson, eyes glancing away for a moment to watch Cal’s back as he disappeared out of the field. “Him being here, happy and safe… it’s all I’ve ever wanted for him.”

Silence swelled around you, heavy with the weight of all that you had revealed. Goosebumps rippled over your skin as the band started to play a song you recognised. One from before outbreak day, that your mother used to sing to you on the settlement, in those early years after everything changed. If Joel noticed your demeanour shift, you didn’t care, letting your eyes fall closed as you gently sang along to the opening of the old song.

Oh, Kentucky, I miss you

Your night sky, black and tired

But wild like a live wire

The horse is never leaving the pond on its own

You got to open the gate and let it loose to run

Faster than the clouds on a windblown dawn Faster than you left me alone to long

You trailed off slowly and reached up to wipe a stray tear from your cheek. An image of your mother’s face flashed through your memory, but you shoved it down, unsure if it was even an accurate idea of what she had looked like. After a decade and a half without her, you couldn’t be sure your memories were trustworthy.  

“And what do you want now?” Joel finally spoke, his voice hoarse. “Now that he’s happy, and safe. What do you want?”

“For myself?” you whispered, voice thick with emotion. “I haven’t let myself want anything in a long time now. There’s no use; nothing good comes from it.”

Your cheeks were warm and red, and little bits of ash were dotted through your hair. Joel’s mug had been abandoned to the ground, and his fingers fiddled together in his lap, the way they always did when he was trying his best to actively listen. He was present, and this way his way of showing it. No messing around, no object or weapon in his hands to put a barrier between himself and another person. Just his hands, scratching and tracing each other, to calm himself. It made your heart beat out of time for a second, whenever you noticed him doing it. Until one of his hands lifted and held in the air for a second, and then he reached over to place it gently on your knee. Your heart stuttered as he gave it a gentle squeeze, and left it to rest there.

“I felt the same way for a long time. Thought there was no use in hoping, or wanting anything good, or feeling like I deserved to be happy.”

“And now?” you asked, staring down at his large hand on you. You wished you had the confidence to reach down and take it in your own. “Do you still feel like that?”

His thumb made one slow stroking movement along your knee, making the skin underneath your jeans tingle sharply.

“Jackson changed things. Ellie… Ellie changed things. And…” He paused, and his forehead finally relaxed. You pursed your chapped lips and didn’t look away from him, urging him to continue. “Jackson continues to change things.” Is all he said.

And it’s all he needed to. You understood. 

Take me to the track, I want to lose all my cash

This beating in my chest is all I need to stash

And why shouldn’t I?

Cause when I’m alone

We’re still looking at the same moon

Under the night

Are we two people never getting together?

I will follow your roads

As wide as the air, as wild as a storm.

part two

[nathanielzalexandria]

This a quick one-off that I thought of today.

As desirable and desired Steve Harrington was, even at the height of his reign, Steve has never once received a Valentine's present. He's given many, helped plan some and delivered others but he has never received one, not even anonymously.

That is until sophomore year when a letter flew out of his locker that Valentine. He looked around seeing only a freshman taking furtive glances at him (he thinks her name is Nancy or Nancine) so he assumed it was from her. He doesn't even consider it to be a love note until he gets home and reads the beautiful poetry in it.

It becomes important to him; he reads it over constantly and slowly but surely falls in love with the writer, who he believes is Nancy, which prompts him to ask her out in the summer.

When he gets with Nancy, she's a bit different than the mooning haphazard romantic the poem implied, but Nancy seems like a private affection kind of person, but if she is capable of writing like that it means that deep down she feels like that.

Then the Upside Down happens and Barb dies and Steve makes some bad choices and things become strained between them and eventually break his senior year at the Halloween party and dissolves during their next encounter with the upside down.

Once he returns from the hospital, he's tempted to shred the note with its mocking sentiment of his bullshit ruining feelings like that but instead puts it's away to later stick on his mirror to remind him of a time he was liked/loved like that.

Fast forward to sometime after Vecna and the elders of the party are watching Eddie perform his new song and the chorus is word for word and line by line of the letter stuck on his bathroom mirror in his song. It strikes him as odd and he turns to Nancy jokingly,

"Have you started writing for Eddie."

She pushes his arm lightly and says, "Steve you know I suck at any type of creative writing especially rhyming. The last time I tried writing a poem was in middle school. And it was nothing like that."

Suddenly, one of the pillars that held up his world shifted. Nancy never wrote that letter, which means the only Valentine's present he has ever received in life was written by someone else who he has been pining for ever since receiving it. So how did it end up in Eddie's song.

"That was our newest song. I wrote it about 4 years back for Valentine's and I've finally decided to perform it. Hope you enjoyed it."

That same pillar shifted again and snapped into a different space.

Eddie gave him his first Valentine's gift and he has been in love with him since then.

And to be quite honest, Steve does not mind being in love with Eddie Munson.

[quill-pen]

Bless This Woman

So, @rom-e-o presented me, out of the blue and in the middle of the night, with this gorgeous piece of fan art😍😍😍:

And it inspired a wholesome and sweet little ficlet, surprise, surprise.

Btw: Yes, my Ebenezer grows his hair out long, if this is the first encounter with my work you've had. Also, in future, I plan to try and publish my Scrooge story, and Romey and I are kind of in cahoots with that; so we are trying out some slightly different character designs for Scrooge. That Netflix look is so specific, that I don't want to risk getting sued. This hairstyle is one we've decided on for him, as opposed to his lovely swoop.

It was a request Ebenezer had never been asked before; one he never thought to encounter. He wasn't what anyone would particularly call a "praying man", even now after he'd turned his life around for the good. But he'd be damned if he wouldn't become one: Because how could he possibly deny a woman as sweet and lovely as his Bess when she shyly asked him if he would pray over her that night before bed?

"Pray over you?" Ebenezer asked. Not in a condescending way, but certainly in a slightly confused way. He'd never heard that phrase for it before. Praying for someone, yes, but over someone? That was new to him.

Bess stood before him in her gauzy summer nightgown, the neckline slipped tantalizingly down to expose one speckled shoulder. She looked a little embarrassed, a slightly rosy tint in her cheeks making her freckles pop sharply--something her husband adored. "I-I know it sounds silly," she commented with a small, beseeching smile. She ducked her head and lowered her gaze in instinctive supplication, as her hands fiddling together at her waist. "But it's... it's something George used to do with Mama every night when he was home and... well... it's kind of something I've always hoped the man I love would do for me, too."

She looked back up at him, trying to judge his reaction to it. "Y-You don't have to if you don't want to," she assured him in a bit of a rush. "I just thought I'd ask. Doesn't hurt to ask, right?" She bit her bottom lip, hoping she hadn't just made herself look foolish in her husband's eyes.

She hadn't. And as far as Ebenezer was concerned, she never could.

Smiling softly at the woman, the Englishman stood from his seat beside the small fire, closing and placing his journal upon the mantelshelf as he did. Then he approached his wife, opening his arms to her. "It doesn't sound silly," he murmured softly, taking her into his embrace. He snuggled the American close, nuzzling into her thick, inky curls and kissing her crown. A satisfied purr nearly rumbled from his chest as Bess folded him into her arms and snuffled into the soft fabric of his nightshirt over his heart. "And, no, it never hurts to ask. I'd be happy to pray over you."

Bess looked up at him, eyes sparkling with happiness? "You would?" she asked, sounding rather relieved. "Truly?"

Her husband nodded as he kissed her hairline. "Of course." He touched his brow to hers and gave her a sheepish smile. "You might have to tell me how," he muttered. "I've never prayed over someone. Come to think, I can't recall when I last prayed for someone either. Not really. Not like you would in church."

Bess giggled as she nudged her nose along his. "This isn't exactly like that," she assured him. "It's not a big production full of show-boating piety the Bishop likes to make. This is more genuine and from the heart."

"I'm not even sure I know how to pray, to tell you the truth."

"George always told me that prayer is just talking to God. And the best way to talk to God is to talk to him as though He were a good friend."

He knew that was true. Still, Ebenezer felt a little out of his depth as he watched his beloved sink to her knees on the plush rug beneath their bed. Regardless, he knelt beside her. "H-How did George used to do this?"

Snorting, Bess gently pulled out of Ebenezer's embrace. She grabbed his hand and pulled him after her as she moved towards their marital bed. "Don't worry, I won't judge," she stated with a smirk and wink over her shoulder.

"I only caught him doing it a few times," Bess answered as she scooted into the man's side, ever desiring to be close as possible. She manages to twine her legs and feet with his. "But the few times I did, he always had his hands on Mama. On her shoulders, around her waist, hugging her--he was always touching her."

"Well, I certainly like the sound of that," Ebenezer remarked. Without a moment's hesitation, he stretched an arm across his wife's shoulders and pulled her close again. He pressed his lips to her brow. "Mmm, I love you," he murmured, the sentiment leaving him automatically.

Bess hummed as she leaned into his touch. "That love you feel--let that be what guides what you say," she quietly instructed.

In many ways, that didn't give Ebenezer a clue as to what to do at all. Yet in many others, it did.

The couple knelt there at their bedside in silence for a moment, the man absently stroking the woman's arms as she pressed into him. His mind, for a moment, felt like a wheel stuck in muddy clay. What should he say? How should he begin? He supposed the best way was just to start.

"Dear Lord, first and foremost, I would like to thank You for the wonderful woman beside me. I'm... not always certain what my convictions are in terms of faith and religion; one thing I do believe with certainty, however, is that You have placed my wonderful Bess beside me."

Bess dared to open her eyes and lift her gaze just enough to see her husband's down-turned face just above hers. She smiled in adoration at the man, marking how his long eyelashes brushed his cheekbones. Somehow, she managed to press a little closer to the man, nudging her head under his chin.

Ebenezer tightened his grip on her. "I come to You now, to pray for my Bess, Lord," he continued on, voice quiet but steady. He still didn't really know what he was doing, but that didn't seem to matter: He was focusing on his adoration for his wife, letting that guide him through what he wanted to say, and it was doing the trick. He was feeling much more confident in every passing moment. And, amazingly enough, even more in love with his mate.

"I pray that You watch over my beloved Bess, Lord. That you take her into Your arms and keep her safe throughout her life. I pray, if she can't find comfort and happiness in this world, that she is able to find it in You. I place her ultimate well-being in You, Lord, for I know there are things that I, as a mere man, cannot do to protect and comfort her."

Bess pressed her face into the open neck of Ebenezer's nightshirt and nuzzled at the hairy swathe of chest bared to her. On instinct she fluttered kisses to over sternum. "Oh, Darling...."

A slight heat bloomed across Ebenezer's face, but he didn't falter. "I ask You to continue to bless this woman with goodness you have granted to be in her life, Lord. And should it ever come to an end, I repay You grant her the strength to overcome challenges, just as You have granted her before. I ask You to continue healing and soothing the wounds and scars of Bess' past, and that You might bring her to realize that she is so much more than them--that they do not define her. I pray that she continues to discover herself in You, oh, Lord, and that she might draw great satisfaction and peace from that.

A lump suddenly formed in the man's throat and tears bit at his closed eyes. "I also pray that-" he cleared his throat as it croaked, "-that You might allow my lovely Bess to remain in my life, Lord. To remain by my side and help me continue to bear the burden of life. She is my greatest strength, my greatest happiness, my Brightness. And I ask with all my heart and soul that she might remain so, Lord. I promise to strive each day to be a better man, to be stronger and more virtuous, and to make this world a better, kinder place if You might allow Bess to remain in my life. I promise to cherish her with my entire being and do my best to care for her and make her happy all the days of my life."

Bess felt something warm and wet drip onto her cheek. Looking up again, she saw a single trickle of tears dripping down Ebenezer's cheek. Moved to wet eyes herself at the sight (her kind, sweet, tenderhearted man), the Yank reached up and gently dried them away. Then she kissed his stubbly chin. "Amen," she whispered. "That was beautiful. Thank you, my dearest moonlight."

Ebenezer gazed down at her with a trembling chuckle. "Not as beautiful at George's though, yes?" he rasped, looking a little shy.

Bess shook her head with a doting smile. "Better," she answered honestly. "Because it's my prayer. And it came from you and your heart. And I'll cherish it and carry it with me, until the day I die."

Genuine relief flooded through the gentleman. Bowing his head, he lifted a hand to his love's face and held her tenderly as he pulled her into a lingering kiss, one she eagerly returned.

"I'll do this again every night if you'll, please, just stay with me forever, Bess," Ebenezer whispered against her lips. His eyes were beseeching as he gazed deeply into hers. "Please."

Bess couldn't help the little smile that curled her lips, nor the little chuckle that left her in response to that promise. "Well, then, you're about to become a praying man, Ebenezer Charles. Because, while I can't speak for our Heavenly Father, I have no intentions of leaving your side. Not ever. Now, please, kiss me again."

And her husband, ever faithful and giving, did just that.