#Summer Sway full version

[latenightdaydreams]

Can you write about Konig and stepmother! Reader. When he came back to visit his father in his hometown after years of deployment and he saw stepmother!reader who is young and curvy with large breasts and then...they fuck=))) Not forcing, love your writing btw

This is such a hot idea 😮‍💨I had so many ideas so I just had to pick one and write! Thank you for the support and I hope you enjoy the story! Have a great day♥️

König x Stepmother!Reader (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List

Part2 Part3 Part4

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>cw: fem/ afab reader, step mom, p in v, age gaps, mentions of breeding

2.6k word count

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König sat on his bed in his quarters and yanked his mask off of his face as his hands grasped a wedding invitation for his father’s 4th wedding. König looked at the elegant font and design before rolling his eyes and tossing the invite into the trash. After his father walked out on his mother, he has had no interest to keep up with him. It’s pathetic how a 73-year-old man keeps bouncing from wife to wife. König wouldn’t give this marriage a year. Yet, it was still his father and he made sure to try and make it to his city once he went back home to visit.

Still dressed in his full military uniform he finds himself standing outside of his father’s door. He takes a deep breath as he gets ready to see his dad again and meet whoever was stupid enough to marry the man. His hands go under his mask to adjust it slightly. Deciding to get it over with, he raises his hand and knocks on the door.

The door opens and he expects to see his 6’4 slender and frail old man of a father, but instead he sees you, his new step mom. You open the door with such warmth and radiance it’s as if the sun light behind you was coming from you. He stood there with a blank stare for a moment, trying to process the site before him. His eyes traveling down your frame to see the way your breasts are barely contained within you summer dress, you don’t look a day over 30, even young for König’s 46-year-old self. He swallows hard, no way this is his step mom.

“König?” Your voice smooth like silk with an accent sends a shiver down his spine.

“Ja, and you’re…”

“Y/N,” your hand is so small and delicate within his own as he grabs yours to shake. He tries to control his gaze as they step into the house.

“Your father is just over here,” you say walking ahead of König as you both make your way to the living room. König’s eyes glued to your ass jiggling and the way your hips sway with every step. His mind jumping through hoops trying to understand how his dad could have possibly landed someone as fucking hot as you.

Walking up to his father König holds a hand out for him to shake, his eyes piercing down at the old man with a look of distain.

“Hallo, how have you been old man?” König asks as he sits, his eyes trailing back to his new step mom as she sits on the arm rest next to his dad.

“Great son, have you met my old ball ‘n chain?” Felix hand creeping around your waist.

König suppresses the eyeroll he feels at his dads comment about his new wife. His new soft, big breasted wife.

“I have, she’s lovely.” His piercing pale blue eyes meet your gaze as he says these words. His dad too oblivious to notice the lustful gaze his son was giving his new wife.

A small blush forms on your cheeks as König calls you lovely. You smirk and look over his body. He is massive. A younger, bigger version of Felix. You wonder if everything is bigger.

“Well, I’m happy I finally get to meet you. Felix has told me so much about you.”

“Has he now?” König asks while looking at his father, Felix’s eyes glued to watching the TV.

“Can I get you something to drink König? I’m sure you’re wore out from all of the traveling.” You stand to your feet and smooth out your dress as you wait for his reply.

König’s throat was dry and he most definitely could use something to drink, but he didn’t want water, he wanted you to squirt in his mouth. He shakes his head to snap out of the thought.

“Uh, yes please.” König stands and walks past his father following you into the kitchen. His dad too out of it to even keep interest in a conversation with him, he wonders how you do it.

You walk into the kitchen and tiptoe to get a glass for König when you feel a large hand on your side, making you shiver.

“Here, let me help.” König says casually as if his heart isn’t beating out of his chest from the sensation of touching your waist. His hand resting on the curve of your perfect hour glass shape as his mind begins to wonder how sexually fulfilled you actually are with his father. He quickly pushes the thought aside as he hands you a glass.

“Thank you, König.” You grab the glass from his eyes all the while gazing deeply into his blue eyes. Snapping out of it you turn and go to the fridge as you begin to fill the glass with water. “So, your dad tells me you’re a Colonel?”

“I am,” König eyes you intently wondering why you’re actually here with his dad, you could be with anyone. “How long have you been with my father?” He takes the cup of water from you, your fingers grazing his making him feel a spark.

“A little over four years now.” You reply leaning against the counter in the kitchen.

König’s eyes land on your breasts again before he looks down at his glass and takes a long drink. He couldn’t think of any appropriate questions to ask you. From are your breasts real to can his dad even please you are the only ones bouncing around in his brain.

Just then his dad walks in and pats König on the back, making him jump. König watches as his dad walks past him to you, wrapping his arm around your waist and kissing your soft lips. A heat of jealousy rushes over him as he drops his gaze and drinks more water.

“Is dinner almost ready?” Felix asks as his hand remains on your ass.

“It is, I was just getting König a drink.”

“Alright, let’s get eating, I’m tired.” Felix complained as he made his way to the table. König thankful his face is hidden or hid dad would have seen his disgust.

“I’ll help set the table,” König walked to the cabinet you had opened and reached over you to grab three plates.

“Oh, thank you.” He was close and all you could think about was his cologne mixed with his natural musk, finding it enticing.

You set the table with König’s help and sat down to eat. It was painfully awkward. You could tell the strained relationship between father and son was hopeless. Felix has no interest in talking to his son and his son has no interest in forgiving his dad. König’s eyes kept following you the whole time. Watching how your lips wrapped around your fork as you took a bit, the way your breasts rest on the table due to their size. He can’t get enough of you.

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Hours pass and König is in the room you set up for him and looking around. He pulls his mask off and begins to undress. He can’t stop thinking of you.  As he drops his pants, his erection is more obvious. He runs his palm over it through the fabric of his boxer briefs.

“Fuck,” he whispers to himself as he walks to the bed and gets under the covers. Looking up at the ceiling he begins to think of you as he slowly began to stroke his cock. Thinking of the way your breasts jiggle with the slightest of movement. He closes his eye and begins to pump his fist over his cock, imagining you riding him and how your breasts would look bouncing. Thinking you and Felix are asleep, he lets out soft moans.

You walk upstairs from getting a late night snack and you can hear soft little moans coming from down the hall, you know its König. Looking ahead at your bedroom door, then over to König’s, you decide to make your way to his room.

Standing outside the door you can clearly hear his hand moving over his cock, soft wet sounds mixed with the blankets rustling. You can hear him moan out your name every few seconds. Taking a deep breath, you open the door.

König stops and his eyes go wide as he sees you. A mix of surprise and embarrassment written on his face as he gulps. His eyes travel down your body and notice the silky light pink night gown you’re wearing. The dress clings perfectly to your body, you look like a goddess.

“Y/N…” König says your name with lust and panic in his tone.

“König…” You close the door behind you. Your eyes travel to the part of the blanket that was poking up from his erection.

König froze in place as you slowly started to walk to him. You sit on the bed beside him as you reach out and grasp his erection over the blanket. König lets out a shaky breath feeling your small hand grasp his fat cock.

“Oh Scheiße.” He moaned softly as you squeezed the head of his cock.

“Would you like some help?” You slowly stroke down his cock and watch as his jaw drops.

König begins to nod his head quickly, “Please,” his eyes look into yours almost begging you.

You pull the blanket back to see his boxer briefs pulled down his thighs and his cock out, the foreskin hugging his bright pink tip that’s leaking pre cum. His cock is simply massive. You grab his cock, skin on skin now, your fingers don’t even meet when wrapped around him. König’s breathing quickly at this point watching with anticipation.

You begin to stroke his cock faster pulling quiet moans from König’s lips. You look up at his maskless face and study it, watching the way his face contorts with pleasure; he looks exactly like his dad, but younger.

Without thinking König reached a hand out and cupped one of your breasts over the nightgown. He squeezed gently as he moved his eyes from your hand wrapped around him to his hand on you. Your breast so big and full they spill over his large hands. He has never been blessed to touch such beautiful breasts before. His hand pulls down your night gown to expose your bare breast to him.

Your nipples hard as he reaches out and tugs on one. “Mein Gott, you are so perfect.” He whispers almost as if he didn’t mean to say the words out loud.

He sits up more to lean forward, his lips finding yours and bringing you into a passionate kiss, his tongue finding yours as you softly begin to suck on his. He lets out a soft groaning sound at the thought of you sucking his cock instead. His hand still playing with your nipple as the other holds your waist tightly. Precum leaking on to your hand as he slowly breaks the kiss.

“I’ve been thinking about fucking you since the minute I laid my eyes on you.” He growls as he begins to kiss down your neck, biting lightly to not leave marks behind.

He hears you let out the softest little moan and it sends his brain into over drive as he pushes you back on the bed. His mouth hungrily kissed down your neck to your breast as he pulls his underwear all the way off. His mouth latched to your nipple and sucking at it desperately as you moan out running your fingers through his hair. König had been thinking about what this moment with you might be like, and now here he was; ready to show you another reason why he’s better than his dad.

You watch as König slaps his heavy cock onto your wet pussy, it’s been ages since you’ve been fucked- like really fucked. Your legs twitch as his cock rubs over your sensitive clit and it makes him smirk.

“Fuck me already,” you demand pathetically and König chuckles in response.

“Horny little house wife, aren’t you?” He teases as he slips his cock into your tight wet cunt. Instantly your velvety walls began to flutter around his size desperately trying to accommodate him.  You let out a quiet moan as your eyes close, face twisting in pleasure. His cock filling you up to the point of pain, but fuck it felt good. His hands grabbing your thighs and spreading your legs. His cock pressing in until he hits your mushy cervix, your pussy not even able to fit all of him.  

“You like that, huh?” König asks feeling a bit arrogant.

His pins your legs back and begins to just pound into your creamy cunt, his mouth finding your breast as he begins to kiss and bite all over them, no longer worrying about leaving marks on you. He wanted you for his own self. His balls slapping hard against your ass as they tighten from excitement.

Not only did your gummy cunt feel like heaven, the whole taboo situation of you being his step mom was adding to the experience. The thought of filling you with his cum and possibly getting you pregnant making his mind go crazy with excitement.

“Please fuck me!” Your fingers drag across König’s broad back and scratch deeply, leaving bright red marks across his pale skin. Yours legs tremble as they squeeze his side.

“König- I’m so close.”

“Cum for me, cum for me like the needy little step mom you are.” His hand moves to your pussy as his thumb begins to rub to your clit. You melt into nothing as you begin to moan loudly, your body tensing as you feel the rush of euphoria takes over your body.

“Shhh, you’re going to wake the old man up. You really want your husband to see you getting fucked by his son?” He smirks as you cum on his cock. He can feel how wet you get as you squeeze his cock. In this moment Felix isn’t even a thought, all you can think about is König’s cock fucking you.

König grabs a pillow and puts it down beside you before quickly pulling out. He easily manhandles you and flips you over, using the pillow to help lift your ass up. He got behind you, one hand gripping your hip and the other holding his cock that is covered in your creamy thick white cum. Pushing his leaky cock into you slowly he lets out a low sigh. His hands wrap around your ass and squeeze, pulling your cheeks apart as his thumb rubs over your tight asshole.  He doesn’t know how much longer he can keep going, his muscles becoming tense as his balls begin to tingle and tighten. Your cunt keeping a tight grip on his cock.

Königs head dropped back and his Adams apple bobbing in his throat as he lets out tiny whimpers of pleasure. Without warning, König cums deep inside of your pussy, feeling his cock throbbing inside you.

He pulled out with heavy breath before laying beside you on the bed. You both looked at each other smiling.

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The next morning König goes down stairs to see you wearing black leggings and a simple t-shirt. You were standing in front of the stove making breakfast for everyone. His eyes meet yours and you both smirk at each other.

He sits next to his father at the table exuding a cocky aura. He just fucked his dad’s wife after all. König keeps his eyes on your breast as you walk back and forth, remembering how they looked bouncing as he pounded into you last night.

You don’t know it, but König is already planning a life with you, away from his father. He feels no guilt or remorse, if anything this is just karma for Felix. You abandon his mom; he steals your woman. Fair is fair.

Part2 Part 3 Part 4

[ch4mpagnedrought]

compensation

[full series]

mdni ! art donaldson

summary: you and art cant help but try and compensate for everything you’re missing out on now that tashi and patrick are together.

ever since tashi had suggested a game of tennis for her number and patrick won, its left you and art to roam around the stanford campus like two little lost puppies, begging for their attention when patrick comes to visit tashi.

patrick has made it impossible to get a hold of the girl, her dorm room always locked and her absence in the daily work-outs the two of you usually have made very obvious. not to mention the betrayal art must be feeling, having his best friend be only in the adjacent building to him, but never coming to actually see him.

you’ve had to find ways to preoccupy yourselves, and stop you from going on an angry rampage, like;

hitting racket to ball in the middle of the court, not even bothering to play a real game. “my prof is making me rewrite my whole assignment this week.” you complain, aiming the ball at the green fencing at the sides and watching it bounce back in art’s direction for your own botched version of squash. he laughs loudly, “who knew you were so bad at everything besides tennis.” you shoot him a scowl and his eyes widen, shoulders shrugging unapologetically as he swings his arm once again.

spring fading into summer means that evenings still have a little light in them, and you fight the urge to lie straight down on the tarmac and look up at the greying sky. the light breeze washes through art’s strawberry blonde hair, swaying it to the side to expose his brows that furrow when you let the ball bounce away between your legs, looking at him with a tense expression. the thought that tashi and patrick were somewhere doing god knows what (you knew what) and completely ignoring you made a reappearance in your head suddenly, and it boiled your blood. “ugh! im gonna kill them!” you huff out, grabbing the ball from the ground and stomping to where you left your stuff. art’s arm finding the both of your shoulders, “ditto that.”

having lunch at the food hall together: waiting in line for the same exact salad that you get every day, curtesy of your game-preparation meal plan and taking a seat on the bar stools that overlook the rest of the campus. stabbing your fork into the frail pieces of lettuce in your plastic bowl, art taking another bite of his churro in silence and licking away all the rouge sugar particles from his lips. “you know, patrick didn’t even bother to call me about his visit.” art says, taking off his red baseball cap just to put it back on his head again. “what a dog.” you scoff, shaking your head and taking a sip of your smoothie that tastes a little grainy from the protein powder. you would’ve continued to rant if you hadn’t spotted tashi and patrick walking hand-in-hand in the distance, all smiles and giggles; it makes you sick. “look.” you point it out to art and he mocks patrick in a high-pitched voice, “hey tashi aren’t i so cool? i play pro and i’m totally not cheating on you.” you chuckle, leaning over to snag a bite of his churro.

and confiding in each other in art’s dorm late at night, when the haunting noises coming from the other side of your wall get too much.

his room is surprisingly so…boyish. a couple posters of tennis stars on the walls that seem so out of place, like he put them there for the sole purpose of taking up space. his medals are hung up on the corner of his wardrobe, tinkering on the edge and there is an unidentified pile of clothing in the corner.

his sheets are a deep maroon colour and you lie flat across them, both of your heads leaning on the single flat pillow he owns, legs crossed. his ceiling has remnants of a water leak the university tried to paint over and you study it from below. “i wonder what they’re doing right now.” art hums, putting his hands behind his head, and letting you rest your head on his bicep.

you shoot up, glancing down at him, one brow lifted and eyes narrow, “i can tell you exactly what they’re doing right now,” you say, scrambling up onto your knees, “’patrick i need your racket right now!’’’ you moan tauntingly, rolling your eyes back and crossing your arms over your chest. art cackles, stomach contracting and grabbing onto your shoulder for support. his hand is pumping warm with blood, hovering over your skin for longer than socially acceptable, and his fingers caressed by the long strands of your curly hair that fall at your sides.

running over to his room meant that you hadn’t had enough time to grab a change of clothes to sleep in, so he graciously lent you one of his t-shirts, a navy one with white embroidered writing that you hadn’t bothered to read, which prods at the aching in his head to see you without it.

“when was the last time you slept with someone?” your question catches art off guard, lying back down next to him and watching the blush creep up onto his cheeks, eyes darting away somewhere to think of an answer. “oh come on, was it that unforgettable?” you laugh. he knew when exactly when the last time was, but the thought that him sleeping with someone had crossed your mind, putting the idea of the two of you together into his own had clouded his head, making it unbearably difficult to think, or speak.

“maybe last month” art estimates when the last time he saw the girl in one of his classes that he casually slept with from time to time, your expression remaining unchanged, which whirls something inside of his stomach. you nod, smile spreading across your lips, and eyes glancing down to art’s partially parted ones. art adjusts himself, propping his head up with his hand and looking down at you, “when was the last time that you slept with someone?”

its unclear to him whether you're joking with your response. “ask me that tomorrow.” it spins his head until he sees double, having to shut his eyes for a second to regain consciousness. your nonchalant smile quite frankly irks him, because you seem so unaware of how he is sliding the tip of his tongue along his bottom lip, preparing just incase you decide that you want to kiss him. or the fact that he moved his leg upwards along the bed to cover his raging boner at just the mere idea of you and him together.

the shirt he lends you rides up on your hips, obviously showing off the black panties that you’re wearing and the neck-line hangs low enough to show the indent of your collarbone that he imagines licking a stripe over.

you thrum, looking up at art through dark eyelashes, “isn’t it so unfair how tashi and patrick can ignore us just to get at each other?”

he got the hint, every crumb you’ve put down he’s followed and scooped up all in one go, sighing out a weak, “yeah” that sounds more like a whine, and leaning down to kiss you on the lips.

the taste of your lip gloss he had missed sweetens his mouth immediately and the faint smell of a chocolatey lotion on your skin sends him into complete overdrive, left hand desperately reaching for the side of your face to take you deeper into him. he sinks himself down, pressing his chest into yours and disconnecting his lips to breathe out a groan at the sensation of your boobs against him like a boy who's never felt them before.

his face is burning hot, lips even hotter as they move simultaneously with yours, covering the perimeter of your mouth with long and drawn out movements to fully get the taste of you hes been dreaming of ever since that hotel room. his hands roam down to the curvature of your waist, taking a strong grip to it to make sure his fingerprints forever remember it, then down to your hips, kneading the flesh.

with him over you, he pulls away from your arms that are wrapped around his neck, pulling the hem of his shirt to unveil your midriff and the black lace that frames your lower waist, your thighs pressed together to catch the heat that he manifests within you, “oh my god.” it might just be the lewdest sight he has ever seen, along with your swollen lips that are glistening with his saliva.

he can barely keep away the moans that try to escape his mouth when he lowers himself down to you, eager lips pressing into your hip, lapping at the surface of your skin with a desperation only art could have, along the hem of your panties, and back up your stomach while your fingers entangle with his blonde locks.

your pulse quickens, exhaling his name out when his finger pulls your underwear to the side, letting the air hit your leaking core, a smile playing at art’s lips. “please, please art.” you moan out, squeezing your eyes shut and letting the sensation of one of his digits swiping through your folds overcome you.

he nibbles at your inner thighs, soft licks soothing the area as one of his fingers slides inside you, while the other gropes at your breast through your shirt. his mind is completely consumed by you, watching every change in your expression with his fingers pumping in and out of you, flush on your face and brows knitting every time he draws back.

your legs instinctively move over his shoulders, trapping him around you to continue the motion and giving him the chance to tilt his head to the side, pressing a kiss to the thigh that is thrown over him. “is this okay?” he asks, caressing a hand down your calf and watching the way your hand reaches out to grab him by the wrist.

“lie down art” you keen, his eyes narrow and he pulls back with a sense of confusion that is overrode with your impatience, ushering him below you. so he does, leaning against the headboard whilst you throw yourself onto his hips, his jaw tilting upwards to unconsciously fulfil the want of his lips devouring the whole of your figure.

the shirt he lent you doesn’t last long, ending up in the pile on his floor and letting him ravish in the sight of your bare torso. he gasps out your name, wandering hands reaching out to massage your breast, flesh filling out the gaps between all five of his fingers. “take this off” you strangle out, gesturing to the shirt he is wearing, disheveled hair falling back into his face that burns hot when you let your eyes roam down to his abdomen. even the weight of your ass pressing into his dick through his shorts is teetering him to climax, hands not knowing where to put themselves when he wants to grab a hold of all of you.

your fingers wrap around the waistband of his shorts that he is wearing, pulling down his boxers at the same time and freeing his erection to slap back onto his stomach, recalling something patrick said about the time he taught art to jerk off. the palm of your hand ghosts his cock, restraining yourself from taking it into your hands there and then, “can i?” even the way you sigh out the question has the hairs on art’s arms standing up and mouth swallowing saliva in anticipation. “yes, yes.” he whines, brows furrowing up at you and all of his muscles tensing.

with a gentle touch, he guides you above him, his hands at your sides as you spread yourself open for him, sinking down only to the tip before he grabs your waist and pauses in the position. he looks like a little helpless, bottom lip between his teeth and an alarmed look in his face that says if you go any further he’ll come right now. “i’ll go slow,” you whisper, a small smirk on your face that’s hard to resist when his shimmering eyes try to find the last slither of dignity within him, “i promise.” you smile reassuringly and he glances away, the flush in his cheeks getting a little deeper.

you keep your promise, slowly lowering yourself down onto him, goosebumps fevering your skin and palms laying flat across his abdomen to steady yourself.

taking him in completely, you whimper out his name and his hands journey to graze your back, up to your shoulder blades where he presses them into you to pull you into him, mouth suctioning down the valley of your breasts. his moans vibrate back into your skin when you pull back up from him, stimulating every single nerve ending in his length like it never has before. you set a pace, slow and steady for art, snapping your hips down onto his in a way that knocks the wind out of you each time, gasping for air. he keeps you close to him, rolling his hips to meet you in the middle and put some of that athlete stamina to use and murmuring your name with every movement.

his finger moves your hair from your shoulder, so he can press soft pecks onto the surface, whilst you clutch the wooden headboard, growing impatient and consequently pounding him into you. his moans purr into your ear, grabbing onto your ass to keep you still as he thrusts himself into you from below and shakily calling out an, “im gonna come.”

you nod, clasping around his biceps and leaning down to nip at his neck, losing composure the more your walls contract around him. you ignore the muscles in your legs that ache and your lungs that can’t seem get a hold of the air that is shared between you to continue to mercilessly plunge him deeper into you until it feels like you’re melting into one another, a shudder sending itself down your bare back and deepening the heat that builds in your core.

art is panting, popping your tit into his mouth one last time before falling still, twitching inside of you and releasing all of his seed into you until it overflows from below. your name echoes out of his mouth, whimpering and whining it out until he can open his eyes back up and centre his vision on you burning every last bit of energy to bounce on his dick.

you lean forward onto him, eyes rolling back into your head when reaching your climax and pressing your burning cheek against his face to feel all of him. he brushes his hand down your back comfortingly, you heaving into the crevice of his neck that glistens with sweat and feeling your walls contract around him the last couple times.

art sighs your name out, pressing his lips into your cheek and letting a smile spread across his face when you brush the dampened hair out of his forehead to get a better view of his eyes.

your body feels limp, falling back down next to him with a post-sex fatigue that follows you all the way into the next morning, where you sit at a table in the food hall, thanking art for bringing you some breakfast and trying to ignore the echoing of all the noises he made last night in your head.

“fuck i really need to work on that assignment today” you groan, taking a bite into a slice of honeydew with your head in the palm of your hand. art watches and nods, a false portrayal of an active listener when what he’s really focusing on is the way your lips curl around the slice, biting off a chunk and closing your lips around it in a way that makes him reminisce that he was right there too only a couple hours ago. “i can help.” he offers, truly from the kindness of his heart that kindly wants to spend the rest of his life looking at you.

“you wish.” you scoff, “i’m not allowed to be alone in a room with you anymore.”

art takes a swig of his water to hide the grin that spreads on his face, and when he makes eye contact with a random student from across the hall he feels like they heard that too. he wishes they could hear, and know that you, the best tennis player stanford has probably ever had, are having to physically restrain yourself from him.

“what are you smiling about?” the familiar voice of patrick calls out from a few strides away, in a pair of indigo levis and a white tee, grabbing onto arts shoulders and lowering himself down to his level to grab his chin playfully. art swats him away immediately, pushing patrick down into a chair. and tashi grazes your shoulders softly with her hand when taking a seat next to you and stealing a piece of your fruit from your bowl, “good morning.”

“morning.” you sigh out, taking a sip of your tea and hoping that it isn’t totally obvious that you slept with your friend. but tashi takes notice of the slight frizz in your hair, a dishevelled-ness that is never usually there, so it wasn’t her intention to call you out in front of the four of you when she asks, “why do you look hungover?” she even moves a piece of your hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear to get a better look at the colour under your eyes. your brows furrow, eyes glancing to the left of you at the two boys whose expressions couldn’t be anymore different. art’s poker face is awful, he’s trying to keep his face composed but his posture slumps under the weight of patrick’s hand that spreads across over his shoulder, the corner of his mouth turned up into a smirk.

you shrug nonchalantly, taking another bite of your breakfast to act like your lungs aren’t constricting and you aren’t going into fight or flight, “late night i guess.”

theres a moment of silence, everyone in their heads peacefully while you wish you could get into art’s and find out what he’s thinking about your pathetic lie.

“nice shirt.” patrick says.

“thanks." you reply, swiping over the embroidered ‘mark rebellat tennis academy’ with a finger and looking up at patrick, who meets your eyes with a knowing smirk that makes you feel silly for not assuming that patrick would have memorised art’s whole closet, or recognise the school they went to.

and when patrick squeezes art’s shoulder and asks whether he is “up for a game?” you suddenly become hyper aware of how much his gaze slips past art’s eyes and down onto you as they stand up from the table, eyes squinting and a stupid smile on his face. the combination is so piercing you’ve become aware that even if tashi believed your lie, and art thinks he’s got away scott free—he knows, and he’s letting you know.

his hand ruffles the hair on art’s head, arm falling over his shoulders and drawing him into himself, “we have a bunch of catching up to do, art.” he keeps art close to him as they walk away towards the tennis courts, leaning in to whisper something into his ear after the both of them briefly turned around to wave you and tashi goodbye.

tashi seems unphased by their behaviour, continuing to braid a small of piece of your hair that she unconsciously started. “you know patrick’s about to tell art all about your get together.” you chuckle and tashi scoffs, leaning back into her chair, “he wouldn’t say anything” she reassures, “also we didn’t even do anything.” she adds in quickly, stealing another piece of watermelon from your bowl and taking a bite to avoid talking about the topic like you hadn’t just done that. you smile at her, and she widens her eyes to let you know that she’ll tell you all about last night later.

“i wouldn’t be so sure.” you shake your head, stealing back the half-bitten melon from in between her fingers and finishing it off.

[madaqueue]

eternally, yours

chapter 2 | protection

synopsis: 'forever' is a peculiar concept - how can something persist, unchanged, throughout time? when our bodies halt their aging, do our minds continue to evolve? do our hearts? choso was comfortable with his version of forever, one of solitary loneliness; that is, until he meets you. forced to confront the harsh realities of being human, the fragility of life, his definition of 'forever' changes as he stares down the barrel of eternity.

pairing: vampire!choso kamo x f!reader

themes/content: non-curse modern au. fluff. language, alcohol consumption, brief stalking/catcalling, mentions of blood. 18+, MDNI

word count: 2.8k

a/n: the gang (me) craving domesticity? it's more likely than you think!

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“Wake uppppp!” a giddy scream echoes across your bedroom as you suddenly jolt awake to a tiny body careening towards you. Megumi’s dark hair tickles your face as he leaps onto you, cushioned by thick blankets, their warmth suddenly ripped from you as he tears them down in an attempt to alert you.

“I’m up, I’m up!” you scream through a laugh as you hold him away from you, cautiously avoiding his injured shoulder still held in place with the dark-blue sling from the prior week’s hospital visit.

Megumi giggles above you, his dimpled cheeks gleaming down at you as he tugs at your hand, pulling you from bed. “I wanna go to the park, pleeeeeease?” he begs.

Ruffling his hair, eyes glancing over the scar digging across his forehead, you jokingly groan. “Okay, but just for a few hours, alright buddy? I’ve got plans tonight, remember?”

His toothy grin widens, an adorable high-pitched squeal of excitement leaving his throat as he hurriedly runs from your room to get ready, a chant of “Yay, yay, yay!” echoing down the hallway.

Rubbing sleep from your eyes, you are perpetually stunned by your brother’s energy, his unending optimism. In spite of his injuries, both visible and invisible, he opens his heart every single day.

༝ ˚ ｡⋆ ༝ ˚ ｡⋆

In the heat of the summer sun, you watch Megumi run and play with other kids, a childlike innocence as he leaps across the sand, giggles spilling from the playground. Cicadas chirp in the trees surrounding the bench you currently sit on, hidden under the shade of the overlaying foliage.

Running up to you, breathless, your younger brother manages a choked, “Can I stay a little longer?”

Rummaging through your bag, you toss him the water bottle you packed, his small hands grabbing it and ravenously chugging in insatiable gulps. Shaking your head, you apologetically stand to leave. “You know we can’t, big guy, I’m sorry.”

Despite the water already dribbling down his chin, he smiles, accepting your judgement. “Okay,” he grins. Grabbing your hand, his sweaty fingers intertwining with your own, he walks home next to you, the bounce in his step never wavering.

༝ ˚ ｡⋆ ༝ ˚ ｡⋆

As night settles, the hum of chatter fills your ears as you sway in place along the outskirts of the bar, surrounded by your friends. Condensation from your drink dampens the palm of your hand. Despite the high-energy buzz of their conversation, all you can focus on is Megumi.

Is he okay? Should you have left him at home?

“Hey!” one of your friends calls out. “It’s so good to see you!”

A weak smile graces your lips as you nod, a chorus of cheers joining in. “I can’t believe you came out tonight!” “It’s been forever!” “We missed you!”

Has it really been that long? Thinking back as you sip your drink, how long had it been? months? a year? since you allowed yourself to let go like this, to be with your friends, to just sink into the moment; until tonight, you had been too preoccupied taking care of Megumi.

And you still couldn’t even do that right. The thought nags in the back of your mind, guilt settling in your stomach, before a full shot glass is shoved into your hand by one of your friends. Excited yells erupt as you knock it back instinctively, hands suddenly tugging you onto the dance floor.

The music pulses through your body, hips swinging as you chant the lyrics to whatever songs the DJ decided to play. Foggy lights surround you, bright and alluring, pulling you further into the moment. Your body feels light as you hug your friends, pure and innocent bliss shared through your laughs.

When it finally comes time to leave, you part ways with your group, cheers roaring through them as you walk alone down the street towards your apartment, knowing it was too far to walk to your father’s home and too late to call a taxi.

It’s only a few blocks, you try to reassure yourself as the streetlight above you flickers. 

Suddenly, footsteps are heard behind you.

It’s no big deal, people walk this way all the time. They’re probably just heading home, same as me.

When the footsteps pick up speed, your heart begins to race in your chest.

Shit.

“Hey sweetheart, wait up,” an unfamiliar voice calls from behind you, sneering in false sincerity at the nickname.

Shit, shit, shit.

Picking up your pace, you desperately try to maintain any distance with the stranger, your mind scrambling in panic. You can’t outrun him, you couldn’t physically beat him in a fight if it came down to it, what are you supposed to do? Just as tears threaten to spill over your lashes in fear, you see someone ahead of you on the street.

A man stands waiting at the bus stop, eyes downturned towards his phone that softly illuminates his face, a gym bag slung over his shoulder. Something about him sends an immediate wave of comfort over you, just enough to think of a semi-logical plan.

“There you are, babe!” you proclaim loudly, hopefully audible to the threatening stranger behind you. Walking confidently up to the somehow more intrinsically trustworthy man ahead of you, you toss your arms around his neck and grab him in a hug, something about his body familiar to you in a deep, indescribable way. “Please, just go with it,” you whisper into his ear.

Initially his body tenses, but as he feels your desperation through the tight grasp you have on him, he relaxes. “Do you need help?” he whispers into your neck.

“Hey, bitch, I’m talking to you!” calls the stranger behind you threateningly.

Nodding desperately, the scent of his cologne finally enters your senses, a spicy warmth tingling your mind as you search for where you recognize it from.

“Then we better make this believable,” he murmurs into you, his voice shockingly deep.

As he pulls you slightly away from him, your eyes finally scan his face as realization sets in - the black eyes, distinctive tattoo, dark hair pulled up - he was unmistakable, the man who had so caringly treated your brother when you were in the emergency room.

Before you can respond he’s leaning forward, his lips pressing against yours. Your eyes flutter closed instinctively as you push yourself into him, his hands finding their place on your lower back as he pulls you closer. Despite the cold of the night air his lips are warm, a soft tenderness to them as they part, allowing your tongue to enter his mouth as the kiss deepens.

Unbeknownst to you, Choso’s gaze remains fixed on the predator behind you, shooting daggers through him as the man scoffs. “Fuck you, whore,” he yells before turning around and disappearing into the night.

A wave of relief crashes over you as his footsteps retreat; yet, Choso doesn’t pull away, his lips lingering for a moment before you finally separate.

“Thanks,” you breathe out, heart still pounding despite the fear that no longer remains in you.

A smirk graces Choso’s features as he looks down at you, his eyes low. “Any time,” he purrs, the richness of his voice making you shiver.

As a moment of silence passes, you realize you’re just staring at him, suddenly processing the encounter. “S-sorry for kissing you,” you stammer, stepping away from him to create space.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” he responds.

“I…I know you,” you think aloud. “You took care of my brother, Megumi, at the hospital?”

Pausing, Choso nods. Not that he needs to hesitate - he hadn’t been able to forget about you from the moment he saw you, finding himself standing outside the room you had been in, his feet holding him in the spot where you wrapped your arms around him that night. He hadn’t been able to focus on anything since then, thoughts constantly returning to you no matter what he tried. “I remember you,” he blurts out, hoping the confession isn’t too forthcoming.

Fortunately, a warm smile covers your face as you look up at him. “Dr. Kamo, right?”

He nods again. “But please, just call me Choso.”

“Okay, Choso,” you smile.

God, he thinks he could die right here just from hearing you say his name. The sweetness of your cadence makes his heart flutter as he pushes down a giddy grin.

“Well, thanks again, but I guess I should get home now,” you start to turn away from him, continuing your walk down the dim sidewalk.

Before you can get far, a hand reaches out and firmly grabs your wrist. You pause in your tracks, shocked by the raw strength of his grasp. “Wait,” he murmurs, releasing his grip as you turn to face him. “You can’t go by yourself - I mean, what if that guy shows up again? At least let me walk you home.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course,” he smiles. “I was just waiting for the bus, I’m really not doing anything more important than this.”

Warmth spreads over your body at his kindness, your head gently shaking as you agree.

A sigh of relief, so quiet you barely catch it, leaves his throat at your response. He can’t let you go, not when it’s so dangerous - who would be there to protect you?

Walking in place next to you, the few remaining blocks to your apartment are silent, but something about Choso’s presence puts you at ease, comfortable in the tranquility night brings. Finally reaching your apartment, Choso clears his throat as you turn the key to your door. “Well, I hope you have a good rest of your night, and I hope Megumi’s doing okay,” he speaks before moving to leave.

“Wait,” the word leaves your throat before you can catch it, now your turn to make the man pause in his steps. “I wouldn’t want you walking back to the bus stop all by yourself - after all, it could be dangerous,” you smirk. “Why don’t you just stay here for tonight?”

Joy bubbles in Choso’s chest, exuberant at your offer, but some part of his psyche, in the very back of his mind, screams don’t do this. He shouldn’t - he’s been forced to go to the blood bank an extra two times already since the night he met you, unable to clear his mind until his body was filled with the blood of others. Would he be able to restrain himself now, with you this close?

Swinging the door open, you prod in his silence. “C’mon, it’s late, and it’s dark, just come in Choso.”

Any remaining resolution crumbles as you say his name, a soft “Okay,” falling from his lips as he steps inside, “but I’m sleeping on the couch.”

“Deal,” you grin, flicking the lights on.

His eyes roam over the space, the gentle scent of vanilla hovering through your home. Something about it feels so warm, so unmistakably you.

Suddenly embarrassed at the state you left things in, only able to notice the pile of unwashed dishes in the sink and dirty clothes strewn across your couch, you instinctively push him further inside. “I’ll, uh, go grab some blankets,” you mutter, stepping around him and making your way to the bedroom, pushing piles of your own mess away as you move.

Kicking off his shoes, Choso’s mind races as he settles into your couch, clouded with you, you, you. His fingers gently trace his lips, remembering the way yours had been on them not long ago. He remembers their softness, the slight cherry taste in your mouth, how warm and perfect you felt in his grasp.

“Here,” you toss him a pillow and some blankets from your room, “let me know if it’s too cold or anything for you tonight, or if-”

“It’s perfect, thank you,” he hums, voice barely above a whisper.

“Goodnight, Choso,” you smile before turning back into your room.

“Goodnight.”

Adjusting to form a makeshift bed in your living room, he tries to push down his recurrent thoughts of you, a futile effort. You felt so small in his hold, having to lean up to reach your lips to his, the way your fingertips grazed the back of his neck. The plush comforter above him wafts more of your sweet smell into the air, further intoxicating.

While he doesn’t need to sleep, he spends the hours of the night caught up in ideas of you, his palm resting over his face to cover the place where you kissed him, a feeling he vows to never forget.

༝ ˚ ｡⋆ ༝ ˚ ｡⋆

In the morning, his dream-like state is suddenly interrupted by the sound of clattering from the kitchen. Soft curses leave your lips as pans tumble through the cupboard, metallic clanking echoing through your apartment as they hit the ground.

Choso stirs from his place on the couch, rubbing his eyes to focus on you.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up,” you explain, a sheepish grin on your face.

The sweet smell of syrup suddenly hits him, eyes glancing over to the stove where a mass of pancakes has accumulated.

Walking across the room to stand next to him, you hand him a white mug, the dark fluid in it a stark contrast to the bright ceramic adorned with small, hand-painted flowers. “I didn’t know if you liked coffee, but I just figured I’d make it for you-” you babble.

“Thank you,” he cuts you off, a soft grin forming across his tired features. Lifting the mug to his lips he takes a sip, the warm liquid pouring down his throat.

You know it’s too hot to drink, yet Choso doesn’t seem to react - maybe he just likes hot coffee? Shrugging off the insecurity, simply grateful he accepted your show of affection, you return to your place in front of the stove.

The man rises, his muscles straining against his clothes as he stretches. Your eyes cover his body before you force yourself to pull your gaze away from his taught chest, biceps rippling under his skin-tight shirt. There was something nearly poetic about him, something ancient sculptors strove to capture mirrored in his form.

Still slightly drowsy from the respite of his dreams, he finds himself walking across the kitchen until he hits the counter, seating himself at one of the barstools.

“I hope you’re hungry,” you laugh softly as you fill a plate with pancakes, setting it in front of him. After a moment you flip a few onto your own, pulling the plate across the table to sit next to him.

Again, a comfortable silence falls upon you as you eat your breakfast. Something about having him here, in your home, his hair undone and body relaxed, feels natural, a routine you could see yourself slipping into.

Yet, next to you, Choso struggles to hold himself together. Why today, of all days, did you have to wear those shorts to bed? Moreover, why that t-shirt, one that so perfectly drapes the contours of your body? The domesticity, the familiarity, makes his heart ache for a comfort he can’t have, one he knows he doesn’t deserve.

But the way you kissed him, the way you formed to his body, felt like it was something you had shared for years. You had seen him, felt him, and still chose to be near him; would you still be with him if you knew it all, knew everything?

“Choso,” your voice pulls him from his mental cloud, “if you don’t like my cooking, you can just say so.”

Eyes widening, he finally focuses his gaze downward, observing the mass of flour and syrup beneath him. His fork had been absentmindedly cutting at the meal you served - one he, of course, didn’t have to eat - turning it to mush before your eyes. Guilt overtakes him, the fear of your hatred consuming him before a giggle echoes through the room.

“I’m just kidding, Cho,” you laugh, playfully punching his shoulder.

The nickname, a pleasantry he had never been afforded, fills his body with an impossible warmth. How had you managed to do this so easily, so effortlessly?

Turning his head, he finally focuses on you. “I’m sorry, i-it’s good,” he stutters.

Another laugh leaves your lips, the sound bright against the darkness of the early morning. “Y’know, if there’s a place with food you like better, you could just ask me on a date there.”

You weren’t sure what had come over you, a novel confidence brewing in you as you continued glancing at the man next to you. Some part of your heart was drawn to him, unable to let him leave, needing his approval of you, his desire.

You open your mouth to counter the offer as his silence settles, fearing you had overstepped an unspoken boundary between you, before his voice hits your ears. “Next week?” he asks, his voice low.

“Deal,” you smile at him.

A childlike grin tugs at his cheeks as he looks at you, disbelief fighting with adoration as his eyes cover your form. “Deal,” he repeats.

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[carminecherry]

THE SUMMER HEAT, THE COOL CAFE | mikey sano

this is part one of the series kill the lights

⇝ PAIRING: timeskip!biker!mikey sano x fem!reader

⇝ SERIES SYNOPSIS: after moving by yourself to tokyo, you black out at a party and wake up with a new friend. as she sweeps you up in her fast-paced city life, you feel yourself falling deeper and deeper for her mysterious brother. but something dark is brewing in the city. as his past threatens to resurface, mikey must fight not only physical enemies but the mental battle of his feelings for you. he can't resist you , but could he ever forgive himself if something happened to you? he'll love you selfishly and protect you savagely.

⇝ PART ONE LENGTH: 2.8k words

⇝ PART ONE WARNINGS: N/A (18+ minors do not interact):

all characters are 20+; Alternate Universe! Canon Divergent. you go out for coffee with emma after meeting at a mutual friend's house party. a friendship blossoms, but you can't seem to get a certain biker out of your head.

⇝ AUTHOR'S NOTE: I have been haunted by this mikey fic for almost a year! I hope you all can enjoy the drama and popcorn fiction of the world of the mikey-verse. we'll keep it fun and flirty and I PROMISE the build up will be worth it ;) it starts off slow, but there is gratuitous smut later in the series. keep an eye on the tags and stay safe! <3

DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS WORK IF YOU ARE A MINOR. BY CLICKING THE READMORE, YOU CONSENT TO VIEWING ADULT CONTENT.

The city has become a concrete jungle. The summer sun roasting the land beneath it. Lavishing in its task; making the hours creep by ever so slowly. Even after the sun goes down, the heat sets into the earth like a deep rot. 

You step out of your apartment, the distant star glaring down. The buzzing of the cicadas makes the heavy, humid air vibrate in an unpleasant way. You always hated summer and summers in Tokyo were a special hell. The way your clothes would cling to your sweaty body. How the muggy, wet air thickened your breath. And that's all before you consider the insects. 

One of the few blessings of living in the city was that there weren’t as many bugs here as in your childhood home. However, you didn’t have a parent here to kill or catch the scary ones that would occasionally make their way into your apartment and you didn’t have the heart or stomach to deal with them. 

A particularly ferocious looking cockroach had been in your sanctuary last night, which meant you had spent the better part of an hour making a very convincing argument for it to walk out of the balcony door. All the while, praying nothing else would fly in. Cursing and mentally tallying the money pouring out into the hot summer night as your AC ran at full blast. Fall couldn’t come soon enough. 

Today was particularly blistering. Your phone already growing hot in the short distance to the train station. If you hadn’t made plans in a better, more social mood, you could still be curled up under your AC. You cursed the gregarious version of yourself from the other night. The crowded train swaying, other passengers bumping into you with each motion. But It was too early in the friendship to flake now.

You had met her through a mutual friend at a house party. You were still relatively new to the city and didn’t have a community yet. Blessedly, it turns out you had a good friend from university living close by. Earlier in the week, out of the blue, he had reached out. The two of you had studied hard and partied harder as undergraduates. While he seemed to be making something of his fashion design degree, if his immaculately curated luxury loft were any indicator of success, you were busting your ass to make ends meet. 

Your job at the small combination cafe and bookshop was aesthetic and cozy but ultimately a placeholder until you found a job in your industry. Maybe you should’ve done Fashion Design after all. 

You wanted to catch up with him the other night, maybe even do some networking at his house party, but you had barely been able to get two sentences in before he was called off to talk to other party-goers. This had left you in your worst, admittedly nicely decorated, nightmare. 

This solitude and anxiety had led to you sipping awkwardly from one too many drinks. But the alcohol had eased your nerves enough for you to talk to another girl at the party. Regrettably, much of your conversion had been lost to the liquor, but meeting for coffee today had been nailed down before you lost too much of your sense. 

You winced in embarrassment, rubbing away the ghost of your hangover from the other night. You hope you hadn’t made a fool of yourself, and if you had, you hope that she doesn’t remember it either. 

Just then, your phone buzzed with a notification. Emma, the girl from the party’s name flashes on your phone screen. You tapped it quickly and read, 

“I’m so sorry, my ride fell through but I got another one. I’m running a little late but I’m on my way!” 

Thank god. Your heart had dropped seeing the preview of the message, thinking she was about to cancel. You quickly type back, 

“No sweat! I’ll see if I can snag us any of the good seats ;)”  

You don’t imagine it’ll be too busy since it’s that golden window after breakfast and before lunch, but the “good seats” are always the first to go. The thought of having to sit out on the balcony in this weather makes you cringe. The train lurches to a halt and you get your elbows up, worming your way out of the crowded car. The joys of Tokyo living.

You idly make your way to your destination, wishing there was some sort of breeze to ease the waves of hot air rising from the concrete. The streets are dotted with only a handful of other people; everyone else must be smart enough to stay inside today. There are a few cars on the road, the way the wind shifts around them as they zip past throws off an uncomfortable, hot gust.

You turned the corner to cut back to some of the side streets, there were usually less cars there; more pedestrian friendly. You’d usually opt for a cozier, more hole-in-the-wall type of cafe like the one you worked at, but Emma had insisted that she wanted to try the new seasonal drink at this place. 

This location was often not as busy as you would expect from one of the most popular coffee joints in Tokyo. Well, the world. But ever since tourists started coming back to Japan, it was becoming more difficult to anticipate the crowds. You rounded the corner and neared the big wooden doors. 

The cicadas were noisy as hell, even here. You noticed there was something masked by the buzzing. A revving? The sound rapidly approached and in moments was bearing down on you. You jumped back, securely on the sidewalk as a motorcycle screeched to a halt. The sudden appearance of the two riders on its back catching nearby eyes. 

The driver of the bike was dressed head to toe in black, matching his sleek black bike. You could practically see the heat waves rolling off of the leather biker jacket that stretched across a broad back and tightened over what were sure to be muscular shoulders. 

You questioned how and why anyone could wear that getup in this weather. The smaller figure on the back was more sensibly dressed in light, loose clothes, the outfit accentuating their feminine features. She tugged off her helmet, golden locks tumbled free of their confines.

“Jesus! It’s too hot to be wearing a damn helmet, Mikey! I think it messed up my hair” she whined, shoving the helmet into the hands of the figure named Mikey. She tossed her hair a few times in an attempt to fluff some life back  into what was matted by the helmet. She was stunning regardless. He made no move to take off his headwear, the visor an impenetrable black, betraying no feature of the face beneath. 

“That’s a long way to say thank you.” He returned dully. She gave him a shove as she hopped off the bike. Turning on her heel she offered, “Thank you.” The words dripped in sarcasm. He nodded, seemingly satisfied despite the tone. Emma turned again, eyes finally locking on you. They’re a pretty honey color slightly darker than her hair. 

“EEE! Oh my god! It’s so good to see you!” She squeals, rushing over to hug you. The sudden physical affection catches you off guard. You hope she doesn’t feel how sweaty you are. “Hey~ I thought you were going to be late?!” You respond, giving a gentle squeeze back before slipping from her grip. You continue with a smile, “It’s great to see you too. Thanks for meeting up with me today.” 

She smiles back. She has a pretty smile that crinkles her nose and shows off her straight, white teeth. She’s as beautiful as you recalled from the party, despite your memory being hazy. As you admire the features of the woman in front of you, you feel a prickling on the back of your neck. That feeling when you know someone is watching you and you feel the world zoom in on the space around you. 

Your eyes dart up and land on the figure still seated on the bike. His stance unnaturally still. Despite the visor still blocking your view, you knew those were the eyes boring into you. You smiled awkwardly and offered a small wave to the figure sizing you up. He made no move to respond. Emma registered the situation and turned back to face Mikey. “You can go now.” In a tone so icy you almost forgot you were in the armpit of summer. 

“I’m gonna have Draken pick me up so don’t worry about hanging around.” With that she waved him off dismissively. There was a beat before her words registered and the biker’s head snapped forward, nodding sharply before revving his engine. You felt the reverberation in your bones. Then, in a bolt of jet black, he was gone. Your eyes lingered in the space where he’d been. 

“Sorry about him. He’s not good with new people.” Emma says, shaking her head and holding the door open. You step into the massive cafe, the cold air a welcome embrace. “It’s all good. Was he at the party the other night too?” You ask, eyes surveying the crowded room for an open table. “Nah, he had to work late. He’s also not much of a party person, believe it or not.” She says, lacing the end of her statement with sarcasm. “What?! No way!” You feign surprise. She shoulder bumps you playfully as the two of you make your way up to the second floor. You like her already.

Your mind replays their interactions from before and the dynamic wasn’t giving that of a romantic relationship. “So, how do you know him?” You ask, your eyes turning to the pretty blonde. “Oh! He’s my brother, Mikey!” She said with a hearty laugh. “Sorry! I should've introduced you!” She apologizes.  “It’s all good! He seemed like he had somewhere to be.” Your offer. She rolled her eyes, “He’s always rushing off somewhere, I’m surprised I was able to catch him today to give me a ride.” You look around the second floor for an open table to no avail. You say a prayer to a certain green mermaid that there will be seats on the third floor. 

“That’s brutal though. Working late on a Friday night and having to rush around on a Sunday.” Your homebody shudders at the thought of working on the weekends. “Yeah, well he’s too much of a busybody to sit around doing nothing. I don’t think he’s been relaxed since we were kids.” Her gaze drifts and you get the sense that conversation has reached its end. 

“Anyways, the party was a lot of fun! How do you know Yuuki?” you ask, changing the subject. “Oh, he’s actually friends with my boyfriend Draken and, I guess, acquaintances with Mikey.” The word acquaintances seemed to be doing some heavy lifting and the nosy side of you wanted to know more, but you locked onto the juicier topic.“Oh~ Boyfriend.” You tease. Of course a girl as pretty as Emma would be taken. “Does he have any single friends? Any cute ones? Could he hook me up?” You continue. 

She laughs, “Not many I think he would vouch for, but I can let him know there is an interested party.” Score! In more ways than one, there is an open window seat calling your name on the third floor. You set your bags down to claim the space. You sink into the plush seats to test them out, heavenly. She returns your question, “How about you, how do you know Yuuki?” 

“We were friends in university, we had some classes together. Actually, I was surprised to hear from him when I moved to the city. You know, we haven’t really talked since graduation. I don’t even know how he knew I moved here to be honest...” You say with a dry laugh. 

Come to think of it, you hadn’t questioned when his message slid into your DMs. Welcoming you to Tokyo and inviting you to his house party. Truthfully, you thought he might’ve been shooting his shot. He’s cute and the two of you had a little will-they-won't-they that never played out in university. But his complete dismissal of you at the party had been signal enough. 

“Either way, he used to throw ragers at his place back on campus and it seems like he’s perfected the craft here.” As you continue, Emma’s eyes drift out the large floor to ceiling windows and a scowl flashes across her face, too quick for you to notice. She whips her phone out under the low table and skillful fingers fly across the screen, stabbing out a message that is delivered before you end your sentence. If you listened closely, the sound of a bike might’ve been heard over the ambience of the crowded cafe.

You’re pulled out of your reverie by Emma, clapping her hands as she stands from her seat, sparkles in her eyes. “If you’re looking for a good party you found the right girl. I’m actually working as a promoter right now. If you ever want to go out, shoot me a message. I’ll put your name on the list!” A wide smile stretching across her face. “Only if you promise you’ll be there with me.” You counter, flashing your best puppy dog eyes. “It’s a deal.” She winks, “Let’s get our coffee before the line gets any longer.” You rise from your seat, the promise of caffeine is an attractive one and the two of you make your way to the counter. 

***

Coffee had been perfect. What nerves you had about meeting Emma had melted in her warm aura. She was walking sunshine. The afternoon had been filled with laughs and knee slaps, It had felt like home. Before you knew it, the day had gotten away from you. With a promise of coffee next Sunday, the two of you made your exits. 

Another biker pulled up in front of the cafe. His build is slightly taller than Mikey’s. His bike was cool and looked more retro from what limited knowledge you had. Emma practically glowed as she skipped to the man. Wrapping her arms around him. He pulled off his helmet as he steadied his bike, balancing the woman embracing him. 

His features are severe and strikingly handsome. He has a muscular and imposing build. His bleached hair is cut into a kind of shaggy mohawk. The hair on the top of his head is longer and braided while the sides are shaved to the scalp. You notice he has a large tattoo that curls behind his ear and goes down his neck. Between his physique, the bike, the ink, he might’ve looked scary if he didn’t look like he was about to melt. His eyes were soft and locked on the woman in his arms. What you wouldn’t give to have someone look at you like that. Especially if it was a guy who looked like him.

You exchanged a brief introduction and he gave you a firm handshake, his expression unreadable when facing you. You said your goodbyes and watched as the two of them rode off. You had a nostalgic feeling lingering in your chest. Happiness from the day mixed with something else. Is it loneliness? You couldn’t quite place it as you made your way back to your apartment, the heat getting the better of you. The cicadas were beginning their nightly choir as you neared your door. You had noticed many things that day that played in a loop in your mind. 

The way Emma’s hair shimmered like gold when it caught the sunlight, the way the thrum of people in the cafe had made the top of your drink shimmer with vibration, the new spider web woven into the nook between the station sign and the wall near your exit, even now how the sky was streaked with magenta and tangerine hues as the sun dipped below the horizon. 

You’d always find yourself drawn to bright, shiny things. Not daring a glance to the shadows that creep along the periferie. What you can’t see can hurt you. That's a hard lesson. One you were bound to learn sooner or later. It was too late to change the trajectory as your door closed securely behind you. Everything was already in motion and, without realizing it, you’d been tugged into the current. Nothing would’ve changed, but if you had turned and glanced at the shadows, you might’ve seen the black silhouette of a biker in stark contrast to the vibrant summer world.

[mrsjellymunson]

Knock At The Cabin [Flip Flopped version]

Written for @munson-blurbs and @corroded-hellfire’s excellent Flip Flopped summer writing event, challenging writers to explore what might’ve happened to their story if a plot point had taken a different direction.

WC: ~1k

CW: Not much in this part, but overall the series is 18+ so minors DNI. Post-S4, dark themes, hurt/no comfort, canon-typical distressing images, canon-typical brandishing of weapons but no actual violence, mentions of someone vomiting but it’s not described.

Summary and A/N: Thanks so much to Bug and Red for creating this event! I decided to revisit Knock At The Cabin, and see how Part One might have played out if the gang had a very different reaction to their surprise visitor.

NB: Spoilers below the cut - if you want to catch up on the story before reading this, read the Prologue, the original Part One and Part Two

There, hunched, shivering, soaked and covered in mud, is your friend. The one who’d died saving the town. The one they’d buried only a few days ago, after he’d been lying on a slab in a lab somewhere for weeks.

Eddie.

The increasingly noisy wind blows leaves and rain horizontally across the stoop. Inside the hallway, there’s silence. You all crowd at the door, mouths agape, and initially, none of you move.

You take in your visitor’s appearance. His hair is lank, wet, muddy and full of twigs and leaves. He stands, shoulders sagging, in filthy, soaking clothes, the wet material dragging his frame down further. He’s barefoot, his feet muddy and bloody.

His cheeks are gaunt, his lips grey, not the plush, rosy pink that they once were. He looks thinner than you remember, and his skin was always pale, but it seems lighter now, almost translucent.

Eddie finally lifts his eyes to you all. They’re sunken, red-rimmed, and have lost their usual sparkle.

None of you consider what events or twists of fate might have brought Eddie to you, only caring in this moment that he’s here, standing in front of you. He should be dead, but somehow he's here!

Dustin shoulders his way between you and Steve and takes his first good look at the strange visitor. At first he’s confused, incredulous, but this rapidly gives way to pure terror, as he lets out a high pitched screech over the sound of the rain. He abruptly turns on the spot and runs down the hallway, yelling,

“Zombie? ZOMBIE!”

Robin screams, hands coming to cover her mouth as she backs away from the doorway a couple of paces.

Steve reacts defensively, raising his nail bat as he steps outside, placing himself between Eddie and the party. Lucas takes Steve’s lead and grabs an old walking stick from a stand by the door, moving to join him and brandishing it like a weapon.

Steve yells towards Eddie over the noise of the rain,

“What are you? One of Vecna’s foot soldiers?”

Lucas continues, jabbing the stick at the air in front of him,

“A demon? A lab-grown demogorgon? Get back!”

Will is swaying, rubbing at the nape of his neck. Robin and Jane try to comfort him, the three of them clinging to each other in tears.

You hear quick footsteps behind you and glance back to see Mike rushing to the kitchen, followed by the distinctive sound of someone throwing up.

Steve spreads one arm out and signals for Lucas to get behind him, hustling him back through the opening, slowly retreating as he yells over his shoulder,

“Everyone get inside. Now!”

You watch as Eddie stumbles backwards, eventually stepping off the stoop.

You seem to be the only one who’s concerned rather than terrified. You try to shoulder your way through them all to get outside, see Eddie properly, but the movement of their combined retreating bodies pushes you back into the hallway, and you’re unable to get a proper look at him, let alone go out to him.

As soon as everyone’s inside Steve slams the door, locking and bolting it and scanning for something heavy to brace it with.

Without looking around, he barks,

“Robin, get the satellite phone.”

Robin, wide-eyed, stammers,

“B-but we’re only supposed to use that in an emergency.”

Steve continues, his voice becoming more high-pitched,

“Well, I’d say that someone coming back from the dead qualifies as a fucking emergency, wouldn’t you? Call Owens. Now!”

Everyone scatters into the cabin. Robin tries to find the equipment Owens gave you when you moved here. Will and Jane comfort each other on the sofa and Jane wraps a blanket around her friend's shoulders. Lucas and Steve find bookcases and tables to put against various windows and doors. Dustin sits rocking near the back door, holding his knees to his chest, whilst Mike cleans himself up in the kitchen.

You’re the only one who moves to the living room window to look upon your friend.

He raises his head, initially simply staring at the closed door with a blank, stunned expression.

You place a palm against the glass, feeling like it’ll get you closer to him somehow. It’s enough to draw his attention, and as your eyes connect his brows draw up and you see a look of rejection and fear pass across his features.

You breathe his name quietly against the glass, and it fogs up a little.

His expression briefly turns to sadness, before he drops your gaze and runs a hand down his filthy cheek. Shuffling backwards for a few steps, he turns and shambles off into the rainy night.

He takes a few longer steps before pausing to look over his shoulder at the door again, and that defeated expression turns into a scowl as his brows furrow and his lips slowly curl up into a snarl. The softness in his eyes is completely gone, and is replaced with a steely black glare.

He turns away then, and you see him break into a jog. He’s bouncing his shoulders and flinging his hands out to the sides as if he’s building himself up for something.

He runs so far down the lane he almost reaches the highway. You nearly lose sight of him, and he appears only as a dark silhouette.

Suddenly the shape shortens as he drops to his knees, raising his face to the swirling grey sky and spreading his arms wide as brief flashes of lightning begin to light up the clouds.

The wind buffeting the trees increases, and starts to send larger branches, twigs and more leaves to smack against the roof and windows of the cabin

It’s almost enough to drown out the inhuman bellow Eddie emits.

But you hear it…

If you’d like to read the original series that this comes from, it starts here 😊

Thanks so much for reading!

My masterlist

As always, comments and reblogs make my world spin - I’d love to know what you think of this.

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[thosefuzzywordfeelings]

Coming Home To You (Full Version)

Steve Harrington x fem!reader

cw; oral (f receiving), fingering, reader has a vagina, alcohol use (reader is fully able to consent), slight cum play?

Warm droplets of summer rain hit your skin as you stood just outside the bar, pay phone pressed to your ear as you spoke to your boyfriend. It was almost hard to hear him over the sound of the cars driving over the wet tarmac but you had to let him know you were safe.

In the least controlling way, Steve always asked you to call him whenever you went out at night, if it was to a bar or somewhere out of town; he’d sit by the landline, fiddling with the cord until he knew you were okay and what time you’d be back. Whenever he’d get home from grocery shopping or filling up the tank of his car, he’d slip a few quarters in your jacket pocket; knowing they’d be in there ready for your next night out. And so here you were, scrunched up next to the phone outside the only bar worth visiting. It was a little ways outside Hawkins so you’d let Steve know what time you got there and what time you were hoping to get home.

“I should be home in maybe, an hour? ‘Chelle just bought a whole other round of cocktails and I simply can’t afford to miss out. They have little tiny umbrellas in, Steve.” You said excitedly, briefly hearing him chuckle softly down the phone.

“That’s great baby. I’ll leave the light on, alright? Just…get home safe.” Steve said softly, smiling down the receiver as if you could see him before the two of you exchanged ‘love you’s and ‘byebyebye’s.

Walking back into the bar, the baseline to ‘West End Girls’ began to play, as you swayed back over to your friends, immediately sipping the cocktail that was placed in your hands. Wincing slightly, you looked at your friend.

“What is in this?” You giggled, carrying on sipping as your friend explained it had a gross but delicious mix of vodka, schnapps, some kind of fruit and more juice. Vodka? Good luck to Steve when you got home, you thought to yourself. Nonetheless, it was great and spending time with your friends was worth the sting of the headache you knew would spike in the morning. Since you'd all graduated and moved apart, it wasn't often you got to go out and meet with everyone at once. So the drinks were poured, the dancefloor was temporarily inhabited with you all and the bar tab was well used.

Time flew by and you checked the clock above the bar, noticing it said one a.m instead of midnight even though you'd sworn you'd just looked and it was eleven-thirty. Scrambling to get your coat and bag together, you made your way to the front door; tight hugs and cheek kisses exchanged as you said goodbye to your friends. "Steve needs me home." You yelled over the music. Now, there was no curfew on you, Steve would just want you home regardless, but the vodka and the homesickness churned through your veins; probing you to head home a little earlier than usual. The cab ride was fast, as you thanked the driver and got out, taking a big breath of fresh air as you looked up at the apartment building before you.

Steve hadn't taken his eyes off his book in a while, only to check the clock on the bedside table. No matter what, he'd wait up for you; wanting to see you tucked up under the sheets with a smile on your face before he'd even dream of closing his own eyes. The clock was now showing one-thirty a.m, and he knew it wouldn't be too long and you'd be back. As if by some sort of telekinesis, your keys would rattle in the doorway and you'd push the door open with a creak. Even though you knew he'd be up, you tried subtly to keep quiet. Putting your bag and coat down, you kicked off your shoes and headed towards the dim amber light illuminating the halllway.

"It's just me." You giggled as you pushed the bedroom door all the way open. And there he was. The most gorgeous man you'd ever seen, your boyfriend of almost two years although somehow everytime you saw him it was as if you'd stumbled upon a Greek god. Steve's eyes lit up from over the rim off the book, crinkling as he smiled up at you.

"Hi baby. Did you have a good night?" Steve spoke softly, sliding an old bookmark in the spine of his book and laying it on the bedside table. His hands folded up in his lap as he elant up against the headboard. Youd lean against the dresser, nodding with a sweet smile.

"Mhm..we danced and danced, and drank, then drank a little bit more. 'Chelle bought this round of, uh, like a fruity, bitter, sting-y, vodka cocktail and it was so good." You'd giggle, looking up at the ceiling for a moment as you tried to regain your composure a little bit, the alochol wearing off slightly as you found comfort in your safe space.

"Oh, so a very good night then, hm?" Steve replied with a smirk, sitting up a little straighter. Looking back down at him, you returned the smirk. Whenever you'd had cocktails, whether Steve was with you or not, you'd have had him within the hour of drinking and digesting them. Something about the spirits brought out a wild one within you, but also maybe it was the way his eyes darkened at you. Or the way his hair fell over his face a little. Right now, it was the peek of chest hair spilling out from the plain navy tee across his torso, the shadows of the lamplight against his freckled neck.

"Yeah…a good night…" You'd mumble, too focused on drinking in his features like you were dehydrated, his body the mirage of water in a hot desert. And boy, was he hot. You reached behind yourself, trying and failing to undo the zip of your dress. Steve reached out a hand, gesturing he'd help you with it. His eyes had a twinkle to them, a knowing of how turned on you'd become just from looking at him.

"Come here, baby. Let me do it." He spoke softly. His eyes too were raking over your body, watching the smoothness of your thighs as you knelt on the bed in front of him. Steve brought his hands up to your outer thighs, stroking them softly as they slid up to your hips, twisting them gently to get you to turn around. Spinning messily on your knees, you chuckled as you backed up and sat on them in front of him. His hand pulled your hair to one side, lips pressing against the curve of your neck and shoulder.

"Missed you." He whispered, fingers dragging down the zip of the dress as he pushed the straps down off your shoulders. With a sigh of relief, you spun round and crawled onto his lap. This was where you dreamed of coming home to, right here, sat on his thighs. Tangling your fingers in his hair, Steve stared up at you in awe - as he always did - fingertips digging into your waist.

"Missed you more." You giggled, as you finally let your lips press against his. Steve couldd taste the remnants of cocktail on your tongue, smiling into the kiss as he scrambled to push the bedsheets off of his legs and grip your body tighter to his. Within a split second, he had you laid out on the bed before him. You let your thighs drop open, needing him between them immediately as he looked down at you with that same smirk again. Leaning just above you, those chocolate irises would flicker over yours, taking in every furrow of your brow while his hands fumbled with the hem of your bunched up dress.

"Gonna show me how much you missed me?" Steve whispered against your lips, pulling your thighs up around his waist. You nodded sweetly, deepening the kiss and dragging him down closer to you. Something about the way Steve's demeanour changed when he needed you as much as you needed him made your body pulsate. It's like he could switch on this fiery, charged energy, mirroring yours.

"You know what I think, baby?" Steve asked, a saccharine sweet tone to his voice while his lips kissed small kisses along your jaw. Responding only with a light whimper, hips bucking up against Steve's, Steve would giggle at your neediness, his hands pinning your hips down against the bed. "I think - it's cute."

"What's cute?" A breathy whisper left your mouth as your hand knotted itself in the back of Steve's hair.

"When you walk through that door - all pretty - and desperate - " Steve mumbled between kisses, his lips parting as he let his tongue drag along the warm skin of your neck, " - just for me."

"Only you, Steve. Love coming back home to you."

His eyes darted up to yours whilst his mouth kept kissing down the crevice of your chest, tongue riding along your sternum as he smiled with a low "mhm". There it was again, the darkening of his eyes. Carnal brown, you've decided is the shade. A deep brown, bordering black, and it never left your own eyes even as he kissed along the inner of your thighs as they settled on his broad shoulders. Steve had your dress bunched up entirely around your waist, the top pulled down and crumpled as his hands flipped up the hem of the skirt.

"This is what I look forward to, you know that?" Steve mumbled against your bikini line, tracing the lace lining of your panties with his fingertips after he reached his arms around to settle on your hips. He knew this teasing would be worth it, he could see the dark dampness of your arousal glistening against the lace centimetres from his mouth.

"What?" You breathed out, leaning up on your elbows to watch him tease and touch you.

"Reminding you who's this is." Steve mumbled faux-sweetly, smiling kindly up at you before reaching his thumb down and running it over the swollen nub underneath your panties. A choked moan left your lips at the sudden contact, lip pulled between your teeth at this newfound confidence from your lover between your legs.

"Isn't it crazy?" He continued on, drawing small circles against your clit with the pad of his thumb, his eyes not leaving your face as he leant his head on your thigh cutely. God, he was beautiful. He didn't need you to respond, knowing your mind was too foggy with the faint sensations he was giving you. Steve could see it in your eyes, the way they were slightly glassy with lust as you stared down at him and his movements. The way your chest was heaving a little faster, subtly but noticeable enough to him.

"You're out there with your friends, dancing, sipping those fancy little cocktails - " Steve spoke lowly, his tone almost a sing-song as he hooked his fingers in the hem of your panties, adjusting himself up onto his knees so he could pull them down and off your legs. They were thrown somewhere in the room, you could care less, as you followed Steve's movement only.

"Dancing the night away on these pretty legs -" He carried on, settling on his stomach between your legs again as he kissed along your hipbones and along your mound gently. Hands coming to hold your hips down as he knew you'd buck up immediately, your cunt growing tired of the teasing. Steve could see your essence dripping down dangerously close to the sheets and he smirked, wetting his own lips with his tongue as he himself painfully held back from devouring you.

"And no matter who lays their fucking eyes on you, on this? It comes home to me. Hm?" Steve almost moaned as he watched your cunt spasm around nothing but the ownership that left his mouth. He couldn't help himself now, his tongue flattening against your slit as he licked a stripe up to your clit. When the bittersweet taste of your arousal finally hit his tastebuds, he couldn't hold back the feral moan that left his throat.

"God, you're all fucking mine. Beautiful, little pussy is all mine." He moaned almost as desperately as you had been as he wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking softly as he gave into his urges, giving you exactly what you let your mind wander off to when you were out with your friends; your boyfriends pretty tongue. Rutting your hips against it, guttural groans left your throat as Steve hummed contently against your clit.

"Steve, please - fuck -" You whimpered softly, letting your elbows drop and your head fall back against the bed. Your hands tug at his chestnut strands tightly, pulling out deeper moans from Steve's throat.

"Show me." He pulled back to say, bringing an arm around from your hips and underneath your thigh; his middle finger gliding through your glistening slit, before pushing inside gently and curling up to press against the spongy spot that left you breathless. "Show me it's mine."

You were speechless, his mouth immediately latching back onto your clit and sucking a little harder this time, combining with the finger beckoning inside you. You were tightening around his digit and he felt it.

"That's it. I can feel you honey. What if I press right -" Steve asked softly, his tone a stark contrast to his actions as he pushed a second finger inside and curved them both up against that one part that always brought you to the edge.

"Oh fuck - right there." You mewled, hips grinding down against his fingers as your eyes tried to focus; they were hazy as your soul tiptoed on the brink of cloud nine and earth.

"Yeah? What's gonna happen if I keep pressing right there baby?" Steve taunted, fucking his fingers a little faster into that spot as he kept his tongue playing with your clit.

Your eyes rolled back and closed, as you were barely holding on to the overwhelming sensation. "I'm gonna come - if - I'm - " You stutter softly, trying to lift your head to look at him, but you know if you caught a glimpse of him with his lips wrapped around your clit and his fingers fucking into you, you'd be gone.

"You're gonna come? That's my pretty girl. Coming home to me, and coming all over my fingers. Just as she should." Steve moaned, setting his mind and only goal as making you come for him. He could feel you tightening around him, seconds away from release as he sped his fingers up, matching the pace as he flicked his tongue at the same time against the swell of your clit.

With one last vibrating moan against your cunt, you were gone. Numb everywhere else but your lower half; your clit throbbing against Steve's tongue as he sucked it into his mouth one more time, his fingers slowing down so he could relish in the rhythmic spasms around them. His spare arm held your hips as best it could, but Steve craved your squirming. His eyes travelled up your body as he watched you come, humming sweetly against you as he felt more of your essence coat his palm and his chin. Just how he liked it.

"You're so good to me, sweetheart." Steve whispered as he pressed his lips to the crook of your thighs and hips, kissing along your tummy and back up the route he came down not too long ago. Stilling his fingers for a moment as you recollected yourself and opened your eyes, his spare hand stroked the sweat-dampened hair from your forehead. You smiled up at him dazily, post-orgasm bliss etched onto your face. Letting your tongue fall out against your lower lip, Steve furrowed his eyebrows in confusion at your expression.

"What's this now?" He asked with a slight chuckle.

"Let me taste myself." You'd whisper, before resuming your expression. Steve's aching cock twitched in his pyjama pants as he gently slid his fingers from inside you and straight onto your tongue. He watched intently as you lapped up the clear dew from his fingers, feeling a deep need building. Instinctively, his hips ground down against yours as you wrapped your lips around them, sucking hard as you smiled and kept your gaze on his.

"Want me to really show you I'm yours?" You'd purr, letting your hand reach down to grip the stiff outline of his cock through his plaid pants. Steve's eyes fluttered shut at the contact, knowing you were going to ruin him and yet be the death of him simultaneously. Nonetheless, you were his.

[waight-gain]

Chapter 11: The Reunion

Dylan & Simon

It was a perfect summer afternoon—warm sunlight beamed down from a cloudless sky, and the smell of grilled meat filled the air. Dylan's backyard was alive with laughter, clinking bottles, and the sizzle of burgers on the grill. The pool shimmered invitingly, its surface rippling from the occasional splash as a few of Dylan’s old high school friends dove in and out, reliving the carefree fun of their teenage years.

Dylan stood by the grill, flipping burgers and sausages with one hand while nursing a cold beer with the other. His once-athletic physique was now a distant memory, replaced by a much larger, more comfortable version of himself. At just over 300 pounds, Dylan had embraced his new size, even if it still occasionally caught him by surprise. He wore a loose-fitting tank top, which did little to hide the sheer bulk of his belly. The fabric clung to the upper part of his torso, outlining his softer chest and shoulders, while the bottom of his shirt struggled to cover the full curve of his stomach, which hung over his waistband with a soft sag.

His belly had grown rounder and heavier over the past few years. It was large and prominent, protruding far enough that it gently swayed with each movement. His midsection had become an unmistakable focal point of his body, with the weight settling mostly around his belly and sides, creating thick love handles that wrapped around his frame. The soft, pillowy expanse of his belly was firm beneath the layers of fat, giving it a sense of solidity, yet it retained a gentle bounce and jiggle whenever he shifted. His arms and legs were still strong from his regular strength training, but they had thickened, too, giving him an imposing yet approachable presence.

He glanced around the backyard, watching his old high school friends as they mingled. Most of them hadn’t seen him in person since graduation, though they’d kept in touch via social media. Still, pictures didn’t quite prepare them for seeing the changes in Dylan up close. In contrast, his friends had remained in the same lean, muscular shapes they’d been in during their high school glory days—broad shoulders, defined abs, and athletic builds honed by regular gym sessions and active lifestyles. They looked much like they had back then, while Dylan had transformed into something entirely different.

“Yo, Dylan! Is that really you, man?” a familiar voice called out from behind him.

Dylan turned to see Mark, one of his old football teammates, staring at him with wide eyes. Mark had kept his muscular, lean build, his shirtless torso showcasing the abs that Dylan vaguely remembered once having himself. Mark wasn’t alone—two more friends, Jake and Tyler, stood beside him, both looking equally surprised.

“Yeah, it’s me,” Dylan said with a grin, patting his belly with a playful thump. “Guess I’ve changed a bit, huh?”

Mark’s eyes flicked to Dylan’s stomach, widening slightly as he took in the full extent of Dylan’s size. “Man, I wasn’t expecting this. You’ve, uh… filled out,” he said, clearly trying to be tactful but unable to hide his shock.

Jake, ever the blunt one, let out a low whistle. “Filled out? Dude, you’re huge now! I mean, look at that belly!” He gestured at Dylan’s stomach, his eyes wide in disbelief. “What happened?”

Dylan laughed, used to these kinds of reactions by now. “Well, let’s just say I’ve been enjoying life a little more,” he said, shrugging as if it were no big deal. “A lot of good food, good company… and not as much time in the gym as you guys, obviously.”

Tyler, who had always been quieter but no less athletic, chimed in. “No kidding. You were always the fittest of us all. It’s just… crazy seeing you like this.” He shook his head in amazement, though his tone wasn’t unkind. “But hey, if you’re happy, that’s what matters.”

“I am,” Dylan said sincerely, looking around at his friends. “It’s different, for sure, but I’ve never been happier.”

As the conversation continued, more of Dylan’s old friends approached, curious and surprised by his transformation. Each had a variation of the same response—shock, surprise, but ultimately acceptance. Dylan found himself in the middle of it all, still flipping burgers and laughing with his old crew, but now with a belly that stretched the fabric of his tank top, rounding out like a full beach ball as he shifted his weight.

Simon, who had been chatting with some of the others near the pool, walked over to Dylan and slipped an arm around his waist, leaning into him affectionately. “How’s it going, babe?” he asked, glancing at Dylan’s friends with a knowing smile. “Everyone adjusting to the new and improved you?”

Dylan chuckled, resting a hand on Simon’s shoulder. “Yeah, they’re getting there. I think they’re more shocked that I’m not the same jock I used to be.”

Simon smirked, his eyes flicking down to Dylan’s belly. “Well, I think you’re perfect the way you are.”

Dylan grinned, giving Simon’s hand a squeeze. “I think so too.”

As the day wore on, the party continued with beers, laughter, and a lot of reminiscing. Every now and then, Dylan would catch a few of his old friends sneaking glances at his belly, still fascinated by how much he had changed. It wasn’t just his size that drew attention—it was the way he carried it. Dylan moved with a confidence that was undeniable, his belly bouncing lightly with each step, his larger frame no longer something to be ashamed of but something he embraced fully.

Eventually, they all sat down to eat. The food had been grilling for hours, and Dylan and Simon had made sure there was enough to feed a small army. Burgers, sausages, ribs, potato salad, and all the BBQ fixings were laid out in a spread that took up two full tables.

As Dylan settled into his seat, his belly pushing out against the table’s edge, Mark sat across from him, still shaking his head in disbelief. “Man, I just can’t get over how big you’ve gotten,” Mark said, though this time there was a hint of admiration in his voice. “But you seem… comfortable, you know? Like, you’re not trying to hide it.”

Dylan smiled, patting his belly with a sense of pride. “Why should I? This is who I am now. I’m still strong, still me. Just… bigger.” He grinned, taking a big bite of his burger. “And I’m definitely not starving myself anytime soon.”

Jake laughed, clinking his beer against Dylan’s. “Well, you’ve got the right attitude, man. I respect that.”

The meal continued with everyone digging in, but no one enjoyed the spread quite like Dylan and Simon. Simon, ever the thoughtful partner, made sure Dylan’s plate was always full, piling on extra ribs and slathering them in sauce. He watched with a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes as Dylan ate heartily, his belly growing tauter and fuller with each bite.

By the time dinner wrapped up, Dylan leaned back in his chair, his tank top now riding up over the top of his swollen belly. His stomach was round and heavy, distended from the feast, and his pants were unbuttoned to make room for the expanding girth. Beside him, Simon looked just as satisfied, though not nearly as stuffed.

As Dylan rested a hand on his bloated stomach, feeling the fullness settle in, he glanced around at his friends, who were now relaxing by the pool with beers in hand. Despite their initial shock, they had all come around, accepting him for who he had become. It felt good to be surrounded by old friends, but even better knowing that he no longer had to fit into the mold they had once known him for.

Simon leaned over, resting his head on Dylan’s shoulder. “You did good today,” he murmured softly, his hand rubbing gentle circles over Dylan’s swollen belly. “You ready to go relax?”

Dylan smiled, nodding. “Yeah, I think I’ve earned it,” he said, standing up slowly, his belly protruding even more now that he was fully upright. It jiggled slightly as he moved, the full weight of it bouncing with each step.

They made their way to the living room, where Dylan collapsed onto the couch with a satisfied groan. His belly pushed out prominently, the skin taut and full, straining against the fabric of his shirt as he settled in. Simon joined him, nestling close with a contented sigh.

As they sat there, relaxing in the fading sunlight, Dylan couldn’t help but reflect on how much his life had changed since high school. He was bigger now, both in body and in spirit, but more importantly, he was happy. He had found his place, and with Simon by his side, he knew he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

[codfanficedits]

Christmas - Full version.

Pairing: Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x Reader, John Price x Reader, Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Reader!

Summary: The boys during Christmas :)

Wordcount: 11,304 | Rating: E! (18+ only!)

Warnings: A little bit hinting to NSFW, I think? A lot of fluff :)

A/N: Merry Christmas (:

Kyle:

Kyle and you had been childhood friends, and eventually you moved to lovers, only to be downgraded to friends again, when he moved away to join the army. And those last years have been.. hectic, you joined the army yourself and Kyle had made it very clear he didn’t want to serve with you, so things had been awkward, on paper you were just friends. Kyle would always come back to you, during easter, during spring break, summer vacations, he would always know where to find you, only to never admit his actual feelings towards you. And you had gotten used to it, so much actually that you didn’t bat an eye when he was at your door for Christmas and you had used it to sweet talk him into making a snowman with you.

A frustrated growl leaves his lips as he adjusts his scarf against the cold. Kyle always tried to play that hardened soldier, just like he had been taught. But he may be grumpy, but his heart is in the right place—he'll help you build your snowman.

With is a slight spring in your step as you finally convinced him to build that snowman with you. Your hair sways with every step as you drag him along with you to the open field.

The cold air numbs your face, but you don't care in the slightest. You turn around to face Kyle, your eyes sparkling as you see him. Your hand reaches out to tug on his scarf, making sure it keeps him warm enough. "Can't have you catching a cold." You whispered, before you kissed his nose, with a quick spin you face the open field, ready to build your snowman.

Kyle's jaw stiffens at your playful touch, your kiss sending a shiver down his spine despite the cold. He mutters an irritable retort, but the heat rushing to his cheeks proves otherwise. You make him so soft—so vulnerable and so damn happy.

He shakes his head slightly in annoyance, then turns his gaze ahead. Just focus on the snowman, he thinks to himself. Don't let them see how much you're enjoying this.

Your hands are cold when you has finally rolled enough snow for the lower abdomen, but it’s okay. Simple, soft things like this make you forget about the world, about being a soldier, about pain, and you wouldn't trade it for the world. You can see him watch you, an annoyed look on his face, half of it being tucked away in the scarf. But you know he would've left already if he truly hated it. You tried to lift the ball of snow for the middle section, so you can put it on the lower section. But you aren’t strong enough. So you shoots Kyle a pleading look. "Can you help me, please?"

His heart squeezes at the look in your eyes — how could he say no? And, if he's being totally honest with himself, he likes you being dependent on him for a change.

So he leans down and effortlessly lifts the section of the snowman, putting it on top of the lower abdomen. "There." He says in a firm, quiet tone — which isn't quite as firm as it's supposed to be, given his heart racing and cheeks blooming to pink. He straightens up, avoiding your eyes.

You watch in awe as he effortlessly lifts up the section you couldn't carry. The same spring in your step as you scoop up the snow for the head, packing it until it is big enough. With a lot of effort you manage to put it on top of the other sections yourself. And you take a step back, hands on your hips as you admired your work.

You take a carrot out of your pocket, sticking it in the middle of the snowman’s face to give it a nose. You take two rocks out of your other pocket, to give it two eyes. And finally you take off your scarf, the cold wind hitting your bare neck as you put the scarf around the snowman.

"Done." You exclaimed happily

His gaze remains on the ground as you complete the snowman, his heart thrumming in his ears. But he can feel your eyes on him, and he knows you want to see his reaction.

Finally, he glances up.

The snowman is goofy and imperfect — just like every other snowman. Yet the sight of it melts his heart and makes his mind turn into a fuzzy puddle of admiration for you.

He's too overwhelmed to speak, so he settles for a soft grunt. "He's...he's perfect."

The spring in your step stays as you walks over to him. "A work of art." You chuckled.

"Couldn't have done it without you, Kyle. I owe you one." You said as you looked up at him.

Your hands are freezing and a mischievous twinkle forms in your eyes. "I'm so sorry for what I am about to do." You giggled as you hugged him, your cold hands sliding under his shirt on to his warm back.

“Jezus!”

He stiffens at the touch of your freezing hands, his shirt rippling with goosebumps. Yet, he finds his body moulding to yours, reluctant to let go of this moment — reluctant to let go of this warmth.

There is a fire in his belly as his heart thunders. He wraps his arms around you, burying his face in the nape of your neck; breathing in your scent, feeling your heartbeat against his chest. He hates this. He loves this. He is torn in two.

"I said sorry on forehand!" You defend yourself with a laugh as he buries his face in your neck. It was a cheap trick but you were happy that you did it. Your hands move higher up his back, needing the touch of his warm skin once more.

A groan escapes his lips when your hands move up his back, and his embrace tightens.

"I swear to god. You're gonna kill me." This is torture. But the way you tease him, the way you look at him — it drives him wild.

He hates it.

He loves it.

But he doesn't want to admit it.

A quick kiss on his cheek as you pull your hand away from his body, slipping out from under his shirt. There is a big smile on your face, dimples forming on your cheeks.

"Thank you." You murmured. "Let’s go inside before I have to warm my hands again."

His face is hot, his body buzzing with the aftershock of the rush. He hates feeling so weak, so vulnerable, in your presence. But he follows silently. Reluctantly. He is always reluctant to leave the warmth of your touch.

“Why do I put up with you?" He groans. But his voice is teasing — an admittance of defeat and attraction.

You have his sleeve in your hand, leading the two of you back to the house. "Because I make a good snowman and a killer hot chocolate." You answer his question before you stick out your tongue.

Once you’re inside you take off your jacket before you turn to Kyle, there is a soft smile when you take his scarf off, that same soft smile stays when you slowly pulls down the zipper on his jacket.

He watches you with amusement — his expression softening at your teasing. Yet, his body still tenses when you touch his skin.

His heartbeat quickens when you peel away his jacket, your fingers grazing over his muscular body. He grits his teeth. How is it possible he still feels like a blushing teen?

This is torture, he thinks. I love it.

Your touch is sweet and soft when you help him out of his jacket. You knows he isn't gentle to himself, so you make sure to be it for him. Your hand cups his cheek, your thumb running across the skin as you smile again.

You have to stand on your toes to kiss him, and your kiss is sweet and soft.

A soft chuckle leaves your lips as you pull back and disappeared into the kitchen to make that hot chocolate

A low groan escapes his lips when your soft lips brush against his. His hand reaches out to cradle the back of your head — to pull your body closer, pressing you against the wall.

Yet, as he looks down at you, his muscles go tense and he releases his grip. You deserve better. Someone kinder, sweeter. Not a monster who can't keep his own life in check. Your adorable chuckle fills the room as you scurry away, and the warmth in Kyle's heart is overwhelming.

He wants to kiss you.

And he hates that he wants to kiss you.

You know. You know his internal struggle, the fight he has with himself. How he wants you, but doesn't feel like he deserves you. So you’ve been dancing around each other for years now. He pulls you in, shuts you out. And the same thing repeats itself.

But you can't fight this battle for him. It’s his to do. The only thing You can do is be there for him, and remind him that you are waiting for him.

A soft hum escaped you when you stir the milk on the furnace, patiently waiting until you can add the chocolate

A part of him desperately wants you to win this stupid game. To tear him apart, destroy his walls. But how dare you make him crave it so much?

So, for now, he allows you this game of cat and mouse.

He leans against the wall, his eyes on your back as he takes in the familiar curve of your body. There is nothing he wants more than to pin you up against the wall and bury his lips in your soft, inviting neck.

...maybe just one taste would suffice.

You can feel his burning gaze on you, you knows that look all too well, the love, the longing. Not that he ever acts on it though, no God forbid the great Kyle Garrick would succumb to human urges.

You keeps on stirring the milk, waiting for it to boil, it takes long, you can't put it on a high heat, but you are patient, just like you are patient with him. But who said you can’t have a little fun? Your head tilts to the side, the soft skin exposed, just for him to see.

His jaw stiffens as he takes in the beautiful sight. And damn it all, you know it gets to him. You know how much it drives him wild.

But he wants you to keep going — keep teasing him with soft touches, cute giggles, and that damn seductive skin. He closes his eyes, breathing in your scent like a starving man. What would you taste like? He wonders.

His eyes flicker open and he looks back down at the floor. You're playing dangerous games,

Another soft hum leaves your lips as the milk starts to boil, and you add the chocolate, while you keep stirring. You knows how hard he is struggling behind you, how hard he is fighting to accept the love you both crave so much.

Your gaze shifts to the snowman you had built, and a soft smile tugs around your lips.

He watches with a soft smile as your eyes move to the snowman. He still wants to kiss your neck. I mean, who wouldn't want to kiss someone's neck? Especially someone with such silky-smooth skin.

Oh, you. If only he was strong enough to make his desires come into reality. Then he could finally taste your neck, your lips, your hair...your everything.

What would you taste like?

...he catches himself thinking about the flavour of your lips. Is it bad that he'd really like to find out? But he knows how you taste, he has tasted you before. Yet he seems to have forgotten the taste, desperately craving it again.

It feels as if you are on display with the way he looks at your every move. But he is the only one who you allowed to look at your like that. Any other man would've received a scolding of their lifetime.

You transfer the hot chocolate to two mugs and top it off with some whipped cream.

You turn around to face him, your eyes shifting from the hot chocolate towards him, a silent invite for him to come closer and pick that mug up.

His breath catches in his throat at your silent invitation. He takes one step closer, but no more than that. His body is burning with longing, but he has to show restraint. Otherwise he would lose himself in your eyes, your skin, your lips — and he'd never recover.

He grabs his mug of hot chocolate with trembling fingers as he stares at the steaming liquid. He is not allowed to look up at you. Not allowed to speak. Not allowed to touch you.

He's not allowed anything but to exist.

You watch him, like he had watched you.

Your eyes are on him as you take the first sip of your hot chocolate, and it tastes pretty damn good. A smile as you sees him take a sip, closing his eyes as he savours the taste, a soft chuckle from you as he gets some whipped cream on his nose.

You take the mug from his hands, placing it on the counter, before you use your thumb to wipe away the whipped cream.

It’s your turn to be surprised when he takes your wrist and gently licks the whipped cream of your thumb

A low growl escapes his lips as he licks your thumb — his tongue moving around like it's searching, desperate, needful.

And oh, it reminds him of the taste of your neck, the softness of your mouth. He is utterly addicted to your taste. God.

He swallows around the lump in his throat, resisting the urge to lean in to bite your neck.

"Sorry about that."

The air between you is thick with desire, and the tension is almost tangible.

You had never felt something like that before, and you wanted more. Your heart was beating out of your chest as you watched him.

"Kyle." You croaked as you gripped the counter to keep your touch on reality. "I'll go fucking insane if you don't kiss me."

His heart is racing from the sheer rush of your words. There is a fire in his gaze as he studies your features.

He wants to kiss you. God, does he want to kiss you.

He takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling with it.

"You... do you really want me to kiss you?"

The words are harsh, his tone sharp, but he needs to know that you truly want him. Otherwise he could never justify what he's about to do. He can’t dance around you any longer.

You don’t mind the sharp tone. You were used to it by now, your years long dance around each other.

God all you wanted was a kiss, all you wanted was his love. All you wanted was him. With all his flaws, with all quirks, all of him. "Love me." You whispered

His body tenses at your words — a sharp pain piercing his heart.

All he wants is to be loved. But he wasn't taught to let someone in. To be happy. He was never allowed to be weak. But that's all he is now. Weak. For your love, for your kindness, your touch... And he hates being weak.

Your whisper breaks his heart, but he can't deny what he feels. He wants it. He wants you.

"I love you. More than anything."

Your hands reach out for his, pulling him closer to your, so he towers over you.

"I love you too, Kyle." You answered. "I've loved you since the beginning."

"And whatever your mind tells you, you're not weak for loving me."

Those words are like water in the desert for Kyle's parched heart. He takes a deep breath as he gazes into your eyes. He loves you. Even when you're a cheeky little devil, even when you're driving him crazy, even when he thinks he is doomed to a lonely existence.

You're it for him. You. You're it for him.

His body shakes with need. He is going to finally put this years-long dance to an end.

He leans in and kisses your lips with an almost violent passion.

Your hands find their way to his neck, as if you want to keep him there forever.

He had finally given in and you couldn't be happier. But you had to pull back, you had to breathe, but you smile when you see his face.

"I fucking love you, Kyle."

He smiles down at you, his body buzzing as his hands gently cup your face. There is still a hint of restraint — as if he doesn't want to scare your away by being too much, too quick.

But there is no restraining the heat he feels when he looks into your eyes. "I love you."

He kisses you again, the hunger of years finally being sated. This is better than anything he could have imagined.

He holds you tighter, needing you like he needs air to breathe. His very soul is aching. Simon had been wrong. Simon had taught him that love and friendship shouldn’t be in the field manual. But love never felt better.

Simon:

He used to hate the holidays, but by the Gods did that change when he met you. You felt like a gift from the heavens above, slowly introducing him to the warmth that could be, and for the first time since years, did Simon start to love the holidays.

Unfortunately, does the army wait for no one. And right before he was supposed to be home, he got sent on a mission again, leaving him without a way to communicate with you.

Luckely for him, it was a short, easy mission, leaving him with some spare time to buy you something before he got back. He always adored giving you things. A little way of marking you as his, making it known to others that you were off the market.

He was a little too eager when he swung open the door of your house, kicking off his boots almost immediately.

"Hi, lovie," he mumbled exhausted. One of his hands slipped into his pocket, pulling out a small, black box. "Early present for you."

You had not expected him to be home again, you was more worried that he was killed in action, and there he was, exhausted as could be, but alive.

"Oh lovie." You sighed as you hugged him tight, burying your face in the crook of his neck, a content sigh leaving your lips.

You pulled back to look at him, a smile on your face, your hair tickling his arm. You took the little box from him, opening it eagerly.

"Simon!" You had been eyeing this ankle bracelet for a while, and he must've known it. "This must've costed you a fortune!" You exclaimed, seeing it had this initial on it, a little S dangling off it.

He hugged back with a groan, wrapping his arms around your tightly. The love he felt for his person was unmatched by anyone or anything. No matter how hard things got, these rare moments of comfort made his entire being come back to life and feel like things were going to be okay. You made his heart race in ways you'd never know.

"I'm here." He whispered in your ear, a low sigh escaping his lips before he kissed your forehead. He was relieved you wasn't annoyed with his sudden, early return. “It didn’t cost a fortune.” He groaned. “It will look nice when your ankles rest on my shoulders.” He chuckled.

"I'm so glad you are." You murmured softly when he kissed your forehead. "I was so worried something had happened."

You pressed a kiss on his cheek. "Do you want to stay in for Christmas? Or do you want to go to a dinner party or something?" You knew how much he valued his time, so you would gladly give him the choice.

Another low sigh escaped his lips as you kissed his cheek, his tired body leaning into the light affection you gave him. He let his eyes close for a moment but opened them when you asked a question.

He considered the options. "I'm pretty tired, honestly," he mumbled, leaning his head against yours. He wanted nothing more than to simply feel your presence by him.

"Then we're staying at home." You smiled. "I haven't seen you in a few months. And I would rather be with you than anywhere else."

"I can run you a bath, when it is Christmas I'll make some dinner." You mused. "Sounds like a good plan to me."

That was his ideal Christmas holiday. Spend it comfortably with his partner. No parties, no socializing with people you didn't know.

"That's perfect," he mumbled. A bath would feel great right now; his bones felt like they were going to break as soon as he let his guard down. "You can spoil me for the day," he said, his face lighting up now that he knew you’d be staying home.

"You would like that, wouldn't you." You teased him. You gave him a playful slap on his ass. "Let’s get your stinky ass in a bath." You grinned, as you kissed his cheek again.

You walked in front of him, placing the ankle bracelet on your nightstand before you went to the bathroom with him, it was a gorgeous gift, and you loved how he paid attention to what you wanted.

Simon laughed softly when you gave his ass that playful slap, his muscles clenching from the unexpected touch. It might not seem like much to others, but those little acts of affection were everything to him.

He followed behind, his steps slower than usual. Exhaustion weighed down his body, making him feel almost drunk. His muscles ached in the worst way possible. However, the bath was everything he needed to fix that.

"I hate to ask...can you help me wash?" He couldn't help but ask, the weariness showing itself in his voice.

You loved it, and he wouldn't know how happy it was making you, Simon always wanted to care for you, for others.

"Of course, lovie." You said with a smile, as you helped him undress.

You could see how tired he was, exhaustion from being a soldier oozing out of him. He leaned on you, and you knew this was all he needed.

It was almost ironic how he, a man of his physique and stature, was relying on his partner to help him with a simple, everyday task. It was almost funny how he was acting so pitiful; the man who usually carried the team's equipment was now having his clothes stripped from him.

Still, the simple act of you helping him made him feel closer to you and made him feel taken care of. It almost put tears in his eyes, but he was too tired to display such emotion. All he could do was lean against you and simply let you do your thing.

You didn't mind, not at all, you had leaned on him plenty of times, and you loved that you could return the favour.

You rinsed him first under the shower, getting rid of most of the dirt and grime, before you guided him to the bathtub. You let it fill up with warm water, before you leaned in to kiss him, helping him step into the water.

"There ya go."

Simon sighed contently as he felt the warm water against his skin, his muscles no longer hurting quite as badly as they were. The stress and tension just melted away. He let his eyes close again, leaning against you. You were doing him such an act of kindness. He hadn't been this relaxed in so long, the last few months being nothing but an endurance test.

"I could kiss you so many times right now," he mumbled with fatigue, his voice raspy and low from disuse.

"You're too tired to kiss me." You teased him. You took some shampoo, your shampoo, the nice, expensive one, and you lathered it in your hands. You took place behind him, softly massaging his scalp with the shampoo.

"I'm too tired to function right now," he groaned. Still, that didn't stop his body from reacting to your touch. Your hands felt like they were melting away all of the tension in his muscles, the scent of the shampoo being a bonus.

It wasn't long before his eyes closed and his breathing slowed, the last few drops of adrenaline leaving his body as he relaxed completely. It always baffled him how you made things so easy and simple, taking care of him and making his life better than it had ever been.

You used the shower head to rinse out the shampoo from his hair.

After that, you used your bodywash to lather your hands again, softly massaging his shoulders with the soap. Any other day you would’ve joined him, teased him in the bath until he dragged you to the bedroom. But you could see he was too tired, too exhausted and he needed a break.

"I love you." You whispered softly.

Simon let out a relaxing moan when you massaged his shoulders, the tension leaving his body more with each slow touch. He almost couldn't believe he was still on earth. Things were going too perfectly.

"I love you too," he murmured, and that was the truth. It was no longer butterflies in his stomach when he was by your side. Now it was warmth, security, and a sense of overwhelming belongingness.

It had been the same for you. You didn't get butterflies when you saw him, unless he was all dressed up, or bone naked, but he made you feel at home, he made you feel like you belonged in the world.

You work your thumbs into the tired muscles of your lover.

"Nearly done, my love." You murmured softly. "I'll dry you off once we're done."

Your touch felt like a comforting, calming blanket being draped over him. Every ounce of stress and tension was releasing. It was like being back in your arms after a long day, his body getting the much needed attention it deserved. He was already ready to nap once this was over.

"Thank you..." He mumbled, feeling like he should be doing more in this relationship, rather than simply accepting your care and love. Oh but he was doing so much more than he gave himself credit for. He loved you unconditionally and that was the best thing he could do.

You emptied the bath, helping him getting out of the tub, after that you took the fluffiest towel you could find, slowly drying him off.

"Let’s get you to bed, Si."

Simon smiled and closed his eyes again, appreciating how the towel felt against him. It was so soft and warm. Like a hug.

"I'm not being too demanding, am I?" He mumbled softly. The last thing he wanted to do was be a handful to take care of. But with how exhausted he was, it was hard not to melt into the towel and simply relax.

"Demanding?" You repeated. "You're anything but demanding."

A soft kiss is pressed on his chest. "I would do anything for you. This is nothing." You reassured him.

You took his hand, guiding him and his naked body to your bedroom.

You took off your jeans and socks before you got into bed yourself, and before you could say or do anything he was between your legs, his arms around your waist, his head resting on your lap.

Simon's mind went fuzzy at your reassurance and affection. Was he really this loved? Could he have done anything worthy of such unwavering devotion?

He was the one who should have been doing more for you, not the other way around. Yet you still took care of him, took care of everything. Even when he was acting so pitiful and incapable of doing the simplest tasks.

His body reacted appropriately to your warmth; his arms wrapped around your, his muscles tightening as he clung to you.

You took your book from the nightstand, running your free hand through his hair as you let out a content sigh. He was home, and that was all you could ask for.

“What are you reading?” Simon muttered softly, while he tried to keep his eyes open. “Haunting Adeline, it is quite good.”

Simon perks up. “Are you out of your mi-“ He chuckles when he sees a different cover and he let’s himself sink into your lap again. “I nearly went off on you, you idiot.” He scolded you, lovingly of course.

“How do you even know it?” You muse, your hand running through his hair again.

Simon closes his eyes once more. “Soap bought it to impress a woman he had been dating. The idiot read it out loud to us, before we would go to sleep. He tossed it out really quick when we realised it was glorifying sexual assault and Zade was nothing more than a rapist.”

“Soap did good with that one.” You chuckle. “Tried to read it, had to put it down because I was so disturbed.”

“Hmm.” Simon mumbles as he feels the sleep wash over him. “Tonight I want you to read for me.”

"Merry early Christmas, lovie." You whispered, not sure if he would hear you. "Couldn't wish for a better gift."

The heat of your body was so blissful. The comfort that came from just lying with you was unlike any other experience Simon had ever had. When you were close like this, in a bed, he had no urge to protect his surroundings. He was at ease, his heart beating slower from the sheer joy he felt.

"Merry Christmas," he whispered back, drifting into the most restful sleep he's had in months.

John:

You don’t really know how it had happened, but it just happened. Instead of two eggs, you used four, you know, so then the carton would be empty, John would be bringing home new eggs anyway. And all you had to do was add double flour, extra butter, and a whole lot of chocolate chips, and somehow you ended up with sixty-six cookies. Well, sixty-five, since you had to taste one. You triple check the recipe you used, and sure, after you’ve read the author’s life story, it says clearly that is a recipe for just fifteen cookies, and you’re still not sure how you ended up with sixty-five after doubling your ingredients.

You look at your countertops, it’s filled with baking sheets full of cookies. Which wouldn’t be such a hassle, if the cookies would be the only thing you had baked. On your right are countertops filled with chocolate cupcakes, topped off with a buttercream of vanilla and some chopped up walnuts, and to your left there were blueberry muffins with a cream cheese drizzle. Your eyes shift to the clock, knowing that John will be home soon, and you let out a sigh. Who would let a stressed out person who likes to bake loose in a kitchen anyway?

Your hand reaches for your phone and you look up the number for the homeless shelter not too far away. You and John had donated to them a few times before, and what would be a better use for all these sweets that you had baked?

The lady who answers the phone is a little weary at first, and you can’t blame her, how many people treat the homeless shelter as their personal dumpster, dropping off spoiled food, dropping off food laced with who knows what. She asks you to identify yourself when you drop the goods, and you have to sign a weaver. It all sounds fair to you. Just as you end the call, you can hear the front door slam close.

John

With a loud groan he enters the kitchen, his eyes lighting up when he sees all those bakes goods. Was that the reason your shopping list was so long?

"Sweet baby Jezus." He complains, setting the heavy bags down on the counter. “Is this just for me?” He teases as he reaches out to the cookies. “Hey!” He protests when you swat his hand away. His joyful attitude wiped away the peace and quiet you had yourself surrounded in.

Your eyes flickered between the cookies, and the cupcakes you had been baking. "Maybe I did go a little overboard." You giggled. "A little?" he chuckles as he catches sight of the mountain of baked goods. All of that looks like it had to have taken you ages to make! He has to wonder who could eat that many sweets. Maybe he could help you get rid of them.

His arms snake around your waist and he presses a kiss on your forehead. “What’s on your mind, love?” Your shoulders slump at his question. “Just a little stress.” You mumble at his question. John doesn’t buy it. “You’ve been baking enough to feed a whole army, something is bothering you.”

“Just a little nervous to see my mom again.” You mutter eventually, there would be no use in hiding this from him anyway. John chuckled softly at your words. “Is she nagging about grandkids again?”

“Mhm, while calling me fat in the same conversation.”

He kisses your forehead again, his lips lingering against your skin. “We’re not going.” You want to look up at him, but he keeps your face in place with his kiss. “What?” “I refuse to let you ruin your own Christmas because your mother can’t shut up. We’ve told her countless times that our decision on children is not up to her to intervene with.”

��Yeah but what if…” Your voice trails off, you know your mother wouldn’t take lightly to this news.

“I can talk to her.” John muses, as he looks at you. “You are the love of my life, I’ll be damned if I let your mother make you miserable, just because she refuses to go to therapy.”

You gave him a quick peck on his lips. "Thank you lovie." The idea of not seeing your mother for Christmas gave you some room to breathe, maybe a year without judgement would do you good.

His hands go to your waist again, squeezing you softly as he pulls you in closer. "You're welcome, love," he whispers softly. "You look really beautiful. More so than usual."

Your arms go around his neck, and you kiss him softly, a smile on his face when he looks at the baked goods again.

"I want to drop a few off at the homeless shelter." You whisper against his lips. "Want to help me?" You ask him.  "I'll let you eat a cupcake first."

"If I do help, am I allowed to sample one of your cupcakes beforehand?" he asks, a playful, mischievous glint in his eyes. While he jokes, he knows those cupcakes of you are to die for. Even having one before helping you deliver the rest would be enough to make this a grand day.

"Please? Just one?"

"How can I say no to you?" You chuckled softly. "I have chocolate ones, with a buttercream of vanilla and walnuts. Or blueberry with a cream cheese drizzle." You mentioned.

"Which one would you like, love?" You asked him, turning around to the cupcakes. He is completely torn over which one to choose, and the more he debates it, the harder it is for him to pick. "Do I pick the chocolate? Or the blueberry? Hmmmmmm..."

He glances back at you, unable to hide the adoration in his eyes. "You know what? I like surprises. Surprise me." And to really make you work for it, he kisses you again, stealing one last taste before it's time to choose.

Your eyes light up and you grin. "Close your eyes!" You order him. He closes his eyes as you say, eager to see if he can guess which is which without seeing.

You take a chocolate cupcake, the blueberry cupcake and your cinnamon sugar cookie.

You smile as he closes his eyes, and you can't help but kiss him. You place a small piece of the blueberry cupcake in his mouth. "Guess which one this is."

Once it's in his mouth, it's clear that it is most definitely the blueberry cupcake. There's no mistaking that flavour of blueberry and cream cheese.

"Blueberry," he answers confidently. And he opens his eyes to see you grinning triumphantly.

"Correct." You chuckled, before you placed a piece of her cinnamon sugar cookie between his lips. "Guess again!" You giggled before you pressed a kiss on his jawline. "If you guess all three right." You whispered in his ear. "I'll go on top tonight."

"Cinnamon sugar? It has to be that delicious cookie. But if I'm wrong, then I'll never hear the end of it." And he takes a bite, revelling at the sweetness of the dough. "This is absolutely incredible," he smiles.

At what you mention next, his eyes snap wide open. Not even a millisecond of hesitation passes by before an excited "YES!" crosses his lips. "Okay, the next one has to be chocolate. There's no way that's anything but chocolate."

You laugh at his enthusiasm. "There is only one flavour left and that is chocolate.” You chuckle, as you feed him the piece of chocolate cupcake. “So it seems I’ll put in the work tonight.”

"Let’s drop off these cookies and cupcakes at the homeless shelter. And when we get home, I'll show you why I should be on the nice list." You added with a soft chuckle.

"I can't wait," he whispers, leaning in for another kiss. "But first, I'll be a good boy for you."

"And I really can't emphasize how much I love you for making all of these for that shelter," he chuckles. "They deserve the best Christmas possible. And these, I can assure you, are the best." He gives you an affectionate squeeze, before grabbing your hand to head towards the door together.

"Being with you has made me realize how lucky I truly am." You smiled. "And I hope these cupcakes bring a little bit of hope to other too." You added, as you brought the cupcakes and cookies to the car. You took place in the passenger seat. "Drive carefully please." You pleaded.

"Yeah, lucky is definitely the word to describe it," he teases with a smirk. "I think it'll do more than that," he replies. He knows how big of an impact your delicious baking has had on him, and he has no doubt it will be equally as meaningful to them.

At your concern, he nods. "You know I'm not some speed racer, love," he chuckles, turning the car on and beginning your trip.

You pressed a kiss on his cheek before you puts your seatbelt on. "You're a delight." You chuckled softly. "I am so happy you were granted leave for the holidays, John."

"It has been a while since we celebrated Christmas together, and I'm looking forward to it." You add quietly.

The kiss warms his cheek, the sensation of your lips on him bringing an easy smile to his face. "You know I've missed you desperately, love," he whispers back, his attention turned to the road in front of him. "I've been counting the seconds until I had you back in my arms again. You'll never know how much I look forward to being with you on Christmas."

The smile on his face grows as the two of you ride along together. There's something heartwarming and magical about spending the season with the one you truly love.

Of course you had missed him too, more than he would ever know.

You get excited when you arrive at the shelter, and you get out of car, making sure to get to the person who you talked to on the phone. You bring them the cupcakes and cookies before, showing them your ID and signing the weaver. It doesn’t need to be bombastic, you don’t need the praise, you just want to do a little something for others.

"Let’s get back to home, love." You said, as you got in to the car again, before you pressed a kiss on his lips.

Seeing you get excited is always endearing. The way your eyes light up with joy never fails to captivate him. And your eagerness to help those in need is one of the many qualities he loves about you. He wraps an arm around your waist and gives you a comforting squeeze.

"Yes, yes. Let's go home. I can't wait to snuggle up with you again," he says with a smile. And he begins to drive home—where you both belong, where this Christmas season is meant to be spent.

You had missed him, you knew what you got yourself in to when you married a soldier, but it was hard at times. Having him home for Christmas really was a delight.

"I have a good Christmas present for you this year." You hummed content. "I'm really sure you'll like it." You watch the Christmas decorations when you pass the houses in the neighbourhood, and you adore it.

His curiosity is piqued. "I'll like it, you say?" he asks with a wry smile. "Why do I get the feeling you enjoy watching me squirm in anticipation?"

He doesn't mind the torture. In fact, he loves it. It makes the big reveal that much more special. "I have something for you, too, love," he says in turn. "I put quite a bit of thought into it." He winks as he turns the corner, heading towards the driveway.

Oh you love this, the anticipation, the giddy feeling it gives you. It had taken you a while, but you had managed to order his favourite cigars from Cuba. You had to keep it for yourself for so long now, and it made you feel like you could explode any moment.

"Come on!" You urged him as he parked the car. "I know it’s not Boxing Day yet, but i really want to give you your present."

He chuckles at the thought of your excitement.

"Alright, alright, you've won. We don't need to wait another day." With that, he helps you get out of the car. And now you both stand before the front door.

"Okay, love, you would need to wait a little more, I will have the stage first.” He smiles.

He is gentle as he drags you towards the tree. He had a whole day planned for this, but he can't wait any longer. So John goes down on one knee, holding your hand, a black velvet box in his other hand. "Would you do me the honour to renew our vows?"

The question catches you off guard, almost like a swift punch to the gut. Your mind, in the heat of the moment, flashes back through all the time you’ve spent together—all the beautiful memories you've made.

"John," you says softly, wrapping your arms around you in an embrace. "Of course I will."

With the words spoken, there's nothing he wants more than to feel your warm, loving embrace. You could be married a thousand more times, and it would never get old.

“I love you so much, and the time we have to spend apart only makes me realize it more." John whispered in to your ear. "And every day that's spent away from you is nothing but torture. I'm just glad I get to have you back this Christmas. I look forward to tonight and to the coming year."

Johnny:

He had planned it ahead, mustering up a little plan, a little prank. You had always said that you loved his playful nature. So he gathered up Price, Ghost and Gaz, dragging them along in his plan, so when you would reach out to them, they would all confirm his story.

Just the idea made him all giddy from the inside. Johnny could hardly contain himself when he finally called you, his fingers hovering over to text on the screen, your name, next to a little red heart. He almost caught himself giggling when he started to ring you, once, twice, a sudden nervous feeling, worried that you wouldn’t pick up.

But you always did, you always sprinted to your phone the moment you heard it vibrate, you would never miss the opportunity to have a conversation with him.

“Johnny!” The excitement in your voice made him smile, you picked up exactly how he had expected you to. He could already imagine you, hurrying to the couch, making yourself comfortable in the corner, grabbing the little fleece blanket to bury yourself under.

“Hiya love.” He answered, trying to keep his voice steady. But you weren’t born yesterday, you had trained yourself to pick up the littlest of verbal cues.

“Johnny? Is everything alright?” You were indeed sitting on the couch, tucked away in the corner, alone in your little bubble with him, separated, yet together. You had heard the stories, soldiers calling their partner to say a final goodbye, knowing they wouldn’t come home. Your breathing starts to quicken and you find yourself closing your eyes, trying to focus on the sounds around him, but you find it to be eerily quiet.

Johnny had to mute his phone for a second, holding back a little chuckle, it was all going according to plan. “Am fine, love, ‘m fine.” He tried to reassure you. “But I do have bad news.”

Those words were enough to make your blood run cold, to make it seem like the world had stopped spinning. You had wondered at night if being in a relationship with a soldier was something you were cut out for. Being alone most of the time, sometimes hearing nothing from him at all, for weeks at the time, being worried all the time whether or not he would make it out alive, it was slowly eating you from the inside. So you had been ecstatic when he told you he had Christmas off, the two of you had been invited to dinner parties, regular parties, to your family, to your friends, they all wanted to see him again, they wanted to see you shine again, but the feeling in your gut was telling you that would all be ripped away from you, again. Four more days until it would be Christmas eve, and he was supposed to come home tomorrow. You find the courage to swallow the lump in your throat. “What’s the bad news, Johnny?”

On the other side of the world was Johnny fucking MacTavish, a shit eating grin on his face as he looked at the ticket in his hand. “Afraid I can’t make it for Christmas, love.” And he had to pinch his thigh to make his voice sound strained. “I know you’ve been looking forward to it, but they need me here.”

You want to scream, to cry, to yell at him that you need him too, that you need him more than the army does. But you don’t, you stay silent, letting his words linger in the air of the room. You would be alone for Christmas, again.

“Love, are you alright?” Johnny had expected something from you, anything, anger, disappointment, sadness, just not silence.

“I can’t do this anymore.” Your voice is a soft murmur, barely being heard. You’re the one who disconnects the call first, your lips pressed against the screen of your phone. Your screen immediately lights up again. His name and picture showing up, as if the universe is mocking you for your decision. But you’re tired and you can’t take it anymore.

The moment the screen dies down again, it doesn’t take another second for it to light up immediately again, and again, and again.

And on the other side of the world, is Johnny, frantically pacing around, this was not supposed to happen. It was supposed to go like the movies. You had to be a little pouty for the next day, and he would be on your doorstep. You would hug him, and all would be well.

But looking at his phone going to voicemail time after time, made him sick to his stomach. He had never thought losing you would even be an option in all this. After six times of trying to call you, he finally puts down his phone. Unsure of what he had to do now, of what he could do now.

He runs a hand through his mohawk. Fuck, oh fuck. The realisation of having fucked up this bad, hitting him once again. So he goes to the one person he would trust most with this, with you. His knuckles colliding with the door of his office, Johnny didn’t even wait for approval to come in.

“Captain. I fucked up.” The words left his lips before he could even close the door behind him. Price raised an eyebrow in return. “What happened?”

“I did my thing, called, said that I wouldn’t be able to come home, and I got broken up with.” The words leave Johnny’s lips, but he is having trouble believing them himself. “Well.” Price let out a quiet chuckle. “We did warn you this would happen, didn’t we?” Johnny’s face turns into a sour expression, he had been warned, by all his teammates, but that didn’t stop him from thinking it was an amazing idea anyway. “Well, yes.” Johnny grumbled. “Can you help me solve this mess?”

How could Price not? He had always been fond of you, you brought out the best in Johnny, and that was a quality not a lot of people possessed. ��Listen closely.” Price warned him, placing his cigar in his ashtray. “You’re still going home and I need you to buy a large bouquet of roses.”

“Which colour?”

Price frowned, first of all, he did not liked to be interrupted, and secondly, was this man an idiot? “Red of course, the colour of love.” Price sighed. “And if you’re lucky enough to be let in, you’re going in for a hug, and don’t let go until you’re forgiven. Unless you’re puyoud away and asked to leave, gotta respect those boundaries.”

Okay, okay, Johnny could do that. He grumbled a low thanks, before he turned around on his heels and left the office again.

You let out an annoyed groan when a loud knock startled you, it was cold, it had been snowing, and you had been in the worst mood possible. After breaking up with Johnny you had cancelled all your plans, all the invites, you just wanted to be left alone. Another groan left your lips when the person standing at the door knocked again.

His eyes remain fixed on the front door, recalling the broken promise and sorrowful words he spoke to you over the phone a few days ago. He knocks twice on the door, wishing nothing more than to be welcomed home with the warmth of your embrace. With an annoyed look on your face you swung open your door. Your eyes widening when you saw your lover, he had made it home for Christmas.

"Johnny!" All the annoyance melted away from you when you wrapped your arms around him. Seeing him again, it made all your anger fade away, the disappointment, the sadness, everything seemed to glide off you when you saw him again, the feeling of dread being replaced with butterflies.

Johnny pulls you into a tight embrace, nuzzling his head into your shoulder while squeezing with all his might. A deep sigh escapes his lips as his eyelids flutter shut, savouring the moment of your soft embrace.

"Surprise," he mumbles, squeezing tighter and pulling his love closer. He nuzzles further into your neck, his nose buried in the crook of your shoulder. You can feel the rumble of his heart racing, his body shaking in the cold. His breath against your skin sends shivers down your spine.

You don’t want to let go, worried that it isn't real, that he isn't real. But you feel the rough fabric beneath your fingertips, you can feel his skin, his stubble.

His face gets peppered with soft little kisses. "You're really back," you murmured softly. You pulled him inside the hallway, closing the door behind him.

He feels your lips on his skin, pressing soft kisses over his face, his neck, his shoulders. Johnny's hand gently massages your back as you walk back inside the hallway.

Your love is deep, intense, and overwhelming, but you never fails to make him feel at ease. Like the cold snow falling outside has thawed him out. Like her heart is a beacon in a stormy night. Johnny holds you by your waist, nuzzling his face near your ear, whispering, "Just for the holidays, sweetheart. Then I have to go back."

"I know." You sighed softly. "But I don't want to think about that just yet." You watch as he takes off his coat and you takes over the flowers. "They're beautiful." You tell him with a smile.

"I'll put them in a vase." You said as you walked towards the kitchen.

Johnny follows right behind you, his thoughts occupied by your presence, your warmth, your sweet words. When the two of you enter the kitchen he watches you fill up the vase with water and cut the stems of the flowers. A content smile crosses your face as you you’re your time with the task.

Johnny leans on the counter next to you, his thoughts drifting to your radiant smile and your captivating eyes. A warm feeling fills his chest and he pulls you closer, embracing you tightly, burying his face in your hair.

Just having him there is enough. You adores how he waits patiently until you’re done tending to the flowers. You smile as he pulls you closer. "I've missed ya." You murmured softly.

"I got really pissed when you said you couldn't come." You say. “And I’m sorry for breaking up with you on the spot, but it really, really felt like the final straw.”

"Love, I'm sorry," Johnny whispers into your ear, his hand rubbing you back. "I shouldn't have said those things, I wanted to pull a little joke and I didn’t think about any of the consequences. I miss you... all the time."

He kisses your cheek gently. "You're the light of my life. You're the heart that keeps me going. I cannot imagine this world without you." Johnny's eyes are filled with love as he looks into your eyes. He takes your hand and places it near his heart.

You smile again when he placed your hand near his heart. It is not like you can stay mad at him anyway. You gave him a quick peck on his lips. "Out of spite I cancelled all my plans." You admitted with a sheepish smile. "So it’s just going to be the two of us for the holidays."

"Perfect," Johnny replies with a cheeky grin, his hand running through your hair and brushing the loose strands from your face. John's eyes sparkle when he looks at you, the smile playing on his lips. "Is this spite, or just a sweet way for you to have me all to yourself?" he jokes. "I love being with you. I love waking up next to you, coming back to you, holding you."

John takes both your hands and pulls you closer to him, planting soft kisses all over your face.

"Maybe both, maybe neither." You chuckled softly as you let him kiss you. "Thank you for coming back." You whispered against his lips. "Maybe we can stay in tonight, watch a movie, or two?"

Johnny's heart soars at your reply, you melt him with your every word. He presses his forehead against yours, closing his eyes for a moment and savouring the feeling of your lips lingering on his. "Of course, sweetheart. We can do anything you wish. I'm all yours."

With his thumbs Johnny caresses your cheeks, tilting your face towards his. He stares deeply into your eyes, his lips gently brushing against yours, a tender kiss that makes his heart beat faster.

Oh his sweet words, his sweet gestures, they're enough to make you putty in his hands. "Can we watch The Grinch?" You asks him, your hands finding their way to his waist.

"Pretty please?"

"I'll even put up with the Grinch for you, sweetheart." Johnny replies, his tone playful and his eyes gleaming with love. "We can watch The Grinch, Home Alone, A Christmas Story... anything you want. As long as I get to spend time with you."

Johnny slides his hands down along your waist, his thumbs rubbing gently against your skin.

He leans in to whisper in your ear. "As long as I get to hear you whisper 'pretty please', I'm happy."

You could see it in his eyes. The moment you asked him 'pretty please.' He was a goner, and you loved having your man swoon over you.

"I didn't expect you to be home." You said. "So I didn't bother with fancy dinners or anything." You admitted with a sheepish smile.

"I have some frozen pizza and some leftover Chinese and that is about it."

"Pizza? Chinese food? Are you kidding? Love, you just described the best holiday meal." Johnny replies with a laugh.

"In fact, I was about to suggest we get a pizza or something. It's been a long day and I'm starving."

Johnny takes your hand and gently pulls you closer. "Come on, sweetheart. Let's eat before we watch our favourite movie. You can lean on me while we watch, get all cozy and warm. I have a feeling you'll fall asleep in my arm."

You sticks out your tongue to him. "I will not fall asleep in your arms." You protested, knowing full well it would probably happen.

"I'll put the pizza in the oven." You said, placing your hand on his neck. "Can you get the blankets from the bedroom?"

You smiled at him. "I want to get all cozy."

A mischievous smile crosses Johnny's face when he looks at you, your hand resting on his neck. "You... you know I can't say no to you," he murmurs. He plants a kiss on your forehead and heads into the bedroom, grabbing the softest blanket in the house.

"It's the perfect night for cuddles." he says to himself as he rushes back into the kitchen, a content sigh escaping his lips. Johnny wraps the soft blanket over your shoulders, rubbing your shoulders gently as you place the pizza in the oven.

You knew Johnny had always been one for physical contact and you adored him for it. You let him massage your shoulders as you set the timer for the pizza. "We have around fifteen minutes." You said, turning around to face him. "How has deployment been, love?"

Johnny slides his hands down your arms, stopping at your elbows where he rubs gentle circles into your skin.

When you turn around he studies your face, a content smile on his lips. He breathes in deeply, savouring your scent.

"Honestly, deployment has been rough. Tough days, tough missions. Not an easy job, being so far away from you... it breaks my heart." Johnny's voice is filled with an overwhelming sense of love and appreciation for you. Your soft smile is contagious and fills his heart with joy, despite all the struggles.

You press a soft kiss on his cheek, picking up on the subtle hints that he doesn't wish to talk about it.

"Since you've been gone, the next door neighbours have gotten a new dog." You said, switching the subject to something lighter. "It’s a cute little thing."

Johnny wraps his arms around you, placing your head on his shoulder. The stress of his recent assignments starts to melt away as he feels your soft hair on his neck and the faint scent of your body wash lingering in the air.

"A cute little thing? So it's just like you? " Johnny jokes. "Was it a good boy or a good girl?"

Johnny's smile is genuine and his tone is playful as he looks at you, his fingers gently moving across your hair in an absent-minded gesture.

You know what he is doing, using the subtle weight of your head to keep him in the present, to prevent the flashbacks, and you were more than happy to help.

"It’s a puppy, of course it’s a cute little thing." You chuckled. "It’s a good girl, her name is Macy and she is a German Shepherd." You said, describing your neighbour’s dog.

"I have already offered to watch her if they ever go away for a holiday or something."

"Macy. What a cute name for a shepherd." Johnny replies with a soft smile.

He's genuinely interested in the conversation, but his eyes wander to your soft complexion. Your skin seems to glow in the light, every pore on your face radiates beauty and innocence.

"I'm just afraid Macy might just adopt me and steal my heart away from you." He teases you.

"Come on, we got a pizza and a movie to enjoy. Then it's time to show a soldier like me what it means to become a Christmas couch potato."

You laughs softly at his impatience, the timer for the pizza had still a minute left. Johnny gets another peck on his cheek from you.

"Be a doll for me and light some candles in the living room for me." You mused as you handed him the blanket that he had draped over your shoulders.

"I'll be with you once the pizza is done."

Johnny nods and heads into the living room, putting the blanket onto the sofa and placing a few candles on the coffee table. He lights the candles with a match.

Johnny sits on the sofa, patting the plushy cushions and waiting for you. He pulls you close after a few moments, laying against your shoulder.

"Come on, sweetheart. No more waiting. Food!" he says with an overexcited tone. "I'm starving."

"Oh you're so impatient for a soldier!" You scold him playfully. You put on the movie, running one hand through his hair, a slice of pizza in your other hand. "Merry Christmas, love." You whispered softly.

Your scolding doesn't stop Johnny from taking a slice of pizza from your hand and taking a big bite out of it. He savours the flavours as he watches you put the movie on the TV.

"Merry Christmas to you too, sweetheart," he replies, his voice full of appreciation and warmth. Johnny wraps his arm around you and takes a few more bites of his pizza, while enjoying his time with his partner.

He can never quite get rid of the sensation of danger and stress, but as long as he's with you... he feels safe.

"My pizza!" You tried to protest when he takes your slice, but how can you scold him when he looks so innocent? "You're lucky I love you." You tried to grumble, but you ends up laughing instead. You take a bite of your pizza. "I've missed this."

"Mine!" he replies playfully, quickly taking another bite out of your slice and chewing as loudly as he can. Johnny's voice takes on a more serious tone as he turns to you. "You're my life. I've missed you more than you can ever imagine. Seeing you again, smelling you, hearing your voice again... that is heaven." Johnny takes a deep breath, his eyes locked on your beautiful face.

"You're the best Christmas gift I could've ever asked for, sweetheart."

"I haven't seen you in months and you just have to tease me." You complained, but it was hard to stay serious when you kept smiling.

You pressed a kiss on his hair. "Having you home is the best Christmas present I could have, my love."

"You, some pizza, the Grinch. I couldn't ask for more." You add with a smile.  Johnny smiles back at you, a warm glow radiating from his face.

"Don't forget the blankets. They're an essential part of the experience. Plus, those cuddles I mentioned." Johnny jokes.

"All these months away from you have been so, so painful, my love. But now I'm home and nothing can take me away from you again."

He brushes your hair out of your face and places his hand on your chin. "We're going to do a marathon of all our favourite movies. And eat all the pizza we want."

"Oh I'm sorry for forgetting those essential parts." You teased him playfully, right before you kiss the thumb close to your lips.  "That sounds like an amazing plan."

"You better not be forgetting them again." Johnny teases back, but his eyes soften.

His lips find yours and he kisses you softly, his hands gently caressing your hips and drawing you closer. A soft groan escapes his lips and he pulls back for a moment.

"Sorry, sweetheart. You just look too attractive to ignore," he whispers in a husky tone.

Johnny smiles, rubbing your cheek and caressing your back. "I want more cuddles. Let's watch that movie."

You lets out a soft laugh, the movie had been playing for a while now, but his attention has been on you. You places your head on his shoulder, snuggling against him. "You'll get all the cuddles you want."

Johnny smiles, wrapping the blankets around the two of them and hugging you closer against his chest. He leans back and puts his hands around your waist, enjoying the feeling of your warmth against his body.

He looks at the movie on the screen for a few moments and kisses you’re on the top of your head. "I'm sorry, my love. Are you paying attention to anything other than me?” He teases you and nuzzles your head, but looks back at the screen. He's seen the movie a million times but loves watching it again and again with you.

"Are you being jealous?" You teased him, as your eyes shifted from the movie to his face. A soft kiss is placed on his lips. "You're absolutely divine, Johnny." You sighed. "I'm glad you're home."

Johnny glances at you with a teasing smile and a sparkle in his eyes. "Jealous of your attention? Me? I may or may not be."

He shifts himself a little, so he's laying down completely. "Come here, sweetheart. I want to shower you with kisses."

Johnny's eyes flicker with a hint of mischief as he draws you in closer. "I'm glad I'm home too. Being away from you breaks me, sweetheart."

You had to lay on his chest, it would be cruel not to. You kisses his jawline, your kisses trailing up to his ear, your hands going to his chest. "I love you."

Johnny's face is flush and his breath is a little unsteady as you kissed him on his throat and jaw, nuzzled against his chest now.

"I love you too, sweetheart," he says. "You're my everything."

He presses his lips against your forehead and plants soft kisses all over your hair

"I just want to love you, forever."

[mermaidgirl30]

This is Epilogue: Pt II for my fic Look for the Light but can be read as a standalone. I was not done writing sappy POV’s from Joel. He deserves to be happy, and I wanted it to be super romantic because I just love soft Joel so much 🥹 Joel on his wedding day is so OMG, I cried writing it 😭🥹🥰 (18+ Only)

Inspired by the one and only TS ✨

Joel’s POV

The summer came to an end as the hint of fall brushed over Jackson. Hot summer days turned into breezier autumn evenings. Deep orange, red, and golden colors encased the leaves as the crisp scent of October entwined with the end of September.

It was now September 28. Your wedding day. The one year anniversary of when you met the love of your life, Alyson Harper. The day your entire life changed forever. Because of her. Your special, sweet girl.

You were standing in the middle of the flower field that you planted for her. Deep purples surrounded you as the lilacs and violets swayed in the cool breeze, the afternoon sun rays shining down, making the flowers almost glisten in the warmth. Maria, Dina, Jesse, and a few other folks from town sat in the audience in white wooden chairs, patiently waiting to see you marry the girl of your dreams. Tommy was standing behind you, the wedding officiant, just waiting to marry you off. Who better to do it than your brother.

Ellie stood off to the side in her baggy jeans and Converse shoes as she twirled the rings in her hands carefully. You weren’t going to force her to put on anything fancy. In fact, you told everyone to just dress casual. Except you. You had to look nice today because today was the most important day of your life, and you wanted to impress Aly.

As you stood waiting, you fidgeted with your hands and tried to stop the nerves that raced through your body. You put one of your hands inside the pocket of your slick, black dress pants and pulled on your black tie that was pressed against your button-up white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to your elbows.

“Joel, stop fidgeting,” Ellie whispered to you in a harsh voice.

“Can’t help it,” you answered back as sweat covered the inside of your fisted palm.

“Just try to keep it cool. Aly’s about to be here. You’re fine. You look good so stop worrying. She’s gonna say yes,” she said with a small laugh.

Aly. You couldn’t wait to see her, couldn’t wait to officially call her yours.

You ran a hand through your slicked back hair nervously and brought it down to your mouth as you raked it through your scruff. You still couldn’t believe this day was happening. You were going to marry the love of your life.

Out of the corner of your eye, a ray of white caught your attention. You flicked your eyes up and gasped at the angelic beauty that was coming closer to you. You saw Aly walking towards you as she made her way through the thick brush of violets. Your heart stopped and your eyes went wide as your mouth dropped open at the vision that stood in front of you.

She was a ray of sunshine. An angelic presence that was sent down from Heaven just for you. And she was exceptionally beautiful. Your perfect treasure.

Your eyes slid over her as you took in her entirety. She was wearing a long, white satin dress that flowed effortlessly down to the ground. The thin, satin straps across her shoulders barely kissed her skin, and the whimsical material shined against the sunlight. Her hair was in long, flowing waves with lilacs attached to her waterfall braid. She was holding a small bouquet full of purple lilacs spilling over the sides, effortlessly gorgeous.

Her face was glowing as she smiled up at you with her deep red lips, blushing crimson as she walked up to you slowly through the crowd. Her vibrant blue eyes were staring intensely at you as those beautiful sapphires knocked the wind out of you. She looked just like an angel. She was an angel. Your angel.

You felt dizzy and disoriented as you watched her walk up right in front of you as you took her hand and brought her next to you, slowly turning to face her head on.

She was so goddamn beautiful. A perfect, delicate lilac that stood out amongst all the rest of the flowers. A flower that would never wilt or fade, not when she was with you. Because you’d keep her alive and thriving from the love and care you would forever give her. Your perfect, rare lilac.

“Hi,” she said nervously as she bit her lip, staring up into your awestruck face.

“Hi.” You gulped, looking at the stunning girl in front of you. “You look breathtaking, darlin’,” you breathed out as you drank in her beauty, barely able to keep your mouth closed.

She blushed and smiled up at you. “And you look so handsome, my love.”

My love. You’d never get tired of hearing that.

“You two ready?” Tommy asked.

The two of you nodded as the short ceremony began. Tommy started off by saying a quick introduction and got to the important part quickly. He read a few lines from a piece of paper, and then you said your confessions of love to each other, devoting yourselves to one another entirely.

Aly’s words sounded like a sweet melody as it carried through the wind. Saying how much she loved you and how she’d forever take care of you in sickness and in health, promising forever and pouring her heart out to you.

“Joel, my love, my favorite person. I can’t put into words how much you mean to me. You are truly the best man I have ever met. You’ve been so careful with me, so loving. You’re the only man for me. And I want to say thank you from the bottom of my heart. Because you saved me, in more ways than one. You are my everything. And I’m going to spend the rest of my life loving you,” she smiled as a tear fell down her face. You caught it just in time as you wiped it away with your thumb and caressed her cheek lovingly as you stared at her with admiration.

You leaked a few tears listening to her and quickly wiped them away as you said your speech next, promising forever and always to the love of your life in front of you, being completely vulnerable as your heart was now hers.

“Alyson, my love, my light. Thank you for loving me, for showing me what patience and selflessness was. You’ve changed me, showed me what it was like to live again. You pulled me out of the darkness and have been nothing but a ray of sunshine that never lets me fade away. You are the absolute love of my life. And I’m going to spend every day of my life showing you just how much you mean to me. Thank you for showing up to the Boston QZ, for I would be utterly lost without you. My love, my precious lilac. I love you,” you said with tears filling your eyes. Aly cupped your face and ran her fingers through your scruff, her blue, watery eyes beaming with love.

Ellie took the lilac bouquet from Aly and handed the rings to you as she went to find a seat, watching the two of you exchange them as you slowly slid the purple diamond ring onto Aly’s finger. She took the gold band from your palm and slid it on your left finger, promising herself to you.

“Aly, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?” Tommy asked as he flashed a smile to Aly.

“I do,” she responded as she looked up at you with a huge grin on her face.

“And Joel, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

“You’re damn right I do,” you said energetically as Aly quietly laughed at you.

“Then I pronounce you husband and wife, you may now kiss the bride!” Tommy announced excitedly.

“C’mere, baby,” you said as you pulled Aly to you, dipping her back in your arms as you leaned down and kissed her passionately, staying in her embrace for as long as you could.

The crowd erupted into loud applause as you pulled Aly back up and took her hand in yours. You placed your forehead on hers as you smiled down at her, giving her your best smile.

“Everyone, please welcome the newly wed Mr. And Mrs. Miller!” Tommy cheered as he loudly clapped behind you, the rest of the audience following after him.

“How ‘bout that? I can finally call you Mrs. Miller. My wife. Mine.” You were beaming from the inside as your chest felt like it was about to come out of your throat. You’d never been this happy before in your life.

“I could listen to you say that all day long,” she lulled gently against your ear as she grazed her hand through your scruff, sending electric vibrations through you.

“We’ve got plenty of time for that. C’mon, let’s get out of here.” You took her by the hand and led her through the crowd as the wind whipped gently across your face and carried over Aly’s silky dress, blowing up the ends of it just faintly.

You nodded at Tommy and waved goodbye to everyone else. It was time to go home. With your wife. Time for that honeymoon phase to kick in. Ellie was staying at Dina’s for the next week so you had plenty of alone time with Aly. And that was good because you were about to christen the entire house with her. Consummating and making sweet love to the love of your life in your forever home.

You lifted Aly up on Shimmer and sat her down sidesaddle. You hoisted yourself up and got into position on the saddle and then you pulled Aly to you, placing your arms around her and kissing her head gently.

“You ready to go back home?” You grazed your lips down her face and softly kissed her cheek.

“I’m already home. Home is where you are. That’s where my heart burns.” She smiled up at you and ran her fingers gently through your scruff in an affectionate way, making your heart quake with desire.

Home. She said home is where you are. And that made you want to completely surrender all of yourself to her. But you already had. You were hers, devoted and unwavering. Forever and always. Hers.

“I love you, my morningstar. My sweet girl.” You kissed her softly on the lips as you pulled her face to you as you tasted cherries and sugar, breathing in her deep lilac scent. Completely drowning in her already. “Let’s go home. So I can make love to my wife.”

She beamed up at you as you brushed your lips over hers again, then you took the reins and sent Shimmer on her way. She galloped through the lilacs and violets, sending a burst of fresh floral scents through your nose. You kept Aly close to your chest as you kept one hand running along her arm. Your fingers sliding up and down her as you breathed in her intoxicating lilac smell. You would never, ever get tired of this. Never tired of her. Never tired of holding her in your arms. You would keep her there forever. Till death do us part.

-

When you got back to the house, you carried Aly in bridal style as you slammed the door and crossed the living room threshold, you and Aly laughing together in sync. You climbed up the narrow steps and went straight into the bedroom where you set her down gently on the bed.

“Can you believe it? We have the whole house to ourselves for an entire week!” Aly gleamed as she kicked off her heels and kept a hand tightly in yours.

“We’re gonna need an entire week ‘cause I’m gonna make love to ya on every square surface of this house,” you stated adamantly.

“Oh, is that right?” she asked as she laughed, sending a beautiful smile your way.

“Mhm,” you answered as you kneeled down in front of her and placed your hands on her thighs, on the silky white material of her wedding dress.

Aly ran her fingers through your slicked back hair, making some of your curls become disheveled. You groaned at her touch as her other hand hooked around your neck, pulling your face up to meet her lips as she leaned down and kissed you softly. Her lips were silklike. Creamy and glossy. And she tasted like summer.

When you pulled apart, you hooked a finger under her thin strap and tugged it down her arm, doing the same to the other. You slowly skimmed it down her body and let it drop to the floor, leaving her only in a white, lacy pair of underwear.

You trailed your eyes up and down her body slowly, committing to memory the picture of your perfect girl. Your gorgeous wife. Yours.

“God, you’re beautiful,” you said, gawking at the angelic vision in front of you.

She blushed and grabbed your tie, pulling you to her. She slowly untied your tie and threw it to the ground, carefully unbuttoning your white shirt and then pulling it off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor in a heap.

She ran a hand meticulously over your chest, gliding it all the way down to your belt as she unhooked it from the belt loops, guiding her hand to your zipper as she unzipped your pants and slid them down to the floor, leaving you only in your boxers.

“Joel…my husband, my darling.” She ran a hand over your scruff as you placed your hand on top of hers, leaning into her as you enjoyed the warmth of her touch.

“I like the sound of that. You callin’ me your husband.” You smiled at her and leaned your weight into her as you pulled her to the edge of the bed, where you could reach every part of her.

“My sweet husband…” she purred, sending waves of warmth into your chest, feeling like your heart was illuminating for the entire town to see.

“Oh, my sweet lilac. My gentle girl.” You placed a kiss gently on each cheek, then one on her soft lips, then down to her neck, sucking and nipping the further you went. She let out a soft moan as you found that sensitive spot on her neck that always got her.

Her hand explored the back of your neck as you went down lower, ghosting over her breasts with your hot breath blowing on them, making them pebble right before you. You leisurely ran your tongue over each, feeling them harden as she twisted her fingers into your messy curls.

“Gonna make you feel so good, baby. Gonna make sweet love to my wife, Mrs. Miller,” you groaned low from your throat.

“Please,” she begged.

You teased at the waistband of her lacy underwear, her entire front already sopping wet underneath for you. Your eyes started to dilate as you felt your pupils expanding, turning darker. A burning hunger started in your throat and traveled down to your lower regions as you felt yourself start to harden. Wanting to bury yourself in her for hours. Wanting to feel her walls constrict and tighten as you made her come for you again and again.

You lifted her leg over your shoulder and started to kiss her ankle, her calf, her inner thigh unhurriedly. Wanting to tease until she was so wet that she couldn’t stand it. You wanted to lap her up and savor the sweet flavor on your tongue as you got lost in her.

You moved to her clothed center carefully as you placed a kiss on her drenched lace. You could feel a wave of slick drip down, and it just turned you on even more.

“Joel, please…” she begged, bucking her hips up in the air, trying to get some release from the tension.

“Don’t worry, baby. Gonna take good care of ya. Gonna make you feel so good.” You ran your thumb up her center, putting pressure right where her clit was. She groaned as you hit that sweet spot.

“Already so wet for me, sweetheart,” you praised, hooking your fingers over the lacy edges and pulling them down as you dragged them to the floor. You got in between her legs and pushed her thighs apart, getting in position to drink her down.

“This what you want? Want me to kiss you here?” you asked as you planted your lips against her wetness, smelling the sweet arousal pooling at her insides.

“Mmm yes, please,” she groaned. “Want your tongue, your fingers, your everything,” she breathed out in rushed breaths.

“Don’t worry, baby. Gonna give you everything. Gonna give you my all.”

You smirked up at her and then licked all the way from her dripping hole to the top of her folds. She dropped back on her elbows and watched you devour her nice and slow. You spread her folds and connected with her clit as you flicked meticulous circles around her, pulling her into your mouth as you sucked on her gently, sending pulsing vibrations through her body.

“Fuck, that feels good,” she moaned. “Don’t stop, please. Keep going,” she gasped out.

“I’m not gonna stop, darlin’. Gonna make you come so hard your legs will be shaking and squeezing around me,” you teased as you plunged two fingers inside her, hooking them just enough so you could hit that sweet spongy spot that drove Aly crazy.

“Oh, God,” she moaned as she squeezed her legs around you tightly.

You gave her your best smoldering eyes and continued. “Eyes on me love, that’s it. Such a good girl,” you purred as you brought your tongue back to her clit, gently massaging her most sensitive spots as another shot of slick ran down her dripping hole.

“Joel, I’m gonna…I’m about to…” she whined, squeezing her legs even tighter around your back.

“Let go, baby. Come for me,” you cooed. And that’s exactly what she did. She clenched around your fingers and then relaxed, opening up the flood gates as her slick went everywhere. Her moan was loud and desperate, and when she called your name it sounded like angelic music to your ears.

You lapped up every bit with your tongue and praised her, gently massaging her thighs with your hands, easing her from her orgasm. “Such a good girl. Did so good for me, sweetheart.”

She slowly sat up and reached for you as she tugged on the waistband of your boxers. You lifted an eyebrow in question of what she wanted. “Need you, please,” she begged.

“Such a needy girl,” you laughed. “You want me?”

“Yes, I want you. All of you, my husband,” she purred. She was smoldering the dark blues of her eyes at you, showing you just how much she needed you, and you about came undone at the sight.

She pulled down your boxers as your erection sprang free of its constricts, planting firmly against the base of your stomach. She reached up and softly stroked you back and forth, up and down, spreading your precum down your entire length. Her hands were like magic as heat started building at the base of your spine.

She leaned forward and slowly licked at the tip, swirling her tongue in all the sensitive places as she hit every single one. A low groan sounded from your throat as she took you in deeper in her throat as her head began to bob up and down, slow and steady, making that gagging sound as she took you as far as she could.

“Christ, feels so good, baby. Fuck,” you growled as she released you from her mouth. She tugged up and down as you heard the slick noises from her hands melt in with the stickiness of you.

Another bead of precum spilled down and mixed in with the rest of your slick, messy cock. You took her hand and stopped her as you gently backed her down on the bed, slowly spreading her thighs as you inched your way in between them, nuzzling your scruff against her neck, slowly kissing up and down her collar bone.

“Gonna make love to ya now, my sweet girl,” you whispered. “My angel.” You kissed her again, making your way up her neck and tugging on her soft earlobe. “My love.”

You ghosted your lips over her soft skin and to her mouth, gently kissing her as you brought your tip right against her folds. “My precious lilac.” You plunged your length into her and started nice and slow, pumping in and out as her walls clenched around you.

She bit her lip and wrapped her legs around your back, caging you into her as she reached up and raked her fingers through your tousled curls. And it felt so fucking good that you wanted to get lost in her, let her run her gentle fingers through your hair all night long.

You sped up your tempo and bottomed out in her as she whined and took her other hand and scratched it down your back, sinking her nails into you. And fuck it felt amazing.

You thrusted in and out of her, reaching that soft, spongy spot over and over as she moaned your name, squeezing her legs tighter around you as you knew she was almost there. So close for you.

“Let go, baby. C’mon. Here, let me help,” you cooed.

You took your thumb and pressed it hard over her clit, drawing tiny circles at just the right pressure as you felt her walls clench up around you.

“Fuck, darlin’. Squeezin’ me so tight, feels so good,” you groaned as you continued thrusting in and out, hitting that spongy area, and working at her clit meticulously.

“Joel, fuck, I…” she moaned as her eyes were fixed intently on you. Those dazzling, deep blues. The way she was looking at you was so intense, so loving. You swear you could see galaxies in those sparkling eyes. Could even see your own reflection in her eyes as she pined for you, burned for you, loved you.

“Go on, darlin’. Come for me, love,” you encouraged her softly.

One more press to her clit and she was done for. Her walls tightened up around you and then released as white slick coated your cock, dripping down the insides of her thighs.

“God, I love you,” you groaned as you cupped her face and kissed her passionately as you picked up your tempo and thrusted faster, harder into her.

“I love you, Joel,” she whispered against your lips. And that was it. That’s what made you come undone.

“Fuck, Alyson…” you growled as your jaw clenched tight. Your breath hitched as you thrusted once more and then spilled all of you inside her, feeling your seed fill up her tight walls as you stayed inside her for just a few more seconds. As you slowly slid out, you felt your seed spill out all over her thighs as the white, sticky substance coated over her.

You grabbed the closest thing you could find which was your boxers and cleaned her off, gently wiping all the slick from her thighs and center. You threw them over the edge of the bed and plopped down beside her on the mattress in exhaustion, pulling her to your chest as you took your hand and gently caressed her cheek, pulling her in for another kiss.

Her lips felt as soft as a rose petal, tasted like sugar and honey, something you wanted to drink down, consume for eternity. “Alyson, baby, I love you. I wish I could paint your eyes in the stars so I could stare across the ocean and still see those beautiful blue eyes. They’re like galaxies, and I can see my future etched in every single star. Your heart and mine entwined together, forever,” you hummed out as you tucked a brunette wave behind her ear.

She was looking at you with the most serene, loving expression you ever saw as her eyes sparkled and watered. “Joel Miller, my love, that has got to be one of the most romantic things you have ever said to me.” She smiled and kissed you again as she crawled on top of your chest and leaned on you, her eyes staring longingly into your soul, making your heart beat that much more for her.

“What can I say, darlin’. You bring out the soft side of me. I’m so immensely in love with you. Just call me a hopeless romantic now. Never been one until I found you. Then you changed me. Showed me what true love looked like. And it’s you. You’re the complete picture of love, and I’ll continue to show you every single day how deeply and desperately I am in love with you. My sweet girl.”

You brushed a tear away from your eyes and then caught a falling tear from Aly’s eye, gently caressing her cheek slowly. There was so much love in the room that your heart was nearly bursting at the seams. Tugging on you so hard, telling you that you were so in love. Because you were. You were in love with your wife. Your lover. Alyson Miller. That beautiful, delicate lilac that you’d love and cherish forever.

“Joel Miller, my husband. I love you, and I will forever love you,” she whispered as she planted a soft kiss on your lips.

“Alyson Miller, my wife, my sweet girl. From this day forward, you are my forever. My best friend, my partner, my one true love. And I’ll spend the rest of my days fully loving you and protecting you. You have made me the happiest man in the world, and I am so lucky that you chose me. My sweet, beautiful girl. My favorite lilac.”

You spent the rest of the night consummating your love and christening the entire bedroom, ending the night with her in your arms as you soothingly ran a hand up and down her back as she slept soundly wrapped up in your side with her head against your chest.

You languidly stroked her waves as your fingers ran up and down her scalp, breathing in that fresh lilac scent that fully intoxicated you. You laid there thinking how lucky you got, how absolutely blessed and fortunate you were. You got the girl of your dreams, the one thing that had been missing in your life all along.

It was her. Alyson. Your wife. The love of your life. She was your forever and always, your constant, your future, your everything. And you loved her. You loved her with every breath in your body. For she was an ocean of love, and you’d forevermore drown in her. Drinking in all her ecstasy as you intertwined with her soothing waves, crashing all your love into her. Just two souls colliding into one for eternity, never letting the other disappear into the dark abyss of the waters. You’d keep each other in the light.

Alyson was your light, your way home. She was your home.

Your love, your peace, your ray of sunshine.

And now, your wife.

Forevermore.

Tags: @janaispunk @amyispxnk @itsokbbygrl @tuquoquebrute @dugiioh @ladamari68

[dukesmebby]

summer child (s.h)

a/n: this has been the only thing on my brain for the last two weeks<3 this is based off of the song summer child by Conan Gray so please give that a listen if you'd like! I just couldnt stop thinking about this song is made for him. HUGE thanks to @translatemunson for being the damn reason this got done. also thanks to @munsonswife for helping convince me to post<3

warnings: i dont think there should be any but lmk! just steve being kinda in his feels tbh

You see all the flowers in the weeds

You're scared of the dark when you sleep

You cover up your arms with your sleeves

Even in hundred-degree heat

Your father was awfully mean

Steve doesn’t always trust easily, you know that, but he hasn't stopped trying to trust the people he meets these days. Always trying to see the good as a way to give him hope. You know the man standing across from you is not proud of how he has always treated people and that bothers him. You also know he would fight tooth and nail or even die for you and any of his friends in a heartbeat. You wish he knew you'd do the same thing for him. You know that he can hardly sleep unless he has his lamp on and the windows closed and curtains drawn. You don't even remember the last time he slept for more than three hours in a night. You also know from your years spent together he wouldn't dare try sleeping like that when his father is home. He doesn't usually sleep most of the time when his parents actually are home. To him the house doesn't feel like home unless Robin or the kids are there with him. What you don't know is that he doesn’t ever feel at home anywhere without you.

Your favorite color is green 

It reminds you of the summer you turned three

Runnin' through sprinklers on your street

And you laugh and you dance in the wind

And you sway and you hug and you kiss

He often thought about when he was a kid, spending summers with his grandparents while his parents were off on some business trip. A time when he was allowed to run around and have fun and honestly just be a kid. No stuffy cocktail parties that he had to dress up for and act like he wasn't a ten year old boy. A time when his Grandpa would practically have to drag him inside after a full day of playing in the sprinklers with you. The summer breeze blowing through the trees the two of you would climb, and inevitably you would fall out of. After he made sure you were alright and kissed your scraped up knees better the two of you decided no more climbing trees, at least not for you. He thought about how when you guys were older you would sneak out to Lovers’ Lake just to get away from it all together. After Vecna, he didn't think he would ever feel that happy again. He stopped believing that he might get to feel like that.

But there's darkness behind those eyes

Even when you smile

Oh, summer child

You don't have to act like all you feel is mild

You don't really love the sun, it drives you wild

You're lyin', summer child

You know that Steve doesn't like to let people see that side of him anymore, his softer side coming out in bits only you and the gang would see. When he would smile it never went all the way to his honey brown eyes. He wishes he could be like that all of the time but he gets so tired of pretending in front of everyone. You're just grateful to see him happy in the small flashes that you do. When you get to see the flash of excitement spark all the way up to his sweet doe eyes. You know he is still the same man behind all of the walls he has built, you just wish he knew that if he wasn’t he was allowed to be the new version of himself around you. You wish he knew it was safe to be vulnerable like that with you no matter what. You hope he knows he can be angry that his childhood was stolen from him. You hope he knows he is allowed to be sad that his parents were never around. You hope he knows he is allowed to be loved by you, he deserves it even. 

Aren't you way too busy

Taking care of everybody

To take care of yourself?

When the sun goes missing

Aren't the flowers just as pretty?

Aren't the oceans just as deep?

The trees as green?

He needs to take a break, you know it and he knows you know it. He has been running himself ragged trying to do it all. He's been picking up more shifts to distract himself while also agreeing to take robin to and school and helping Hop get his place put back together. He feels so much guiltier about trying to be Superman when he realizes he hadn't called you all week, and it was already Thursday. You don't even remember the last time he slept for more than three hours in a night. You know Steve has been trying to distract himself lately and frankly you'd had a lot of coursework to catch up on so you don’t mind that he hadn't called. That doesn't mean it didn’t have you worried. You don't remember the last time you saw him eat a real meal which just wouldn't do for you. You know he doesn't stop long enough to eat, you are usually the only person that can get him to hit pause and actually take care of himself. You need him to understand that we all love him even if he wasn't the hero everyday.

And as for me

I'll watch you weep

Oh, summer child

You don't have to act like all you feel is mild

You don't really love the sun, it drives you wild

You're lyin', summer child

Steve notices you acting a little bit different around him. He notices the fact that you start bringing him lunches on his breaks so that he's actually eating something. He notices when you offer to pick up robin or the kids so that he doesn't have to. He notices you hanging onto his arm for longer than usual on date night Sunday. He also starts to notice that when you're over hanging out with him and he falls asleep before you leave he doesnt wake up in a dark room. He wakes up with his lamp on and the curtains closed. It makes his heart ache and his stomach churn. He is starting to feel alot like a kid again, because of you.

[gojoswhitebabydolllashes]

Goodbye, my beloved bride.

- Rafayel (love and deepspace) x oc? Sorta

Warnings: sad. Sad. Sad mermaid man stuff. Eternal suffering.

-

I'm not supposed to talk about it.

I promised I wouldn't.

So instead I'm sharing it with this piece of paper in my hand.

When Rafayel left, a deep gash tore my heart into shreds. Agony had clawed at my soul like a caged animal pulling on the bars of it enclosure. That's how I felt watching him leave. Because even though I was there to watch it, I couldn't do anything about it. He wouldn't let me. And despite him knowing I didn't want this. He had left without another word.

Goodbye, my beloved bride.

Goodbye. Goodbye Goodbye.

It wasn't ever really going to be a Goodbye. After all An artists love last forever and when they say goodbye it's to say find me in the next painting you see, look for me in the charcoal smeared on your hands. And so I did. I found Rafayel in every masterpiece I saw. A painting of the ocean. A drawing of a delicate sunflower. The color purple.

Rafayel told me once, that I swayed like a sunflower playing saxophone. I never stopped thinking about it. Everytime someone would say I move too much or I dance strangely, I would think about him and his words and remember his voice.

I miss you so much Raffie. I hope wherever you are in the sea is safe and you are safe. I hope your okay and I hope that the seawater feels like home on your skin. I wish for a moment i could know when you look up at the stars, so that we could look at them again for the last time.

When is the last time going to be the last time?

Why couldn't you have taken me with you? Why did you leave me here to suffer an endless reign of terror that exists within a loop of agony. This endless pain is yet to subside and without you here I fear it may never come to a halt. I did not know you asking me to marry you would lead to eternal suffering in lonesome. Do you still have your ring on?

I must know these things.

I must know if you are happy. I must know if you are at peace. I must know if you still think of me.

I must know.

I just want to tell you that it's all worth it. I hope you know just how much the time we had together meant to me. Your face lit up when we met for the first time. At the pond, the small red fish you held in the net brought out a pink in your cheeks, and your hair was sparkling violet in the summer sun. Your smile was like a shot of pure sunlight straight to the heart.

If I had to tell you one thing. I'd say be safe. Just be happy. Be the best version of yourself no matter how you get there. Take every path you desire so you may reach the life you deserve. And if it is a life away from myself than let it be.

I can only sit by the golden sands and sob at the air as I clutch your paint brush. So worn out and so full of memories. All your line strokes and brushes of blues. All the flicks of gold and wisps of green and white. Each painting you created exists in the bristles. Each single strand is a new masterpiece from your heart.

We are still bonded.

'By the seas and sands, let our fates be held in our hands. In the name of the waves and the tides, let our love be forged forever in time'

I repeated it like a prayer. Like a poem they surgically stitched into my brain. I wanted to scream and cry and tear my hair out and slam chairs against tables and punch holes in the walls. I wanted to tear my lungs out and crush them. I wanted to, no, needed to rip my heart from my body so no person may ever witness it again. Until the day Rafayel returned I would throw my heart into the ocean, to let it it sink and die where my love has gone.

So let this be my plea, o great sea, that when the tides come flooding on the shores of Whitesand Bay that they will bring my beloved back to me. And when they retreat, let them take me.

[bleaksqueak]

in another answer you said the island was usually too cold for swimming which got me curious about the veil's climate. what is the weather like in rothsraine, and what wildlife lives there - are there any real places you would compare it to? i assume it must be pretty chilly for them to wear those cloaks! and do they have any big environmental events unique to the veil?

Thanks for being patient for me to answer this one, but let's see... Lichgate, the Island Rothsraine and its body know as home, has a Boreal or Subarctic climate on average. Short, mild summers with bitter cold winters. So think of places like Newfoundland or Greenland. I say On Average since the large liminal tear on the island does tend to have some sway on the weather, severely from time to time. This often comes in the form of stream surges-- a high saturation of elemental aetherial currents of like-type bolstering an already strong storm, or worse, clashing elements leading to devastating bale cyclones and other such volatile forces. At least, they *would* be devastating if caught in one with no protection outside the confines of the spire or the local farmstead village. Magic wards keep the residents safe and cozy, making the storms nothing more than a nuisance (Maia complains about one that kept her up in chapter 2, leading to her making a heavy duty sleep potion to get through it.). It's definitely quite chilly, but there's plenty of ways to get around it... the transformation sigil baked into the Rothsraine uniform's coat can be activated to convert the lighter fall/spring version into a full winter coat or cloak, which we'll be seeing soon enough in the comic if we go by the foliage starting to turn. Apart from the nasty storms enhanced by the aetherial currents that traverse through the veil, there's also the matter of what goes on in the deep zones closest to the limnus tears. There's a reason there's a whole subject designated to Aetherial Orienteering to aid traversing magi (and mavens, though they're a little more grounded in these spaces), but it's safe to say that everything gets a little mixed up in these unnatural environments, including the weather.

[losingitwasblue]

The Eras Tour (Emma's Version)

Let's get one thing straight: I love the Eras Tour. I watch it at least once a month and constantly refresh my dashboard for updates during a show. However, I also love to procrastinate, and so instead of doing my Psych homework I am going to recreate the Eras Tour, the way I imagine it. I'll keep it in the individual acts like the actual show, but maybe with some things turned around or removed. I'll be going act by act, so get ready for quite a few updates from me. This will also tie into my posts reimagining Taylor Swift's discography, so you can see those for reference.

Now with all that out of the way, we can begin, starting with Afterglow (2019).

I am not sure what Taylor's pre-show playlist is, and I am too lazy to look it up, so it will stay the same, ending with "You Don't Own Me," which is perfect for this tour (in my humble opinion 😌). There will be the clock counting down, and then...

Intro/Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince

Naming of all the eras + gigantic petals + chorus after she emerges.

2. Cruel Summer

Full song while alone on an elevated stage + "Oh, hi!" + strutting across the stage for bridge and last chorus + "Does anyone here know the lyrics to this bridge? Prove it!"

3. The Man

Puts on the blazer + dancing on scaffolding with male dancers dressed in corporate suits + full song with extended outro leading to...

4. I Think He Knows

First chorus, second verse, pre-chorus, chorus, bridge, final chorus + dancing on stage with female dancers in bright, colorful tank tops and shorts + rainbow lights during final chorus.

5. Lover

"Welcome to the Eras Tour!" + welcome speech + band joins her on stage + dancers in dresses and suits twirling and swaying + full song on acoustic guitar.

6. The Archer

Full song, alone on stage + gold sparkles on stage + extended outro leading to next act.

And that's Act One! Act Two is on the way soon! 🩷

[thebawdybaldurian]

Halsummer Day 1

Halsin enjoying Midsummer

It’s the start of Halsummer! A week of SFW prompts for our favorite Druid. I’ll be adding a NSFW version later tonight or tomorrow, but enjoyed keeping things a little tame. I even included a cameo of a character from a popular DnD show I’ve been wanting to write! This is a pretty Tav-focused story, but several of the other prompts will be more from Halsin’s perspective.

Background: Tav, Astarion, and Halsin are married and have two young twins. The trio has just purchased the home next door, now that they need more space than Tav’s small cottage can accommodate. They sold Astarion’s tailor shop to help pay for it, and he plans to reopen in the front of the house. Cazador’s former palace has been turned into a refuge for displaced tieflings.

Tav awoke from her trance hearing a loud, repetitive clunk that drove her out of bed. “What in the Hells is that?” She searched the cottage, finding it suspiciously empty. “Where is everyone?” She called aloud, expecting an answer. She heard giggling outside and grabbed a cloak to cover her thin chemise. The clunk was louder once she opened the front door and she skirted around the cottage to look for the source. She found Halsin in the wide alley between her cottage and the neighbor’s house, which they’d just bought to accommodate their growing household. The twins sat safely near the side of the house, playing with some toys as Halsin drove a pickaxe into the cobblestone. “What are you doing?” She yawned, shielding her eyes from the bright summer sunlight.

“Getting the new garden started,” he smiled, wiping the sweat from his brow.

“We haven’t even gotten the permits to tear up the alley yet,” she grinned, giving the kids a good morning kiss on the head.

“If some city bureaucrat wishes to come haul me down to the jail, they can certainly try,” he set down his axe to receive his own good morning kiss.

“We already drove one neighbor away from all the…noise,” she blushed as he gripped her buttocks tightly. “Not everyone can be swayed by your rippling physique and we can’t afford to buy the whole neighborhood…Good morning, by the way,” she smiled as he released her from his tight grasp.

“Good morning, my heart.”

“Were you up when Astarion left?”

“I was. He wanted to get a head start on his last minute orders since he’s closing at High Sun.”

“And yet he still hasn’t finished our Midsummer outfits yet,” she smirked, stepping back as he began breaking up stones again.

“You know how fussy he is about getting them perfect.”

“I know too well…so I’m assuming you already have a whole plan in mind for this garden?”

“I have a cart full of rich soil coming from the grove, so once I get all these stones up and dig out enough of this city dirt, I can start planting in the fall before the ground freezes. There will be thick hedges on either side so no one can just walk through and we can have…private time out here. There will be aromatic and medicinal herbs in vertical gardens to save space. I’m hoping to create a dark, damp corner to start some mycology growth, but I don’t know how they will fair in the city. Plants and flowers everywhere else,” he replied, looking over all the work to do.

“Quite ambitious for a man pushing 400,” she grinned widely.

“You make me feel no older than 200,” he growled at her.

“Just make sure to save some energy for tonight’s festivities,” she winked and headed back into the house.

Tav was performing at her first large festival since having the twins and was a little nervous. She’d been preparing for her performance for weeks, but still felt out of practice. She bathed and put on some loose clothing to do some intense stretching, practicing some of her tumbling as well now that they had more space. She brought out some iced honey tea for Halsin as he continued his work in the sun and took the kids in for a nap. She’d just begun precisely tuning her lyre when Astarion arrived home.

He was already dressed for the holiday, wearing a very short, leg-less garment adorned in flowers. It was bare in the back, showing off his now flawless, pale skin. He’d been dressing more freely since being transformed by Syma’s Wish spell. “That’s it then…last day in my old shop,” he went to the icebox to grab his own glass of honey tea.

“You certainly dressed for the occasion,” she teased, his backside peeking out as he bent into the fridge. “You really wore that all day? Bending over in it?”

“Of course,” he grinned, doing a little twirl. “I wasn’t doing any measurements and I sold ten copies of these before even getting to my shop. Once we get the new one open here, I might have to hire an assistant.”

“From dictating laws to dictating fashion trends…quite the turn for a forty-year old,” she beamed, giving him a long kiss.

“I had a lot of help,” he nuzzled against her. “I’ve never been happier.”

They kissed passionately, leaning against the kitchen table until they were interrupted by a stranger knocking on the window. “Take it outside, ha ha!” He laughed drunkenly, clearly already getting a head start on the festivities. He ambled away after taking a swig from a flask.

“So if the shop is officially closed, does that mean you’ve finally finished my costume for tonight? I’d like to make sure I don’t need to change up my set in any way,” she asked, closing the curtains.

“Oh, it’s been done for days. I just like making you wait,” he lied, having finished up the last finnicky bit before he’d gone to the shop.

They left the cottage and found Halsin stowing his tools for the day, needing to drop the kids at the Emerald Enclave, so Zevlor could watch them for the night. “We don’t have permits yet,” Astarion also teased, looking over the torn-up alley. “Though if any city inspectors see you looking like this…they might give us a break,” He gave Halsin a kiss.

Halsin let out a laugh and wiped his brow again. His tanned skin glistened with sweat, small spots of dirt smeared across his bare torso. He’d pulled his long hair until a messy knot, looking the very picture of a romance novel hero. “If it were me, I’d let him plant gardens across the entire city,” Tav stood on her toes to steal a kiss from him. “And whatever he wanted to put in me.”

“Save it for tonight, my heart,” Halsin growled playfully, gripping her tightly against him. “They are letting the maidens loose in the park to be hunted…what will they be doing with the overly amorous wives?”

“I’m sure we can think of something creative,” she purred back at him. “Speaking of…you’ve distracted me from trying on my costume. I am sure Astarion will have a few more adjustments to make.”

“Can you get the little ones up and fed lunch while I bathe? I want to get them over to the Enclave before the frivolities start spilling out into the streets.”

“Of course, my love,” she gave him one last peck on the cheek.

She followed Astarion to the front side of the house, which was still in the process of being converted into his new shop front. Piles of ready to wear garments sat stacked on tables, with various bits from the old shop scattered around. “I’ll take care of the kids,” he offered as they walked inside. “Why don’t you go try on what I left on the dress form?”

“Alright,” she nodded, heading to the small room that would serve as his sewing area.

Astarion went to the children’s bedroom, finding Ava already awake and sitting on the floor drawing. “You’re already up?” He knelt down to kiss his daughter’s head. “Did you get enough sun this morning?”

“Ya…want to dwaw so I woke up,” she replied, staring at the paper with the same intense focus as Tav did.

“You get your energy from the sun, darling, but you still need to sleep,” he mussed her long curls. “Stubborn just like your mother,” he laughed quietly.

They were so very similar that he sometimes forgot that his daughter was a dhamphir, conceived before he had been cured of his vampirism. They could only suspect her unusual thirst for sunlight instead of blood was due to the magically enchanted ring he’d worn before his cure. It had allowed him to walk in the sun through a blood bond with Tav and Halsin. He rubbed the small scar on the underside of his right ring finger, grateful that it might have saved his daughter from a life of bloodlust. “Why don’t you wake up your brother and I will take this to the table for you to finish while you eat lunch? I am sure Uncle Zevlor will have plenty for you to do at the Enclave,” he took the drawing from her to break her focus on it. She whined a little but got up, toddling over to her brother’s bed. She blew a loud raspberry into his peacefully sleeping face to wake him up. She still took after Astarion in some ways, he chuckled to himself as Shan woke up with an annoyed growl.

Astarion helped both kids into their chairs and gave them some cut up fruit to snack on while he prepared some cold sandwiches for them. He was still getting used to eating food again, so they had plenty of simple options in both houses for him. “Astarion!” Tav called from the other room as he set the kids’ plates down.

“Be good,” he looked at them before heading to his sewing room.

Tav stood facing the door with her arms crossed over her chest, both from annoyance and to cover the intense cleavage spilling out of her costume. It was made of embroidered lace, hugging her body with long trails of red, white, and pink roses. “You don’t like it?” He smirked, looking her over.

“It’s beautiful,” she uncrossed her arms. “But if I bend down, everyone is going to see my nipples slip out or what I had for dinner,” she laughed, flashing her backside at him.

“Then we should eat a fine meal tonight,” he teased, leaning down to plant a kiss on it.

“Astarion!” She protested.

“There are specific undergarments to wear under it…and a cover up for walking over to the park,” he grinned. “I just wanted to see it on you bare.”

He grabbed another box from under the table, containing the undergarments and a few other accessories as well. “Let me change then and make sure I can still move in all of this,” she looked everything over with a smile.

He returned back to the kitchen, Ava still too enraptured by her drawing to have eaten any of her sandwich. “Don’t make me take it away,” he put the plate over the drawing to interrupt her again.

“Da!” She cried, tears already beginning to fill her amethyst eyes.

“You aren’t giving your father trouble, are you?” Halsin walked in, freshly bathed and changed into new clothes.

“No,” she sulked, squishing a piece of the sandwich in her fist.

Astarion was a pushover when it came to the children, forcing Halsin and Tav to be the disciplinarians most of the time. “Thank you, my angel,” Halsin sat down next to her to help her finish eating the rest.

“Oooo pretty mommy,” Shan exclaimed with a last mouthful of food when Tav reappeared, fully changed and with her hair taken down.

The semi-sheer gossamer cover up was modest enough to wear in front of the children, the muted colors of her costume visible through the fabric. Her hair was curled and voluminous, a delicate crown of silk flowers threaded into some of the strands. She’d thrown on a bit of shimmery makeup to give her an ethereal, goddess-like aura. “Pretty indeed,” Halsin and Astarion both stared at her.

“I won’t be able to do as many flips as I planned, but Astarion has done it again,” she did a little twirl.

“Why don’t you two grab your favorite toy and I will take you to see Uncle Zevlor?” Halsin kept his gaze on Tav while helping the kids out of their chairs.

He embraced her at once after Astarion had guided the children into their room for a moment. “You are testing all of my self control,” he growled in her ear as he kissed and nuzzled her neck.

“Astarion will have your head if you rip off this one,” she giggled. “Just wait until you see me on stage.”

“The evening cannot come soon enough,” he added as Astarion returned with the kids, a wide smirk plastered on his face.

Halsin put the kids into their walking carriage so he didn’t have to carry them all the way to the Upper City. Shan had chosen to bring his owlbear plush and Ava had Clive Jr. He headed out with them into the early afternoon sun, eager to get back home to his beautiful wife. Several other couples had already dropped their children off at the Emerald Enclave, looking forward to the evening’s decadent mirth-making. “They are growing quickly,” Zevlor greeted them in his wing of the former Crimson Palace. Many of the tiefling orphans had gone to live in Reithwin at Halsin’s commune, but a few had remained in the city and Zevlor oversaw their care.

“Especially this one,” Halsin picked up Shan out of his carriage, Ava having fallen back asleep on the way.

“He will no longer be a little tree very soon,” Zevlor took him, surprised at the toddler’s weight. “He takes after his father.”

“I believe he is already taller than I was at his age,” Halsin covered Ava with a blanket so she could rest more. “Thank you again for watching them.”

“Of course,” Zevlor nodded, setting Shan down with a groan. “I am too old to enjoy most of the revelry.”

“We’ll likely be gone late into the night…but if they can’t sleep, you can always drop them home.”

“I am sure we will have a grand time,” Zevlor began pulling out toys for them to play with.

Halsin returned home after kissing the twins goodbye, already seeing festival-goers heading towards the park in scandalous attire. He could only imagine what Astarion had made for him to wear. Tav was doing some practice on her lyre when Halsin returned, a little extra blush in her cheeks. “She’s still nervous for tonight?” Halsin asked Astarion, whose cheeks were also blushed slightly.

“She is…I did what I could to…take her mind off things, but perhaps she needs a little more…reassurance,” Astarion grinned. “Then you can change and we can head to dinner.”

Halsin was quick with his reassurance, giving her voice a little extra warmup. He changed into the outfit Astarion had sewn, something similar to the one he wore, though a bit less revealing. The trio walked together towards the Helm and Cloak where they would be having dinner. They were stopped several times to inquire about their outfits, Astarion presenting them with business cards. They’d had to scratch out the old address, but Tav had already designed and sent new ones to the printers for him. They ate a sumptuous dinner and enjoyed a bit of dessert tasting off one another’s bodies, as the revelry got into full swing.

They headed towards the park after, where the festival was bustling and crowded. Alcohol flowed freely and was passed between mouths as vintners and brewers provided free samples of their fermentations. Tav accepted a few wine-laced kisses from her husbands, not wanting to drink too much before her performance, but enough to shed any last minute nerves. She left them near a prime spot by the front of the large stage and disappeared into the performer’s tent nearby to make her final preparations. She shed her cover-up, many of the other bards and acrobats inquiring about her outfit. “I’m afraid my designer only does costuming exclusively for me,” she beamed. “But he sells generic designs in his shop,” she handed out several more business cards to the disappointed artists. She secured her flower crown a little more and attached the silk epaulettes that attached to her shoulders and hips. They resembled white wisteria blooms and would shake beautifully when she danced.

She nervously waited at the side of the stage when her time slot drew near. A group of performers were doing an acrobatic number around the three maypoles that had been affixed to the stage. Two solo artists spun and contorted on the side poles, while a pair did a very sensual routine together on the center pole. Tav blushed deeply, spying Halsin and Astarion in the crowd, their arm around each others’ waists. They appeared to be very into the center performance, kissing and whispering to one another as the two performers put several new positions in their heads. Tav had been secretly practicing a few moves utilizing the maypole, but was no where close to the skill of these acrobats. The performance ended with a shower of not-so-subtle white petals that rained down onto the crowd and stage with a resounding climax of cheers. “Tough act to follow, darling,” Lucretious, the emcee, patted Tav on the back as she strutted on stage to make announcements.

Her voice boomed across the park as the Projecting Stones at the front of the stage amplified it into the crowd. “What a stunning and sensual performance by the Spinning Sisters of the Savalirwood!” Lucretious praised as the five acrobats left the stage. They all nodded at Tav as they passed, covered in sweat and petals that had stuck to their skin. “Well worth the journey from Exandria, if I do say so myself!” Lucretious continued.

“Chardonnay? Is that you? I never forget a backside,” a voice called from behind Tav as Lucretious reminded the crowd about the proper etiquette for voyeurism and consent during public activities of an erotic nature.

“Scanlan Shorthalt? Of all the people I expected to see!” Tav knelt down to greet the gnomish bard, giving him a peck on the cheek. “What are you doing on Toril?”

“I’m here with the Sisters,” Scanlan glanced back at the quintuple of acrobats heading to the performer’s tent. “I’m their manager.”

“Manager?” Tav asked. “So you’ve hung up your lute?”

“I have,” Scanlan nodded. “I’m a family man now. I have a wife and giant Goliath son to feed. The money was too good to pass up the invite.”

“I understand that,” Tav smiled, holding out her hands and showing off the two bands on both her ring fingers.

“I never thought I’d see the day and twice over!” Scanlan’s eyes widened. “Especially not after that night we had in Stilben.”

“How long are you here for?” Tav asked, hearing Lucretious wrapping up her announcements with some quick jokes. “I’d love to catch up…and introduce you to my husbands.”

“A few days. Those Planetshift Portals really screw with my insides. We can talk after, perhaps meet for dinner,” he replied as Lucretious announced Tav to the stage. “Good luck, Charddy!”

“Coming to the stage now, one of the heroes of Baldur’s Gate, a seductive songstress and contorter of clowns. Lady Chardonnay Brandywine!”

The crowd whistled as Tav walked on stage, doing a few nervous twirls and bows with her lyre tucked under her arm. All the nervousness ceased when she strummed her first note, imbuing the instrument with her magic. The thrill of the performance took over, her body moving almost instinctually to the rhythm of her music. She danced and sang, spinning around the center pole while a Mage Hand played her lyre. Halsin and Astarion stood beaming in the crowd, seeing that she hadn’t missed a step since becoming a mother. The love and passion that she held in her heart for them flowed into her performance, the crowd both enraptured and titillated. Occasionally moans could be heard in the crowd as couples let their inhibitions lower for the night. There was no shower of white at the climax of Tav’s performance, but an urgent high note as she fell into a split in front of the maypole, her chest heaving with heavy breaths.

She left the stage to cheers and whistles, the crowd becoming more rowdy after her set. “Dear Gods,” she grimaced, putting a hand to her groin. She may not have lost much of a step after giving birth to Halsin’s enormous son, but her hips weren’t what they used to be and she instantly felt it.

“As incredible as ever,” Scanlan clapped as she hobbled down the stairs.

“Just a little more weathered,” she groaned at the last step. “I have my own giant son now too.”

“You had a baby!” Scanlan exclaimed.

“Twins, actually,” Tav downed a mug of water waiting for her inside the performer’s tent. “Once you meet my husbands, you will understand.”

“I can’t wait. It sounds like you’ve gotten up to a lot in the past twenty years. A hero of Baldur’s Gate?”

“It’s a long tale,” Tav let out a loud sigh, fanning herself with her hand. “I wrote a play about it.”

“Well, wait until you hear about Vecna,” Scanlan laughed, grabbing them each a glass of wine. “It sounds like we might need to make this dinner multiple courses.”

[synthy-sizer]

It's been 5 days since you made your choice. Every night you've stayed up late, studying the map by the warm light of your bedside lamp. You've discovered a few things as a result of your dedicated and studious searching. Your neighborhood and the farmland sit relatively in a zone labeled "barracks". Concerningly, based on the path you've taken to school, it seems the building is labeled "armory". You're not sure you even want to know what that's about. In any case, you've been able to use that fact to measure the distance between home and school, and home and the radio tower. Thankfully, it looks as though the trip to the radio tower is perfectly walkable.

The preparation hardly ends at studying, though. It's been quite a lot of work to gather the needed supplies, at least without being noticed. There's no shortage of foods that aren't perishable. Dried and canned foods aren't terribly uncommon. You've quietly snuck a few packages of jerky and canned vegetables day by day, slowly, carefully, making sure to be unnoticed. It's essential to only take enough that no one will question if it was there in the first place. At first it was hardly necessary to even hide your behavior. Why would anyone suspect you, after all? But you've come to realize that as time goes on you've needed to exercise more caution. The more you use the leniency, the more careful you have to be to ensure it isn't abused. If you stop being careful you'll be caught for sure. And you're scared of what will happen if you do.

You take off in the morning, something you've become intimately familiar with, carrying your school bag full of food and supplies. The map you found is in your bag, but you've taken the liberty of creating a handwritten version with much more vague descriptions, in case you're caught. You doubt anyone would recognize the map you found in the hatch. It would be suspicious. And you can't afford suspicion. As you walk through the neighborhood you take note of the distinct decorations for LIFE DAY. The past few months have passed by so quickly that you barely even realized it was December already. Soon the year will be over and the next will begin. And on the eve, people will celebrate the day that Luna was blessed with life by God. 'Be thankful to God, for he blessed us with eternal summer, so our crops can always prosper,' you think. It's a phrase you've had drilled into you, and you can still remember it, albeit with much more bitterness and irritation since you learned the truth.

…

Time passes. Without anything else to see, you think about what you were taught again. It's not like the statement is wholly correct, either. The weather has already gotten into the 60s. It may not get much lower, but you wouldn't call that summer. Heresy told you that on Earth, a quarter of the year is winter, and the land is covered in snow and ice. Nothing grows. The concept was truly foreign to you. They said that the last few months of the year for you are what they would call 'Fall'. How strange is that?

…

Time passes. It's been a few hours. You sit down in the grass and snack on some of the food you brought. The sun is bright in the sky now, and you have to hold your hand over your eyes to keep yourself from being blinded. Wind blows through and the tall grass rustles and sways. You look around at the nature around you while you eat. It's a beautiful place. You could imagine having a picnic here, if not for the circumstances and what you know now. The thought makes you frown. You almost forgot, lost in the beauty of nature, that the world you live in was founded on lies. You stare down at the jerky you had between your fingers and put it back in its pouch. You don't feel hungry anymore.

…

Time passes. What a long walk. You check your watch. It's about 11 in the morning. It looks like you're halfway there. Hopefully your investigation won't keep you too late. You keep walking and walking and walking. The grassy fields only seem to yield to circular patches of lakes. Heresy said something about them being formed from craters. It feels unbelievable that God wouldn't protect you from such a devastating impact.

…

Time passes. It almost feels as though the map was lying and you briefly consider if you're lost or should turn back when you spot a dot on the distance. You squint. It looks like a big gray box. Maybe that's the radio station? You walk forward and watch it grow larger and larger. As you approach you notice a dilapidated but still-standing tower of white and red metal. This must be it. You approach it faster now with renewed determination.

NEXT

PREVIOUS

[boutsofmetaphors]

It's 3 'o' clock, i am drifting into my quintessential afternoon nap when i hear the wind chimes ring a bit more louder than usual. The warm summer breeze has carried the to snag on one of the chimes. The melody feels like my lover's whisper from behind, as he kisses the back of my head and declares, "you're mine", without a doubt, a pause between the words, or a lump in the throat. 

This summer fetches along with it the manifestation of all the past summer dreams, like when i was seventeen and visioned a love so soft. As the trees sway and the breeze carries the scent of its magenta flowers, i believe in everything again. Every version of softness that i deserved and dreamt of and stopped believing in later. 

I feel the smile against my sleepy face. I try to doze off again with a heart so full. I long him within my reach, on the other side of the bed but I am more than content, imagining that after a point we're going to name all our summers after each other and go on dates to faraway fields that the location can't be traced to be uploaded on Instagram unlike my other friends.

We'll lie on the grass, laughing as we pick twigs from each other's hair, falling in love all over again. This summer promises that, with all its sincerity, it's brings a love so warm, so sweet. The good morning texts, never turning hectic, the good night texts, a promise to look forward to a new day together.

This isn't some parallel world, some alternate reality, this is my time, right here, right now. I am no more waking up with a doubt so big, like a hole in my chest that just keeps growing. I'm sleeping better. I'm discovering new songs, analysing the lyrics with him. We're looking at our pictures and pointing out all the small details we admire about each other. The winter is left much behind and I'm no longer begging cold people to warm my hands. 

I've the summer I've been waiting for since I first started jotting down theories on this four-lettered word called love. He asks, how do I feel, and I tell him what I feel like. Oh, to feel something, anything at all, finally. To be finally able to breathe. To be finally able to love. A love that doesn't scare you, give you beads of insecurity to tie around your neck and choke on it while having dinner. 

A love that no one on your behalf has to worry about. A love without a need for its critical analysis, deriving pros and cons out of every word spoken, oh, to be loved without drawing stupid conclusions. To be loved even before you knew it, to be loved even if you forget your name. I think I will melt in his palm if he takes my name, one more time. All the silly movie quotes makes sense now and we both are laughing at the characters, two fools in love. We look into each other's eyes just to see a life past the dark stretch of the pupils where every day feels like a love they show on a movie screen. 

~M.// A summer love.