#Me: he's just having a bad day it's alright

[logaenhowlett]

THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD IN HER HANDS - L.H.

Summary: After months of watching you relentlessly try to gain control of your powers, Logan finally takes matters into his own hands.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female Reader

Warnings: Fluff - so much damn fluff, Slight angst, Language

A/N: Suffering from writer's block on a plot-driven angsty Logan fic so I wrote this to focus on something else. Shout out to End by Frank Ocean. Enjoy!

MASTERLIST

“You’ve been going at it for hours.”

His voice makes you pause, shifting your concentration to the man leaning against the door frame. Logan watches as you swing your head down, possibly frustrated by his interruption.

“Professor said I’d get better at this,” You swipe the sweat off your face, grabbing your drenched shirt as it clings to your skin, “It’s been months and I'm nowhere near strong enough.”

He huffs in amusement, he would often catch you in moments like these, tiring yourself hour after hour till you were exhausted enough to finally pass out. It reminds him of his early days at this place. Young and eager to prove himself to everyone here, that he was capable of being good once again.

“Old man doesn’t know what he’s talkin’ about.” A measly attempt to shut down your self-deprecation, he knows nothing will convince you otherwise, that much he learned over the last few times he tried reasoning with you. When you shoot him a questioning glance, he relents, raising his hands up in defense. “Alright. But you’re not doing any good wearing yourself to the bone.”

“I just want to be like Storm and Scott and you.” 

“Well, if that’s the case, the bar ain’t that high.” A teasing grin shining as he approaches you, the annoyed expression on your face does little to stop him. “Come with me.”

“What?”

He chuckles at your confusion, wandering dangerously close into your personal space. “I wanna show you something,” He murmurs.

Flirting isn’t a new concept to him at all. Though you never get used to his attempts, always brushing it off with the assumption that it’s just a game.

“Logan - I need to keep practicing.” You take a few steps back, creating a little distance from his very distracting presence. “It’s the only way I’ll get better at controlling this.”

“Okay.” He drags out, “You can still keep doing this when we come back.”

As you contemplate his request, he knows he has you convinced, a grin tugging on his lips. “Come on. It’ll be fun.”

When he leads you to the mansion's garage, you recall all the times he'd whisked you away from moments of misery and fatigue. He seemed to have this innate ability to know when you're in over your head, too absorbed into whatever you were doing to take a step back and relax. A tinge of embarrassment creeps into your thoughts, feeling bad for him to constantly keep checking in as if you were incapable of knowing your limits. Fuck, I'm a mess. You snap yourself from going down the negative route, shifting your focus to Logan, a chuckle escapes you.

“You know he hates it when you steal his bike, right?”

He swings a leg over, revving the engine. The sound seems to unintentionally comfort you, your mind having subconsciously associated it with him. Despite Scott being the owner of vehicle, he rarely saw it since it was Logan’s choice of transportation. Fucking dickhead, he used to curse up and down, unwillingly giving up after Charles reasoned with him one too many times. You remember the entire ordeal, having to intervene during one of their many childish fights when Scott attempted to blow up Logan’s ass.

“I’ll fill up the tank.”

“No, you won’t.” A short laugh leaves you as you wrap your arms around him.

He flashes a smile, tilting his head back to ensure you’re properly seated. “No, I won’t.”

You hardly pay attention to his driving, instead mindlessly watching the scenery zip past. It wasn't the first time Logan had taken you on a ride. In fact, after the initial fear, you had grown fond of this time you got share with him. A quiet and peaceful journey where you could turn your restless mind off and simply enjoy each other's company. An unspoken vow of trust had always lingered between you two, which was something he cherished more than he could ever express. He smiles softly at the weight of you resting on his back as the breeze encompasses around you.

“How’d you even find this place?” You ask, sliding off the seat as he kicks the stand.

“Used it for shelter during that snowstorm a while ago. The bike gave out on me.”

You hum in response, spinning on your feet to look around. It's an abandoned gas station that had definitely seen better days. Despite all the damage and vandalisation, it was an oddly interesting location, a lake nearby overlooking lush fields. Nothing in Logan's expression gives away his intention of bringing you here. He slowly steps backwards, a hint of a smirk tugging his lips and when he's a decent distance away, “Hit me.”

“What?”

“Use your power, sweetheart. Don’t be scared, you can do it.” It's rather encouraging and not at all akin to his usual cocky tone.

“Logan - what, no!” You exclaim, finding his proposal ridiculous. “I’m not - I can’t even fully control it. What if I hurt you?”

He scoffs, amused you could even suggest such a thing, “Well, you’re gonna have to control it, aren’t ya?” When you make no attempt to try, his gaze softens, “I can take it.”

You take a deep breath, channelling your focus to create a ball of energy between your hands. Despite being small, it hits him with enough force to push him back a few steps. A groan leaves him as he clutches his stomach, you shift to run towards him but he lifts his hand, making you stop.

“Again. Don’t hold back.”

This time you think of Charles, remembering all the lessons and training sessions you've had with him. Where you had always doubted yourself, he had constantly reassured you and your ability to control your gift. The ball of energy grows more between your hands, crackling with intensity. Using all your might, you aim at Logan once again, hitting him square in the chest, thrusting him back several feet, the impact denting the ground in the process. He stands up feeling a bit lightheaded, though that sensation disappears as he flexes his muscles, grateful for his healing factor.

“I did it!” You laugh in surprise, running to him.

His arms immediately wrap around you, slightly lifting you off the ground. “You did it,” He says with a faint smile, taking in your satisfaction.

Caught up in moment of finally making progress, you notice the lack of space between Logan and you. And suddenly, his hands on your waist, his tender expression, it all becomes too much, making you pull back. “You’re insane. That could’ve gone so wrong,” You spit out, trying to relieve some tension.

“I trust you.” He whispers, softly.

Your body seems to be on fire, everything about this begins to overwhelm your senses. With a shaky breath, you try stepping away from his gentle grip.

“Why do you always run from me?” His words still your movements. His eyes can't seem to find yours, instead settling on the charred ground beneath him, "I know… you feel this too.”

“I’m - I don’t…”

“Let me in, sweetheart. I won’t run away.” He approaches you, giving you the space to reject his advances. ”I promise.”

When you don't respond, he hangs his head low, accepting your decision. “Let’s go home,” He mumbles.

As you walk down the hallway to your room, you can't seem to shake the urge to run back to him. You take a moment, hand grasping your doorknob before you spin around. Within seconds of knocking on his door, he swings it open catching your distinct heartbeat on the other side.

“Logan - I just…” The words die on your tongue. Every little feeling you'd held for him comes rushing forward. As he stands there, growing concerned for your wellbeing, all you can think about is kissing him till the air leaves your lungs.

“You okay?”

That's enough for you to slam into him. You grab the collar of his white shirt, pulling him down. Your lips find his own, slowly moving against the soft flesh. It takes him less than a second to comprehend what's happening before he reciprocates your actions.

You tilt your head back, inhaling his comforting scent. He continues peppering kisses on your face, unable to stop once he finally got a taste. “I'm sorry, I was scared. I am scared,” You whisper.

“I know. But I’m here for you. I’m always gonna be here for you.” He murmurs against your lips, “If you let me.”

Your smile sends flutters to his heart. His low chuckle echoes within you as he leans down, capturing your lips with a hunger he'd suppressed for as long as he could remember. When your moan teases his senses, he lifts you with ease, one arm securing your waist and the other gently stroking the underside of your thigh. He lowers you down onto the bed, noting your exhaustion from earlier. Sliding right next to you, he presses a light kiss on your temple, pulling you into his warm embrace. A silent promise that he'll never let you go.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Just One Reason: When We Met

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Lloyd Hansen

masterlist - to be added

Summary: A chance encounter at the sandwich shop doesn't end how you expect.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

As you approach the sandwich shop, another pedestrian comes up from the other side. You open the door and hold it for them, waiting patiently for them to go first. The place isn’t very busy, you can wait an extra turn to get your food. 

The man barely acknowledges you as he enters. You’re used to that. In the city, manners run down the gutters with the rain and litter.  

You follow him inside. As he stomps to the counter, poking his ear in agitation, you stand back in a single-person queue. You check the chalkboard menu for the soups of the day. Oh, cabbage. They make the best cabbage soup you’ve ever had. 

You bounce on your heels as your gaze wanders over the monochrome wall art over the handcrafted wood tables. You open and close the flap of your crossbody purse. Your father always said you flutter like a hummingbird. Never quiet still and a little skittish. 

Behind the glaze of your distraction, the man’s deep snarl breaks through. You blink and lean to see around him. The cashier bats her lashes and puffs out her cheeks, “sorry sir, we discontinued the Mexican wrap, but the chipotle is similar--” 

“I don’t want the fucking chipotle,” he cups his ear and growls as he pushes his head into his hand.  

“They don’t send us the cilantro lime sauce anymore, sir,” the employee explains. “But I could add some peppers--” 

“Can’t you understand me?” He snips. 

“Erm, if you... if you put a bit of cilantro on, it would be close, wouldn’t it?” You ask, cringing as your thoughts spill out without intention. 

The man glares over his shoulder as his cheek pits derisively. He squints and shakes his head. He throws his arms out and faces the cashier again. “Whatever. Give me the damn chipotle with cilantro. I’m starving.” He reaches back for his wallet, “some fucking week...” he mutters. 

He slides the leather wallet above his pocket but it catches and falls from his grasp. He growls and bends to retrieve it. “Another fucking thing...” 

You watch him pick up his wallet and finger his ear again. It seems to cause him pain. The cashier watches helplessly. You feel bad for both of them. It just seems like a miscommunication. 

“Um, excuse me,” you wave two fingers at the cashier. “Can you add a cabbage soup and I’ll for both?” 

The employee blinks and the man snaps up with a scowl. They both stand in silent surprise. He finally shakes his head. “Why would you do that?” His tone makes it sound like an accusation. 

“I don’t know. Seems like you’re having a bad day and I can?” You shrug and cautiously step forward, “can I also get an iced raspberry tea?” 

“Uhhhh, sure,” the employee keys in the items. 

“Sir, did you want a drink?” You twist back to the man as he stands aside with a leery squint. He just shakes his head. 

“Alright, that’s everything. No cookie today,” you dig in your purse. “Debit, please.” 

She hits total and you pay. The receipt juts out of the machine and you step to the side to wait with one last thanks to the cashier. You tuck your card away and slip your phone out as your hands long to fidget. You know the man is staring, you can feel it, but you don’t want to piss him off even more than he already is. 

The lull that follow is torturous. The man’s wrap is up first and you wait for him to take it. He hesitates and you hand it to him. 

“I hope it’s still good,” you say with a smile at his throat. You’re too scared to look him in the eye. 

“You know I have money,” he grits. 

“Oh, no, that’s not... it isn’t... just a nice thing. Like, maybe one day you can pay it forward. I don’t know,” you rock sheepishly and look behind the counter. 

He nods and backs up. The cashier puts your soup up and your iced tea. You thank her and take your food.  

“Have a good one, sir.” 

You shuffle away to the table in the corner. You sit, self-conscious as the man lingers. Is he mad? You don’t think you were rude. 

The man sighs and goes up to the counter, “hey, look, I’m... sorry,” his words are stiff as if he could choke on them. “Thanks for the wrap.” 

“Oh, uh, okay, sir,” the cashier sounds shocked. “Um, enjoy.” 

You stir the soup and blow away the steam. As you scoop up a spoonful, the man approaches. You look at the velvet toes of his loafers then follow them up. He sits without invitation. 

You stare at him and lower your spoon. 

“Thanks for the wrap,” he says. “I was being a—jerk.” The last word is stunted as if he meant to say something else. “Mind if I eat with you?” 

You look around. The place is empty. You shrug. 

“Sure,” you grab the iced tea and swirl the ice. “Be nice to have company, I guess.” 

He hums and shifts in the chair. He peels away the wrapper and you sip from the straw. You put the cup down and stare into your soup. Your eyes flick up again and you find him staring. 

“Lloyd,” he offers his hand across the table, “but you can just call me that jackass who yells at people.” 

You give your name in return, his change in tone soothing your nerves. 

“You been here before?” He asks. 

“Once in a while,” you say. “When I can afford it. It’s a special treat. They have good soup.” 

He nods and looks down at the wrap, “yeah, food is pretty decent.” He lifts the wrap but doesn’t bite into it. He hovers it before him. “You know, you didn’t have to be nice to me.” 

“You never know what other people are going through. Sometimes, they just need some kindness,” you say. “And if they’re just a butthole, well, you’re not going to change that by matching their energy.” 

His brows arch, and he tilt his head. He sucks in his cheeks thoughtfully, “well, I think I’m just a butthole, as you put it. Thanks for giving me a chance.” 

You don’t know what to say. It’s awkward. You usually eat alone. You don’t have anyone to eat with, not since dad passed. Still, not all change is bad, is it? You’ve already faced the worst kind of change. 

You lean forward and take a bite of your soup. Sometimes making someone’s day easier makes your own a little brighter. As of late, none of them have been more than gloomy. 

[watermelonlovershigh]

A Trip to the ER {part. 16} (housemate!harry series)

Aftercare {part. 15} (housemate!harry series) (SMUT)

AN: this took me so long to write. one because i didn't even know what to write for this chapter for a while until one day this idea came to me and i thought it would be a perfect filler chapter between all the smutty chapters. i hope you enjoy. make sure to leave your feedback and feel free to send in your ideas.

This story contains: mentions of sex (sexual acts), crying, distress, comfort, vulnerability, mentions of vomit, mild angst, fluff

{ housemate!harry - boyfriendrry - soft!harry - teacher!harry - au!harry }

word count- 3,118

You accidently fall in the shower and end up breaking your foot, which results in Harry having to leave work early and come home to help you get ready for a trip to the ER.

This was not how you envisioned your week going. It was supposed to be the week you went on a date with Harry and he makes you wear those vibrating panties you purchased on Amazon. Teasing and edging you all night until you get home where he can fuck you senseless. But that all changed when you had an accident that landed you in the emergency room.

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

It's Monday morning, and you ultimately decided to leave the comfort of your bed. Harry left for work roughly an hour earlier, and you needed to get up to start the work you do from your laptop. However, after the activities you and Harry did the night before, the idea of a shower was quite inviting first and foremost.

While your shower was heating up, you stand at the sink and brush your teeth. Once your mouth is feeling and smelling fresh, you hop in the shower and begin your normal shower routine. Everything's going smoothly until your foot slips on a glob of shampoo you dropped a minute prior, causing your whole body to fall down.

Immediately, you feel a sharp pain radiating from your ankle to your toes on your right foot. Tears well up in your eyes as you attempt to stand, only to realize that's impossible for you to do. You can't put any weight on your foot. Great, you've likely fractured your foot, and in the shower, no less. How embarrassing.

Sitting on the shower floor, you're overwhelmed with pain and tears, praying that the next seven hours will not stretch on until Harry returns. As you look to your left, just outside the shower curtain, you notice your phone lying on the closed toilet seat. A sense of gratitude fills you. Your phone is conveniently within reach. Once you turn off the shower, you gather your strength to stretch your arm out and grasp your phone.

With wet hands and tear stricken cheeks, you dial Harry's number. You truly hate to bother him at work but this is sort of an emergency. It rings approximately three times before you hear a quiet, "Hello." You're sure if he wasn't in class he would have said 'hello baby', but opted not to say that in front of his students.

"Harry," you cry helplessly over the phone, "I..... I'm sorry.... to bother..... you. But, but, I fell.....in the shower and, and my foot. I think it's broke. It hurts so bad." As soon as Harry hears the real distress in your voice, he steps out in the hallway to have more privacy.

"Baby, slow down f'me. You fell in the shower?"

You nod but realize he can't see you, so you mutter in a weak voice, "Yeah."

With his phone to his ear, Harry reassures you in the most calming voice he can muster in this moment of internal panic for your wellbeing, "S' gonna be okay, baby. Gimme twenty minutes and I'll be home. Think you'll be okay until I get there? If not, you should call 999 f'me."

Still crying, you answer back, "I'll....I'll wait for you. It just hurrrts."

"I know, baby. I'll be there as soon as possible."

The call ends and Harry steps inside his classroom to tell his students, "Class, v' got to run to the office for a second, be on your best behavior, alright." All twenty-five students nod their heads and continue on with their worksheets. Harry books it down the hall until he reaches the schools office.

"Mr. Styles, everything alright?" the older secretary asks as a frantic Harry bursts through the double doors.

"Um, actually, is there anyone who can watch my class for the rest of the day? M' girlfriend is in a bit of an emergency and I need to leave school."

The secretary gives Harry an apologetic look and assures, "I'm sure we can find someone. Go gather your things and I'll send someone down to your classroom."

With relief, Harry replies, "Thank you so much, Mrs. Mabel." He marches back down to his classroom and once inside, hurries to pack all of his things that he normally takes home each day.

"Mr. Styles," one of Harry's students begin curiously, "you're leaving?"

Taking a brief pause, he raises his gaze to address the class, explaining the situation. "M' girlfriend is experiencing an emergency, and I need to leave for the rest of the day. A staff member will be comin' to supervise you until school ends. I expect you all to behave appropriately in their presence, understood?" The students nod in acknowledgment, though some show their disappointment at the fact he has a girlfriend. Like their prepubescent selves had a chance with their hot, much older teacher anyways. He rarely talks about his private life with them because they are still very much kids, so it's understandable that they didn't even know he has a girlfriend.

As Harry steps out the classroom with his satchel slung over his shoulder and an empty coffee cup in hand, a member of office staff arrives to take over the class for the day. He hurriedly approaches his car, and the moment he's inside and starts the engine, he speeds off in the direction of his home. The knowledge that you're suffering alone fills his stomach with nausea and his chest with worry.

He manages to reach home in half the time it typically requires, clearly driving above the speed limit. When he nears his street, Harry calls you to notify you that he's almost there. "Harry......" he hears you cry through the phone and it's breaking his heart.

"M' here, m'love. Pullin' in our driveway now."

With a voice hoarse from your sobbing, you manage to whisper a quiet, "Okay," before hanging up the phone. Just then, the front door opens and you hear hurried footsteps making their way to the bathroom where you are. Harry, not pausing to knock as he occasionally would out of respect, enters without hesitation to assist you. The moment you catch sight of your boyfriend, you're engulfed by another surge of tears—tears of relief that he's actually here, tears of embarrassment over this entire ordeal, and tears resulting from the actual pain in your foot.

As soon as Harry catches sight of you, his eyes become misty with his own tears. He's pained to see you in such distress. He rushes over to the tub to see exactly the situation he's dealing with. He first notices you're soaked, likely due to your inability to grab your towel, and unclothed, clearly from your recent shower. He takes your towel that's hanging up beside the shower and kneels down beside you. "Shhh, everythin' will be alright. M' gonna take you to hospital. You'll be okay."

He drapes the towel over your shoulders to provide you with warmth and then rises to his feet while lifting you. Harry gently scoops you up in his arms bridal style before placing you on the closed toilet seat. "It hurts, ouch, ouch," you cry when your foot lightly touches the floor.

Once you're comfortably seated on the toilet, Harry initiates the drying process to prepare you for clothes. He positions himself beside you and gently runs a towel through your dripping hair. Luckily, you had rinsed all the soap out prior to your fall. He then kneels down in front of you and continues to dry your body. When he reaches your injured foot, he opts to not drying it, recognizing that it will air dry on its own, eventually. The swelling in your foot is quite pronounced, indicating how serious your fall was, which encourages him to move quickly in getting you the help you require.

"Alright, all dry. Do you want me to carry you to your bedroom to get dressed? Or do you want me to bring your clothes in here?"

You respond softly, "In here." Following your words, Harry steps away to fetch you a set of clothes, leaving you feeling particularly exposed while seated on the closed toilet. Although you're aware that Harry's your boyfriend now and you've witnessed his vulnerability on numerous occasions throughout your relationship, even recalling a time when he saw you in a vulnerable state before you became an official couple, when your period caused you such distress. However, him coming to your aid while you're naked after injuring your foot in the shower is quite embarrassing at present, though you're certain that in the years to come, you'll find humor in this incident.

A minute later, a distressed Harry comes in with clothes for you to wear. He places them by the sink and reaches for your bra first, but you stop him. "No bra, we're just going to the hospital. Plus, I'm already in pain and I don't want to add to that."

"Understood, no bra then." He hangs your bra on the hook located behind the bathroom door for your convenience the next time it's needed, and then retrieves your shirt. This shirt is one of his t-shirts that you've made your own. Despite the urgency of getting you to the hospital, he takes his time to assist you in dressing. With care, Harry places the shirt over your head and helps you maneuver your arms through the sleeves. He then kneels down to pull your panties up your legs until they're positioned mid-thigh. He selected a pair of shorts, believing they would be the most practical choice for your injured foot, and you appreciate his thoughtful approach.

Harry attentively helps you rise on your good foot, taking hold of the waistbands of your underwear and shorts to pull them up until they provide full coverage over your bottom. Him doing this evokes the feeling of being a small child that's having help getting dressed by a parent. Once you're seated again and fully dressed, minus shoes, Harry verifies that he has his keys and both of your phones in his pockets before lifting you into his arms once more to carry you to his car. As he exits the bathroom, he ensures that your potentially broken foot doesn't strike the doorframe.

Right as Harry steps outside with you cradled in his hold, your arms looped around his neck, you moan, "I feel sick."

Harry stops dead in his tracks to question, "Are you gonna throw up?" If you were, he'd much prefer you to puke outside in the grass before you got in his car.

"I don't knowww. It just really hurts, H.... The pain is making me nauseous." He chooses to help you into his vehicle anyways, ensuring that your injured foot remains undisturbed as he helps fasten your seatbelt. He then hurries to the driver's seat to begin the journey.

Before departing for the hospital though, Harry opens the glove compartment and retrieves a hospital-grade vomit bag, commonly referred to as an emesis bag. Due to his previous experiences with motion sickness and passengers with motion sickness, as well as drunk friends, he keeps a supply of these bags for emergency situations.

Harry hands you the blue barf bag and says softly, "If you feel like you're gonna be sick, use this alright." You take it from him and he speeds off in the direction of the closest hospital.

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

Thankfully, you reach the hospital without getting sick, despite feeling queasy during the entire trip due to the pain in your foot. Harry parks the car near the emergency entrance and swiftly enters the building to obtain a wheelchair. He emerges quickly with the wheelchair and goes around his vehicle to opens your door, followed by helping you sit inside the wheelchair and pushes you towards the entrance.

Upon entering the Emergency Room, Harry approaches the receptionist and explains your circumstances. She provides him with the necessary paperwork and informs him of the estimated waiting time. Fortunately, the wait is shorter than you anticipated it would be for an ER to have.

Because you're in a considerable amount of pain and unable to concentrate, Harry takes the initiative to fill out the papers himself, although he does ask you a few questions that he's not 100% certain on. You just sit beside him in your wheelchair, clutching the emesis bag, trying not to get sick in front of the few people also sat and waiting to be seen for their injuries and illnesses.

After completing and submitting the required paperwork, you find yourself waiting for an agonizing forty-five minutes until a nurse calls you into room number four. Harry helps by pushing your wheelchair into the room, where the nurse begins to take your vitals and poses relevant questions to determine the cause of your injury. "I observe that your foot seems to be a bit swollen. Can you tell me how you injured it today?"

Breathing deeply through the pain, you respond, "I was... taking a shower. I must have slipped on some shampoo that had collected on the tub floor. I didn't hear a crack or anything, but the pain is unbearable. I think it's broken. I can't apply any weight to it."

The nurse listens closely before glancing up at Harry. "And you are?" she directs at him.

"Oh, um, m' Harry. Y/n's boyfriend. We also live together. But um, I was at work when this happened. She called me at the school where I teach, and was cryin' and distraught, tellin' me she fell in the shower and asked me to come home. Which, of course I did. Then helped her change and brought her here."

"Okay, well let's get some x-rays of your foot and from there we'll determine what needs to be done next."

You and Harry spend an additional ten minutes in room four of the emergency room before the nurse arrives back to escort you to the radiology department for an x-ray of your foot. The entire time, Harry remains by your side. It's evident that he's making an effort to appear strong for your benefit, yet it's clear that he's quite shaken up by the situation. His reaction is entirely reasonable; if you were to receive a call from Harry saying he had been involved in an accident, regardless of its severity, you would likely feel just as distressed, if not more so.

Once you finish getting the x-ray, you're placed back in room four to wait for an actual doctor to show up with the x-ray's results. "Harry, why aren't the going faster? We've been here forever. I'm in so much pain!" you groan with your head leaning on Harry's shoulders as he stands beside the tall bed that's wrapped in white paper, which you're currently laying on.

"I know, baby. M' sure they're goin' as fast as they can. There's a lot of people with emergencies in London." You whine at his words because they don't make you feel any better. Luckily, the next thing you know, a doctor knocks on the door and steps inside with photocopies of the x-rays of your foot.

"Ah, Ms, Y/L/N, how are we today?" Dr. Smitts questions as he comes in the room cheerfully.

Giving him a moody look, you rebuttal, "I'm in the emergency room. How do you think my day's going?!? Just tell me if my foot is broken or not!" Dr. Smitts and even Harry are taken back by your biting tone, though they both understand you're in tons of pain, which explains your sour mood.

"Alright, Ms. Y/L/N, from looking at your x-rays today, it looks like you did fracture your fifth metatarsal bone. The good news is, it looks to be a clean break, so no surgery is needed. The bad news is, you'll need to wear a cast for six to eight weeks for it to heal correctly."

Although you're unhappy about the prospect of wearing a cast for two months, you're grateful to have received a clear diagnosis of your injury. The doctor takes you to another room, where he carefully places the cast on, with Harry present for support of course. You select a black cast to ensure it wouldn't draw too much attention.

When the cast is secured around your foot and lower leg, the doctor prescribes you pain medication for the first few days to help manage your discomfort. He makes sure to ask if there's any history of addiction in your family, to which you reply with, "No." Nonetheless, he cautions you to use the medication sparingly and only when absolutely necessary.

(^ photo not mine!!)

The hospital provides you with a set of crutches, yet allows you to use a wheelchair until you reach Harry's vehicle. Harry assists you in getting inside, carefully positioning the crutches on the back seat, and then proceeds to drive to the pharmacy to collect your medication.

On the drive to the pharmacy, you speak up, "This sucks! How am I gonna do anything for myself. Oh God, even worse, how are we gonna have sex."

Harry glances over to see you actually have tears in your eyes and laughs. "Y/n, you just broke your foot and your first thought is how we're gonna have sex?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, I'm sure I'll still get horny but you won't be able to fuck me with the ginormous cast on my foot and leg. Oh my God, what are we gonna do. I guess I can always use one of my vibrators to rub one out. Or..."

Harry interrupts you, "There's still options, baby. I can always finger you. Or eat you out. I love doin' that for you. We don't always have to have intercourse to be intimate."

Looking over as he drives, you fight back, "Yeah, but what about you? You'll get hard sometimes and.... and, we won't be able to have sex."

"Y/n, you didn't break your hand or your mouth did you?" His words shut you up real quick, realizing he's right. You could always use your hands or mouth to pleasure him while your foot is healing.

The remainder of the car ride is silent, besides your low groans from the pain that's still present. When you arrive at the pharmacy, Harry goes inside to pick up your prescription and purchases you a bottle of water so you can take a pill in the car.

Upon his return to the vehicle, you swiftly open the bottle of pills, extract one, and place it in your mouth, hoping to alleviate your pain, even if only temporarily. As Harry drives back home, your thoughts are consumed by your exhaustion of today's events and the apprehension you feel regarding the recovery period for your foot.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(if you want to be apart of my new tag list, let me know right here !! )

tag list: @swiftmendeshoran // @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite // @hsonlyangelxo // @lunabai // @ppleasingg // @harryscherrysugar

______________

My Masterlist Masterpost

[devil-in-hiding]

John loves his boys, and he loves you. He loves being a provider, he loves taking care of his girl and boyfriends. He’d do absolutely anything for them, he’d go to hell and back if he had too. But sometimes it does get a bit exhausting. Always being the one to keep the others in line, always giving them punishments or pleasure. Don’t get him wrong, he does love his role in the polycule, but sometimes he just wants to be the bottom for a change. He wants to be the one who all the attentions on, who everyone’s working to pleasure, sometimes he wants to give up his control. 

But he feels bad asking his partners for that. He can’t exactly explain why, but he does. So he shoves that urge deep down, denying himself of it so he can instead focus on the needs of his lovers. 

They can all tell of course. They can see the change in his demeanour, the slight shift in his tone. They can feel how his touch on them is less commanding and more needy, the way he speaks to them is less final more pleading. And one night, after a long day, they notice he’s especially like this. So the four of you decide it’s time you all take care of him for a change.

He’s sitting on the porch, cigar in one hand a glass of whiskey in the other. He looks out towards the vast forest surrounding the farm, listening to the quite sounds of the crickets and birds. You approach him first, sitting down next to him on the steps of the porch and placing a soft hand on his forearm.

“Hey sweet boy, how you doing hmm?” You ask him quietly, smiling up at him.

Even just the slightest touch from you is sending the blood straight to his cock, but he tries to act normal as he clears his throat, “‘m good love, what’s on your mind?”

Simon’s the next to come out, sitting on the other side of John and placing a firm hand on his thigh, “Ya sure yer doin’ alright sir?” He asks gruffly, causing the older man’s attention to fall all on him.

“Course I’m fine, what’s this all ‘bout-?”

Before he can finish speaking Kyle joins you three. He plops down right behind John, putting his arms around the man’s shoulders and leaning in to kiss the bank of his neck.

“Y’seem stressed love. We just wanna make you feel better.” Kyle whispers softly against him. And as he speaks you and Simon both tighten the grips you have on him, stroking his skin gently.

“Ya do so much for us, s’only fair we return the favour.” Johnny says cheerfully as he comes outside, forcing his way into Johns lap. 

“Come on sweetheart, let’s go inside, let’s us take care of you tonight.” You say softly to him, a sweet smile on your face.

And all John can bring himself to do is nod his head, completely at a loss for words. Simon takes the cigar from his hand, putting it out in the ashtray as Johnny takes the whiskey and shoots it back before standing up. You all gently coerce John to his feet, and lead him back inside to your shared bedroom. 

When you get through the door, Simon gently pushes John down, forcing him to sit on the bed. The remaining three of you all round the bed, crawling up to the mattress to surround him.

“So, here’s how this is going to work okay honey?” You coo softly in his ear, your hands wandering around his body, “Simon’s going to fuck you. He’s going to come deep inside your ass, as you watch me play with Johnny. Then Kyle’s going to have his turn with you, he’s going to use Simon’s cum as lube, as he fucks your sore hole, and I force Johnnys head down onto your cock. And as he’s choking on you, and Kyle’s pounding himself into you, Simon’s going get me all stretched out for you. And after you’ve come down Johnny’s throat, and Kyle’s filled you up, you’re going to sit on my face. I’m going eat their cum out of you, and when you’re finally all empty, then you’re going to be allowed to fuck me. And maybe, if you’re extra good, Johnny will fuck you too. Does that sound good?”

The older man is at a complete loss for words. He’s staring at you, open mouthed and dumbfounded expression on his face. He tries to speak, but he can’t, so instead he just nods, a desperate moan making its way up his throat. “Please…”

-🫧

BABE YOU ARE DENYING THE PEOPLE YOUR AMAZING MIND

YOU WOULD BE SO LOVED

[nova-is-a-writer-now]

Hidden embers

Chapter 6

Chapter summary: They say drunken words are sober thoughts, and Joel is about to hear all about yours.

A/N: Hello hello, HE wednesday is back!!! Im so excited about this chapter, it might be the longest one so far. I wanted to wait until i had chapter 7 completed before i posted this but I can’t wait any longer for y’all to read this, i appreciate the comments and reposts you guys have been giving me SO MUCH, it fills my heart 🤍 anyways enough yapping, enjoy!!

Warnings: No outbreak AU, no use of y/n, no sarah, Age gap, DBF!Joel, Slow burn, a tiny bit of angst, Alcohol consumption.

Series masterlist

You're halfway down the cereal aisle, arms full of groceries because, as usual, you convinced yourself you didn’t need a basket. Just a few things, you thought—when have you ever had that kind of self-control?

You shift the items in your grasp, trying to keep them from toppling over, when you hear a voice behind you

“Oh, bless your heart, need some help with that?”

You turn to see a blonde girl about your age, her smile warm and her Southern drawl as sweet as honey. She’s holding a basket in one hand and offering you the other

You chuckle, a little relieved. “Please. I thought I could manage, but I clearly overestimated myself.”

“Here, take mine,” she says, handing you her basket. “I’ll grab another.”

Before you can thank her, she’s already grabbed a new basket from nearby, her movements quick and effortless.

“Thanks, you’re a lifesaver,” you say, feeling the weight lift from your arms.

“No trouble at all,” she replies with a bright smile. “I’m Charlotte, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m—”

“—I know who you are,” she cuts in, her smile widening. “Our dads are friends. Your’s always braggin’ ‘bout you.”

You chuckle at that. “Yeah I think he’s mentioned yours too, Bill and Frank, right?”

“That’s them,” she grins. “We live just a few blocks down from your place.” As you both walk down the aisle together, she glances over at you with a curious look. “You just moved back, right? How’re you liking small-town life?”

“I’m… taking it day by day,” you say, half-joking.

“That bad, huh?”

You let out a breathy laugh. “You could say that.”

She gently touches your arm, stopping you in your tracks. “Got any plans this Friday?”

“Not really, why?”

She gives you a grin that could charm the pants off just about anyone. “A few of us are going out. Just some drinks, a few laughs. Maybe a fun night out is what you need.”

You think it over for a moment. Sure, you’ve kept in touch with your college friends, but since moving back, you haven’t really hung out with anyone besides your parents. And, well… Joel.

The thought is enough to convince you. “Yeah, alright. I’m in.”

“Perfect! I’ll swing by and pick you up around seven. You won’t regret it, promise.” She winks and turns down the next aisle, leaving you with a lighter heart and a basket full of groceries.

It took a while, but you finally dug out the perfect black top from the back of your closet. Paired with some flared jeans and a leather jacket slung over your arm, you had yourself a killer outfit.

You hopped down the stairs, hearing the hum of Charlotte’s car idling out front.

“Mom! Dad! I’m heading out now, I’ll be back around midnight!” you call, pulling the jacket on as you reach the bottom step.

Your mom emerges from the kitchen, a towel in her hands, mid-dry. “Heading out where?”

You sigh, already regretting the interaction. “With Charlotte, mom. I told you earlier.”

“Oh, Charlie! She’s a darling. She’s doing the pageant this year, you know? Took a bit of convincing, but she’s a star. I’ve got all my money on her winning. That body, that face—she’s got it in the bag.” Her eyes flick over you then, slowly dragging up and down your own body. “Glad you’re hanging out with her, maybe you’ll pick up a thing or two.”

You’re used to the digs—decades of practice, really—but lately, it’s been harder to brush off. The grip you have on your emotions feels like it’s slipping more every day.

Still, you hold back the biting retort on the tip of your tongue. Not worth starting a third world war over this.

“Goodnight, mom.”

You turn and walk out the door, heading straight for Charlotte’s car, ignoring the sting of her words as best you can.

The car ride there flies by. Charlotte, despite your previous judgment after your mom mentioned her being a pageant girl, is beyond fun. You do karaoke the whole way there, getting to know each other a bit better in between songs. She’s not just sweet but also insanely smart. She’s finishing up nursing school and has her entire future pretty much planned out. You envy her a little for that last part.

Once she parks in front of the bar, she turns to you and says, “You ready to wild out?”

You laugh, nerves bubbling under the surface, trying to play it off. “Always ready to wild out.”

Stepping out of the car, you smooth down your top and follow Charlotte toward the entrance. The place is a little louder than you anticipated, music spilling out into the night air along with bursts of laughter. It’s a small town bar, but it’s packed.

“Come on, let’s get a drink first!” Charlotte grabs your hand, leading you through the crowd with ease, like she’s been here a hundred times before. You feel the warmth of her energy, the way she confidently navigates the room, and you can’t help but feel a little more at ease.

At the bar, Charlotte orders for both of you, flashing the bartender a bright smile as he hands over two drinks. She passes you one. “Here’s to new friends,” she says, raising her glass.

“To new friends,” you echo, clinking your glass with hers before taking a sip. The burn of alcohol feels like the start of something good, a buzz already settling in.

Charlotte leans closer, her voice cutting through the noise. “So… any cute guys on your radar tonight?”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “Not really here for that.”

“Oh, come on, there’s gotta be someone.” She gives you a teasing nudge, but when you hesitate, her eyes narrow in playful suspicion. “Wait. Don’t tell me. You’ve got a guy already?”

Your heart skips a beat at the question, and suddenly, Joel flashes in your mind. You try to shake it off, but Charlotte’s quick. She catches the flicker of emotion on your face, and her smile shifts into something more knowing.

“Oh, girl… you do, don’t you?”

You can’t help the way your face heats up, and you take another long sip of your drink to cover it. “It’s not like that.”

Charlotte leans in, her smile turning mischievous. “Uh-huh. Sure it isn’t. Spill—who’s the lucky guy?”

“It’s complicated,” you mutter, feeling a little ridiculous. You came out tonight to get away from these thoughts, not drown in them.

“Complicated usually means interesting,” she says, taking a sip from her own glass. “Is it someone I’d know?”

You hesitate. The thought of saying Joel’s name out loud feels… wrong, somehow. Like it’ll make everything you’ve been wrestling with real, something you can’t just shove aside like you’ve been trying to. You shift in your seat, tapping your fingers against the cool glass.

“Maybe,” you finally admit, your voice quieter now. “But it’s not a good idea. He’s older. Like, way older.”

Charlotte raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but not judging. “Well, you’re an adult, that shouldn’t be much of an issue. If the chemistry’s there, it’s there.”

“Yeah, but it’s not just that, he’s also a family friend. I don’t even know if he’d be interested, you know? It’s just too messy.”

Charlotte gives you a sympathetic look. “I get it. Messy’s never fun.” She takes a deep breath before flashing you a soft smile. “But for what it’s worth, you don’t have to feel guilty about liking someone, even if it feels complicated.”

You let her words hang in the air for a moment, absorbing them. You know she’s right, but knowing doesn’t make it any easier.

“Come on,” Charlotte says, pulling you from your thoughts. She stands, taking her drink with her. “Let’s dance. Forget about the complicated stuff for a while.”

You give her a small smile, grateful for the distraction. “Yeah, okay.”

You follow her to the dance floor, the thrum of the music vibrating through your body as you try to let yourself go, to let the rhythm take over and drown out the noise in your head.

A little while passes before Charlotte’s friends finally arrive. She spots them first, waving them over from where you're both standing near the dance floor.

“Over here!” she calls out, her voice rising above the music. “Guys, this is the girl I was telling y’all about.”

You turn to see a group heading your way—two girls and a guy, all dressed up but casual in a way. The girls reach you first, both of them with that same easy warmth Charlotte exudes.

“This is Amber,” Charlotte says, gesturing to a brunette with big doe eyes and gorgeous caramel skin.

Amber flashes you a wide grin. “Hey! So nice to finally meet you. Glad you survived a car ride with Charlotte, without any permanent hearing loss, I hope?”

Charlotte gasps, playfully smacking Amber on the arm. “Excuse me, my car concerts are a privilege to experience.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Honestly, the karaoke was the best part.”

Amber raises her eyebrows with a smirk. “See? She gets it.”

Charlotte rolls her eyes before motioning to the girl beside Amber. “And this is Josie,” she introduces, pointing to the girl with sleek black hair and striking hazel eyes.

“Hey there,” Josie says, pulling you in for a quick, friendly hug. “Welcome to the chaos.”

You chuckle, feeling instantly comfortable around them. Charlotte then glances over her shoulder at the guy lingering behind the girls—a tall, brown-haired guy with an easygoing smile.

“Oh, and this is Alex. He’s Amber’s brother” she adds, nodding toward him.

“Hey, nice to meet you,” Alex says, stepping forward with a relaxed grin. “Charlotte’s been talking about you all week.”

You can’t help but laugh. “All good things, I hope?”

He nods, his voice smooth and calm. “All great things.”

His energy is different from the girls—more laid-back—but he’s just as welcoming.

The rest of the night is exactly that—effortless fun. Laughter flows as freely as the drinks, your mind slipping into a peaceful place that you haven’t felt since you got back. It’s a feeling you cling to, desperate to keep it alive for as long as you can. Like being wrapped in a bubble where everything is light, easy, and uncomplicated. You don’t want it to burst.

But eventually, thirst creeps in, and you find yourself craving another drink. You make your way to the bar, Alex trailing behind you.

“You having fun?” he asks, once you both have drinks in hand.

You nod, smiling as you prop your head up on your closed fist. “Actually, yeah. A lot more than I expected.”

Alex chuckles, leaning against the bar, his eyes studying you in that way you’ve seen before—soft but curious. “Well, contrary to popular belief, us small-town folk know how to have fun too.”

His smile is kind, warm. It suits him. You take a moment to really look at him, now that you're out of the haze of the dance floor and the dim lighting. He’s undeniably handsome—those soft features, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he grins. He feels safer, easier. A lot more inviting and open than… fuck.

Even as you take in all of Alex’s best features, your thoughts drift elsewhere. To a man whose presence has been ingrained in your brain for the past month. The way his rough edges make him so different from Alex. How his gaze isn’t soft at all, it lingers like a weight, heavy and consuming in a way that you can’t shake off.

Fuck.

You’re sitting here, comparing this sweet, charming guy to Joel, trying to convince yourself to like Alex more. You should. He’s age appropriate, and your dad would love him. It would make everything so much simpler. But no matter how hard you try, Joel lingers in the back of your mind, refusing to leave you alone. You haven’t been able to escape him, not even with a handsome guy straight-up flirting with you at a bar.

The realization hits you like a punch to the gut. You blink, lost in the mess of your thoughts.

“Hey,” Alex’s voice pulls you back to the moment, concern etched on his face. “You alright? Where’d you go?”

You force a smile, waving it off like it’s nothing. “Sorry, just spaced out for a second.” But the truth is, you’re spiraling, and you desperately need air. Suddenly, all the drinks you've downed feel like too much and not enough at the same time. Everything looks hazy and blurry, and you just need space.

Once the bartender hands you your new drink, you turn to Alex. “I’m uh… I’m gonna go get some air. Would you let the girls know for me?”

Alex looks at you for a second, sensing there’s more to it, but he concedes. “Sure, take your time, I’ll let them know.”

With that, you step outside.

The cool midnight air hits your skin the moment you push through the doors, instantly grounding you, but it doesn’t quite settle the buzzing in your chest. You take a few deep breaths, trying to calm your racing thoughts, but it’s impossible to ignore the weight that’s been sitting there for weeks.

Joel.

You hate that it’s him filling your mind right now, after everything. You should be enjoying this—cute guy, fun night, no strings attached. But instead, all you can think about is the way he makes you feel.

It’s frustrating, and you’re tired of carrying it around in silence.

You’re realizing now, with an empty glass in your hands, that this last drink might’ve been a mistake. Without fully thinking it through, you pull out your phone and scroll to his name. You hesitate for only a second before hitting the call button. It rings once, twice, then a third time before it goes to voicemail.

You should hang up—calling was a bad decision in the first place—but leaning against the wall of the bar, staring up at the sky, you can’t help the words that spill out.

“Hey…” Your voice is low, slurred with alcohol but steady enough. “I went out with a friend tonight, Charlotte. I’m sure you know her. We came to this small, crowded bar that I don’t feel like going back into, and there was this cute guy, dazzling smile, pretty puppy eyes, you know the kind. God, he used to be my type too—me from a couple of months ago would be screaming to go give him my number. But he was talking to me, and I just… I couldn’t concentrate on what he was saying. It was like he was missing something, a bit more of a drawl or a patchy beard or kicking me out of his house randomly ‘cause he started touching my leg.” You chuckle softly. “But it’s not just him, Joel, it’s all of them. Every boy I see now—they're all either too soft, or too short, or too lanky, too nice or too chatty. They're just… I don’t know, not you. And it’s funny, ‘cause you don’t care. I’m here losing sleep over insignificant glances and touches and whatever, and you’re walking into my house to watch the damn game with my dad like it’s nothing. Like this is all nothing. Which I guess it is. It makes me a bit stupid to be acting like there was ever something here to begin with.”

You pause, your chest tight, mind buzzing.

“It doesn’t matter. This whole thing is stupid. I should probably figure out a way to get myself back home.” You pause again, biting your lip. “Please delete this in the morning and let’s never talk about it again, okay? I’ll be mortified. Goodnight.”

Your breath hitches as the words tumble out, and you clench your jaw, suddenly embarrassed by your own admission. But it’s too late. You’ve already hung up.

Steam still clings to the bathroom mirror as Joel steps out of the shower, towel slung low on his hips. The day has weighed on him—long hours, sun beating down, the usual aches and stiffness creeping into his bones. He runs a hand through his damp hair, catching a glimpse of himself in the fogged-up glass, the lines on his face more pronounced tonight.

With a heavy sigh, he pads barefoot across the room to his nightstand, reaching for his phone. There’s a part of him that wants to just lie down and shut the world out for a while, but old habits die hard, and checking his phone before bed is one he can’t seem to break. He unlocks it, thumb absently scrolling through notifications until your name flashes across the screen, and a voicemail icon blinks at him.

He freezes.

Your name.

For a moment, Joel just stares at it, thumb hovering above the screen. He hasn’t heard from you since the other night at your dad’s house—since that awkward, tension-filled game that still sits heavy in his mind. It would’ve been easier to keep the distance if you weren’t always… there. But you were.

He hesitates.

Maybe he shouldn’t listen.

But then, with a quiet curse under his breath, Joel presses play and brings the phone to his ear. There’s a beat of silence, a soft crackle before your voice comes through, and he feels something knot tight in his chest.

“Hey…” Your voice is quiet, a little slurred, like you’ve had a few too many. His brows knit together as you continue. You start talking about the bar, about a guy. A cute guy. A pang of something ugly twists in Joel’s gut, though he forces himself to keep listening.

"...used to be my type too… me from a couple months ago would be screaming to go give him my number."

Joel exhales, hand gripping the phone a little tighter as he leans back against the bed frame, legs stretched out in front of him. He swallows down the strange burn in his throat when you laugh, your words sinking in deeper with every second.

It’s when you mention the comparisons—how no one quite measures up to him—that something flickers across his expression. You shouldn’t be saying this, shouldn’t be thinking this, and yet… here you are. His jaw clenches when you talk about him touching your leg. He remembers that moment, how he’d pushed you away, forced that distance between you both before it got out of hand. But the way you bring it up now makes his pulse quicken, heat rising in him despite his efforts to keep it at bay.

"Every boy I see now—they're all either too soft, or too short, or too lanky, too nice or too chatty. They're just… not you."

His heart pounds harder at that, the breath he didn’t know he was holding finally releasing in a quiet exhale. Damn it. You weren’t supposed to feel this way. And he wasn’t supposed to like hearing it.

Your voice wavers when you say it doesn’t matter, that the whole thing is stupid, but Joel knows better. He hears it in the way you trail off, that vulnerability you can’t quite hide when you tell him to delete the message, pretend it never happened.

The voicemail ends, the room falling into an almost oppressive silence as Joel lowers the phone. He’s still staring at the screen, his thumb hovering over the delete option, but he can’t bring himself to press it. He should. You told him to. It would be the smart thing to do—erase the evidence, keep things clean between you two, never bring it up again.

But instead, Joel lets the phone fall to his chest, closing his eyes as he leans his head back against the headboard. His pulse still thrums in his ears, the weight of your words hanging heavy in the air. He knows he should forget it, but deep down, he knows it’s already too late for that.

A gnawing worry creeps in, pricking at the back of his mind. The slur in your voice, the way you sounded just… off. The mention of getting home by yourself.

He tells himself it’s just concern, that’s all. You’d been drinking, probably too much, and you shouldn’t be out alone at this hour. What kind of man would he be if he didn’t at least make sure you were alright?

But even as he gets up, throwing on an old t-shirt and grabbing his truck keys, Joel knows it’s not just that. There’s a deeper pull, something he can’t shake, and it’s not only about your safety. It’s about you, being near you, even when he’s spent weeks trying to keep that distance. The line he keeps redrawing in the sand has blurred so many times now, and yet, here he is, crossing it again.

He grips the steering wheel tight as he drives, headlights cutting through the dark, each street he passes tightening the knot of anticipation in his chest. He shouldn’t be doing this. It’s reckless, irresponsible. He’s trying to justify it—hell, he could call Charlotte, or maybe your dad, someone else to check on you. But no, he’s out here, already halfway across town, and that says more than he’s willing to admit.

Finally, he spots you. The dim glow of a streetlight casts a faint circle around where you’re sitting on the sidewalk, head resting on your arms, knees pulled up close to your chest. You look small, lost, and it tugs at something inside of him.

Joel pulls up slowly, parking a few feet away, his eyes locked on you through the windshield. For a second, he just sits there, watching. You’re still, unmoving, save for the occasional shift of your shoulders. He debates turning around, leaving before you even notice, but he knows that’s not an option. Not now.

Stepping out of the truck, Joel takes a breath, steeling himself before approaching. His boots scuff softly against the pavement as he gets closer, his heart thudding in his chest.

He clears his throat softly. “Hey…” His voice is low, careful. “You alright?”

You lift your head slowly, blinking against the bright light of the streetlamp as your eyes meet his. For a second, you don’t say anything, and neither does he.

Then your soft voice breaks the silence. “Are you really here or am I that drunk?”

He can’t help but let out a breathy laugh. Just like that, all the worries and the guilt, the pressure to do what’s right, it’s all gone in a heartbeat. It doesn’t matter. Not right now. Because you're sitting there in front of him, beautiful as ever, looking up with those glossy, wide eyes that make your usual sweetness seem even more disarming.

So he let’s go. Just for tonight, he can enjoy this feeling instead of shoving it down.

“Come on, party girl,” he murmurs, his voice softer now. “Let’s get you home.”

You try to stand, but your heels betray you, and before you can fully straighten up, you’re stumbling. Joel’s right there, catching you without a second thought, just like he always is. His hand wraps around your arm, steadying you, like it's second nature.

“I need to stop tumbling down every time I’m around you,” you mumble, slurring your words with a hint of frustration in your humor. Your brows furrow in concentration as you focus on taking the small, careful steps toward Joel’s truck. “I swear I’m usually not a clumsy person.”

He chuckles, his hand still holding onto you as if it’s where it belongs. “It’s alright. I like you tumbling onto me.”

There’s a subtle warmth in his words that he doesn’t even try to hide now.

He helps you get situated in the passenger seat before rounding the truck and sliding into the driver’s seat. He doesn’t start the engine right away, though. For a second, he just sits there, hands gripping the wheel, his eyes flicking toward you and then away, not knowing how far he’s allowing himself to go tonight. He needs to say something, move this goddamn situation forward somehow.

You break the silence first, your voice softer now, pulling him back from the spiral. “Joel… You didn’t have to come get me.”

His fingers flex on the wheel, jaw tightening. He knows he didn’t have to come. He shouldn’t have. But Lord, the second he heard that voicemail, his mind spun into a frenzy—your voice all slurred and honest in a way it never had been before. You sounded… lost. He doesn’t want to admit how incapable he felt of doing nothing in that moment.

He lets out a slow breath, rubbing his hand over his face. "Yeah, I did."

You look at him, blinking slowly like you’re trying to figure him out. He can see the alcohol buzzing behind your eyes, but there’s clarity there too, something cutting through all that fog. “Why?” you ask, your voice soft, hesitant. “Why did you come?”

He swears he hears the crack in his own chest before he even opens his mouth. Why the hell did he come? He knows the answer. He knows what you’re trying to get him to say. But he can’t say it, not without giving something away he isn’t ready to give. So he falls back on the one thing that’s easy. “Because you called,” he says, his voice low, rough. “And I—” He hesitates, the words sitting on his tongue like they’ll choke him. “I was worried.”

Worried. It’s weak, but it’s the best excuse he’s got.

Your gaze softens, and it’s like you see right through him, see all the bullshit he’s trying to keep up. “You don’t have to keep doing that,” you murmur. “Act like you’re just worried about me because of… whatever. I’m not stupid, Joel.”

His heart stutters in his chest. His first instinct is to argue, to push back, but something about the way you’re looking at him makes him pause. He clenches his jaw, trying to harden his expression, but you’ve always had this way of seeing past that. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he manages, though his voice comes out more defensive than he means for it to.

But you don’t back down. You never do. “I think I do. I think you do too.”

Joel’s heart starts pounding harder in his chest. There’s a moment where everything feels too quiet, like the whole world is holding its breath, waiting for him to do something—say something that’ll either make this all blow up in his face or force him to admit things he’s been burying for weeks. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He shakes his head, trying to break free from whatever hold you’ve got on him.

He starts the truck, the sound of the engine a relief. “We should get you home,” he mutters, trying to steady his voice, even though everything inside him feels like it’s tipping over the edge.

But as he pulls onto the road, his grip on the wheel tight, he can’t stop glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. He’s trying to keep his distance, trying to convince himself this is just him doing what’s right, being a good man. But the truth’s gnawing at him, clawing its way up, no matter how much he pushes it down: He didn’t come here just to get you home.

"Can we get something to eat?" Your voice startles him, bringing him back from the place he just mentally went to. “I’m starving.”

“Um… sure. What do you feel like?”

“Anything greasy and fast. Something that’ll soak up all the bad decisions I made tonight,” you joke, but there’s something in your voice, a vulnerability that Joel doesn’t miss.

You end up at a late-night drive-thru, ordering burgers and fries. He pulls into a quiet spot and turns off the engine, the warmth of the food filling the truck. It’s quiet for a moment, the air between you heavier than it should be.

“You alright?” he asks, turning to look at you.

You don't answer right away, staring out the windshield, your fingers playing with the edge of the fry wrapper. “I don’t know,” you admit quietly. “I’ve just… been feeling off lately.”

Joel’s not sure how to respond. He’s used to your bratty quips and playful banter, but this—you letting him in like this—feels different.

“You don’t have to explain,” he says, his voice low, gentle. “Sometimes things just get… heavy.”

You nod, taking a small bite of your burger before setting it down, barely touched. “It’s been weird being back home. Everything’s familiar, but nothing feels right, you know? Like I should fit here, and I don’t.”

He shifts in his seat, turning slightly to face you. “Yeah, I get that,” he says, surprising even himself with the admission. “Felt like that for a long time. Still do sometimes.”

You look over at him, really look at him, and for the first time tonight, there’s no walls between you. No snarky comments, no tension bubbling beneath the surface. Just two people who’ve been through a lot, trying to figure out how to navigate the mess.

“You? Really?” you ask, genuinely surprised.

He nods, glancing down at the steering wheel. “Yeah, really. Even when everything seems like it’s where it’s supposed to be, it still doesn’t always… fit. It’s hard to explain.”

For a moment, you just sit there, sharing the silence. It’s not awkward, though—more like a mutual understanding, something deeper than words could convey. Joel finds himself relaxing, letting his guard down more than he intended.

“Thanks for coming to get me,” you say softly.

He smiles at that. “Couldn’t leave you out there like that, darlin’” he replies, his tone soft but firm.

You return his smile, small but genuine. It makes Joel feel like maybe—just maybe—this isn’t a mistake after all. It’s not about crossing lines or getting too close. It’s about being there for you, like he wants to be, like you need him to be.

And somehow, that feels right.

Tag list: @yesjazzywazzylove-blog , @untamedheart81 , @mellymbee , @wintersquirrel , @chyannealaniz , @spiderman-n-n , @ghostofzion , @sjc7542 , @yyiikes , @pedrofan @loveisacowboy @sageluvsjoel

[karlachismylife]

I Need My Love To Be Here

Once again I couldn't help but do the second-most voted choice too. Why am I making my own life so much harder?

CW: fem!reader, reader and Price are married and have a daughter, long-distance relationship, my music taste projected once again, the tiniest bit of suggestive teasing, toothrotting fluff.

(Title from The Beatles' "Here, There and Everywhere")

Dealing with an energized six-year old refusing to go to bed was a battle alright, especially when your trusted partner with his commanding presence and a true Captain's voice wasn't there to help. You couldn't blame your little one for behaving herself better when John was around: isn't a natural law that the one parent that's often away and always comes back with gifts is the favourite one? It's not daddy who's forcing you to eat healthy food every day and go to sleep when you want another batch of cartoons.

It's the strict, stern-looking mum with her hands on her hips as she scolds you gently for throwing a fit over putting your toys back like promised.

Still, you'd want a little more appreciation and cooperation from Princess Price, sulking in her frog pjs - everything was frog since recently, you even got daddy a froggy hat for when he comes back from deployment.

He was away for a long time. Not somewhere dangerous, he told you as he called and texted regilarly, but he was constantly held back by one or the other thing that just couldn't be resolved without Captain's expertise.

That's what made his new phone call just the sweeter, since the first words you heard after closing priness's door hastly and moving to the living room, were:

"Guess who's coming home tomorrow, darling."

A relieved, longing sigh escaped you as you leaned onto the couch and stared at the ceiling with a dreamy smile.

"Good. Someone here needs a reminder how to listen to what she's being told."

"Is princess being a bad girl?" John's hearty chuckle warmed you even through the phone. You bit your lip, trying to save your own face from splitting in two with the horribly wide smile - same was gracing Price's face for sure, you could hear it, his plump cheeks all big and round, almost hiding his happily narrowed eyes.

"Not necessarily bad. But we have attitide and no respect for mummy's authority. Maybe I should start calling myself Captain too, just for her to listen to me."

"I'm afraid, impersonating an officer is illegal, love," he huffed and chuckled again, gruff, big, bear-hugging sound. A pause. "Are you being a bad girl?"

You pressed your phone closer you your ear as a warm tingling flooded your cheeks and held your breath.

"I'd like to report I'm being perfectly good, sir," if only you could see the way his kind eyes twinkled in the dim lighting of wherever he was, sitting on a chair with knees wide apart, one hand holding the famous cigar.

"That's good to hear. I have a little something for you. A reward for being so good for me and waiting while I'm in this shithole."

"The only reward I need is you back home, John," you weren't even being coy, just honest. It was so long since you last felt his rough palms slide over your sides and lock together as he pulled you into a tight hug from behind, pressing ticklish kisses into your nape.

"I know, sweetpea. Consider this an apology gift then, for taking so long," he didn't let you argue a single word, clearly set on having you accept whatever he prepared, as if him being alive, well and home wasn't enough. "Got us tickets to that McCartney concert, love. For all three of us. Gotta start teaching our princess what good music is."

You gasped, jumping in your seat - your heart did a little flip, cheeks burning now, butterflies that never went away even after years of marriage flocking to your lungs.

"But it's so close, how did you even- oh, I just wanna kiss all hells out of you, John!" His laughter dripped through the phone like spicy honey, sweetening already increbibly sweet deal.

"Oh, I can tell, love. Hope you feel the same way tomorrow."

"Why is tomorrow so far away?" You allowed yourself to be just as sulky and pouty as your little one snoring softly in the other room. Of course you could wait another day, you've waited for months already. But now every minute felt like a whole month itself.

"That's so you can get enough sleep before I make you forget about it for several nights."

[beevean]

If I’m being honest, you are all getting way too hung up on fake diseases and attacking a writer as if he personally attacked your family. It’s a strange obsession you have and you guys always come at any small nitpick as if it’s the end of the world. It’s a weird obsession and you have all been doing it for years. Maybe you liked Sunset Heights getting a remix but you also play victim when people don’t like the 2010s games. You can see Sonic is more successful now and doing things much better but you just like to sit in your anger towards the series for years. I’ll add that you’re much more sane in your reactions than RandomtheFox, but this whole side of the fandom here is so pathetic. The endless loop of anything new coming out for Sonic, and your little posse hating on it because it isn’t the meta era or because Ian Flynn has his name on it makes me glad you guys are a small minority in the fandom.

Do you want to know why we're discussing this?

If you go back and read our discussions, see how much we brought up with this little detail!

I looked up the effects of low gravity on the human body: I learned something new about science. I tried to put into words why this detail is harder to accept than Sonic breathing in space: this is about stories and world building. I immediately found a replacement idea. We discussed about SA2, its gameplay mechanics, its cutscenes. Someone even brought up the idea of drawing parallels with AIDS and how it would affect Maria. Negativity can stem from a place of reasoning, "how would I do that?", and it makes me use my brain in a fun way. I'm aware it's a inconsequential detail, but I'm having fun!

As for the rest of the message, yeah, we are a minority. Which makes me wonder why you care so much about a group of, what, four people?

Why don't I get any engagement when I'm positive, but suddenly people are up my ass when I talk about something negative? I didn't even tag most of my posts. Bro half of the Sonic fandom blocked me already because I'm a dirty sinning IDW non-enjoyer. I am not bothering anyone.

By the way, my negativity about IDW once even resulted in me writing a fic about it. Again, creativity and genuine discussions about writing a story and its downfalls. It nourishes the brain.

I don't like this new direction for Sonic. There, happy? I don't feel catered to, as a 2000s fan, by all this "REMEMBER WHEN WE WERE COOL????" stuff, not to mention I'm just not a Shadow fan so seeing him with wings and shit does nothing for me. I am annoyed because this used to be a franchise dear to me, but the current environment, both games and fandom, alienates me. I am also aware that, precisely because I'm in the minority, I'll just have to wait until ST changes trend again.

If my writer side activates when I talk about a writing decision I don't like and I'm having fun dissecting it, let me, alright? You can find me cringe, if you want to, but I'm not doing anything different than other fans, just directed towards a less acceptable target and in the privacy of my blocked blog.

Also: to be perfectly honest, if it only takes me one day of mild bitching to get anons yelling at me that I'm a joyless bastard doomed to be sad because I refuse to be happy, it kind of makes me want to be saltier out of spite. I'm already a bad person, might as well, right?

[smolandweirdwriter]

The bad kids are all best friends, but some of them don't have many canonical scenes together, and I think Adaine and Gorgug are the least seen with each other among the rare duos. But those two are pretty emotionally smart, so I think they'd realize that and decided to hang out

Got any ideas about shenanigans they might perform together?

adaine canonically loves gorgug's parents for their kindness to everyone, which especially shines through in how much they care for their son. throughout her freshman year, adaine would most often crash at gorgug's place. it was marginally closer to get to, and safer, at least compared to strongtower. the little folk are peaceful.

the first time Adaine was at Gorgug's house with all the others, Wilma and Digby noticed how formal, and then perplexed, and then saddened she was in the span of meeting them. when they overheard her say things like "wow your parents are so sweet!" and "I love your parents!" they weren't just proud or happy. at least, not only that. soon after they were a little concerned, especially with how eager she seemed about it. as though they were unconventional in their kindness. they asked gorgug about it afterwards, and he frowned a little. "I dunno," he said finally. "I think elf parents are kinda... mean to their kids? Like it's a cultural thing or something?"

Well, that definitely didn't sit well with Wilma and Digby. And it definitely didn't sit well with Gorgug, now that he realized it. He asked Adaine about it the next day, and she admitted it with a mixture of loathing and sharp self-awareness. She didn't cry, but she didn't exactly brush the issue off either. Gorgug didn't know what to do, he'd never had a friend, let alone one with abusive parents. He'd always thought his anger was a bad thing, but now it consumed him with unbridled outrage. He wanted to storm into the Abernant house and rip it apart with his bare hands. He wanted to take his friend behind him and keep her safe. He wanted to hug her so she was there with him and not alone and cold and scared and mad. She didn't need to be mad. She didn't deserve it.

But Gorgug knew he couldn't do any of that. So instead, he offered what he knew he could: "If you ever need some place to stay, you know where I live."

Adaine smiled. "Thanks, Gorgug. But I'll be alright."

A few days later, the bad kids had been out late on their quest to find out more about what would later be known as the Kalvaxus Caper. actually, they weren't even "out late". it was about 6pm, but school had let out around 3, so their parents were nonetheless reasonably worried about where the hell their children were.

as everyone was peeling off to head home, only adaine and gorgug were left. gorgug noticed adaine just standing there, not going home yet. "hey, what's wrong?" he asked.

"My parents are gonna kill me. I'm so late. The bus won't take me home now, it'll take forever to walk, we're halfway across town, I'll miss curfew because I was out adventuring --" she said "adventuring" like it was something to be mocked, something foolish that only a child would partake in "--I'm going to be grounded forever... I can't go home, Gorgug, I can't."

Gorgug cocked his head. Two choices, then. Take her home. Or... Take her home.

"You wanna, uh, stay over at my place?"

So Adaine followed Gorgug home. The Thistlesprings had cooked a thick, stewy soup with chunks of meat and vegetables that smelled amazing. They saw Adaine come in and quickly fixed her up a bowl alongside Gorgug's. Wilma and Digby ask her all sorts of questions -- What sort of magic does she do? Are her family wizards too? Where do they work? When do they leave home? How susceptible are they to gnomish-made ballista being fired right at them? What does she like to eat? She looks like she doesn't eat enough, she should come over more and they'll make her nice, home-cooked meals. hey, she used to go to Hudol, what was it like? What's Aguefort been like for her, is she liking it? how about the classmates, anyone nice outside her party? anyone very nice? has she had "the talk" yet--

at that point, gorgug's face goes bright red and he tugs adaine away before they can pull out The Binder. adaine giggles as she's led into gorgug's room. he offers her a pair of his pajamas, which are far too big on her, but she likes that. it's kind of like being wrapped up in gorgug's hugs--enveloped completely. she has to roll the sleeves all the way up so she can even get her fingers out, and the pants still trail on the ground a little.

they spend the rest of the night talking and chatting sprawled across gorgug's bed.

situations like this become far more common throughout freshman year. the thistlesprings want to adopt her, but she's not even technically a Solecian citizen, and it would make the whole "diplomatic immunity" thing so messy. she goes home on the weekends, because she has no choice, and when her parents get force her to stay home because "we're your family and we never see you. i swear, you're so ungrateful sometimes, adaine. what, is it so awful to have dinner with us?"

on her own, adaine begins learning orcish and gnomish so she and gorgug can talk, and so she can better thank and communicate with the thistlesprings. she teaches gorgug some elvish too, and they begin communicating by blending the three languages together in a way that makes no sense to anyone other than themselves.

for his part, it's gorgug who helps adaine become more physically strong, because he's worried about how angry his friend gets, and how that anger sometimes spirals into panic, or vice versa, so he teaches her how to throw a punch, how to block a hit, how to fight with a sword. he is never prouder than the moment he sees adaine's fist collide with her sister's face at ostentatia's party.

for her part, adaine and gorgug do homework together often when she's there, and it's by watching her do magic that gorgug becomes so enraptured by it. he's constantly asking her how spells work, how she knows what level she's casting them at, how she remembers them all. adaine attempts to explain it, and she does so by comparing it to his parents' tinkering. she's just putting pieces together and binding them--her "pieces" are less tangible, but they're still a part of the greater universe around them. gorgug really wants to learn wizardry, but he's not too fond of the abstract. he likes adaine's explanation, though. he begins thinking about tinkering. he begins thinking about machines and the tangible and the world and breaking things and putting them together and making something new. he thinks about family.

fig is an excellent lyricist, but she's not a very skilled composer. gorgug, meanwhile, it fantastic at putting lyrics to music. he loves it. he has just the right ear for it, for knowing where something needs a little aid, where he can boost something so it reaches its full potential. he's also a great backup vocalist. but he's sorta afraid to mention any of this to fig, because she invited him to be in her band, and she was so nice about helping him, and he doesn't wanna overstep. when shes over at his house one day, adaine sees a piece he's composed lying on the desk. she doesn't read it, to respect his privacy, but she notes that it's clearly composition, and asks about it. gorgug awkwardly admits that he's been working on something to go with a piece fig wrote, because, and not to imply he doesn't think fig's great, he loves fig so so so much and he's so grateful to be in her band, but, well, she composed about half the instrumental bits but they're just a little wonky and so he dabbled a little bit in pairing the lyrics with music, but please don't tell fig, adaine, it's not like I've done any better than she has or could.

adaine blinks. "you're awfully anxious, aren't you?" she smiles, sits down on the bed next to him, and says, "Gorgug, if you don't try, you're never going to know if it's any good at all."

so he shows his composition to fig. who immediately tackles him into a hug and screams "THIS IS PERFECT!"

Gorgug blushes and says, "Adaine helped me with it."

Fig recruits Adaine to help them write and compose. Adaine declines. "But if you ever need a tech person once you start really performing," Adaine says, "I'd love to do stage effects for you."

Actually, Adaine, as it turns out, does rather like helping Gorgug compose music. This stems from the fact that she grew up listening to exclusively pretentious high elven music, which she does rather like, but she also becomes pretty fond of heavy metal the likes of which gorgug blasts. she has a playlist called "studying evocation magic" that one would expect to be full of classical music. it's entirely head-slammer metal and rock that gorgug helped her compile.

Adaine goes to Gorgug a lot when she can't figure out spells. She gets lost in the little intricacies and complications of things, and he's very good at looking at the thing as a whole and seeing what's missing. he sees it very technically, which she finds relieving. so much of magic is abstract, but with gorgug everything is right with you, a physical thing.

when adaine kills her dad, gorgug isn't so sure she's okay. everyone else is cheering and hugging her, but gorgug has spent the most time around adaine's violence. her fear. he knows theres something deeper here. so when he gets a chance, he pulls her aside and asks how she's doing. adaine crumples into his side, sobbing, gripping his sweatshirt because it's soft and smells like grass and the woods and something else too, like going home after a long day, like people who want you to have clean clothes because they care about you and not your appearance. "Why did I have to kill him?" she asks, and he knows what she's really saying. Why did killing him have to be the only option?

"I don't know," he whispers. "Is it better that he's dead?"

Adaine swallows. Chokes on a lump of tears. Says: "I hope so."

gorgug and adaine who understand each other. gorgug and adaine who have sleepovers and climb the thistlespring tree and learn together. gorgug and adaine who have a secret language. gorgug and adaine who, of all the bad kids, know the least about their respective sexualities come junior year. riz and fig have been learning about aromaticism/asexuality and pansexuality since sophomore year, and kristen has been out since freshman year, and fabian has gotten over aelwyn and has confessed that he might have had the most massive crush on riz, and is still not over him, but that he really really doesn't want that to get in the way of their friendship, and that he supports riz's sexuality whole-heartedly, and he's realizing how lame his desperation for girls who treat people like shit is because he's realized he doesn't need to feel special just because someone who likes no one likes him, and he's falling for mazey, and that's okay.

but adaine and gorgug?

zelda breaks up with gorgug the summer of their junior year. and honestly? gorgug tells adaine in the workshop of the thistlespring tree late at night as they work together on the solar lasso. i sort of always saw it coming.

there is a dull hum of arcane electricity around them. save that, all is silent. silent, when adaine thinks about how people should care and don't and fall apart and break and how you can want to love someone and still run away. she does not understand it.

did you love her? she whispers, not looking over at him as her fingers turn a a piece of scrap metal over and over, not working on anything, not trying to fix anything. just hoping. just wishing. just wanting to know what love is.

i think i liked that she liked me, gorgug said. and i think i liked being around her. and i liked the... he glances over, blushing. Sorry. Riz is not vocal about his asexuality, and most of the time he is quietly uncaring when they talk about sex. it doesn't bother him to hear about--it's a part of life. still, gorgug tries to keep the others from talking about it around him. adaine, gorgug does not know if she's ace or not, and doesn't care if she is or isn't, but she gets uncomfortable, even a little disgusted, around talks of such things, so he tries to keep them to a minimum for her, too.

but this night, adaine shakes her head, her glasses glinting in the darkness. it's okay. you liked her. you liked sex. but did... what did... she clenches the scrap of metal in her fist, frustrated at her inability to form the proper words. the metal bends and crumples in her palm, and she blinks, unfurling her fingers to see broken shards of metal in her hand. she is still not used to her own strength. she has still not realized she's not really the girl she was years ago. but she is learning who she is, and maybe that's okay too. what was it like? liking someone that way? wanting someone... that way?

it was nice, gorgug says back. it was really nice. he shakes his head. but i think it was more than just... physical. i think she fell in love with me because i was nice to her. and she... sometimes she acted like that niceness was something i only did for her. and if i cared about other people, it was like i didn't care about zelda enough? or something? and i didn't really like that. and she didn't really like that i... that we...

that you were something other than zelda donovan's boyfriend? adaine offers.

he nods. yeah. a pause. i really liked her, though.

adaine taps his hand with hers. a question. he slips his fingers into hers. an answer. she squeezes. he squeezes back. I'm sorry.

gorgug comes out to adaine first of all their friends. he's bi, he tells her. adaine, not sure what to say, goes: "Congratulations". They both laugh. she still doesn't know what she is. she's still not sure she wants a label. he tells her that's okay. she asks if he came out because he has a crush on someone in his fancy new artificer class. gorgug blushes and shoves her playfully. (when he kisses unit later that year, adaine is unsurprised. he seems like gorgug's type.)

when oisin's ruse is revealed much later that year, adaine is not sad. she isn't hurt. she's violently, horrifically angry. so is gorgug.

they are on a boat. they might die. Oisin's voice rings out, Oisin's call. Adaine's face blanches, and Gorgug understands that whatever he messaged her, it means someone is about to die. and it won't be adaine.

it will be a white dragon, to his axe. it will be another, hit by the boat. it will be oisin, it will be oisin, it will be oisin. it will be oisin, for his friend who did not know what love felt like. it will be oisin, for his friend who did not know if she wanted to kiss someone. it will be oisin, for his friend who is easy to love. it will be oisin who dies, and he will enjoy it. and rage is not bad, because rage protected adaine, who should not have needed to protect herself.

and after everything has calmed down, they will eat ants on a log in his bedroom and write music and practice magic and spar and laugh.

oh, also: adaine and gorgug both get overstimulated easily, and gorgug always has a plethora of headphones and fidgets, and adaine goes to him for them constantly. they also both conducted an experiment together once where they attempted to communicate with people inside her jacket. it didn't go super well, but it was certainly fun!

and of course, adaine/ayda/gorgug friendship is a top-tier one. fig's magic is innate, but the trio's magic comes from studying and observing, and they all like to talk about it. sometimes they gossip. sometimes it's about fig. it's never mean--actually, usually it's just about how much they like fig. but they all get together pretty often to just jam out some spell stuff together.

[muxshwriting]

the winner takes it all

Nico Rosberg x Hamilton!reader

summary: after 2016, nico cut you and your brother off. you reach out to him, wanting him to know you would always be his || warnings: slight angst, abandonment, threats || word count: 1328 || masterlist

It had been a hectic year, dating your brother's teammate who he was currently rivals with. The boys you'd grown up with had changed and evolved and grown ever more distant from each other. You'd spent most of the season juggling your emotions, trying not to celebrate too much when either of them one so the other didn't feel upset.

But as Nico crossed the line as World Champion, you couldn't hide your elation. The moment he was out of the car, he was jumping into the arms of his team. A part of your heart aches for Lewis, your brother, knowing how hard he had worked for this Championship, only to lose at the last second. But the pure joy that flowed through you dictated your actions as you threw yourself at Nico as he cheered. He pulled off his helmet, holding your head in his hands and pulling you in for a kiss.

"You won!" You're shouting over the crowd but Nico is nodding and grinning like a kid all over again.

"I won!"

Behind him, Lewis was watching his own sister congratulate the man who had just ruined his life instead of comforting her brother. How can Nico be so smug about taking everything Lewis had dreamed of? He was so nonchalant throughout interviews, as if he knew this was always meant to happen. But Lewis couldn't stop himself feeling bitter.

Nico could have the championship, Lewis could earn himself another. But Nico would not take everything from him, he would not take his sister. He watched his team celebrate from the sidelines, watched as his sister kissed and danced with the man she loved, the man he now hated. Tonight would be the last night he would come anywhere near his sister.

Whatever your brother did, you certainly noticed its affects even if you didn't know the reasoning behind them. Nico did not speak to again after the night he won the championship. Or any day after that.

In the beginning, you just assumed he was busy with interviews and stories, too busy to text you back or find the time to come and see you. But as time went on and he declined all your calls, it became obvious this wasn't a time issue. This was something else.

No matter where you went in Monaco, you could not find him. He didn't frequent the places you had shared, stayed away from your work and ignored anything you tried to reach out with.

"I don't understand Lew, he's not the kind of person that would do this, I don't know what happened." You're sitting in your brother's apartment, binging episodes of a random reality show and trying to figure it out.

"Maybe he thought he was too good now he's won the championship." Lewis felt bad for his sister, yes. But he was also glad Nico had realised what was good for him.

You wipe away tears. "We always talked about life after the championship was over, whether he won or you did. We were gonna move in together, take some time for ourselves, figure out if this was forever..."

"He mustn't think it was forever then."

"Then he should've told me that to my face, not completely blank me."

Two weeks later, by sheer coincidence you're sitting in the cafe you and Nico had often visited and he walked through the doors. He didn't notice you at first, ordering a takeaway and waiting by the counter. Quietly, you pack your bag and stand by the door, trying to catch him on his way out.

"Nico!"

He said nothing, his eyes widening as he recognised you. Nodding politely, he tried to push past you, not meeting your eyes.

"Nico?"

He finally met your gaze, swallowing the lump in his throat. "It's good to see you Y/N. I -"

"You’re gonna stay the fuck away from my sister, alright? I don’t want you to talk to her ever again."

"Lewis-"

"No! You won't talk to either of us again. You're nothing. You don't deserve her, and the sooner you realise that, the better off she is. She knows she's better off without you."

"Can we talk?" You ask.

Nico shakes his head. "There's nothing to talk about." He walks out the door but you follow.

"We need to talk about it Nico." You implore him. "Nico?"

"There's nothing to say."

"There's plenty to say Nico. Listen to me, please! I loved you, I still love you." You say. "Even after everything that happened, I never stopped. Why did you stop letting me see you?"

"Lewis told me to stay away. And you're better without me-"

"What?"

Nico turned to face you. "Lewis? He told me that you would be better without me, that you said that."

You're face is plastered with confusion. "Lewis told you not to talk to me? But- I never said that. Why does Lewis think he can control who I love?" As you were speaking, the anger grew. "Why did you listen to him?"

"Because he's right. You deserve more than me."

"Don't say that!" You quickly reply. "I don't care what my brother thinks, you are the world champion. You deserve everything, especially me! He can have any model he wants, all the races, all the wins, all the championships but I want you. I want to have you and I want to be happy with you."

Nico’s expression sours. “We’re not doing this here, not now.”

"I want you!" You yell after him, not caring who else heard. "Only you."

"Your brother-"

"Stop talking about my brother!" You beg him. "Please, I love you Nico."

He sighs, running a hand down his face. "Alright," he gestures you to follow him, "We need to talk somewhere more private."

Silently agreeing, you grabbed his hand and led him through the winding streets of Monaco until you reached his apartment building. He hadn't moved yet and as he unlocked the door, you let yourself admire the man you would always love. Nothing inside the apartment had changed except the pictures hanging on the wall.

Nico had a wall of pictures that you had helped him create. They were moments from his karting career, his life and his relationship with you. There was a new picture in pride of place at the very top of the wall, the place he put his favourite. It was a picture of the day he won his championship, a picture of you and him in a lovers embrace, confetti falling around you and sweat dripping from his hair. It was the perfect picture that captured everything you and him were.

"That's new." You point to the picture and look at Nico hopeful.

"Yeah." He smiles. "The team photographer sent me the original and I couldn't think of a better place to put it."

You took the chance and stepped closer to Nico, almost pressing your body against his. You felt the sharp intake of breath from him as he tucked a loose hair behind your ear.

"Are you sure?"

You're nodding before he's even finished. "We're gonna move in together, and take some time for us. And I know it's going to work because this is what I want in forever. I want you to my forever."

"Will you marry me?" He whispered the question like he didn't quite believe what he was saying.

"Yes." You immediately answer before Nico can backtrack. "Yes. Please."

Nico stepped back and shook his head slightly. "Wait- Y/N, just wait. I don't know why I said that."

"Are you trying to take it back?"

"No!" He hurriedly corrects. "I think we need to go slow. I haven't talked to you in three weeks."

"Three weeks don't matter, we know each other, we know that this works. Why do we have to wait?"

Nico couldn't hide his smile as he dipped his head to press his lips against yours.

"Why wait indeed..."

[vi0let-writes]

Alright then, may I request Cyno, Xiao and AlHaitham. S/o pranking them, you know that one period prank girlfriend do on their boyfriend?, telling them to go by her some pads with wings. To see what they actually get for her (like would they actually understand the assignment or actually got her pads with Chiken wings thinking that's what s/o meant) or even told them to buy non-existent feminine products for example "help me buy the Super Jumbo Tampons with Wings✨✨✨" that kind of stuff. This is just crack request, wanting to trick these innocent stoic guys hehe~ 😈😈😈 this can be a modern au if you want

The dividers I used are here

thank you SM for the request!!!! This is such a silly idea! There is a screenshot of the messages for each one, and then a written part below, so make sure you don’t miss that!

characters: Alathiam, Cyno, Xiao

includes: Crack, fluff

Alhathiam

“I’m home” Alhathiams voice sounds as he walked through the front door. He made his way into the living room, where you sat on the couch, reading a book. You looked up, seeing your boyfriend with a shopping bag in one hand, and a takeout box in the other.

“oh! Did you get me food too? You’re so sweet!” You cheered happily. He rose his eyebrows confused.

“yeah, the wings you wanted?” He confirmed, his face obviously filled with confusion. You paused for a moment, before realizing that he misinterpreted the request, you then started crackling out in laughter.

“y-you.. thought I mean.. HAhAhaHa! Chicken wings?!” You wheezed out.

“what..?”

“let me see the pads you got.” He nodded, handing you the package over. “Baby, look, here on the package, it says ‘winged’ that’s what I meant” you giggled, taking one out and showing him. “Here, these flaps wrap around to keep them in place.” He looked utterly embarrassed.

“yeah.. I knew that.. I- I.. uh just wanted food..” he tried to play it off.

“it’s okay! I’ll go get these put away and then we can cuddle and eat these!” Alhathiam nodded, ears still red.

Xiao

“Love” a voice suddenly appeared behind you, causing you to jump.

“Xiao! Hi” you sighed out. He fell into your arms, face hiding away from you.

“I’ve failed you..” he grumbled out. “I couldn’t find the feminin product you requested.” You laughed, feeling kinda bad.

“it’s okay sweetie, I was just joking with you! Now I feel bad…” you ran your hands gently through his hair.

“what.. why? I went to 5 different places,people staring at me rummaging through things, and being sad for a silly prank? You have no respect for the Adepti..” he huffed, letting go of you and crossing his arms.

“no Xiao! I’m sorry.. come here, we can cuddle.” You apologized. He just rolled his eyes.

“fine.. only for a bit. I’m a busty person.”

Cyno

Cyno trudged through the front door, and to you in a hurry, 3 bags in his hands. When he came bursting through your bedroom door, your eyes widened in concern.

“Cy, what?” You questioned.

“I’m sorry, I took so long because I went to like 10 places trying to find the ones you mentioned; but I couldn’t… so I just got a bunch of them, you could stack them!” He reasoned, putting the bags down on the bed, revealing MANY boxes of pads. Your eyes widened again in surprise, before you laughed.

“Cy, you don’t stack them for one, also I was pranking you..” your smile was wide. He was quite for a second.

“oh.. haha, darling, I left work! For a prank?!” He sighed. ”what? You could have said that you were working!” A frown appeared on your face.

“hmm, it’s okay, but what do we do with all of these?” He motioned to the pads.

“I’ll use those eventually.” You bummed out a response. “Why don’t we play TCG to make up for it” Cyno pondered your proposal.

”I suppose I could take the rest of the day off”

Hope this was good!

you can leave requests in the “ask me anything”

my list of fandoms is pinned in my blog.

[kikyoupdates]

Otherworldly Attraction ⭑˚🔮⭑ 𝑠𝑒𝑡 𝑖𝑛 𝑚𝑜𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

yandere!jjk x f!reader

yandere, reverse harem, isekai, jujutsu kaisen x fem!reader, slowburn, slowburn yandere

You don't know how or why, but you've been isekai'd into the world of Jujutsu Kaisen. Although your first instinct is to stay away from the plot, you've been blessed with an abnormal amount of cursed energy, and for better or worse, you find yourself sucked into the storyline. You decide that you may as well use your newfound powers for the greater good, and if you're lucky, you might succeed in rewriting some of the characters' fates. But it turns out that your presence in this world is an even bigger deal than you first thought, and soon, everyone wants to make you theirs.

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“Draw two,” Sasaki says. 

“I’ll add another draw two. So now [Name] has to draw four,” Iguchi follows up, throwing another card onto the pile.

You stare at the two cards left in your hand, and then you cast a glance beside you, over to poor Itadori, who’s easily holding more than ten. Part of you wonders if you should be nice and spare him, since he’s clearly suffering more than enough already, but then again, this is Uno. 

Uno is just about as cutthroat as it gets. 

“Sorry,” you mumble, wincing a bit as you add another card onto the pile. “I still have a draw four card left… which means Itadori has to pick up eight cards in total. Also, um, Uno.” 

“No way!” he cries out, and you swear you see his soul leave his body. 

Sasaki throws her head back and starts laughing. “Man, Itadori, you stink at this! I swear you’ve placed last every single time we’ve played. It’s actually kind of impressive how unlucky you can be sometimes.”

“I haven’t lost yet,” Itadori stubbornly refutes, but of course, within the next round, you win, and Sasaki and Iguchi quickly follow suit. 

You watch as Itadori’s shoulders slump in defeat. 

“Fine, now I lost,” he sighs. Most people would probably be pretty frustrated seeing as he’s lost more than four—or is it five games in a row now? In any case, Uno tends to ruin friendships and drive people insane, but since this is Itadori, it only takes a few brief moments of adorable sulking for him to perk up again. “Alright, well, I’m ready for the next round!” 

Iguchi shakes his head. “Sorry, but no more. I’m starting to feel bad about beating you this badly.” 

“Really?” Sasaki blinks. “I’m having the time of my life.” 

“You don’t always have to voice your intrusive thoughts aloud, Sasaki.” 

“We can play more next time,” you say, gently patting Itadori on the shoulder. “And I’m sure you’ll win a bunch then. Enough to make up for all the losses from today.” 

“Doubt it,” Sasaki muses. 

“Sasaki, that’s seriously enough out of you,” Iguchi sighs.

“Alright, fine,” Itadori relents. He quickly glances towards the clock on the wall. “I guess it’s about time for me to head out anyway. It’d be nice to get to the hospital early for a change.” 

More than a week has passed since you first awoke in this world, and during that time, you’ve spent pretty much every day hanging out with Itadori. It’s quite literally a dream come to true to be able to talk to him like this. From the moment you discovered you attended the same school, you were already starstruck, but you figured you would only ever be able to stare at him longingly, from afar. Never in a million years did you imagine that you would actually become his friend. 

Even though your friendship is destined to be cut short, you’re determined to enjoy these blissful moments for as long as you can.

You and Itadori say goodbye to Sasaki and Iguchi, and the two of you walk out of the building together, stopping by a vending machine to grab some canned drinks. You crack your can open and sit down next to him, relishing in the fresh air paired with the cool liquid running down your throat. 

“Visiting your grandpa again, right?” you affirm. 

Itadori takes a big gulp, then nods. “Yeah. Same old, I guess. That’s another reason why it’s nice being part of the Occult Research Club. A lot of people have pestered me to join athletic clubs, but they run way too late. I wouldn’t be able to make it down to the hospital in time for visiting hours. It just works out better this way. Plus, hanging out with those guys is a lot of fun.”

“It’s nice that you always make an effort to visit him,” you say, smiling gently. “I’m sure he really appreciates the time he gets to spend with you. It must mean a lot to him.” 

“Well, I’m the only one he has left, so I’d feel really crappy if he had to spend every day all on his own.”

“Still. Not everyone would make sure to visit every single day, like you do. You’re really kind. You’re a good person, Itadori.” 

You hold your smile as you take another sip of your drink, and you don’t notice that Itadori is staring at you wide-eyed, at least, not until you turn and realize he’s nearly breathing down your neck. 

“Um,” you say, feeling a bit embarrassed by how close he is, “y-yes? Is there… something on my face?” 

Itadori scratches his neck. “Uh. This might sound like a bit of a weird request and all, but I was just wondering if… maybe you wanted to come with me today?” 

“Come with you?” 

“Yeah. To visit my gramps. Since we got to talking and all, I figured maybe he’d like to see someone other than me for a change. To be honest, I don’t think he has much longer left. He’s always snapping at me for visiting him, saying I shouldn’t waste my time going to a depressing place like that, and that I should be spending time in clubs with my friends instead. Maybe he’ll feel better if he sees me bring a friend along. He won’t worry that I’m lonely, like he is.” 

You proceed to just stare at him, and although you didn’t intend for your gaze to be unsettling, Itadori lets out a nervous chuckle and quickly shakes his head.

“Aw, man, what am I even saying? Sorry. That was kind of weird. I’m sure you wouldn’t want to waste your free time going to a hospital, of all places. I didn’t mean to try and pressure you into anything. Just forget what I—” 

“I'll go,” you blurt. “If you're sure you want me to come with you, then yes. I'd be happy to meet your grandpa.”

Itadori blinks rapidly, clearly bewildered, but it doesn’t take long for one of those ridiculously cute smiles to spread across his lips. 

“Awesome! Thanks so much, [Name]. That’s really cool of you. I feel like you’re always the one doing me favors, even though it should be the other way around.” 

“It’s not a favor,” you reassure. You pause, smiling shyly. “I really like spending time with you, after all.” 

Itadori’s smile shows no signs of disappearing, and together, you make the trip to Sugisawa Hospital, where his grandfather is currently admitted. 

You have to admit, you feel a little nervous. His grandfather is his only remaining family, and naturally, you want to make a good impression. Even more so because you know that he doesn’t have much time left. You may not be able to stay by Itadori’s side once the canon plot begins, but at least for now, you’d like to put his grandfather at ease. 

“Don’t worry,” Itadori reassures, smiling brightly. “He might seem like a crabby old man at first, but he’s not actually that bad. I know he’ll be happy to see me with a friend.” 

You smile back and quickly nod, and after a moment’s delay, Itadori slides the door open. 

“...you again, Yuji?” a gruff voice immediately barks out. “I thought I told you to quit wasting your time stopping by. Don’t you have anything better to do? What about your school club?” 

Itadori steps into the room first, rolling his eyes as if this kind of reaction is typical, but once you follow behind him and make your presence known, his grandfather’s expression does a full one-eighty. 

“Oh,” he blinks. “Who’s this now? Yuji, don’t tell me… you finally managed to get yourself a girlfriend? Good going, kid. I didn’t know you had it in you.” 

Itadori blushes a bit, but his embarrassment dissolves once he lets out a sigh. “Cool it, old man. Don’t make me regret bringing her. This is [Name]. She’s my friend. You always seem so worried about me not spending enough time with other people, so I invited her to come, and she accepted. Make sure to be nice to her, okay?” 

“It’s very nice to meet you, sir,” you say, bowing your head. “I hope me being here isn’t an inconvenience.” 

“Itadori Wasuke,” his grandfather introduces. You watch as he sits up a bit straighter in his hospital bed. “Hm. Are you sure you’re not dating Yuji? You seem like you’ve got a good head on your shoulders. You’ve got manners, unlike this brat. Hey, Yuji. Don’t be stupid. You don’t want to lose a pretty girl like her to someone else.” 

Itadori rolls his eyes again. “It might be easier said than done, but try to ignore him. Sometimes I think he just says things because he likes hearing the sound of his own voice.” 

“See that?” Wasuke points. “Do you see how this ungrateful grandson of mine treats me?” 

You bite back a chuckle. Naturally, you’ve already gotten a glimpse of what their relationship is like, well before meeting either of them in person. Wasuke may have a sharp tongue, but it’s clear that he loves his grandson, and he wants him to have a good life. He wants him to be surrounded by people who care for him, and even though Itadori will face plenty of hardship in the future, the fact remains that he will have plenty of friends who are willing to stand by his side. 

“Itadori’s a really good guy,” you say, lacing your hands together and smiling. “Everyone likes him. He’s got a lot of other friends besides me. And I know he’ll make countless more friends from here on out.” 

You pause to gauge their reactions. Itadori is blinking at you, perhaps a bit flustered by your sudden declaration, and Wasuke’s expression hasn’t really changed much, but you notice that his eyes are a bit wider than they were a second ago. 

It’s awfully subtle, but for just a brief moment, a smile rises to Wasuke’s lips. 

“Is that so?” he chuckles. “Thank you for saying that, young lady. I’ll admit that it brings me some relief. I’m glad Yuji isn’t just wasting the best years of his life tending to a sickly old man like me. If he’s got friends like you who speak so highly of him… then I guess he must be doing something right.” 

“No way,” Itadori marvels. “Did you just compliment me, gramps?” 

“Don’t get used to it.” 

“Still! You actually said something kind of nice for a change!” 

“Alright, I take back everything I just said.” 

The two of them go back and forth like this for a while longer, and you’re perfectly content to just stand there and watch. It’d be nice if Wasuke could stick around longer. It’d be nice if Itadori didn’t have to lose the only family he has left. But without a doubt, Wasuke will live on in his heart, and you get the feeling that even when he passes, he’ll be watching over him for a long, long time. 

Wasuke clears his throat. “Seriously, though. If you don’t act fast enough, by the time you know it, [Name] will be dating someone else. Don’t live a life filled with regrets, kid.” 

“...gramps, come on.” 

Uh-oh.

You’re not an idiot, so of course, you know what this means. The wooden box he’s referring to is where Sukuna’s finger was being kept. Up until Itadori found it, that is. 

Which can only mean that soon—like, very soon—the main plotline will begin to unfold. 

You nervously chew on your lip. Truth to be told, you want absolutely nothing to do with that stinky finger. You already know that everything will be fine until the Occult Club members remove the seal, but still. The whole thing just freaks you out, and it’s way too scary to even fathom getting involved in. 

While you struggle to come up with a reasonable excuse, your phone buzzes again. 

Balls. He’s just too goddamn cute. It makes it downright impossible to turn him down. 

With a heavy sigh, you text him that you’re on your way, and you eventually get there, unsurprised to see him standing in front of the same storage box that Fushiguro was frantically searching at the start of the series. 

Itadori grins widely. “Thanks for coming! Here, check this out. Have you ever seen something like this before? It looks kind of supernatural, doesn’t it? I bet Sasaki and Iguchi would go crazy over this.”

He proceeds to hold up a small, visibly old wooden box, and you gulp as he opens it up to reveal the cursed object inside—one of Sukuna’s fingers.

Of course, he doesn’t have the slightest clue what it actually is. It’s completely wrapped up in the seal, making the object inside indiscernible. He probably wouldn’t be grinning ear-to-ear if he knew it was some wrinkly old finger. 

…then again, he swallowed said finger without even hesitating, so maybe he wouldn’t actually care that much. 

“Oh, c-cool,” you say, doing your best to mask your discomfort. “Yeah, it definitely gives off that occult vibe. I’m sure the other club members would like it a lot.” 

“I really wonder what it’s even supposed to be, though.” Itadori frowns as he picks up the sealed finger—much to your horror—and leans in closer to get a better look at it. “Yep, I honestly have no idea. You got any theories, [Name]?”

Without warning, he tosses the cursed object towards you, and out of pure reflex, you lurch forward to catch it. 

The second it falls into your hands, you experience a sense of dread that is almost too nauseating to put into words. 

It’s only for a moment, but the scene before your eyes changes. All of a sudden, you feel something wet sloshing around your feet, and you look down to find crimson liquid, red water, or perhaps—blood. 

You try to choke out a few words, but no sound escapes your lips. You’re understandably disoriented, so your gaze then pans upwards, and to say that you’re terror-struck would still have been an understatement. 

Right there, sitting on top of a pile of skeletons, is Sukuna.

It seems as though you’ve lost the ability to speak, but even if you could speak, you doubt you would have been able to find the right words. You’re too overwhelmed with fear to even think clearly, and right before you collapse onto your knees, just shy of a meltdown, Sukuna knits his brows together and leans forward.

“...who are you?”

You snap out of it with a gasp, only to find that you’re still standing in front of Itadori, who has a worried look on his face. 

“[Name]?” he frowns. “What’s wrong? You don’t look so good. Sorry, did I freak you out by tossing that thing at you? I probably shouldn’t have done that. I get why you’d be startled.” 

He crouches down to pick up the cursed object, which you apparently dropped to the ground without even realizing it. You place a hand over your chest, exhaling shakily. Your heart is pounding relentlessly, and you feel dizzy, like you might pass out at any given moment.

Just now… that was Sukuna’s Innate Domain, right? But how is that even possible? He hasn’t even been incarnated through Itadori yet…

You swallow hard. That finger is completely sealed. Even though the seal is old enough to be torn off by even a regular human—like Sasaki, for instance—Sukuna shouldn’t have appeared before you. Or at the very least, you shouldn’t have been able to see him. 

Maybe it was just a strange vision. Maybe the shock induced some kind of hallucination, or something. None of this makes any sense in the first place. The fact that you’ve been transported into the world of Jujutsu Kaisen.

Itadori places the cursed object back inside the box, then tucks it into his pocket. “Sorry again for catching you off guard like that. Are you okay? You look a bit faint. That was my bad. You even mentioned before that you don’t really like scary stuff, so I should have thought twice before doing that.” 

“I’m okay,” you reassure, and it’s true. You feel perfectly fine now. That sensation of choking up and being overcome with fear is already a thing of the past. It seems more and more likely that it was probably all in your head. 

Yeah.

You must have just been imagining things. 

“Kokkuri, Kokkuri, please tell us… which creature is the school council president weaker than?!” 

Ah. So, it’s finally starting. 

The question is all too familiar, of course, and as you allow the coin to be guided around the board, the word formed is exactly what you expected. 

“What? A fish?” everyone laughs in response, and just like in the canon series, the door abruptly slides open, revealing none other than the student council president himself. 

He starts berating everyone in the room, of course, but you're not really paying attention. 

Instead, you gaze at Itadori with a wistful smile, realizing that after today, you will no longer be part of his life.

There's no place for you by his side. It's simply too dangerous, and even if you were strong enough, you can't risk upsetting the delicate balance of this world. Everything will unfold the way it's supposed to, which means that your role here, albeit small as it was, is over. 

…or is it?

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Just One Reason: A Walk in the Park

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Lloyd Hansen

masterlist - to be added

Summary: A chance encounter at the sandwich shop doesn’t end how you expect.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You push through the door of the lobby and hold it open for the elder woman hunched over her walker. You patiently let her through but she doesn’t even acknowledge your deed. It’s too bad that most times you help people, you don’t even seem to notice. That’s fine. You’d feel worse to see her struggle. 

She heads for the outer door but before you can rush over to get that too, someone else does. You blanch as you recognise the man with the bristly mustache. It’s Lloyd. You haven’t seen or heard from him in the week since the sandwich shop encounter. You just assumed it was another random crossing of wires. 

The woman mutters as she passes through the door and his cheek twitches as he waits until he’s through to let go. He shakes his head and turns to you, “there ya are. Didn’t know your unit so kinda just been hanging around.” 

You blink, “you’ve been waiting on me?” 

“That lady was a grouch, huh? Not even a thanks. Telling ya, tootsie roll, you’re too sweet,” he says. That pet name is cute but a bit much. 

“Um, yeah, but she’s probably in a lot of pain. Maybe one day I’ll be in the same way and someone will hold the door for me,” you shrug. “But uh, why exactly are you waiting in my lobby?” 

“Friends stop by to say hello, don’t they?” He grins.  

“Sure, but uh...” 

“You said we’re friends so... did I misread this? Were you just being nice? The way you do, huh? Because lying isn’t very nice, tootsie.” 

You shake your head, “no, I just... I don’t know. I’m surprised. That’s all.” 

“Good surprise?” He lifts a brow. 

“Yeah, of course,” you squeak. 

“Mm, and where are you off too, besides helping little old ladies?” He challenges. 

“Just going for a walk. I like to walk through Garnet.” 

“Garnet? You mean the sh—the path down there?” He points to the wall and you nod. 

“They have pretty flowers.” 

“It’s... almost winter,” he sniffs. 

“Yeah, I know. I like it though. There’s still ducks around.” 

He nods, his eyes narrowed discerningly, “you always see the silver linings, don’t ya?” 

“I try,” you shrug. 

“Well, can I crash your walk? Could stand to stretch my legs.” 

You nod and hum, “that’s fine.” 

“Just fine?” 

“Lloyd,” you give him a look, “you’re more than welcome to walk with me.” 

You tuck your earbud case away. The left one is broken anyhow. He pulls the door open again and waves you out. 

He follows and catches up to you on the sidewalk. You walk down the pavement and breathe in the brisk air. You fix your beanie over your ears and slip your hands up your sleeves as you cross your arms. 

“Damn cold, isn’t it?” He puffs a cloud of steam into the air. 

“I can’t wait for the snow,” you say.  

Your father always loved the wintertime. You would watch the flakes drift down and build a snowman, even a tiny one if there wasn’t very much, and you’d have hot chocolate on the porch in your mittens and pajamas. And Christmas... 

You push away that thought. 

“You’re quiet? You alright?” He nudges you with his elbow. You flinch. You forgot he was there for a second. 

“I’m wonderful. How are you? How’s your ear?” 

“My ear...” he echoes. “You remember?” 

“Did you get it looked at? Does it still hurt?” 

“Yeah, it’s alright. Still a bit fuzzy on that side,” he shrugs. “It’s whatever. I’m a big boy.” 

“Right, but did a doctor say so or--” 

“You worry about me that much, tootsie?” He scoffs. 

“It’s important. You never know, could be worse than you think. And if it’s nothing at all, at least you know,” you say. You don’t want to nag him, even if you should have nagged your dad. Maybe... 

“No, I didn’t. Really, it’s not the first time I got a good blast to the ear,” he says. 

“Right,” you accept as you turn through the gate to the park. The arch is missing letters but it’s still beautiful. 

He sighs again and rubs his hands together. “God, I hate the cold.” 

“You should get gloves,” you uncross your arms and reach into your pocket, “I don’t know, mine might be too small.” 

You offer him the woolly mittens. He clicks his tongue, “that’s cute, definitely too small.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and chatters. You look at his jacket. You try to see the inside above the collar. “What are you doing?” He glances at you from the corner of his eye. 

“Is that lined?” You ask. 

“What?” 

“Your coat. Is there a lining in it? It looks thin.” 

“I’m just fine, mom, thanks,” he snips sharply. 

“Gosh, sorry, I just... I could sew a lining into it. I replaced the inserts in my boots too. It’s not that hard.” 

He furrows his brow, “it’s whatever. I spend most of the winter south. Right by the equator where it’s nice and sunny.” 

“Ooo, that sounds cool,” you say. “By the ocean?” 

“Surrounded by it,” he says nonchalantly. 

“Wow. I’ve never seen the ocean.” 

“You haven’t... tootsie, what’re ya doin’ to me? You’re lying.” 

“Nope,” you shake your head. “I’m sure one day I will. Is it pretty?” 

He looks at you and his nostrils flare as he takes a deep breath, “yeah, it’s... beautiful,” he looks ahead thoughtfully. “Guess I should pay more attention, but yeah, real blue and big and sh—stuff.” 

You bounce on your feet and stop suddenly. You hit his arm and point, “don’t scare him.” 

He nearly trips as you gesture to the little chipmunk on the broken bench. You can’t help a squee as it skitters onto the seat and glances around nervously. You squeeze Lloyd’s sleeve without thinking. 

“He’s so c-y-ute!” You say, “isn’t he?” 

He doesn’t answer right away but you’re too enamoured with the tiny critter to care. 

“Yea, super cute,” he agrees at last. 

[primalmagic]

hi okay so here is the unedited version of the last chapter of letters written in incognito !! will post the edited version on ao3 / here tomorrow <3. enjoy!

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“What am I going to do?” She panics, walking back and forth in her room, “Tyler, what do I do? What if its a misconception or something, what if Barron sits in the seat next to me- or- or behind me? How can we be sure-?”

Tyler glares at the wall, “Every time I hear his name I want to strangle something,” He says, in a monotone voice, “Out of all the people I expected, he sure as hell wasn’t on the list.”

She freezes, “Expected?”

“Taylor, you aren’t subtle.”

“What.”

“I’m not blind! It’s kind of obvious you have a crush on Ben. Literally all of us can see it. Except for him, obviously.”

“I don-”

“You do.”

Goddamn it.

“Wha- why didn’t you say anything before??”

“I didn’t know I had to! I trust him, and I trust you. And then all this started and I could see the way you looked at him and… I don’t want you to be hurt again, Tay. I don’t want your heart to be broken by all of this. And then we find out that it’s most likely the guy we all, uh, dislike. And I don’t know, now it’s not some funny thing anymore? Because I know this is killing you, and I don’t… I don’t like seeing you upset.”

Taylor feels like she’s a little kid again, holding on to her brother and crying for hours.

“Oh.”

He gives her a burnt-out smile, “Yeah.”

A few seconds pass, the silence more anticipating than awkward. Finally, Tyler stands up, “How about I give you some time alone?”

“Okay,” she whispers.

He turns around, the silence almost unbearable to Taylor’s ears- and right as he’s about to leave their room, she speaks again.

“Tyler?”

“Yeah?”

Her voice comes out wobbly, cracking around the edges, “Can I have a hug?”

Tyler turns around, his eyes softening, “Duh.”

Wrapped in her brother’s embrace, she feels small again- in more ways than one. She feels small like a little kid, without the burdens she’d never even known had existed. She feels small like she’s insignificant, as if nothing matters anymore and it’s all just… stupid. She feels small like she’s been hit by a shrink gun, like no matter how much she yells for help, nobody is going to see her.

At least she’d always have Tyler.

“Sorry,” She mumbles, “I don’t want to stress you out or anything.”

He looks at her with a wry smile, “Don’t worry about that- I don’t think you can stress me out anymore than I already am.”

He means it as a joke, but she sees the way his face falls flat when he notices how the words affect her.

“Shit, no, I mean- Taylor, it’s not your fault. Seriously. Stop blaming yourself, alright? You’re doing the best you can, and that’s good enough. Don’t worry about me, kay?”

“You do more,” she murmurs.

“Good thing it’s not a contest then, eh?” He cracks a smile, “Goodnight, Taylor.”

She wants to argue, wants to say something, anything- but her body refuses to cooperate. She’s exhausted.

 “I guess. Goodnight Ty.”

– 

The next day in school is awkward. Hell, awkward is an understatement. The next day at school is a living hell. Logan comes up to her before the bell rings, fixing his glasses, “Hey, uh, how you doing?” 

He asks like she just suffered through a bad fever, and not that some annoying-ass kid that they all hated apparently had a crush on her. Which, by default, meant that she was being played.

Because there was no way Barron actually would write her a love letter, right?

It seemed to be the most plausible solution. 

He’d written it to get a rise out of them, watch them run in circles with no answers and then eventually reveal it is a joke.

It did seem like a very Barron thing to do. 

“I’m okay!” She smiles.

He looks taken aback, “Really?”

“Yeah! I mean, at least now I don’t feel bad about not reciprocating, right?” She shrugs, ignoring the sting in her stomach, “Good thing it ended up being a joke anyway.”

Logan sighs, “If you say so. You sure?”

“Mh hm.”

“Okay, then. See you at lunch?”

She waves at him, watching him walk away, “Bye!”

As Logan leaves, Taylor waits there, unsure, alone, for a bit. The bell would ring in five minutes, and Tyler was busy harassing Aiden- so she decidingly stayed away.

You seem happy.

She whirls around, noticing Ben leaning against the lockers, “When did you get here??”

Two seconds ago. Maybe three. Four now.

She snorts, “I got the point, thanks.”

He smiles softly, and it’s quite endearing, really. 

You’re happy it’s not real?

So he heard her conversation with Logan. He’d definitely not been here for only a few seconds.

She shrugs, “I mean, I guess so. It’s not like I was the burden or an issue then, you know? It was just Barron trying to get me mad. Besides, it was a longshot thinking someone would have a crush on me anyway, I didn’t even ever fully believe it.”

He shakes his head, I think someone wou-

“Oh!” She gasps, cutting off the text-to-speech. “Oh shit, I completely forgot. Guess what, I do have an admirer. And even better- he isn’t secret.” She grins, “You know Leon?”

No?

“Well, he’s been in a few classes of mine and he got me flowers yesterday! And he told me I deserved better than all this and I think he asked me out?”

Are you going to say yes?

“Maybe,” she shrugs, suddenly regretting telling Ben. He’s frowning, looking at her with an expression she can’t pinpoint just yet, and she’s pretty sure she doesn’t like it, “He’s kind of cute, I guess. And he’s really nice.”

He probably only confessed because you're popular right now.

She shakes her head, “I don’t really think so.”

Well, are you sure? Some people aren’t what you think they are.

She frowns, “Why are you being so hostile today? Are you okay?” She reaches out to grab his hand, but he jerks away.

I’m fine.

“Alright… hey, want to get ice-cream after school with me and Ashlyn? You never answered the text in the group chat.”

I’m good, thanks.

He looks sullen, and now that she’s really looking, tired. He has light dark circles under his eyes, and he’s basically slumped against the lockers. 

“Dude, did you get enough sleep last night?”

He doesn’t bother answering her in words, just gives her a curt nod and turns away, leaving her to stare after him in confusion. 

He’s mad… but why?

And why does it feel like her fault?

– 

Ashlyn catches her before lunch begins, dragging her into the nearest girls bathroom.

“Spill.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Spill.”

“Ash, what are you talking about?”

“Ben has been moping around all day, Aiden keeps stopping his sentences like he’s afraid he’s going to say something he’s not supposed to, Tyler’s been constantly distracted, and you… I’m not even going to start talking about you. So spill. What happened?”

“I don’t know,” she huffs, “Barron?”

Ashlyn scoffs, “Yeah right. I was there yesterday too. This isn’t asshole induced, trust me. Whatever the hell did you say to Ben to get him to change the topic every time we even say your name?”

Oh.

Well that hurt a little bit.

That was a lie, actually. It stabbed Taylor in the chest like a baseball bat.

And she was very familiar with stabbing and baseball bats, so she would know.

“I told him about the guy that asked me out,” She frowns, “He seemed fine, and then he got all annoyed and just left. I don’t even know why. He just… stopped answering me and walked away.”

Ashlyn looks at her for a solid second before groaning, “Jesus Christ.”

“What?”

“Everyone’s stupid. All of you. Dear god.”

“Ashlyn, come on,” She sighs, the crypidness already killing her.

“No, shut up. Listen to me, okay? You need to talk to Barron.”

“What the hell- no!”

“Yes. I don’t know, think of it as closure?”

“Ash, that’s insane. I can’t talk to him about this! It’s obviously a joke. Why don’t we just forget it ever happened and leave it at that!”

“Tay- I- god,” She tugs on her hair, obviously frustrated, “I’m going to tell you something, and I need you to listen, because I’m not repeating it again.”

“Uh- okay-”

“What if Barron did like you?”

What.

All the blood rushes from her face as she croaks out exactly that, “What.”

“You don’t want that. We don’t want that. So figure out what’s going on. What was his intention? Why would he do that? He’s not our mortal enemy anymore, he doesn’t have a reason to pull something like this.”

This is honestly the most Taylor has ever heard Ash speak directed to her, but she’s definitely not complaining. 

And it makes sense.

Why would he? Unless… god, she doesn’t want to think about that.

Ashlyn continues, “Maybe if you ask him, you’ll… you’ll find out something you didn’t know before. You can’t finish the puzzle without all the missing pieces.”

“Makes sense,” she admits, begrudgingly, “I guess I should talk to him, shouldn’t I?”

“Yes.”

Ash scowls at her, “And, also, I’m all for killing him, but Logan wants me to tell you not too. He said something along the lines of, ‘I’ll do it myself’. So yeah. Now go find him.” 

Logan? Wait a second-

She pauses. Of course they’d planned this together. No wonder Logan was all fidgety this morning

Wait.

“You want me to go now?”

Ashlyn’s already turned around, walking outside. Taylor runs after her, “I can’t- I can’t even find him- maybe later- how about-”

Ashlyn sighs, “Over there.”

Damn it.

– 

Taylor is internally freaking out. She grazes the crowd until she spots just who she’s looking for. “Aiden!”

Aiden turns around at her voice, “Oh, hey, Tay.” He sounds nervous, which is weird, because Aiden’s never cautious about things. And he’s definitely looking wary right now.

She’d have to decode that later.

“I need help.”

Aiden perks up, just a little bit, “You’re not mad at me?”

“What? No, why would I be?”

“About the whole school knowing thing, you never answered my texts and I didn’t see you at all this morning.”

She shakes her head, “I’m so sorry about that. I barely had time to be on my phone and I was talking with Ben until the bell rang. I didn’t realize I seemed mad.”

“Oh” He grins, “Cool.”

She smiles back, “Cool.”

“Sooo… what did you need help with?”

Right.

“Uh, okay, so I’m going to go talk to Barron. And I kind of have no clue how to do it. So, as my self-proclaimed detective, I kind of need your help? Something tells me this case isn’t quite finished yet.”

He shudders, “Righty-O, captain. I’d examine his fingerprints, but I’d need to be near him for that, so no-can-do. What’s the plan?”

“I- I just asked you for one.”

“Right. Okay. Let’s see,” He scrunches his eyebrows, eyes trained on the figure Taylor had been avoiding, “Target acquired. He’s exiting the lunch room. Odd. Possible illegal activity? Or maybe just no friends. If you go now, you can catch him near the hallway. Everyone’s getting lunch right now, so I doubt anyone will be out there. You can do all the interrogation there.”

“Huh,” she laughs, “That might actually work. Thanks.”

He nods, solemnly, “I’m afraid I must part with you here, for the road ahead is too dangerous for me to continue.” He tries to stroke an imaginary beard, and Taylor is kind of surprised he hasn’t broken character yet.

“Uh huh, sure. Thanks again, Aiden- I’m just gonna… go now,” She gives him a thumbs-up, which he returns enthusiastically.

“Safe travels, dear client!”

More like crash and burn an airplane, but whatever.

She was entering pretty dangerous territory anyway. 

– 

“Hey you!” She calls after him, running through the hallways, “Barron- you- stop!”

She catches up to him just in time, panting and gasping for breath, “Dear god, you walk fast.”

“Uh. What the fuck.”

She stands up, still breathing heavily, and points an accusatory finger at his chest. “You! Why did you pretend to have a crush on me?”

Barron looks at her like she’s grown two heads, “Excuse me?”

“You- you, wrote me a letter. Why?”

He blinks, caught off track, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Taylor wants to scream, “Don’t play dumb! You know what I’m talking about! The love letter! The one that I found on my desk? The one only you could have written because nobody sits their third period and the girl in first doesn’t even know my name!”

“Okayyy,” He groans, “We’re going to backtrack here because what. the. hell.”

She waits, glaring at him. “You better have a good excuse, idiot.”

“I don’t need an excuse!” He throws his hands up in exasperation, “I didn’t write you a love letter, and quite respectfully, I find it incredibly disrespectful that you think I would have a crush on you! I have standards, thank you very much.”

Why did Logan tell her not to kill him? She would like to kill him right now.

“What’s your point?” She grumbles, “It just… appeared out of thin air? Somehow?”

“No! I was getting to that,” He huffs, like it’s her fault he’s being so cryptic, “Because what the hell did you mean by nobody sits there third period? You’re little music nerd gets to class to put his stuff in the cubby while I’m packing up. And, well, it’s quite frankly annoying, so please tell him to stop it.”

Music nerd?

“You mean Ben?” she whispers, not even trusting her own voice, “You mean Ben wrote the letter?”

“It’s sure as fuck not me, so, yeah. What, did he not tell you he sat there or something? Of course he’d be all stupid about it and blame me. God, my reputation is ruined.”

Taylor does not resist the urge to say, “You don’t even have one.”

“Yeah, well, now it’s in the negatives! Thanks to you and your little gang of ghostbusters,” He shudders exaggeratingly, “Having a crush on you, though, ugh. I wish music nerd all the best.”

“Thanks,” she says, rolling her eyes and pulling out her middle finger. (She can’t resist it, okay?)

“And no thanks to you,” he scoffs, as he gives her one right back, leaving her alone with information that will soon completely obliterate her brain. 

She needs to find Ben. Right now.

– 

She doesn’t find Ben.

Ben finds her.

She’s walking as fast as possible, practically running to their lunch table, when she knocks into another student.

“I’m so so-” She starts, and then looks up. Ben looks down at her, sheepishly.

Sorry.

“It’s fine, I should have been looking,” she shrugs, looking away.

No, I mean… I’m sorry. For how I acted today. I was having a bad day, and I took it out on you. 

Oh.

“It’s okay,” She exhales, “I appreciate the apology.”

He’d clearly written it out beforehand, waiting to find her, and she feels oddly comforted by that. 

Aiden said you were going to talk to Barron.

She shrugs, “Yeah. He told me something really weird. You wanna know what?”

She notices how he freezes up, and looks at her with wide eyes.

That’s when she knows.

It really was Ben, wasn’t it?

What?

“He said that the person who sat in my seat third period was you. Isn’t that funny?”

Ben looks at her like a deer caught in headlights, frantically fiddling with his phone but not typing anything.

She snorts, “How about we go somewhere more private?”

He looks at her for a millisecond, and then grabs her hand. Heat flies up her hand, and she forces a blush down, because come on, this was not the time for that.

He leads her to a classroom, one that’s already been emptied for the day, considering it’s upturned chairs.

She tries to say something, but shuts up when Ben grabs a whiteboard marker… and starts writing.

Hey Taylor.

Oh.

The handwriting… that- that must have been what Ashlyn had seen on the letter. How could Taylor have not connected the dots? It had been right in front of her the entire time.

And here. Here was proof.

“It’s really is you,” she whispers, understanding dawning on her face, “You wrote the letter. And- and the second one?”

Ben nods, glancing at the phone shaking in his hands, but not feeling the need to pull it up and say anything more.

“Why play with me?” Her voice cracks, “Why get my hopes up and then make another one?” She repeats, feeling so utterly stupid. For a second, she’d felt hopeful. But maybe… maybe the second letter wasn’t a sign, it was a prank.

Of course it was. Who could ever like Taylor-Fucking-Hernandez.

Ben looks at her, alarmed, and takes a step closer. His hand drifts upon her shoulder, and he squeezes it ever so slightly, like he’s waiting for her to shove him off. 

She doesn’t. 

She doesn’t have the willpower to. Not when he’s so close and looking at her like she’s everything but she knows she’s nothing- but she wants, god she wants, to be everything. 

He brings his phone up, and tries to type on it with one hand. Taylor watches, quietly, waiting, waiting, waiting for something that will simply shatter her heart and leave her here to bleed.

She’s a moth to the flame, but the flame is a burning piece of paper meant to keep her away. 

She’s an empty river, giving, giving, giving- but never taking, even as she’s left open and bare and naked to the world.

She and those phantoms have one thing in common at least. They’re both pathetic.

Stop thinking.

She jerks her head up, trying to look at Ben, but he’s still typing, his hand still on her shoulder. It’s not fair- that he can make her feel so helpless. That he’s kept her in the dark for so long, knowing how much she’s been mulling over it.

I think I want to write you one more letter.

His eyes meet hers, and a traitorous part of her wants absolutely nothing more. But her rational mind warns her that he’ll say it now. He’ll say that it was just for fun, or he fell out of love, or the reason he crumpled the first letter up and never turned it in was because it was never real.

But she gives him a chance anyway, because that traitorous part of her mind still loves Ben- still can’t say no to him.

His hand leaves her shoulder to join his other, which is furiously typing, and her entire being feels colder and emptier than before- like a weight has been lifted, but she needs that weight to ground herself. She craves it, she realizes. She needs to feel his touch, and the comfort and security and safety it brings.

Minutes pass, feeling like hours and days and decades and longer than Taylor has lived. But then he looks up again, and the phone starts speaking, 

I owe you an apology, Tay. I’m sorry I let it go this far. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything and I embarrassed you and I was too much of a coward to say anything. I’m so sorry that I just watched. You didn’t deserve that. I’m so sorry. 

“Stop saying you're sorry,” She whispers, “And tell me why you did it. Why did you write them?”

He blinks, surprised.

Isn’t it obvious?

She snorts, “There’s a lot of mixed signals here, Ben.”

I wrote you love letters, Taylor. Obviously I love you. I have since you asked me about my music taste for the first time. I have since Tyler almost died and you let me help you bandage your cuts even when you thought asking for help was a weakness. Tay… I've loved you since I first saw you. Everything I said in every letter was real. I promise.

Ben looks away, like the confession shocks him too, and Taylor notices that his hands are still shaking. He’s scared, she understands. She is too.

“Then why did you lie? You knew I wanted to find out who it was, and you let me think it was Barron. And then I completely embarrassed myself by asking him!” There’s a bite in her words that isn’t normally there, because she’s still getting a little used to her world being turned upside down.

I was scared, I think. I’m not someone people usually want. I thought you wouldn’t like it if it were me. You deserve better. and I was so scared. I didn’t want to lose you as a friend, and I guess I didn’t think my selfishness would be worth it.

She takes the phone from his hands, softly, letting him have the choice to take it from her if he really wanted to. He doesn’t reach for it. 

Instead, he just looks at her, and Taylor feels like her insides have been turned out.

“You’re enough, Ben. For me, for everyone. You’ll always be enough.” She leans closer, and he simply watches. “Can I hug you?”

He nods eagerly, and Taylor giggles, enveloping the taller boy in a hug.

“I get it now… you were jealous of Leon, weren’t you?” She giggles, “And just for your information, I’m not going on a date with him. He’s great, but I think I might have found someone who fits me way better.

Yeah?

“Yeah. And oh, for the record, you’re not being selfish by loving me or writing me stupid letters while letting me think they came from Barron. Just evil,” she laughs.

Ben winces and squeezes her hands softly, and Taylor backtracks.

“Shoot, no, it wasn’t a stupid letter, It was just… I just- anything’s stupid when it comes to him.”

Ben gently pulls out his phone from her grip, and for the few seconds that he’s typing, everything is so silent Taylor’s voice is ringing in her ears.

I get it. Mind if we stop talking about Barron now? He grins, his eyes flickering down to her lips and back up to her eyes again. He lets the phone sink back into his pocket, and focuses his attention on her. It’s two parts unnerving and one part absolute heaven.

“I don’t know, it seems that there’s a lot to talk about,” She smiles back, and waits as they kind of just… stand there for a while, their hands clasped together.

He leans closer, as if asking a question, and she has a sudden urge to ask him one. “Can I… ?”

He nods again, but she doesn’t get to finish through with her request, because he does it first. He surges forward, lightly pressing his lips on hers.

And hey, maybe this is why people call love a drug- because it definitely feels like one. It feels like she’s floating and drowning, and flying and falling, and living and dying, and being. She wouldn’t trade it for anything in the entire world.

When they separate, it's quiet, but it doesn't feel like it. A thousand words run through their minds, shared by an invisible link. She sees him, she thinks, and he sees her.

They don’t need words to feel. 

But there are a few that she should say anyway.

“Hey, Ben?”

He makes a humming sound, and unclasps one of his hands from hers, using it to cup her cheek. She leans into it, closing her eyes for a split second because she can… she can finally have this now.

“I love you too.”

[simsor-main]

I wasn't able to finish watching GotG Holiday Special but as soon as I can I will probably edit this but HOLY SHIT THE ANIMATED SCENE AT THE BEGINNING WHERE LITTLE PETER AND KRAGLIN ARE DECORATING THE CHRISTMAS TREE I AM IN TEARS ITS SO CUTE. And then Yondu comes and ruins everything but STILL

And I mean, in the previous movies you can't really see if Peter and Kraglin are close to each other or not, but now they're showing us those little bits where you know that when Peter started rambling about something Kraglin was listening and even remembered it and it's just so ajsjdhdudjndnkidndushnsk

I just love them so much

[sskk-manifesto]

!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[jrueships]

r u the grew up poor never being able to buy the little things in life u always wanted as a kid so now u buy whatever little thing u want as an adult and struggle with saving for the big mandatory thing,

or the grew up poor never being able to buy the little things in life u always wanted as a kid so now u just never buy anything small bcs u had to learn to live without it and constantly try to save for the next big thing in 500 yrs