#also ths took me TEN FUCKING DAYS

[unmotivatedartistry]

ur clef design is very yummy yummymmmmm

clef says thanks

anywayzs..... thank you so much ???? here idk this took me too long and I added more stuff to him or smth. and finally drew his hawaiian shirt insteadof taking a png

als.o. I love your art. kitty clefdraki haunts me and your art style is so.... soft. yum. idunno thanks dude i had a heart attack when i saw this.... /pos

[macfrog]

ride it, cowgirl cowboy like me chapter ten

hey dudes. anyone up for some dbf? i seriously can't thank you guys enough for all the love y'all show this series. blows my mind every time. i have been super excited for this chapter for a WHILE. might be my fave so far. who knows. you can grab chapters 1-9 on my masterlist and also my ao3 if ur feeling fancy. love u all sm!!!!!! ✨💘💫

pairing: dbf!joel x fem!reader

summary: joel picks you up from a girls’ night. you’ve plans for when you get home

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) reader isn't an astrology girlie (sorry), more pining beCAUSE, alcohol consumption + a mention of the devil’s lettuce, very quick bit of unwanted touching, even quicker bit of protective joel, soft!joel, softdom!joel, one tiny mention of daddy, protected piv sex this time (feeling conservative slutty max will return), reader rides him into the sunset, age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), cursing

word count: 6.7k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

You lazily drag yourself over and over Joel’s dick, each stroke drawing you nearer and nearer to your high. When your body starts to falter, you feel him shift, and open your eyes to see him leaning over to the nightstand. His fingers grip the rim of the black cowgirl hat you’d worn that night. He lies back, flat against the mattress, and reaches up, placing the hat on top of your head. You smile. Joel speaks in a low, gentle, but commanding whisper. “There you go, cowgirl. Show me how it’s done.”

You never believed much in the power of the universe. Astrology, moons, manifestation. Whatever. None of it ever really meant much to you. You knew your star sign, knew which cool little symbol resembled you, and that was about it. Everything past that was…confusing and, frankly, a little overwhelming.

However.

If the universe were to send you a sign, one huge, fluorescent, multi-colored, in-your-face sign, that it was on your side…this weekend might just be it.

Your dad’s downstairs, finishing up packing for his work trip. His departure is imminent. Sarah’s been in Nashville since last night. A series of texts she sent you at 3AM riddled with spelling errors and heart emojis tell you she’s been having a pretty good time so far.

You are Joel are…alone. All by yourselves. For a whole…twenty hours.

Can’t have it all, I guess.

Your eyes skim down the texts you sent him this morning, texts he is yet to reply to.

You: Merry Christmas!!!

You took his non-reply for confusion – he is almost fifty, maybe he doesn’t get the joke? It’s a pretty lame joke, anyways. Very lame. If your thumb hovers over the send button before you press it, it’s probably not that great a joke. And your thumb had most definitely hovered. So, you’d followed it up.

You: As in, today’s the day

You: I don’t mean it’s actually Christmas

You: I mean like, happy ‘we’re finally gonna be alone again’ day

You: Never mind

“Hello?” Anna’s voice cuts through your train of thought. “Are you even listening to me?”

You drop your phone, shaking your head clear of Joel. “Yep. Sorry. Just didn’t catch that last part. You froze.”

The image of her on your – pretty fucking dusty – laptop screen rolls its eyes, knowing you’re lying. “I don’t know whether to go with the pink or the black boots,” she says.

“Ain’t your dress yellow?”

Her head falls into her hands. She throws herself down onto her bed and slides her laptop closer. “That was, like, ten minutes ago. I’m goin’ with the pink strappy one now.”

“Pink does say rodeo.”

“Fuck you,” she snaps through a giggle. “Remind me what you’re wearin’, again.”

“Black hat, black boots, black dress.”

“You’re so boring.”

“Thanks. Really looking forward to our night out.”

Anna snorts and then stands back up, strides over to her closet and resumes rummaging. “Black jacket, too?” she calls over her shoulder.

“Uhuh,” you reply, glancing back down to your phone. “Although – it has rhinestones. And tassels. Not so boring after all, huh?”

Anna’s silence drags your eyes from the text thread back to your laptop screen. She’s frozen in place, twisted around with a dress in her hands, jaw on the floor. “Show it to me. Now.”

“Hold on,” you roll over and off your bed, your shoulder stiff from the position you’d been lying in, “I think I left it downstairs.”

“Tell your dad I say hey!”

You pad down the carpeted stairs in your socks, toward the sunlit hallway.

“Dad, have you seen my– Oh, fuck.”

As you round the corner at the bottom of the stairs, glancing over your left shoulder to the front door, your chest knocks into something hard. Steady. Strong.

Something you recognize the feel of before you’ve given him a proper look.

“Mind your step, baby,” Joel says, and your heart leaps.

“What the fuck are you doin’ here?” you whisper, peering around his body to look for your dad.

“He’s out front,” Joel tells you, then takes your shoulder and reels you in against his chest. “’m just here to help ‘im with his GPS.”

He plants a kiss on the top of your head and gives you a squeeze. Your head rests safely on his chest, arms link at his back. If you didn’t have plans tonight, and if your dad wasn’t, like, ten feet from you guys right now, you’d never let him go. Just follow him around, vice grip around his waist, surrounded by the smell and feel of him.

Not that that means anything. You’d do other stuff, too. You’re not…you know.

Your dad’s voice streams in through the open door and Joel releases you.

“It ain’t for workin’, Joel, I’m about to throw it at the f– Hey, kiddo.”

“Hey. What’s the matter with your GPS?”

You lean in to the tiny device in his hands. Joel’s elbow comes up to rest on your shoulder.

“Just won’t connect to the car. Every time I plug it in, it just…” He lifts his hands, screen loose in his fingers, and hands you a bewildered look.

You look at him, expressionless. “Why don’t you just use your phone?”

“Because I paid almost a hundred bucks for this thing, and I’ll be damned if I’m– Alright,” he stops himself, eyes shutting in exasperation, “I already explained this to him. I ain’t justifyin’ myself to the two of you.”

Joel’s laughing behind his hand, pretending to scratch his nose when your dad stalks off to the kitchen and throws the device down, snatching the instructions off the table.

The pair of you follow, both still trying to swallow your laughter. Joel wanders around the table and sits down beside your dad, fumbling with the screen. You dive into the coat closet at the bottom of the stairs and fish out your bejeweled, tasseled jacket.

“You lookin’ forward to your girls’ night?” Joel asks, eyes flitting up and down the leather jacket in your hands.

“Mhm,” you reply, opening your mouth to continue when your dad butts in.

“S’posed to be a girls’ night, but that boy Sam’s crashin’ it, ain’t he?”

“Well, we asked him.” You shrug. “It’s his night off.”

Your dad scoffs, shaking his head to Joel, who looks up to you with a confused expression. “’s the big deal with that?”

“Oh, wise up, Miller. He’s only goin’ ‘cause of…” He wags a finger in your direction, and a smirk peels across Joel’s lips.

“Is he, now?”

“Uhuh,” your dad replies, intense stare still on the instructions in front of him. “Makes no damn sense. I plugged it in using the cable they gave me in the box. Stupid thing…”

You shake your head to Joel, who’s still looking at you, bemused. He knows you and Sam are just friends. Also knows your dad is the most oblivious theorist to walk the planet. Just aiming his gun at the wrong target, is all.

“I’m gonna let you two get back to…that,” you say, turning to head back upstairs. “Anna says hi, by the way.”

Your dad’s eyebrows rise once, his eyes never lifting from his GPS. “Hi, Anna.”

“Hey, Anna,” Joel echoes, smirk on his lips.

“Not to you,” you throw back, hopping up the first step. You hear his chuckle as you disappear.

----------

Anna’s reaction to your jacket in person matches that over Facetime: a deafening squeal. A squeal which she repeats almost every damn time she sees you throughout the night.

“So – fucking – cute!” she exclaims for the fifth time, fingers dancing through the tassels. “And it goes so well with your hat.”

You sip on your cocktail, nodding enthusiastically, pushing your eyebrows up underneath the brim of the black cowgirl hat on your head. Trying to match her energy. Your mind’s elsewhere.

Joel texted you a few hours ago. Told you to have a good night, said something about Sam, but you were stood right next to the dude, so you quickly locked your phone and slipped it back into your clutch.

Now, standing with your back against the wall of Franks, watching Sam play pool with Eve, you feel safe enough to read over the message.

Joel: Have fun baby. Be safe. Tell Sam good luck from me.

You squint at the screen, pulling it away from your face and leaning back in to read it over. Good luck? The fuck does he mean –

You: Good luck??

He replies almost instantly.

Joel: Yeah. Good luck winning you over. Took me, what, a week?

Oh, fuck off. You roll your eyes and throw your phone facedown onto the table where Anna and Kara sit, about twenty minutes deep into a conversation you missed the beginning of.

Your attention turns to the room before you – brick-walled, metal dome lightshades hanging over each pool table. Glass-paneled door to your left leading back through to the main bar. For being a tiny bar on a backstreet, Frank’s is pretty lively. There are bodies everywhere, bumping by each other, drunken arms slung over shoulders, hips swaying with the soft rock song blasting from out front.

You imagine your dad here with Joel, maybe Hank and Bill, too. Playing pool, beer bottles resting on the felt while they take their shot. Or sat on the rooftop, sipping on a whiskey. Talking about you and Sarah. What does Joel say about you when you’re not around?

And what does he want to say, but can’t, ‘cause it’s your dad? What does he think, and bite back when it bubbles to the surface?

Your straw gargles, slurping up the last few sips of your drink. You lean over to Anna and Kara, holding your empty glass up.

“Another?”

They both shake their heads, and you nod, turning on your own back to the bar.

You squeeze between two older women, both dressed smart and sharp. One of them – clutching a Manhattan – shifts out of the way as you pass.

“…one more conversation with him about squash,” she tells her companion, “and I am gonna blow my brains out…”

You edge over to the bar and slot into a free space, propping your elbows up on the wood. One of Sam’s coworkers – her name escapes you – notices you and shuffles over, smiling sweetly.

“How you doin’?” she asks, running a damp cloth inside a tumbler.

“Good,” you reply. “Could I just get a Bud, please?”

“Sure thing,” she says, and reaches behind to grab one. You slide her a note and she hands you change, and then you’re on your way back to the pool room.

As you slink by the two women, a weight knocks into your shoulder, almost sending your beer flying out of your hand.

“Sorry,” a rough voice sputters on your left, and you glance in its direction. Some broad dude in a tight t-shirt.

“’s fine,” you mumble, clutching your hat; a smell of weed choking your throat.

He passes by behind you, one hand lingering a little too long on your waist, and you saunter back over to Anna and Kara.

“That dude stinks, right?” Anna whispers behind a cupped hand, and you snort.

“He smells like he’s having a good night.”

“We’re talking about Romeo and Juliet over there. We’re basically third, fourth, and fifth wheeling,” Kara says, nodding over to Sam and Eve, who’re finished their game of pool and have now graduated to darts.

“I don’t…think that’s a thing.”

“Eve asked me if Sam was single earlier,” Anna says, lifting her straw to her red lips.

“What?” Kara spits out, choking on her drink. “Eve has a boyfriend!”

Anna giggles. “He’s kinda an ass, anyway. Look at them, they’re so sweet.”

“You say sweet, I hear morally wrong.”

“Who says it’s morally wrong?” you chirp, alcohol pushing the words over your lips before your brain’s had time to stop them. Your fingers clutch your phone, still laying on the table where you left it. “You?”

“Uh, it’s cheating, dude. What if Nick found out?”

“’s not that big a deal,” you reply, phone screen lighting your face in a blue hue, “they’re just having fun.”

Anna points to you, lifting her glass. “Here’s to havin’ fun, I guess.”

Kara lifts her own reluctantly and they clink, but you’re distracted. Already typing a message to Joel. Bored. Drunk. Morally wrong.

You: What you doing?

Joel: Watching TV. What you doing?

You: What ya watvhin ?

Joel: None of your business. Go get another drink. Looks like you’re not drunk enough.

You lift your head with a giggle, almost ready to turn your phone around to Anna and Kara and say, look what the dude I’m sleeping with just text me. And then, thankfully, your good sense kicks in and you bring the screen closer to your chest.

You: Kinda bored. Wanna come home now please

Bored, horny. It all means the same.

Joel says he’ll be at Frank’s in twenty minutes. You rest your chin on your palm and watch as Sam cheers Eve for hitting bullseye.

“I think they’re cute,” you whisper.

Anna and Kara are already preoccupied, taking photos of one another across the table. Kara leans into you and you smile, flash blinding your hazy eyes for a few minutes afterward. A few more pictures, couple boomerangs of your glasses cheersing, and then your phone’s vibrating.

Joel: Outside. No rush.

That last part is where he’s wrong. There most definitely is a rush, and it’s in the form of the heat that starts to pool between your legs.

“Alright,” you shimmy off your barstool and stretch your back. “My ride’s here.”

“What?” Anna almost screams, her hand slapping down on the table. “You’re leavin’?”

You nod. “Sorry, babe.”

“Don’t babe me, traitor. It’s, like, midnight.”

“Uh, it’s, like, almost 2AM. I’m tired. I don’t know how y’all do it.”

She sighs, conceding, and agrees to walk with you to the front door. Kara and Eve stop off by the bar to grab another drink. Sam holds the door open for you and Anna and you’re hit by a wave of cold night air, instantly cooling your hot, sweaty skin.

“Is that…Mr. Miller?” Anna asks, mouth falling wide open.

You glance down the street and notice his black truck, parked up by the curb. “Mhm,” you reply, “my dad’s out of town, so he’s picking me up.”

“Can he take me home, too?”

Sam snickers. “Wow, Anna. That’s just…Wow.”

She shrugs, lips closing around her straw as she stares at Joel’s truck. Something inside you lurches at the idea of Joel sitting there, his eyes glued on you, watching everything you do, everyone around you. And then again at the thought of Anna and her doting gaze on him.

“Alright, I guess that’s my cue to skip.”

Anna pouts. “One more drink?”

“I’m good, thanks,” you scoff, patting her head affectionately. I got business to attend to.

You give her a quick kiss on the cheek and Sam wraps an arm around your shoulder, giving it a squeeze before you’re wandering off toward Joel’s truck.

“Hey.” Something – someone – hooks around your elbow, and you turn back. It’s that same guy who stank of weed.

“Hi,” you reply, as sweet as you can, but trying to loosen his grip.

“Saw you inside, you out with friends?”

“Mhm. I’m just leavin’, my–”

“Few of us are headed upstairs. You wanna come?”

You glare at him a few seconds, before yanking your arm from his grasp. “Nah, no thanks. I’m leaving. Have a good night.”

You stagger off, feeling his eyes on you as you go. Joel’s truck headlights switch on, dazzling your eyes, and you quickly click around to the passenger side, throwing yourself in beside him.

Joel doesn’t say hey, doesn’t squeeze your thigh, doesn’t even look at you when you settle into the seat. Just asks –

“Who’s that kid?”

“Uh…not sure. Bumped into ‘im in the bar.”

“He give you trouble?”

“No,” you lean over the console, pulling your seatbelt over your body, and flash him a tipsy grin, “thought that was my job. Givin’ trouble.”

Joel doesn’t reply. Doesn’t take his scowl off the dude outside Frank’s, either. Your eyes meander across to his hand, locked in a tight fist around the wheel. Your smile drops.

“Joel. It’s fine. Can we go?”

When you lift a hand to the crook of his elbow and he feels your warmth on his skin, he tears his gaze away and it lands on you. Soft, gentle. His lip isn’t curled anymore. His brows lift.

His eyes watch your lips as you whisper the words to him.

“Want you to take me home.”

“’s go, pretty girl.”

----------

Joel refuses, no matter how many times you ask, how hard you bat your eyelashes, how many promises you make, to stop by a drive thru.

“Please?” you ask one last time before he’s pulling in to his neighborhood.

He shakes his head. “Look at that, we’re already home.”

“I ain’t takin’ no for an answer, Miller, not until the engine’s off. We’re still driving.”

He doesn’t reply. Just pulls up in his drive, cuts the engine, and looks at you. Shrugs. “Oops.”

“Fuck you,” you groan, sliding down in your seat. “I’m starvin’.”

“Make you a big breakfast in the mornin’, how’s that sound?”

“Wanted a Big Mac, but whatever.”

Your fingers fumble for the door handle, clicking it open. You roll out of the truck and stroll around to meet Joel at the driver’s side. He snakes an arm around your shoulders, steadying you as you walk up his porch steps and into the house.

“I’m fine,” you murmur, glancing around his living room.

“Alright,” he says, tossing his keys and kicking his boots off.

Your eyes settle on the TV screen, paused. Probably around the time you text him. There’s a crowded hospital room onscreen, doctors in dark blue scrubs, all surrounding someone lying on a bed, someone who looks pretty familiar…

“Is that…fuckin’…Grey’s Anatomy…?”

Joel chuckles, peeling your jacket from your shoulders.

“That’s Meredith! When she–”

“She fell in the damn river,” Joel mutters, placing the tasseled leather over the back of his couch. “Derek had to go in after her. Intense stuff.”

“Right? I told you it was good!” You smack his arm. “I can’t believe you’re watchin’ it without me.”

“I ain’t watchin’ it,” he protests, “it was just on, ‘n I needed something to keep me awake. I’m still rooting for Meredith ‘n George.”

“We can watch it from the beginning.”

“Yeah?”

You nod, moving over to him. “And then I can be over here all the time, and you can make me all the grilled cheese I want, and we can lie in bed and…do stuff.” Your chin rests on his chest, flashing him a toothy grin. Hands swinging in his at your side.

Joel’s eyes narrow, but there’s a smirk on his lips. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk. I had a couple drinks. I’m not drunk.”

“H’many fingers am I holdin’ up?” Joel asks, raising his fist. You punch it away.

“Ha-ha,” you say tonelessly, and wander away from him.

“Baby,” he calls you from behind. Sure, you’re tipsy, and he can be a cocky asshole – especially when he has to take care of you, but that’s a sound you’ll never get tired of hearing. Baby. You’re his darlin’, his sweet girl.

You spin around, very nearly losing your footing, and he’s standing with an arm out, ready for you to take.

You smile dumbly. Meander over, and take his strong hand in both of yours, wrapping your fingers around two of his to let him reel you in against his body.

“C’mon,” he whispers, as you lean against his frame. “Let’s get you upstairs.”

You follow him up, knowing where he’s leading you. You’ve spent more time in there the last few weeks than you have your entire life.

His room is cool, not cold, but comfortable. It’s Joel all over; the muted colors, the décor, the smell that calms you as soon as you stumble over the threshold.

He sits you down on the edge of his bed and kneels, pulling your boots off one by one.

You giggle.

“You laughin’ at me?”

“You’re like my own personal tr…No, not trainer. Wait. Personal ch–”

“Chef?” he says, snorting. “Not chef. Try again, soberhead.”

“Oh, I dunno.” You throw your arms up as he sits your boots against the wall, then stands and takes your hat off.

“This,” he says, placing it on the nightstand at your side of the bed, “is very cute. I like it.”

“I’m cute, too, y’know,” you whisper, pouting.

He smiles, and leans down to give you a quick kiss on the lips, pointer finger under your chin.

“The cutest.”

“Ha!” you roar. Joel twists around you to undo the zipper at the back of your dress. “Joel Miller thinks I’m the cutest. Take that, Anna…”

He laughs. When he unzips you, he pulls the dress off your bare chest and down your legs. You don’t shy away, used to the idea now of him seeing you naked. Used to the idea of him seeing you in any vulnerable state; drunk, or naked, or in a sobbing mess on day two of your period.

You notice, even though you’re a tad dizzy with what alcohol is left in your system, that his eyes linger on your panties a moment before he turns and grabs a tee from a chair.

And something inside you ticks.

“Joel?”

He’s pulling the shirt over your head. It smells like him. Intoxicates you much more and much quicker than any drink you could order from Frank’s.

“Mhm?”

You feed both arms through the sleeves, swallowing the question you were about to ask. He’s standing up now, telling you to get into bed.

He walks over to his dresser and begins removing his own clothing. He only sleeps in boxershorts. Your eyes track him as he yanks his t-shirt up over his toned shoulders; fingers undo his belt, unzip his jeans. Everything is discarded to the side for now; he has something more pressing to attend to.

His best friend’s daughter, laying in his bed, a pool of wet forming in her panties.

He just doesn’t know it yet.

As he slips under the covers beside you, you pull off your underwear in one quick movement. Joel doesn’t seem to notice, or so you think; his arms immediately take hold of your waist and pull you against his body. You’ve gotten into the habit of sleeping pressed against his torso, his thigh between your legs. Joel settles comfortably with you draped over him, and lets out a deep sigh.

“Joel?” you whisper again into the darkness, growing braver.

“Hm?” he replies, starting to fall asleep.

You toss ideas over in your head. None of them good, you’re sure, but you’re getting desperate. How he can’t feel your damp core on his thigh, you’ve no idea.

But then, maybe he can? Joel doesn’t miss anything, especially not where you and your…arrangement are concerned. Can he feel you? Is he deliberately ignoring it?

Maybe he has something up his own sleeve?

“I…was just wondering…”

“Wondering what, darlin’?” His voice is muffled, spoken through unmoving lips. You glance up at his face. His eyes are closed.

You grow more desperate.

“…wondering what your body count is?”

You ask it as innocently as you can, your voice wavering on the words body count. It gets him, though, as his eyes blink open a few seconds after you say it.

“I ain’t tellin’ you that. Go to sleep.” He closes them again.

“I wanna know.”

He ignores you.

“Joel,” you moan.

He calls you by name now, and you’re not sure if you’re pissing him off or turning him on – or both.

“Go. To. Sleep.”

“I’m not tired, though. Not yet.”

In response, Joel lets go of his hold on you and rolls over without another word. It’d sting if you weren’t soaking wet right now, and didn’t have a strong hunch he was hardening under the sheets.

“Joooel…” you whine, sitting up on your elbow. No use.

You take hold of his shoulder and tug him back toward you, rolling him onto his back. Like a deadweight, he remains frozen.

“Ugh,” you groan, and drag yourself on top of him, knees either side of his waist, ass hovering. When you sit back onto him, your core lining up with his crotch, your suspicions are proven right.

He’s hard.

Not as hard as he can get, as you’d like him to be, as you’ve felt him before…but he’s hard.

“Joel…” you mewl into the darkness, starting to grind your bare center over his boxers. The friction feels good, so you apply more pressure.

“If you don’t stop that,” Joel’s voice finally grumbles, “I’ll be sleepin’ downstairs.”

“Sex in the living room sounds good to me.”

His eyes open. “We,” one hand comes up to point between the both of you, as if he doesn’t expect your sobering self to understand which pairing he means, “are not having sex. No sex tonight.”

You sigh, shoulders dropping dramatically.

“Huff all you want, baby, it is not happening.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because you’re a few drinks too deep and it’s three in the morning. I’m tired, it’s been a long night waitin’ for you, I–”

“So let me make it up to you. I ain’t even drunk anymore.”

“No?”

“Nuh-uh. Could count any number a’ fingers you put in front of me.”

“Funny.” He closes his eyes.

“Joel.” You drag your hips again. If anything, he’s harder than he was when you first sat down on him. “I had a few drinks, I’ve sobered up. C’mon…”

You bend your waist and lower yourself to align your lips with the side of his head, peppering the skin under his ear with soft kisses.

“I wanna ride you, daddy.”

This gets him. His eyes open again, staring up at the ceiling. His hands slowly come up to rest on your hips.

“Don’t– That’s low, even for you, kid.”

You giggle and straighten up. When your hands lightly trace down his chest, onto his midriff and follow the trail of hair to his boxers, he doesn’t stop you. Just watches from beneath hooded lids, tensing at each point your fingers touch.

You raise your eyebrows, watching his expression for any sign to stop, and it never comes. He remains in place when your fingertips hook around the waistband of his underwear, slowly pulling down.

Joel breathes in deep when you reveal the tip of his cock, springing up to rest on his lower stomach. You feel your core clench. If he’s not inside you in the next five minutes, you might scream.

Well, you’ll be screaming either way.

You look back into his eyes and tilt your jaw, asking for permission.

“Go on,” he whispers.

Your hands take him eagerly, pumping up and down his shaft, and his head falls back onto the pillow with pleasure.

“Uhuh,” you mumble, focusing on his solid dick, but desperate for more. You give him a gentle squeeze and a groan passes his lips, his grip tightening on your body.

You let go of him and grind your hips along his length, folds coating his shaft in your wetness. Joel’s humming, watching as you pull yourself up and down him.

Then, you lean forward, and your hands take hold of him again. You give him a couple more strokes, eliciting a deep groan, and then line his bare cock up at your entrance, practically foaming at the mouth to sink down on him already.

“Woah, woah,” Joel takes hold of your wrist, “slow down, cowgirl. I gotta get a condom.”

You huff as he leans over to his nightstand and opens the drawer. “Don’t want one, Joel, I’m on the pill.”

“No way, baby,” he says through a chuckle, silver wrapper in his fingers. “We already did that, one too many times.”

“So just pull out?”

“Nope.”

You sigh, frustrated.

Joel holds the packet out to you, smirk on his face like he doesn’t expect you to take it.

So, you do.

You steal it from him and tear the wrapper, fishing the rubber out between your two fingers. Pinching the top, you roll it down his shaft and pump up and down for good measure.

“Ready?” you ask, head tilted, cocky smile on your lips.

“Wait, wait,” he whispers, shoulders lifting off the mattress. He lifts the hem of your shirt, telling you, “Off,” before pulling it over your head, exposing your bare breasts.

He stares you down; legs wide open, straddling him, completely naked, nipples hardened, figure silhouetted against the slivers of light peeking through the shades from the streetlights outside. You’ve never felt so confident, mounted on top of Joel fucking Miller.

His eyes roll back and his head falls against the pillow. “Fuckin’ – knock yourself out, baby.”

You steady yourself with one hand on his chest, the other taking hold of his cock and guiding it to your entrance. You push his head through your folds a couple times, and Joel hisses at the feeling, before you sink down.

You stop after the tip the first time, but it draws the same reaction from you both. Joel groans even louder than before, and you moan as you push yourself back up.

Then, without warning, you sink the whole way down.

He’s so deep it brings tears to your eyes, so big that he’s stretching you out more than you thought possible, hitting all the right spots already before you’ve even begun.

Joel’s eyes are screwed shut, his grip on your hips digging into your skin so tight it almost hurts. His jaw is tight, holding back what you can only imagine are the neediest moans he could sound.

So, you decide to draw them from him.

You lean forward and begin bouncing, feeling his thickness pull out and push back into you, both hands on Joel’s chest now for balance. You’re whimpering, the burn of his cock stretching your tight cunt so good and borderline painful at the same time, but you don’t stop.

“Good girl, good fuckin’ girl,” Joel moans, opening his eyes to watch you ride his dick. “’attagirl, just like that.”

“Joel…” you cry, letting him bottom out each time, feeling his balls slam into your ass with each bounce.

“Yeah? You like that? Tell me, baby, use your words.”

“So – good – Joel – oh!” you shout.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl for me, huh?”

You fight against the urge to close your eyes; the pleasure between your legs and the knot beginning to tighten in your stomach are all you can see, hear, feel, but you want to watch him some more. You want to see what you do to him.

You lean forward even further, moving your hands to the pillow either side of his head, so you’re directly above him now. One of Joel’s hands comes to the back of your head, pulling you down until your foreheads are together, moans escaping your mouths only to be inhaled by the other.

Joel speaks to you quieter, through gritted teeth.

“Like ridin’ me, do ya? Like the way it feels?”

“Mhm,” you moan back, and he brings a hand down to slap your ass. You yelp. “Fuck…”

“You look so good, baby, so good. Such a fuckin’ whore for me, hm?”

Another stinging spank pulls a whine from you so filthy, so loud that you’re sure the neighbors will hear, even at this hour. Joel smirks back, resting his hand back on your hip, where he has a grip of you.

Then, he bucks his own hips, pushing into you deeper than before, so deep you see stars. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan, panting through the searing pain so good that you never want it to end.

“Joel – I’m gonna – fuck, I’m gonna cum!”

“That’s it, sweet girl, cum all over me. Let go, baby, I’m here.”

That does it. The coil snaps, your walls clench. Joel lets out a guttural moan as you throw your head back and ride him through your orgasm. He coos you through it, squeezing your hips, whispering, That’s my girl, doin’ so good, baby as your body rocks back and forth on his cock.

When you come back down to earth, your lids heavy and breathing staggered, you swear your body can’t take anymore. You feel so fucked out that you’re not sure you can sit up straight on top of Joel.

But he’s always been able to read your mind, and this is no different. He pulls himself up and into you, propped up with one strong hand on the mattress behind his back, the other wrapping around your waist. His cock is still buried deep inside you.

“Joel…” you whimper pathetically. “Can’t do it anymore…”

“That’s okay, baby, we’re gonna do this one together, alright? I got you. Can you do that for me? Just one more?”

You link your arms around his neck and lean into him; his strong form doesn’t shift, just takes on your weight and keeps the both of you upright as he starts to bounce you on his length again.

You’re overstimulated; your cunt swollen, fucked-out, drenched in cum, but Joel makes you feel so good that it’s impossible to let him stop. Your arms pull him in closer to your chest to steady yourself, and his groans echo in your ear.

“Good girl, that’s– that’s it, so fuckin’ tight for me, pretty girl.”

When it all becomes too much to take – Joel’s hand squeezing your waist, your clit rutting against the bottom of his stomach, his fucking cock buried so deep inside you that you swear you can feel him splitting you open – you push him back down onto the bed.

Once when you still lived in New York you read something in a Cosmo about spelling the word ‘coconut’ with your hips when riding a guy. You’d tried it a couple times with hookups, and it’d never done anything for you. They’d never done anything for you.

But here you are, nearing your second orgasm, on top of someone making such a mess of you that you brain can hardly compute to spell coconut, never mind your hips being able to round the shape of the word.

You lazily drag yourself over and over Joel’s dick, each stroke drawing you nearer and nearer to your high. When your body starts to falter, you feel him shift, and open your eyes to see him leaning over to the nightstand.

His fingers grip the rim of the black cowgirl hat you’d worn that night. He lies back, flat against the mattress, and reaches up, placing the hat on top of your head. You smile. Joel speaks in a low, gentle, but commanding whisper.

“There you go, cowgirl. Show me how it’s done.”

It’s all you need. It’s all it takes, by this point.

You brace yourself against his chest again, positioning yourself just right, and bounce on him until your vision starts to blur.

The noises slipping out of Joel’s mouth each time your bodies connect at the base of his cock push you closer and closer; every groan and whimper which passes his lips makes you sink your hips down even harder, pushing him deeper and deeper with every bounce.

“So – fuckin’ – big – inside me,” you slur, and Joel moans in response.

When he takes your hips in his hands again, you know he’s there. He’s just waiting for you to fall first.

You give in to him, feeling yourself close around his length, throwing your head back in pleasure as your second orgasm washes over you, igniting every inch of your body.

Joel’s groans meet yours as you lean forward again, slowly rolling your hips to coax him through his own orgasm. Watching him release, buried deep inside, he looks so good that you feel like you could cum again just at the sight.

You feel his cock start to go limp inside you and when he opens his eyes, panting, you smile sweetly at him.

“Fuck, darlin’.”

You giggle, hips still driving gently against his. “Good?”

“So good, baby, did so well. You’re gonna be the death of me,” he whispers with a trembling breath, taking your waist in both hands and giving it a tight squeeze. You roll to the side, letting his cock slip out of you, condom full of his seed.

You tumble onto the mattress beside him, both heaving, moaning messes. Your chests rise and fall in sync, fingers tangling and untangling by your sides.

Then Joel gets up, and wanders over to the bathroom, where you watch him through the open door as he pulls the filled rubber from his soft dick. He bins it, then runs a facecloth under the faucet, dabbing it across his own forehead as he makes his way back over to you.

You can’t hide your grin as you watch his naked form approach; tan lines where his t-shirt must end, dark hair decorating his arms, legs, chest, the base of his cock. He sits at the edge of the bed, arm outstretched with the flannel in hand.

You go to take it from him, but he doesn’t loosen his grip. Just pats it over your face gently, soft gaze on yours, your fingers intertwined around his wrist. Your eyes fall closed, the cold cloth a relief against your warm, sweaty skin.

“Feel nice?” he whispers.

You nod in response. Your chest swells at how soft he’s being, how tender. When he stands to throw the flannel back into the sink, you almost find yourself reaching out to hold him down.

He climbs over you, springing back down onto the mattress with a heaving sigh.

You prop yourself up and shimmy over, positioning yourself on top of Joel, chest-to-chest. He looks down and smirks, running a lazy hand across your cheek.

“You’re so good to me,” he mumbles.

You tilt your head with a smile and lay down on his chest. You can hear his heartrate slowly calming down. His fingers twist through your messy hair.

“I have no idea what you’re laced with,” he says, “but you got me.”

You smile. “Yeah?”

Joel nods. You shift positions, adjusting your aching hips safely between his thighs. “You hurtin’?” he asks.

You nod. “Mhm. But I like it. It’s you.”

Joel’s hands run through your hair and his fingertips trace your shoulders. His touch is so light it almost tickles. You turn your jaw and kiss the back of his hand.

“My dad gone, Sarah out, free house…” you mutter.

“Hm.”

“So, you invite your mistress over.” You lift your head, smirking at him.

Joel’s chest vibrates with laughter. “You ain’t my mistress.”

“Oh really? What am I, then?”

“I am not having this conversation at 4AM, kid. Ask me again tomorrow.”

You’d think of something to throw back at him, messing with him, but your entire body aches, and your heavy eyes are starting to fold closed with how sleepy you suddenly feel.

You pull Joel’s sheets over yourself, turning your back to him. Joel instantly follows suit, pulling up right behind you, your back tight to his chest, his thighs cupping the back of yours, then slipping one between your legs.

His arms lock around your torso under the sheets. Safe. Secure. Nothing can happen to you as long as he’s got you.

“Ten,” his voice mumbles against the back of your head.

You turn so your ear is pressed against his lips. “Huh?”

“Ten. That’s my number. Includin’ you.”

Oh.

He doesn’t ask to hear yours. You wouldn’t mind if he did, but he doesn’t. You don’t think he’s telling you to hear yours in exchange. He’s telling you because you asked. He’s telling you because, whether in attempt to turn him on or simply to know something about him that you didn’t before – something nobody else knows – it mattered to you.

He’s telling you because you matter to him.

You nuzzle back into him a little, a form of reply, and, as you start to fall asleep, you feel him place a gentle kiss to your ear.

----------

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[aegoniiwifey]

Anon who requested the chubbydaddy!aegon and his daughter <3 you did my request justice and way more I'm obsessed- I literally reread it like ten times I love it. Also another chubbydaddy!aegon request: Aegon getting requests to court/ wed his precious girl, and he ignores them all, ignores what the Small Council wants, etc and goes to her after a long day, letting her ride his belly, then breeding, then cumplay, and whatever your genius mind comes up with <3

Wanna Be Yours

PAIRING: King!Aegon ii Targaryen x daughter!fem!Reader

WORDS: 1,944.

WARNINGS: incest, swearing, angst, breeding kink, praise kink, stomach riding, cum play, titty sucking, p in v sexual intercourse. indented parts are previous scenes.

A/N - I am so so sorry for responding so late, I took a little hiatus with tumblr and am starting to find my rhythm again. I absolutely adore this trope and your ideas. so happy you enjoyed the first piece, it was an absolute privilege to write! hope this is just what you imagined also xx

Apologies I have not reread this as I finished work and my eyes are about to shut! will proof read tomorrow ♥️

credit to my beloved BOOBIE @bnb-atnite for making this godly image of my man CHUBBY! ilysm!

"Your Grace, it is highly frowned upon by the Seven that you wed your daughter! We have given many exceptions to your ancestors for upholding their queer customs, but this- This arrangement we do not condone!"

Aegon's deep exhale as his eyes darkly snapped towards the elderly maester, was enough to silence the room with his palpable vehemence. He was beyond tired and irritated by the constant nagging of his esteemed Council, of their blatant disapproval of their King's intentions to wed his beloved... His only surviving blood, his daughter.

Throughout the war, Aegon had grown insatiably protective of you: in addition to having a special place in his heart as his eldest born, you remained the last remaining figure in his previous life, despite his mother and himself. As your grandmother silently fell into madness, in the privacy of her chambers, where she preferred to seclude herself, Aegon had no other person he soulfully cherished than you. And as he was to you, the feelings had become reciprocated. Your father loved you dearly: since becoming of age, a young, matured woman, his advances had grown more intimate and lubricious. You owed him your life, and wished nothing more than to devote yourself to him. No man could have done what he did for you...

"It is done, Maester Orwyle... I will wed my daughter in the ancient traditions of our House, if it be the last damned thing I do. I am the fucking King!" Aegon loudly asserted, slamming his pudgy hand against the solid, wooden tabletop, as his words simmered the Council into a fright.

Aegon was known for his temper, although it took a great deal for him to raise his voice: he was a stubborn man at that, also...

"My dearest, what is it? What have they done now that troubles you so, hmm?"

Aegon defeatedly relinquishes in the wooden rocking chair by the stoking fire: it’s orange-red tinged flames being the only source of light emitting in the room.

You walk up behind your father, his face stern and unmoving besides his closed eyes as his hand rubbed at his temples. Your hands find their way to his broad, thick shoulders, giving them a gentle massage as you knead the tension.

“So-So tense, my beloved. Tell me what is wrong, so that I may be of some help. Let me ease your mind, Daddy.”

Aegon’s shrugging shoulders said plentiful, as he opened his eyes once more, head turning slightly to its side so that you were in his peripheral vision.

“There is nothing to be sorted, my love. I am to wed you, and as their rightful King, it is my final word above all else. Those elderly cunts can yap all they want. I will have you.”

With his final word, a yearning flare brews between your thighs, aching for one particular thing. Your father always had a way with words, especially with you.

“Is that so?” You teasingly utter, as you straddle yourself comfortably on his lap. Your arms grip the overarching wooden frame of the chair as you swiftly lift yourself up, before plopping back down, although this time elevated by your father’s overgrown, rotund belly.

Your earliest, core memories of your father had always been admiring him at feasts and family dinners. He never denied himself a hearty meal, and his grand appetite never ceased during the war. Inevitably, as the years went by and his youth disappeared the weight remained and latched on with each mouthful. The intimate moments your attention would linger onto him, as he savoured each bite, the way he'd unashamedly lick the grease and crumbs off his chubby fingers, even off the rings that had fit him a time before... Now that he had sized up immensely, most treasures and clothes that he had worn, he had rapidly outgrown. None of his rings could go beyond the tips of his fingers, and he was in great denial about it, refusing to resize until you had convinced him otherwise. The way he had often rubbed his aching, bloated belly: swollen beneath the restricting fabric, a somewhat elevated and satisfied look strewed across his handsome, fat face as he would pat himself proudly.

"But I want Daddy all to myself. I want Daddy to fight the whole realm for me, if he has to. Can Daddy do that for me?" You utter closely into his hear, your hot breath dense against his earlobe: after hastily hiking your skirt up [wearing nothing below, as you instinctively anticipated this precise moment], you unbuttoned his top garment, only to expose his rotund, plush belly. The handful of rolls engulfing his sides, the grip-able hips that accentuated his width, streaked with raw, red stretch marks all across his love handles and lower belly. His tits were double your size, nipples sensitive under your gentle touch, even a flick of his nipple was enough to make him moan. It made you flustered, the sheer sight in evidence of your father's blatant growth... And he had no shame in admitting it.

"Of course, baby. Anything for my sweet, little princess. Daddy would burn the entire realm if he has to for you... I'll repopulate the world with my princess, if needs be."

With each of his longing words, you pressed yourself down deeper, sinking your bare cunt further against his naked belly, causing him to whimper. His pudgy hands found their way beneath your layered gown, each palm rested atop your cheeks, firmly cupping and squeezing at your flesh.

"My princess knows just what to do, to make her Daddy happy, huh? My only joy in life, is you."

Your grinding rhythmic, the pace begins to quicken with excitement, as your throbbing cunt becomes moist, the wetness stirring and oozing beneath, against the warm friction. As your cum coats his smooth fat, slowly it becomes more tolerable.

"I-I just wanna make m-my Daddy proud- D-Daddy can s-say whatever, a-and I'll do as I'm t-told-"

"Is that so?" His mimicking voice, a deep growl wretched from his throat, as his hands find their strength, shoving you deeper against his swallowing frame. He always admired how tiny you appeared in comparison to him, how fragile it made you look. He rejoiced it was a symbol of how he could protect you, that he was your shelter.

"Daddy wants to fuck Princess senseless, all night long. Fill my Princess up with my hot, hot seed until I'm certain she takes. Daddy wants Princess to swell with his child, and show her off to the realm. That the babe kicking in her belly, is all his undoing, hmm."

"A-Anything for Daddy- Just f-fuck me, Aeg-"

Although it drove Aegon wild to hear you mindlessly moan and whisper Daddy, something in particular, whenever you called him by his name, would often trigger something more insatiable in him. He could devour you in the spot, like some afternoon tea honey cake, whenever you spoke of his true name.

"Undo my pants-" Immediately without sparing a thought more, you obeyed. As Aegon's plump belly expanded over his thick, wide lap, his portly fat pad beneath had somewhat engulfed his cock. It made it difficult for him to even try to locate or masturbate himself. For now, you had both learnt tricks to overcome the obstacle, having your father lean in a certain angle, as you put in the effort to locate his fat, hard cock, plunging it deep between your walls.

As he tried to reposition himself with great difficulty, in the faint space left remaining in the seat with you atop: breathless by the end of all the moving, you managed to pluck out his cock. The sheer sight and tension beneath your gentle stroking grip, its reddened, blush tip oozing with a sheer-white, translucent reside, palpating with excitement.

"Don't keep Daddy waiting, Princess. I need to feel your walls take my cock. Make you so fucking full of me, I'll make you a human waterfall."

The raw feeling of his cock between your inner walls, clenching to adjust to its girthy, solid size: although it could no longer delve as deep as it used to, the friction of his fat pad against your clit, and the pressure of his mass against your lower stomach, made it invigorating nonetheless.

"Th-That's it, Princess. S-So tight for me. All fucking mine, and the w-whole world will know it-"

"Y-Yes, Daddy-"

"If I need to fuck you with the eyes of the Court watching, I will."

As means to muffle your moans and loud pleas for Aegon, bashfully mindful of the servants and Kingsguard stationed beyond the inches of the door outside, your mouth latched onto Aegon's porky tits.

Suckling at his tender flesh, as your tongue licked at his nipple, causing him to wince and growl in eager approval, one hand left your ass cheek, gripping close your bucking hips, and found its way snaking behind your back, before pulling at your loose hair.

Tightly tugging at the free strands, mottling between his pudgy fingers, he once more, gave gentle encouragement, shoving your face down deeper against his tubby chest.

"F-Fuck Y/N. S-So impressed by Daddy, huh, Princess? You keep going at this rate, I'll be making my own damn milk for you and the babes."

Noticing the glistening residue of your cum spilled across his rolls and paunchy stomach, his other hand cleaned the mess up over with his bare hand. Before hungrily licking off your wetness with his tongue, licking his hand clean free.

"Delicious."

With his heavy, dense weight keeping him pinned down against the chair, he made no effort to thrust himself inside as he once jovially could. Alternatively, the chair swayed with his potent motions, as he would subtly buck his ample hips forward into your frame.

"My sweet, beautiful girl is gonna cum already. I can feel you swallow my cock whole, your walls suffocating my cock. Take me, princess, take it all-"

With the finish of his words, signalling his epitome, Aegon shot his hot, fresh seed into you: warmly coating your inner walls, as your own wetness gushed over his eager, hard cock. Catching a minute to regain your breaths and thoughtless mind, you lifted yourself off, and instantly the mess began to pool across your inner thighs.

Almost on cue or from impressive instinct, Aegon began to scoop at your inner thighs, sensitive from his touch, its abrupt presence startled you.

"Did I not teach you about letting things go to waste, baby? Never let this out. This is as precious as Valyrian steel. I ought to keep you plugged up with my cock..."

The tips of his fat fingers tease at the entrance of your folds, softly tracing over your stained, painful walls: impressed with your sudden shiver and moan, his deep chuckle left you feeling reminiscent of your first time. How nervous you felt, inexperienced against your father's wit.

"I-I want this to take. I want to have as many babes as the Gods see fit with you, Aeg... I want to swell healthily with child, and give you the heir you want... As many as you desire-"

As one fo your hands remained nestled against his chest, tracing soft, random lines against the crevices of his rolls: the other travelled its way to his face, pushing aside a random strand of hair, away from his handsome, fuller face.

"I want our sons to be the spitting image of their father, and our daughter's kind like their grandmother... Will Daddy fuck me day and night, to make my wish come true, hmm?"

"Of course..."

credit for dividers - @/valeskafics

[uluvjay]

Tattoos- T.Zegras

Summary: Your boyfriend looks extremely sexy while getting a tattoo

Tz x female reader!

Warnings?: SLUTTY, cursing, pain?, pet names

A/n: I hardly know anything about tattoos and this was hardly proofread so please excuse any errors!❤️

Do not repost my works as your own

Today Trevor has his first tattoo appointment out of three to get his half-sleeve finished. The guy was coming to the house like last time and Trevor was pretty much bouncing off the walls waiting.

When Trevor got his Nike tattoo last year you were out of town so you didn’t really know what to expect but still happy that your boyfriend was finally getting the tattoo he had been planning for months.

-

Your not sure what you were expecting but it definitely wasn’t that you would get horny watching your boyfriend in pain.

You were sat with your back against the opposite side of the couch with your feet in Trevor’s lap so he could hold onto one when needed and it didn’t hurt as much as It would with your hand.

You were also supposed to be planning your outfits for stagecoach in a few days but every time your boyfriend let out a light swear word or winced he took all your attention back.

You weren’t sure if it was the way his head was thrown back and his eyes were clenching as the artist took the tattoo gun over a more sensitive area of Trevor’s arm or the small grunts he was making but it had you clenching your thighs.

You couldn’t help but think about how pretty he looks from that angle when your in between his thighs on your knees and how good he taste- you needed a break from this view.

You wiggled your toes to signal for Trevor to let go so you could get up.

“Where you goin?” He asked as you stood up

“To get a drink, anyone want anything?” You asked but both men declined.

You chugged the glass of water you poured, you didn’t know what was wrong with you, how could you find your boyfriend in pain sexy? You should not have been this wet.

You must have been in the kitchen lost in your thoughts for longer than you thought because as you walked out Trevor was letting the Artist out of the house.

“All done already?” You asked slightly surprised

“Yeah we only did a majority of the outline today” he told you as he walked up to you to show you what he could from it being wrapped.

“Looks good babe” you told him as you looked at it

“You okay? Your red” he asked and you were sure your face got ten shades deeper.

“Yeah just a little hot” you told him looking down.

“You sure? Your not feeling sick or anything?” Poor boy thought you were getting sick, how were you gonna tell him you got turned on watching him get a tattoo?

“I’m sure baby, I’m feeling fine” you let him know.

“Now cmon let’s go watch our show” you said pulling him into the living room.

—

The next day you tried to get out of the house while Trevor got work done to his sleeve but you could only spend so long in the grocery store before people started to look at you weird.

And when you returned home with only four grocery bags after being gone for three hours Trevor looked at you a little weird as well.

“Were those old ladies holding up th-ahh shit” he started to ask but got cut off as the gun went over a sensitive spot.

You could already feel your core begin to throb at those simple sounds, it was pathetic honestly.

“Their names are Dolly and Marie, but yes they were holding up the deli line.” You said with a little laugh as you sat in the same place you did yesterday.

“They’re so sweet but take so lon-fuck” he once again got cut off by pain, the same pain that had you wet.

“I don’t mind it, they kind of remind me of you and Jamie” you told him with a laugh.

“Wow” he replied trying not laugh much so he didn’t move.

The conversation ended there as you turned the tv on, however it didn’t keep your attention for long as you boyfriends groans were a little louder today.

You couldn’t help but stare as you thought of all the things you wanted to do to your boy and all the things you wanted him to do to you. He was so pretty and the noises he made were even prettier.

“Baby!” You heard someone lightly shout and snap their fingers to get you out of your thoughts.

“Yeah? Sorry I zoned out” you told him getting red again

Trevor didn’t tell you because he wasn’t sure if he was right or not but he was pretty sure he saw you clenching your thighs and looking at his arm being tattooed.

“I was just asking if you could grab some paper towels please” he asked.

“Oh yeah, no problem” you said as you ran off

—

The next day Trevor decided he needed to figure out if he saw what he thought he saw, was his girlfriend really getting turned on to him in pain?

So here you were back in the same position as the last two days, your feet in his lap as you were leaned against the opposite side of the couch.

He’d been paying more attention to you then had had the past two days and he was beginning to think that his theory was right, you were getting turned on by his pain.

He noticed that every time he grunted, swore under his breath, or threw his head Back you were clenching your thighs and most of the time today you were lost in thought.

Once the sleeve was finished and he paid his artist he sat on the couch and called you in from the kitchen.

As you came in to stand in front of him he pulled you onto his lap, being mindful of his freshly done arm.

“I have a question” he said as he pulled you against him with your core right over his dick where he could feel you throbbing.

“Yeah?” You asked

“We’re you turned on by my pain?” He asked as he watched your face morph from shock to embarrassment.

“What!? No of course not” you said looking down in your laps.

“Baby?”

“Yeah?..”

“I can feel you throbbing on me” he said with a smirk as he began kissing your neck.

“Okay..maybe I did. You looked so pretty and you were making noises you do in bed” you said

“Oh I looked pretty in pain?” He asked with a grin

“Shut up” you said laughing

He didn’t reply just pulled your face down to his and kissed you nice and hard just how you liked it. He pulled your hair making you gasp and allow him to slip his tongue in your mouth and laying a smack on your ass.

“Z we can’t, I don’t want to accidentally grip your arm.” you said pulling away a from him.

“Looks like your gonna be riding me then” he told you as he pulled you back down to his lips.

—

Hope you enjoyed, thank you so much for reading!❤️❤️

[elliesbelle]

nobody compares to you

chapter 9

pairing: ellie x reader

synopsis: you're in your junior year of college and at a party, you run into the girl who broke your heart: ellie williams. despite the time it took to reset your life, will you risk a broken heart again for her?

content warnings: modern college au, cursing, angst, descriptions of and allusions to physical altercations and violence, descriptions of alcohol, dealer!ellie, more loser!ellie, mentions of smoking and marijuana, ellie's POV, minors do not interact

word count: 3.7k

chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen

series masterlist

my masterlist

i have a ko-if if you like my work so much that you feel compelled to tip me ♡︎

the "nobody compares to you" spotify playlist

featuring the song “it might be you” by stephen bishop:

Four Days Ago

“Ellie, what the fuck! Oh, shit!”

“The fuck! Th-the fuck…is your problem!”

“Shit! Ellie!”

“Chang, get…this–fuck!–cunt…off of me!”

“El–ow! Ellie!”

“I heard what you fucking said to my girl!”

“What are–shit…motherfucker!”

“Ellie, stop!”

“You..fucking…cunt!”

“Yo, bro, get the fuck off of her!”

“Is that…all…you…can do?!”

“Alright, fuck! Enough! Stop!”

Two Days Ago

Ellie had been walking around campus with her hood over her head and eyes to the ground all day. She’d been ignoring calls & texts from her friends and clients and, to her growing annoyance, Daniela. She’d attended all her classes, but she’d sit as far back as possible and avoid any interactions or eye contact. During her breaks, she’d find some remote spot behind a building or in a secluded stairwell to smoke in private.

It was late afternoon now and Ellie’d just dashed out of her last class of the day. She didn’t want to go home to her apartment where she’d get ambushed by Jesse and, most likely as well, Dina. But she had nowhere else to loiter where she’d be able to sulk and smoke in peace, and her phone was also dying.

The walk to her and Jesse’s apartment was barely ten minutes from campus, but Ellie made sure to stretch it out to almost twenty. She walked four flights of stairs instead of taking the elevator like she usually would. She couldn’t even hear the jingling of her keys over the deafening sounds of Kendrick Lamar blasting in her earphones as she unlocked the front door.

The previous evening felt completely surreal. Ellie would have assumed it was just some rage-induced nightmare if it weren’t for the throbbing pain in her black eye and bruised right hand. After Jesse was able to pry Frat Guy Adam off of her before he could do any real damage and hastily convince him that she was probably tripping off of this strong new strain she got, Ellie immediately shut herself in her bedroom for the rest of the night. The only thing Jesse could get out of her before she disappeared behind her door was, “I seriously can’t fucking believe she’s letting her fuck her again.”

As Ellie crossed the doorway of the apartment, the second verse of “HUMBLE.” was abruptly yanked out of her ears by Dina’s quick fingers.

“Jesus fuck—Dina!” Ellie fussed, irritated as she attempted to grab her earphones back.

Dina said nothing as she balled them up and shoved them into her back pocket.

“How the fuck did you even know I was coming?” Ellie grumbled, knowing full well that she, Dina, and Jesse all indefinitely shared their respective locations with each other on their phones.

“Let’s talk, El.” Dina merely sighed.

Ellie scoffed in response and held out her hand.

“Can I have my earphones back?” She asked.

“No.”

“Seriously?”

“Ellie, we need to talk!”

Ellie didn’t reply as she stomped off towards her bedroom. She was about to slam the door in Dina’s face when she was met with Jesse’s back turned to her with sandpaper in one hand and a paint scraper in the other.

“Uhh, what the fuck, dude?” Ellie asked, dropping her backpack on top of her desk.

“I knew you’d leave your knife in here for the next two months or so if I didn’t do anything about it.” Jesse replied, sanding down the area where the knife once was lodged into the wall.

Dina leaned against the doorway with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Told him that you were too attached to that thing to not yank it out yourself, but he insisted on doing it and cleaning up your mess. As per usual.” Dina said, motioning to the small bucket of white plaster by Jesse’s feet.

“Yeah, I’m not cleaning all that up, though.” Jesse said, gesturing to all the dust now covering a portion of the bedroom floor.

Ellie shrugged off her hoodie and hung it on the back of a chair. She spotted her now-unstuck switchblade on top of some books on her desk and quickly pocketed it.

“Okay, well, can you guys maybe get out of my room now?” Ellie huffed, collapsing lazily onto her bed before grabbing a comic book on her bedside table that she had previously been reading the night before.

“We can,” Dina replied. “But we’re not going to.”

Ellie rolled her eyes and flipped a page.

Jesse and Dina shared a collective look and a heavy sigh.

“Dude, we gotta talk about yesterday.” Jesse insisted. “You seriously can’t keep ignoring this.”

“What the fuck even happened, really?” Dina asked.

“What, this one didn’t tell you?” Ellie replied, nodding towards Jesse’s direction without looking up from her comic book.

“All he told me is that you got your shit rocked by some frat guy trying to buy from you.”

“Hey!” Ellie said, sitting up and throwing her hands up in the air in indignation. “I fucked him up!”

“Then why do you have a black eye?” Dina questioned.

Ellie grumbled something unintelligible and sat back down to return to reading. Dina rolled her eyes.

“All I did was introduce him to her and she just suddenly wailed on him.” Jesse explained to Dina.

“I already knew who the fuck he was.” Ellie said behind her comic book.

“Oh shit, yeah,” Jesse recalled. “She did say she remembered him, and then she went nuts.”

“Who was this again?” Dina asked, eyebrows furrowing.

“Adam Patterson from Sigma Eta.” Jesse replied.

“Yeah, I have no idea who that is.” Dina admitted.

“He came with our group to the diner the other night after the party,” Jesse said at the same time that Ellie said, “He was at Sterling’s with us.”

Dina’s knitted eyebrows straightened out in recognition.

“Oh, wait, was he that douchebag that sat next to—”

“Yes.” Ellie interrupted angrily.

Jesse and Dina immediately shared a look.

“Does this have anything to do with Abby Anderson?” Dina asked Ellie.

“Wait, what about Anderson?” Jesse questioned, eyebrows furrowing.

“You didn’t tell him?”

“Tell me wh—“ Jesse started but was cut off when his phone started buzzing furiously.

He took out his phone from his back pocket and frowned.

“Ah shit,” He muttered. “I gotta help Sidney set up with the open mic.”

“Now?” Dina asked.

“It’s every other Tuesday and I promised her.” Jesse shrugged.

He walked over to Dina to give her a quick peck on the lips before turning towards Ellie, pointing at her sharply.

“When I get back, I want to hear why the hell you’ve lost your goddamn mind.” He demanded of her before leaving the room. A few seconds passed before they heard the front door close behind him.

Dina sighed, uncrossed her arms, and strolled over to sit at the foot of Ellie’s bed. She unconcernedly shoved Ellie’s dirty Converse to the side, earning her a kick from Ellie which she easily dodged.

“Can you stop assaulting every single person you come across, Williams?” Dina said after slapping the foot that tried to punt her.

“Can you get out of my room?” Ellie asked, ignoring her question.

“Did you really try to beat the shit out of that Adam guy ‘cause of—“

“Why are we still talking about this?” Ellie immediately interjected.

“Because you’re out here attacking innocent people because of her!”

Ellie remained quiet as she sat up straight and placed her comic book back on her nightstand before replying.

“He called her a fucking queer, D.”

Dina blinked and stared at her.

“He did what?”

“When we were at Sterling’s the other night.”

“Oh, shit.” Dina whispered. “Okay, well, maybe not so innocent then.”

“No, he’s fucking not.” Ellie seethed, fists clenching.

“Okay, but it’s not really helping anyone if you get kicked out of school ‘cause you’re out here beating the shit out of some grade-A douchebag who most definitely deserved it,” Dina added, seeing that Ellie was about to interrupt. “Are you really that pissed off that she’s seeing Abby Anderson?”

“She can see whoever the fuck she wants. It’s really none of my business.” Ellie replied stubbornly.

“Ellie, c’mon, when are you going to face your fucking feelings for her for once?” Dina said. “You couldn’t man the fuck up when you were together, and now you don’t even speak to each other and you still won’t admit it.”

“Sorry that I’m too emotionally constipated for you.”

Dina rolled her eyes but then suddenly giggled.

“What?” Ellie asked.

“That’s probably the first time that you haven’t corrected me on the fact that you were together.”

Ellie kicked her softly.

“Oh, shut up.” Ellie retorted.

Yesterday

“You need to wrap that shit up better, El.” Dina said, gesturing to Ellie’s poorly bandaged right hand.

The sun was beginning to set, and Dina and Ellie’s shadows glided alongside each other on the brick pathway. Pink rays of light peeking from the sky hit Ellie’s freckles so beautifully that it almost distracted from her bruised eye.

“What? It’s fine.” Ellie shrugged.

“The wraps are already coming off, dumbass.” Dina noted.

“My bad, I’m not studying to be a doctor, unlike some people.” Ellie said, quickly murmuring the last part.

Dina merely rolled her eyes at this, refusing to engage further in Ellie’s growing vendetta against Abby Anderson.

They walked for about another ten minutes to reach the diner, chatting nonsensically about their classes and friends and some new asshole clients that Ellie had recently acquired.

Ellie had Dina laughing about her secretly charging some senior jock douchebags twice as much as usual for shamelessly hitting on her when they walked through the doors of Sterling’s. Ellie suddenly felt a strange ache in her stomach as they entered the restaurant. When she felt wary eyes on her, her discomfort was immediately explained.

Her gaze unintentionally met yours, her ocean green eyes widening in shock. The expression on your face mirrored her thoughts as her freckles turned bright pink. You both turned to your friends simultaneously in panic.

“Dina, what the fuck!” Ellie hissed.

“What?” Dina said, not realizing the situation they’d walked into.

“Did you do this shit on purpose?” Ellie demanded of her.

“What the hell are you going on about?” Dina asked, still clueless as she was busy looking around for the diner’s hostess.

“Can you please use your eyes for one second?”

“Wh—” Dina began but stopped suddenly when she saw what had caught Ellie’s rapt attention.

“Goddamn it,” Dina muttered. “Alright, hang on.”

Ellie watched as Dina marched over to the small table where you and Jesse were having dinner. Her eyes fell on you once more, remembering the last time she saw you with Abby Anderson. She suddenly felt a pang of guilt wash over her when she thought about the last conversation you’d had in the bathroom of this same diner, her eyes tearing away from your figure to stare at her old Converse.

God, I’m such a fucking dickhead.

She teetered back and forth on her feet as she felt shame seeping through her bones. She didn’t look back up until the diner’s hostess approached her.

“Hi, how many in your party?” She asked.

“Oh, uh, no. I’m here for pick-up?” Ellie replied.

“Oh gotcha, what’s the name?”

“It should be under Dina Woodward.”

“Okay! One second, ma’am.”

Ellie watched as the hostess headed to the back as Dina made her way back towards her.

“What the hell, D?” Ellie hissed.

“Seriously, I didn’t know!” Dina replied, throwing her hands up defensively.

“This isn’t funny!”

“El, I swear to god, I really had no idea they were gonna be meeting here.”

“You didn’t tell me that Jesse was hanging out with her tonight!”

“That didn’t seem like information relevant to you.” Dina said, crossing her arms.

“How is it not—”

“She’s not your fucking girlfriend, Ellie.” Dina pointed out.

Ellie looked taken aback as the hostess reappeared before them.

“Order for Dina Woodward?” She said, holding out a plastic bag.

“Yes?” Dina replied, but before she could reach for the food, Ellie had already grabbed it with her left hand and angrily shoved the entrance door open with her right.

She stomped away from the diner several feet away before Dina could catch up to her, far away enough for Dina not to catch the tears that she struggled to keep from falling.

Present Day

Ellie lays on her sheets, head at the foot of her bed and dinosaur sock-covered feet propped up on one of her pillows. She was senselessly and poorly strumming on her guitar. It was Friday evening and she was bored and all alone in the apartment, Jesse and Dina having gone out together on a movie date. She had contemplated going to the gym as she usually did whenever she was in a mood, but Dina had reprimanded her about her injured state enough that Ellie relented on spending a lonely night in. She strums lousily on the guitar with her injured hand, ignoring the throbbing of her wounded knuckles.

She’d finally texted Daniela back earlier that day, apologizing spiritlessly for not replying back sooner. She humoured Daniela’s flirty texts for a while until Ellie asked for Joel’s old jacket back, to which Daniela offered to come over to her apartment tonight to return. Feeling her intent, Ellie put her off by saying she had plans to meet up with several new clients all night and offered to meet up with her the next day instead. Ellie’d groaned when Daniela quickly responded with a text saying “it’s a date ;)” and immediately regretted the situation she’d pulled herself into.

Her fingers begin mindlessly plucking a succession of concordant chords, and it isn’t until a few moments later that she realizes she’d started to play an old love song that she remembers you’d liked so much.

It was an old 80s song called “It Might Be You” by Stephen Bishop. She’d often hear you thoughtlessly humming it to yourself or singing along to it when you’d put on your nearly ten-hour 80s playlist. She’d subsequently learned how to play it on the guitar to possibly serenade you with it eventually, only to never have the courage to do so when you were together.

Ellie exhales woefully, setting her guitar down next to her.

Why is she still everywhere?

She sits up to properly lay herself on her bed, flopping her head down onto her pillow before reaching for her phone that was charging on her nightstand.

Time to be a loser as usual again, Williams.

She sighs pathetically as she opens up Instagram once more, switching from her main account back over to br!ck_master2013. Even though Instagram already showed her recent searches (consisting only of you), she feels a pathetic sense of fulfillment typing out your entire username herself. Ellie taps on that same mirror selfie of yours which leads her to your profile.

You still have no new posts from the last time she checked, but she sees that you’d added something to your story sometime within the past day. She ignores the uneasiness in her stomach as she taps on the orange and purple circle to view what you’d posted.

You’d shared a few mutual aid posts earlier this morning (to which Ellie promptly saves to later donate to after her slight stalking), a picture that some of your old high school friends had posted of an up-and-coming band they were currently in, and a couple of new stories that causes Ellie to abruptly shoot up from her bed and promptly unplugging her phone from the wall.

“What the fuck?” She mutters out loud to herself, not in reference to the unceremonious way she stopped charging her phone, but to the Instagram stories that you were posting in real time.

Ellie taps furiously as she realizes that you were out tonight at the lesbian bar by campus, the Bow and Arrow. With Abby Anderson.

She makes a wild guess that you were likely drunk at the moment, judging by the silliness of your story captions. Your first bar-related story is a selfie you’d taken of yourself with the caption, “me going out to a bar to get smacked instead of being an old lady at home? quick, someone call the pope.” Despite the low lights of your environment, Ellie recognizes the shade of dark red lipstick you’re wearing.

That’s the lipstick she was wearing when—

Her thoughts are interrupted by her app automatically jumping to the next story, which was of you toasting your half-empty plastic cup with others that were being held up by faceless hands with the caption, “liquor, i hardly know her.” Ellie couldn’t help but chuckle out loud at your stupid joke. She would have bet her Jeep, her whole stash of weed, her beloved switchblade, and her entire precious comic book collection that the drink you had in your hand was a vodka cranberry.

Your next Instagram story drops a cast steel anvil down Ellie’s stomach.

It was a shaky picture of Abby Anderson making a mockingly pouty face towards the camera, holding out a credit card in one of her hands. It looked as if she and you were sitting at the bar, waiting to be served by a bartender. Your caption read, “hey siri, how do you beat up a buff, jacked lesbian who lives at the gym and won’t stop paying for your drinks all night.”

Ellie notices that you’d tagged Abby’s Instagram handle on the side and she promptly taps on it with trembling fingers. She huffs at her phone when she’s brought to Abby’s profile and sees that it’s set to private. She falls back onto her pillow and sighs.

“Ellie!!” You yelled after her as she stomped out of the Bow and Arrow.

She said nothing as she exited the bar and veered left into an empty backstreet lit only by the moonlight and a dim streetlamp.

Ellie walked further into the alleyway until she was a safe distance from any passersby. She took out a metal tin from one of her jacket’s front pockets and pulled out a tightly-wrapped joint. She tucked it between her teeth as she reached into a front pocket in her jeans for a lighter, promptly lighting the tip of the joint. She inhaled for a few seconds, letting the drug seep throughout her enraged body, then released an exhale towards the starry night sky.

She heard the agitated clicking of high heels and glanced down towards the main street to inspect whoever was approaching her. You were rubbing your hands up and down your arms, your favourite black boots nearly skipping down the alleyway to desperately generate heat in the frigid, unforgiving December air. You followed the familiar scent of lavender-laced marijuana into the dark street, spotting Ellie smoking alone.

Ellie watched as your shivering figure walked towards her, your despondent eyes eventually reaching her furious green ones.

“Smoking one of my js without me?” You teased.

“Your js?” Ellie asked, chuckling despite herself.

“Well, it’s my recipe.” You said, yanking the joint from her fingertips to place it between your lips which were painted with a dark shade of red.

“Oh, please, all you do is add buds of crushed lavender into them.” Ellie scoffed as the tip of the joint lit up once more from you taking a hit of it.

“Lavender buds are a key ingredient to creating these primo joints. It’s an intricate part of the process; ergo it is a recipe.” You insisted after blowing the residual smoke to the side.

“Besides,” You added. “You talk a whole lot of smack for someone who seems to copy my recipe all the time now, both for her clients and for herself.”

Ellie would have usually bantered with a witty retort, but she instead settled for an indignant huff.

After a few more hits, you handed the joint back to her.

“You done?” She asked you.

“Mhmm.”

She nodded, putting out the joint on the wall she was leaning against and placing what was left of it back in her metal tin. You stared at her as she did this, noticing that she was purposely refusing to make eye contact with you.

“Els.” You said.

“Mm?”

“Show me your hand.” You sigh.

“No.”

“El, babe, come on.” You insisted.

She exhaled and relented when her cheeks blushed at the term of endearment, holding out her right hand to you.

You took it in between both of yours, attempting to examine it under the dull yellowish light of the streetlamp. Your fingertips softly brush against her knuckles.

“Okay, not so bruised thankfully.” You murmured. “Does it hurt?”

Ellie merely shrugged in response.

“Els…” You whined at her stubbornness.

“I’m fine.”

You stared at her serious expression, still unable to get her to look at you.

“You dummy.” You chuckled lightly.

Ellie huffed.

You stroked her hand a couple more times before lightly placing a kiss on her slightly injured knuckles.

Despite the frigid winter air, Ellie immediately felt every part of her go up in flames. The only chilly part of her body was her hand which you’d brushed your cold lips against just moments before.

“Here,” She said, pulling her hand away from you so she could shrug off Joel’s old motorcycle jacket from her shoulders and place it on yours. “Baby, you’re fucking freezing.”

“El—”

“You’re freezing.” She repeated.

You smiled slightly before caving in to say, “Maybe a little bit.” Ellie chuckled.

“Elliie…” You began. “You didn’t have to do all that—”

“I know.”

“But—”

“I know.”

You tried to decipher her unreadable expression, your heart ready to burst as it beat rapidly in your chest.

“Why, Ellie? Why’d you have to take it to that extreme?”

Ellie’s ocean-green eyes were fierce and resolved. She brings her mildly bruised hand up to your face to intimately caress your cheek.

“You know why.” She whispers, finally meeting your gaze.

“I—”

The memory of staring into your eyes causes Ellie’s own to shoot open.

She’s still in her room, laying on her bed all alone with her phone on her chest and guitar on her side. The images of you in the alleyway of the Bow and Arrow replay alongside those of you and Abby so boldly displayed on your Instagram story tonight.

Ellie remains so engrossed in her own thoughts that she doesn’t notice all the hot tears rapidly streaming down her face. She grips her sheets and sighs.

“Baby, I’m so sorry.” She whispers to no one.

Maybe she’ll forgive me one day.

author’s notes:

so sorry for taking so long to write this! life has been hectic and messy lately, plus y’all know i’m a bit insecure about writing ellie.

thank me by liking and reblogging this because tumblr is acting tf up on my laptop and i had to do the majority of this on my phone

adam's name originally was a reference to a background character in tlou2, but his last name is loosely inspired by some asshole dude i dated once back in college named adam (who i kind of also home-wrecked but i really don't regret doing so lol)

anyway, while you’re here, go check out the new smau series i’m working on called “almost like we knew” ♡︎

taglist: @lonelyfooryouonly, @elliesinterlude, @sawaagyapong, @peppesgirl, @iconsoft, @maybeidohaveadhd, @ellieswifee, @valiantllamapersonpony-blog, @nil-eena, @echostinn

@uraesthete, @softbunlvr, @cherriesxinthespring, @amitycat, @thefishymissy, @yevheniiaaaa, @machetegirl109, @bertandfearnie, @ximtiredx, @efam

@elliesnumber1gf, @digit4lslut, @tayyyystan, @emothurman, @livvy-2000, @abigaillovestoread, @gold-dustwomxn, @liabadoobee, @yuckyfucky, @qtefolleunpez

@libr4sonsa, @17luv, @robinismywifee, @villainousbear, @ashlynnnnnnnn15, @scarlettadore, @vianna99, @g0n3girls, @totheblood, @embermdk

@awyunh, @kenz-ee, @marvelwomen-simp, @eleactric, @simpforellie, @omgidksblog, @anxiouso, @nyrastar, @lillysbigwilly, @hopeless-y

@elliesbabygirl, @alexpritch, @thestarsanctuary, @aethelwyneleigh27, @cass00x, @liabadoobee, @mulan-but-gay, @carmellie, @destielcore, @tfuuka

@elliewilliamsmissingfingerss, @sagestuffing, @ewwitsbella, @igoferalforelliewilliams, @miaelliesgfxoxo, @saturnvalentine, @elysiagyaru, @asteroidzzzn, @gay4jinx, @97cityy

@joliettes, @p1llowthoughtss, @ellieslegalwife

[journalsofsarila]

geto suguru × reader fanfic

also posted on ao3 here : https://archiveofourown.org/works/56263207

word count : 5229

status : finished

summary : ten years after your breakup you meet you ex Suguru.

let me love you again?

You pulled your coat closer to protect yourself from the sharp air of the evening, the wind blew from time to time filling your senses with the smell of late autumn. The sky was downcasted in warm orange as the sun made its way down west.

The restaurant they chose for the reunion was big and expensive, the interior was decorated in traditional Japanese style. As you entered the venue a worker came and took your coat from you. The heater was on, allowing you to take comfort in the warmth of the place. The waiter led you to a private room.

“Y/N! Here! ” Shoko patted on the seat beside her upon seeing your confused state.

You looked to your right and saw your brown haired friend calling for you. The bags and dark circles around her eyes made you frown, she clearly wasn't sleeping well.

“Shoko” you smiled and went to sit beside her. It has been over a decade since you last saw her. Due to both of your busy schedules you two couldn't meet, now that one of your other classmates arranged a reunion for your batch you finally got the chance to meet her. It was refreshing seeing an old face which made you nostalgic of your high-school days. In school you two had been very close, she was one of the only real friends you were able to make. She found you at the right time, when you had been backstabbed by a group of friends. Though you don't hold that over them anymore, it was easier to forget them thinking that they were only a bunch of teenagers back then.

You two catched up over some drinks while other classmates came in, soon filling the whole venue. Almost everyone came, which was quite shocking as most of you were busy now.

Then a white haired man came in, his tall stature and bright looks instantly catching everyone's interest. Being a star athlete, playing for one of the most famous basketball teams in the world will give you that attention. Even so you were looking around Gojo, hoping to see a darker shade of hair beside him. Another player. Geto Suguru. If Gojo was in the country, then he must also be. You didn't mean to look for him, or hope for it when you came in, you promised yourself that you wouldn't. But as your lungs needed air you ached for him. It had been shameful, kind of; to find yourself looking for that man even after all these years. You slumped in your seat at no sight of him.

“I'll go meet him. Do you want to come?” your friend asked you. Shoko and Gojo had been friends since elementary school, long before you even met her. She and the other two boys were a popular trio in your school, always the root of problems and chaos. They were the reason your school life had been somewhat lively. Though she was close with Gojo you never found yourself being the best of friends with him. You were close but not much. Part of the reason why was because you were too anxious to get close with them, yes you knew Shoko would never judge you for it. Rather she would have encouraged it, you being a part of the group but your shy nature refrained you from doing so. You didn't want to enter an already well established group, and also because you were comfortable with the position you were in. Maybe because he was there too but you didn't know now, at least not after the messy breakup you and Suguru had.

“Uh I'm fine. I think I'm gonna go and get some fresh air.” you replied while getting up from your seat. Your legs were cramped from sitting on the floor for too long.

As you strolled around the balcony you reminisced about your ex boyfriend. You two must have been 16 back then, when you first started dating him. It was out of nowhere, you thought to yourself. Shoko had just introduced you to Geto and Gojo. They played basketball for your school, and they were really fucking good at it. So much so that their nickname had been ‘the unbreakable duo’. It was after school, they were practising in the school gym when you first saw him.

Geto Suguru moved so effortlessly, so powerfully and your eyes followed every movement of his. The way he jumped, the way he synced with his friend, the way he blocked the other players, how he screamed of joy when he landed the ball through the hoop. Everything about him was intoxicating. And god was he attractive, his hair was tied in a manbun, giving you a clear view of his face. The boy was well built and tall in his own right. It was obvious that you were attracted to him, and then he saw you gawking at him so he winked at you and poof your hormones went crazy.

Over the next few weeks you got to know him when Shoko used to drag you to his practice matches, saying ‘I'll link you two up’. Apparently she had catched up on you checking out her friend and decided to take matters into her own hands. He was friendly enough, and he made you laugh. He made you laugh so much that there were instances where you had to clasp his mouth so that he couldn't speak anymore. Suguru was usually talkative, filling in the silence when you didn't speak, or sometimes you both chose to sit together without talking. It was new and it was exciting.

Both of you exchanged numbers, and he started calling you whenever he could. After his practice, after your study lessons in the library, on school nights, on weekends. It was obvious that there was something blooming between you two. Something much more passionate and vulnerable than friendship.

It was right after they had won in the nationals, when he had asked you out. You weren't that shocked to be honest, getting slight hints from both Gojo and Shoko that they were hiding something from and you had guessed it. Geto was so happy, he picked you up right in front of the crowd and spinned you.

“Let me be your boyfriend.” he said while putting you down, his hands firmly holding your waist.

“Okay.” you pressed a soft peck on his jaw and smiled against it.

2 years later you broke up with him in front of the same basketball stadium. He had told you that basketball was his everything and you supported his passion for it. You had asked him, if he seriously wanted a career out of basketball but he had said no, he lied. Suguru told you that he would get a normal office job and you believed him. You thought you knew him. What you didn't know was that he had gotten the offer to move to the States to play for their team and that he said yes.

You remember being furious, how could he tell you about such a big decision only a month before his flight? To say that you were angry would be an understatement, you were livid.

“Fuck, how can you lie to me?” you screamed at him.

“I didn't want to, I only lied because I wasn't sure back then but now it's confirmed. I'm going next month and t-” he tried to explain to you.

“No Suguru, why couldn't you tell me the truth about what you wanted? You lied to me. And now you're leaving for another country? What about me?”

“I know, but I-ill make it work. Maybe you can move-” he was starting to get nervous.

“I am not leaving Japan! I never wanted to! You know what my goals are, unlike you I wasn't lying about my plans.”

“Try to understand Y/n. I didn't tell you before because I wasn't sure. My father would never allow it, but now I've got a scholarship and a plane ticket in my hand. I lied because I genuinely believed I couldn't have a career as a player."He held you by your arms. “This is my dream.”

“And what about mine?” you asked him, tears and snot smearing your pretty face. He hated seeing you like this, he never intended to hurt you.

His family hadn't been the most supportive about his obsession with basketball, and didn't see a future with it. Consequently he also thought that it was a meaningless dream. But after he had won the nationals his coach informed him about the requirement requests he was getting. He was over the moon when he saw the man, dressed in an expensive suit telling him and Gojo about getting drafted. Right then and there he made the decision, he was going to fulfil his dreams.

As he saw your broken state in front of him he understood that his decision was selfish, you were his girlfriend and deserved to know.

“We can do long distance.” he suggested.

“I can't do it Suguru…..” you said.

“Why can't you? We can make it work if we want to..I promise I'll call you anytime I can. And I'll visit you from time to time.” Suguru was starting to get frustrated now.

“This isn't what I want and you know it. You know about my family and I just don't trust that life…..I can't do it. It's too unpredictable. I am sorry..” you were having hiccups from crying too much and your head hurt. Your older sister was in a long distance relationship and was madly in love with her husband. Then one day she found out that he was cheating on her, not being able to digest the betrayal she had turned to alcohol. It had torn you apart to see your kind and smart sister ruin herself for a man that wasn't loyal to her. This was the reason you hated liars so much, you despised them. And the fact that he had lied to you about such an important thing made you scared. What if he lied to you again?

“Are you thinking that I might cheat on you?” Suguru took offence to the implication that he might.

You looked up at him, a strange anger in your eyes “ You lied to me once.”

He had loved you dearly and couldn't believe that you would suspect his loyal for you. He thought he couldn't be with someone who didn't trust him.

Suguru swallowed hard “Okay then.” He let your arms go.

“We're over.” You said and turned your back to him. That was the last thing you ever told him.

The strong smell of cigarettes hit your nose, pulling you out of your thoughts. You looked back expecting to see Shoko but instead you were met with the man of your past.

Geto Suguru was standing in front of you, standing all in his glory. Just like always his stance was as though he owned the place, puffed chest and one hand in his pocket. Without registering anything your eyes roamed around his body, he looked more buff than he was in high-school and his hair was longer. You noticed as they were let down, framing his perfect face. And wait did he get taller?

Fuck I'm staring.

You pulled yourself together but then you saw his eyes, and it was obvious that he was doing the same to you. Taking in all the details, all the changes that may have occurred since the last time he saw you.

But there was something more to his eyes, some longing, some anger and a lot of hurt. You could say the same for yourself as with each second passing by you felt the lump in your throat get tighter. He was right there in front of you, physically, not inside the pictures you kept to yourself, not inside the stories Shoko told you over the phone.

He was right fucking there but you couldn't do anything about it, you couldn't go up to him and pull him into a hug, you couldn't kiss him, or run your fingers through his silky hair, you couldn't love him the way you wanted. The only reason is because you broke up with him.

“Smoking doesn't look good on an athlete.” you managed to say.

“Not much of an athlete anymore.” he replied, flicking the cigarette on the floor and stepping on it.

Oh. During one of his last games he had a collision with a player of the opposite team, leading him to fall in an awkward position. He was quickly pulled out of the game. His agency said it was a minor leg strain, that he would be able to join in the next games very soon. Then that season ended, and now another one has started but there has been no sign of his comeback. There has been a rumour going around that the injury is much more than a minor setback and that his basketball career has come to an end. His fans went feral over it, calling it baseless going as far as doxxing the person who posted it. It was national news, every eye was set on him. Just two weeks before he had made a statement that he'll be back next month but people were sceptical about it.

His reply just now made you wonder if the rumour was actually true. That possibility made someone ache in you, an unknown hurt which pulsed through your body. You didn't want his career to end, basketball has been everything and more to him. So much that it ruled every decision around him, which was more or less the reason you guys chose to seperate.

“I am sorry, I didn't mean to-” you nervously tried to lighten the atmosphere.

He chuckled and the sound was so familiar, like the lullaby your mom used to sing to you when you were young. It made you feel safe, made the pace of your heartbeat faster. He stepped closer to you. If you reached your hand out you could touch him, pull him in. If you did.

“I am not complaining, lost too many things because of being one.”

“Are you okay though? You're not hurt?” You couldn't have not asked him, you needed to know if he was alright.

“Completely fine.” He spins and gives you a full body check.

You smiled at his silly tactics “Really you are?”

“Of course I am.” He answered and looked at you with a reassuring face.

There isn't a word from you for a while, he leaves you speechless as always. A sudden shiver went down your spine, it was starting to get windier. You shuddered in your place, looking around. You didn't know what to say, what to do.

“I-i should go,it's getting late. But it was nice seeing you. Really. M-”

He lowers his gaze from you and it burns through you. You swallow hard, try not to let him affect you. Then he tilts his head to the side and he looks so beautiful. It takes everything in you not to run your fingers through his hair.

“Let me take you home?” he asks. Half pleading and half hoping.

The first instinct for you is to say no, but then in the push and pull between your brain and heart, the latter wins. You say yes. You think that it can't hurt to take a favour from an old friend, or an ex. Maybe it would be okay to spend some more time in his presence, maybe you can pretend that his name doesn't make your heart drop to your stomach.

So now you're in his car, you didn't know the car brand but you understood that it was expensive. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, fiddling with your hands unsure of what to do. The amount of times you made eye contact with him in the rear view mirror is embarrassing. You let out a cough as it happened for the 5th time. He turned on the radio, probably to ease the tension between you two. The radio played boring games so you chose to change channels when suddenly it started to play an old tune.

“Hey isn't it that one song? White lies? What's the band name again?”

“Tameless.” You both say at the same time.

He lets out a laugh, “ Apparently they disbanded last year.”

“What? No way.” you said.

“Yes way.”

“Damn, I can't believe they disbanded. It makes me feel like I'm getting old.”

“You know I met them.” he smirks and it makes your heart skip a beat.

“Yeah, at their last concert in New York, met them backstage and all.” he states with a snarky smile.

“Fuck you I'm so jealous.” you leaned back “How was the States?” You said trying to make a conversation.

“Amazing food. Interesting tourist places. Better basketball courts. A lot of faces though, too many of them. Too loud at times. You can get lost, you know. But I made some good friends. So I guess it compensates.”

“Hmm” it itched to ask him if he found another woman but the rational part of you refrained from doing so. It was none of your business.

“And how was Tokyo University? Miss. Scholarship Student?” it was him teasing you, the good kind of teasing.

“Hah it was awesome. Very fucking stressful at times but very cool. Met so many cool people-”

“Any cool boyfriends?” he asked. A part of you sighed in relief at the hint that he might still care, another part sighs in frustration at the same hint.

“No.” It's true, you didn't date anyone in your university days. Or after that. Maybe it was because you just didn't find someone captivating or someone you actually cared for. Maybe it was because from time to time you still thought about an ex from high-school.

“You?” you asked.

“Nah.” he went quiet for a while and then asked “Hookups?”

“A few…you?”

“Same.”

You don't know why he asked that, and you don't know why you answered. Was it normal for people to ask their exes about their dating game? You didn't know. The only dating experience you had was from him.

There were many articles about the ‘dating life’ of star athlete, Geto Suguru. All sources say one thing, that he hasn't been in any long term relationship and every time he's asked about his girlfriends he avoids the question. Till now you thought he was just trying to keep his relationships private, which did make you a bit bitter honestly. But maybe there were no secret relationships to be bitter about in the first place.

“Turn left on the next corner.” you inform him. The rest of the car ride only old country music from the radio can be heard.

Soon you're in front of your apartment complex. How should you say goodbye? Can you hug him? No, that'd be weird. Handshake? No, that's too formal. High fiv-

“Finally got yourself an apartment here huh?” he asked you while opening the car door for you.

He remembered that? You always planned on getting an apartment here, on the west side of central Tokyo. You were not fond of the buzzling city life, but for the sake of your studies and work you had to stay here. So from earlier on you had chosen this place, it was located around the outskirts of the city, allowing you to be away from the busy skyscrapers and bright lights of the city. The building was nice and clean, looked after and most importantly, close to Mt.Mitake.

The surface of your cheeks turned a shade of pink hue, he remembered that. It doesn't seem like much but to you it was. Because it was him.

“Yes, the rent is good. Place is clean. And you can see the mountain from here.”

“You're still obsessed with mountains?” he asked as his face cracked wide into a smile.

“How can I not? They're so pretty.” His smile made you feel shy, it did back then. It still does. You don't know what that means but you're glad that they still affect you. You leaned on his car on your side. There was part of you who didn't want to say goodbye to him. There was also a part telling you that it would have been silly to ask him to come upstairs.

Suguru's smile rested on his face, he didn't say anything. He just stared at you, taking everything in. He was equal parts anxious and stressed, that if you left now he won't see you anymore. That there will be another ten years that he'll only have your memories, that he won't be able to touch you, take in your sweet vanilla perfume, won't be able to breathe near you. It terrified him.

You noticed the look in his face, and you could tell he didn't want to let go. This fact put a sense of relief in you. Even after years of not seeing him, you could tell if he was upset. You didn't lose him completely, in the nooks and crannies he left behind, he was still your boy.

“Wanna check it out?” You asked, curious to see his reaction.

His face lit up with your question, “Sure.” His answer satisfied you.

“Let's go then.” You chuckled.

The apartment you had to yourself was too big for you. There were two bedrooms, a large kitchen and a living room. Definitely one meant to be shared, though you didn't mind having all that space to yourself. The extra room you had was made into a working space by your labour, and sometimes when you had friends over you pulled an air mattress and used the place as a guest room.

“Sorry if it's messy, I have been so busy so I couldn't properly clean the place.” You said as you unlocked the main door.

“Excuse me, '' Suguru said while entering the house. That sight did a weird flip back to your heart, the reason you didn't know. But it was an odd and new feeling. Both of you went inside the living room, as you flipped on the switch you immediately started to tidy the room. It wasn't dirty or anything, just a few pillows on the sofa rearranged and an empty glass of water on the coffee table. Strangely, for some reason the thought of him thinking that you were messy embarrassed you to infinity and beyond.

He chuckled from behind “Stop pretending like I am a VIP guest, Y/n.”

“You are tho.” you replied. Indeed he was a big deal, and right now you had Geto fucking Suguru inside your apartment.

“Not to you.” His response makes you halt in your position. You look back and he was staring at you with a sad smile on his face. You smiled back, “Not to me.”

Feeling a light brush against your legs you looked and giggled immediately.

“Hah, there you are my pretty princess ~~” you picked your cat up to your arms.

“Oh she's so cute. When did you get her?” Geto cooed as he watched a bundle of white fluffiness cuddle into your arms.

“Hmm it's been 3 years I guess? Adopted her from my cousin.”

“Riko?” he scratched your pet on the head.

“Yeah..wanna hold her?” you said while sitting down on the sofa and patted down on the empty space next to you. “Make yourselves comfortable”

He sits down beside you, closer than how a ‘friend’ would have sat. But you two weren't really friends, right?

“She won't bite?” he asked as he took your cat from you.

“Kuna is a cuddly baby actually.” you replied. “See?” you let out a laugh as your cat settled herself onto your ex-boyfriend's lap.

“Fuck she's so cute.” Suguru stated.

“Tea or coffee?” you stood up. He was technically a guest after all and you needed to treat him properly.

“You're really asking me that?” he looked up from petting Kuna.

“Tea it is.”

Over tea you and Suguru shared stories from the past years. He told you all about his adventures from the States and the countries he visited, the apparent ‘celebrity’ life and you told him about your university life and much gossip from that time. In between stories, when both of you got tired you two chose to appreciate each other in silence. It was nostalgic and made you remember your high school days. The time spent with him made you realise how much of him you had missed, how many special moments had slipped from the gaps of your fingers while you two were miles away from each other.

It was not long after your breakup you realised that you shouldn't have ended things with him. Yes he had lied to you, but you understood why. A part of you wished you had forgave him back then and instead of leaving him, you should have congratulated him. Maybe you could have done long distance, maybe you wouldn't have suffered the same fate as your sister.

Geto thought the same. He regretted leaving you from the moment you had turned your back to him and now when you were in front of him, 10 years older and 10 years far from him he held a bitter grudge over the past. He thought to himself that he should have tried harder, persuaded you more. But in the end both of you gave up on difficult decisions.

The sun had started to rise when both of you noticed the time.

“Oh god, we talked for like hours.” you said as faint rays sunlight started to peer in from the window. You got up, opened the curtains and you could see the sun was starting to rise. Turning back you gestured to him to come join you by the windows. Suguru came and stood beside you, brushing your shoulders with his upper arm.

“I missed these.” His voice was soft and gentle. You could feel his eyes on you. Both of you were sentimental, finding joy in the simplest of things. One of the activities you two loved to do together was to watch sunsets. You remember, how many times you both had sneaked out of your houses just to watch the sun go up.

“Me too.” you responded. Suguru and you were staring at each other and you could see his face get softer as each second passed by. You had to admit, you still loved the guy. There were years of pretending that you had moved on, that you didn't care anymore, that he was just some guy you used to date but all of those were a lie, a facade of some sort.

Truth was, he still ruled every living thought of you, you still care, you still were so hopelessly in love with him. Before tonight, that fact terrified you. But just some hours spent with him gave you a faint hint of hope, a chance at saying that maybe, just maybe you both could find your way back.

He sighed heavily, not breaking eye contact with you, “I shouldn't have let you go.” he said and you felt the world stop.

“Suguru….”

“It's the truth. I still love you. I still care. These years I've been saying to myself that I would be fine, maybe I'll forget about you but I simply can't. Morning, noon, night I think about it. I wonder all day if you ate properly, if you're having a hard time, if some other guy is making you laugh and it kills me. It kills me that I can't hold you at night, it kills me that I am not yours anymore.”

You didn't realise when you had started crying, “You're mine Suguru…and I'm still yours. I-i am sorry I shouldn't have broken up. I was just so scared that you were leaving and I was mad at you for lying. Your situation was justified and I was supposed to be sympathetic. Sorry. You were also having a hard time and I was being selfish.” You quickly responded, your chest heavy. You felt like if you didn't speak now you would lose him again.

“No it's my fault too. My ego was getting to my head. I shouldn't have lied. You had deserved the truth but I didn't give you that. Shouldn't have let you go in the first place; I should have waited there until you stopped being mad at me.” He cupped your cheeks, and an old feeling rushed through your body. You were relieved.

“Gosh- I was so stupid. When you told me about the states, all the worst possibilities came to mind, and I got scared. Fuck, I missed you so much.” You put your arms around him, and he instantly hugged you back. “I didn't know what to do without you.” Your face was pressed against his muscular chest, and you could hear the loud beats of his heart.

“It's okay now. You'll be fine.” Suguru rested his chin on top of your head.

For some time, you two stayed in that position, both somewhat exhausted and high on adrenaline. The dark-haired male realised just how much he needed you back. This time, he was going to make sure he worked it out.

“Let me love you again. Y/n? Please?” He pleaded, and that hurt you. Still, seeing him upset made your stomach churn.

“What about—what about basketball?” You questioned him.

“I still want to do it. But I want to do it with you. Every fucking possibility that I can even face, I want to face with you. All the good days and the bad ones, I want you by my side.” With every word that rolled out of his mouth, you felt yourself falling for him even more. You never thought anyone could fathom having you as a life partner, but there Geto Suguru was, with tear stains on his face and messy hair, showing you his raw heart. He was a miracle in your life—an epiphany, a constant.

You thought about it for a minute. There was an unknown future waiting. A future where anything and everything could happen. You thought maybe two years from now you would be in the worst position of your life. Or you could be in a very blessed situation. But in both instances, you thought that if he wouldn't be there, then you didn't want that future. You didn't want that life; you had lived it once, and you hated it.

He asked you once again, “Can I be yours again?”

“Yes, yes, you can.” A simple answer. An honest one. But as soon as you said you felt the weight of the shoulders lift from your chest,.

He let out an airy laugh, and the sound of it made you feel light on your heels. You were delighted to have your lover back. Suddenly, Suguru picked you up and spun you around.

Deja vu.

When he let you down, you put a gentle kiss on his jaw, and he smiled brightly like the sun.

"Welcome back home."

[youunravelme]

drops of jupiter pt. 2

author’s note: lol i accidentally posted the beginning of this part in part one, so if you saw that, no you didn’t. again, this is not a super light read, deals heavily with depression, though it’s never explicitly stated. think liability by lorde/this is me trying by taylor swift. also i’m sorry for the amount of shrugging and sighing in this fic and the first part. every character is in a constant state of idk.

warnings: cursing, drinking/getting drunk, depression

summary: being friends with your ex wasn’t the dumbest thing you’ve ever done, breaking up with him took that slot.

prompts: “I thought I was going to lose you.” / “i just need you.” / “what the hell were you thinking? / “i don’t know who you think i am but i’m not leaving.” / “feel my fucking heartbeat right now and tell me i don’t love you.”

then

“we need to get up,” jack mumbled into your neck, his arm strewn over your waist.

“why?” you asked. “we’re on vacation.”

“vacation with my family. i wouldn’t put it past my brothers to harass us any minute now.”

you hummed and snuggled further into your pillow.

a bang pounded on the door that had you both flinching. you clutched the comforter to your chest even though you were both fully clothed.

“jack get up! we’re going to work out.” you heard quinn’s voice on the other side of the door, and if you listened closely, you could hear luke snickering.

“we’re on vacation!” you called back. “come back at a reasonable hour.”

“7 is reasonable!” quinn replied.

"in what world?” you groaned. but jack got up anyway, tossing on a clean shirt and a pair of joggers. “wait, where are you going?”

jack walked over and kissed your forehead. “go back to sleep, i’ll see you later.”

you watched him walk out before shutting your eyes and succumbing to sleep once more. when you woke up next, you went downstairs and were met with ellen standing at the kitchen island eating toast and eggs.

“you’re awake!” ellen greeted. “want some breakfast?”

you nodded and took a seat at the island. “but i can make it--”

“absolutely not. you’re a guest here, and guests don’t make breakfast for themselves.” she turned around and started cracking eggs into a pan before tossing some toast in the toaster. she seasoned the eggs and let them cook before turning back around to you. “did you sleep well?” she asked. you were fully expecting a teasing tone since you did sleep in the same bed as her son, but she was being genuine.

“slept fine,” you said.

“i bet,” ellen started. “all of you were very busy yesterday.”

and she wasn’t wrong. you spent most of the day on the lake, whether that was sunbathing on the boat or wake boarding. by the time the sun set, you were exhausted. 

you glanced around the downstairs. “they still aren’t back yet?”

ellen tossed her head back and laughed. “sweetheart, it’s only been an hour since they’ve left. if anything, they’re probably headed to the ice rink by now.”

“but it’s summer, the rink should be melted?”

ellen grinned at you knowingly. “there’s a public indoor ice rink just ten minutes away. they probably went there after working out at the gym.”

“did jim go with?” ellen nodded. “so it’s just us?”

“just us.” she turned back around to plate your toast and eggs before she placed the plate in front of you. “how have you been? how’s school?”

you shrugged. “it’s been alright. nothing to write home about.”

“jack said you seem to be enjoying it.”

“it’s a step to getting where i want to be.”

“that’s what life’s about, hon. taking it step after step.”

now

you stared at your phone for what felt like years. there was no way this was your life, no way that you deserved any of the kindness that’d been shown to you. there was no earthly explanation for why jack hughes was insisting on you attending one of his games against ahaheim.

“you need to be social,” was his explanation. “besides, the boys missed you.”

quinn was in town for his game happening the next night, trevor was playing against jack and nico that night, and the plan was to go to dinner afterwards.

you were nervous to see quinn again, this being the first time you saw him since the break up. you weren’t sure how his family took it since you made a point not to text or call regardless of how much you missed them. it just wouldn’t be fair to jack.

but he met you outside the arena with a small hug and smile. “it’s been awhile, how have you been?”

you really wished people would stop asking you that.

you shrugged. “nothing much has been going on. how’ve you been? i haven’t kept up with hockey much lately.” truth be told, you didn’t want the reminder and couldn’t bear to keep using jack’s logins. you wondered if your account was still on his netflix.

quinn shrugged as well and nodded his head toward the arena so you both could start walking in. “life’s been normal, busy, but normal.”

“how’re your parents?”

quinn tucked his hands in his pockets. “they’re fine. they ask about you, miss you.”

you almost stopped walking. you never once considered yourself important enough to be noticed, let alone missed. “and luke?”

“still at michigan.”

you fell into a comfortable silence after that, something you’ve always loved about quinn, your ability to just be without any expectation of conversation. as you made your way to your seats, quinn stayed quiet, waiting until you were seated to finally say something.

“what made you come to this game?” he asked.

you wanted to shrug off his comment, to say something flippant, but you’d always been honest with quinn in the past. “jack invited me and i couldn’t say no.”

“but why?”

“i--” you paused. “i don’t know. i don’t think i could deny him of anything if he asked me.”

he nodded, seemingly content with your lackluster answer, maybe because it was the most honest one you’d given in awhile.

as the game began, quinn would make little comments here and there, mainly about jack and his performance. “he’s playing really well,” he’d say.

after jack scored a goal, you saw him scanning the crowd as nico and his teammates rushed him. but he didn’t smile until you two locked eyes. and if you smiled as well, who was to blame you? surely they’ve never seen jack hughes embody the full weight of joy. in the corner of your eye, you could see quinn smirk, but you ignored it in favor of looking at the players.

the both of you walked down to the locker rooms, flashing your lanyards jack had given quinn earlier that day. you stood outside, bouncing on your toes.

“what’s got you so antsy?” quinn asked.

you stopped. just now noticing that you were wringing your hands together. “i--uh--”

“you made it!” nico came out first with his hands open and arms spread wide in greeting. 

“why wouldn’t we be here?” quinn asked. “we made plans.”

it was a brief second, but you caught it nonetheless, the glance nico made toward you that said everything all at once. before you could comment, trevor and jack appeared, the latter having the biggest shit-eating grin you’d seen in awhile.

“who’s ready for dinner?” jack asked.

then

“if i was a worm, would you still love me?”

“what?” jack laughed, hands buried in your hair as you rested you head in his lap.

“if i was a worm--”

“no, i heard you. i was just giving you an opportunity to say something else.”  you slapped his chest lightly with your hand and abruptly sat up before scooting towards the other side of the couch. “hey no, come back.”

“not until you say that you’d still love me as a worm.”

“would i even know it was you? how did you turn into a worm?”

“an evil wizard came down and turned me into a worm. does that answer your question?”

jack grabbed ahold of your ankles and dragged you back to him. he pressed his lips to the side of your head and smiled. “i’d love you even if you were the smallest worm.”

now

jack picked out a small italian restaurant twenty minutes away from the arena. when he finally pulled up to the building (all of you riding together), your stomach sank. it looked all too familiar.

the last time you’d been there, was the last date you had before you broke things off. part of you wondered if he selected that place on purpose, but the more rational part knew it was his favorite spot in town.

the five of you walked in and got a table. it didn’t go unnoticed that as you all sat down, the only seat left was next to your ex boyfriend.

“it’s nice to have the gang back together,” nico said. “i missed you guys.” you wanted to look down at the table, but when nico made eye contact with you and smiled, you were glad you didn’t.

“are you ready to order?” the server came up and asked. “i can give you a few minutes if you’d like.”

you panicked and looked down at the menu. you hadn’t been here in so long you couldn’t recall what you enjoyed the most. by the time it made it to you, you were no closer to figuring it out.

“you okay?” jack mumbled.

you looked up to see his earnest eyes focused on you and you alone. not the boys, not the pretty server, just you. 

“i can’t remember what i usually get.”

jack reached over and pointed to the top left spot on the menu. “you used to get the carbonara.” but you weren’t looking at the menu. no. you were looking at his profile, how focused he was at reading the ingredients to make sure it was something you liked.

you knew it because it’s what he used to do all the time. 

“i’ll get the carbonara, please,” you said with a small smile.

the server walked away to place the table’s orders and conversation picked up again.

“so,” trevor started, staring you down across the table with something akin to smugness on his face. “are you seeing anyone?”

“trev,” jack cut in. 

“no, i think we should let her answer,” nico said. “i mean, it’s been awhile since we’ve all been together and caught up.”

“i--” you choked out, your heart beating hard in your chest.

“guys cmon,” jack started. “just leave it.”

there was something in you that sparked up at hearing his insistence you keep quiet. something that rebelled against the idea of staying silent.

so you spoke.

“i’ve been on a few dates.”

and the absolute devastation of jack’s face was enough to make you want to take it all back.

then

“do you really think that baseball cap is gonna hide your very recognizable face?” you asked him as you walked into yost ice arena.

“i’m hoping people will be too busy focusing on the game to look at me.”

“how could anyone ignore this handsome face?” you asked, taking your hand and squeezing his cheeks into a fish face.

he smacked your hand away and gripped it in his own, swinging it between both of your bodies. the both of you walked over to the row of seats his family saved.

his mother and father smiled at the sight of you. bringing you into a hug like you were a part of their family. and maybe, to them, you were. you and jack had been together for the better part of three years at that point.

despite not having seen his family in a few months, jack still sat on the outside with you tucked in between him and his mother with his hand resting on your thigh.

a shiver went up your spine spontaneously. jack shot you a look before he threw an arm around your shoulder, bringing you in as close as he could with an arm rest between you two.

“you okay?”

“just forgot how cold ice rinks are,” you replied in hopes he wouldn’t notice your flushed face. three years and that man could still do that to you.

"you get used to it after awhile,” he said as he kissed the side of your head. 

no, you thought. i don’t think i will.

now

dinner wasn’t as lively as it once was after your confession. trevor and nico tried to compensate, hell even quinn was making an attempt at conversation, but it was obvious you and jack’s hearts weren’t in it.

he wouldn’t stop staring at you from the corner of his eye and you couldn’t help but stare at the food he remembered you loved right before you shattered his heart again.

it wasn’t long before the five of you were headed home after nico covered the bill. jack drove, leaving you in shotgun, and everyone else in the backseat pretending the tension wasn’t suffocating. jack dropped the boys off at the arena, with nico saying he could take quinn and trevor to their hotels before they all but scrambled out of the car.

which just left the two of you idling in the parking lot.

after jack saw them get into nico’s car, you fully expected him to drive off and take you home. but he just sat there.

“how long did you wait before trying to find someone else?” he asked while staring out the windshield.

“it wasn’t like that--”

“then what was it like? what was i supposed to think? we’ve been broken up for five months now and you’ve been on multiple dates?” his voice escalated. 

part of you wanted to shrink back into the seat until you disappeared into the leather, the masochistic part of you fully believed this was what you deserved, the third part felt like a cornered predator.

and that’s what won out in the end.

“oh don’t act like you haven’t gone out with some girls--”

“i haven’t!” that shut you up really quickly. “i haven’t so much as looked at another girl since you broke up with me.” he finally looked at you, but you wished he wouldn’t have. the tears in his eyes triggered that part of you that you’d stifled the past few weeks, the part that constantly reminded you how fucked up you were.

so you did the only thing you knew how to do.

you unlocked the door--

and bolted.

then

you were signing discharge papers when jack burst into your hospital room sweating and disheveled. you smiled when he came in, using one hand to wave him closer. 

“what the hell were you thinking? falling off a ladder? what was so important you couldn’t wait until i got home?” he walked over to you and straight into your arms anyway, despite his chiding tone.

the nurse took the papers away to be filed and left him with you.

“it’s just a broken ankle,” you said like one would talk about the weather. “it’ll be healed in a matter of weeks.”

jack pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “i don’t like it. i hate that you got hurt and i wasn’t there.”

“the only one at fault here is me, jack. i was trying to hang up...” you trailed off. 

“hang up what?” he asked.

but the nurse came back in with a wheelchair and a smile. “you’re free to go, hon.”

jack wheeled you out to the lobby. the nurse waited with you while he pulled his car up. when his car was parked in the front, he ran back inside and helped you get settled onto your crutches, walking behind you with his hands prepared to catch you should you slip. he helped you into the passenger seat before jogging around the front of the car to drive off.

“so what were you hanging up when you fell off the ladder?”

you smirked. “you’ll see.”

jack rolled his eyes. “if it’s the pictures we got printed, i told you i’d get to it.”

“like i said, baby, you’ll see when you get home.”

he parked in the driveway and told you to stay put until he could help you get out of the car. once you were situated on your crutches, he glanced at you, your leg, and the stairs you would inevitably have to climb before he squatted down and gestured for you to climb on.

“jack, i don’t think this is necessary--”

“i think it’ll go faster if you just hop on and get it over with.”

you sighed and climbed on his back with one arm loosely wrapped around his neck, the other holding onto your crutches, his arms holding your legs in place around his hips. jack went up the stairs with little to no struggle, which just baffled you. even after living in your third floor apartment for eight months, you still found yourself winded after going up all those steps.

“each and every day you find a new way to impress me, hughes,” you commented,

“yeah? what is it this time?”

“how you don’t feel like dying every time you walk up these stairs.”

he laughed but didn’t offer a response.

“no, i’m serious,” you said. “what’s your secret.”

“being a professional athlete,’ he deadpanned.

you threw your head back and laughed as his foot hit the final stair. jack gently placed you down on the ground while you got situated on your crutches again. 

“you good?” he asked.

you nodded. “i’m fine.”

jack unlocked the front door and nearly fell backwards into you when a loud “happy birthday” erupted from inside your apartment. 

you nudged him forward with your non injured foot but he took a moment to glare at you. “you broke your leg to hang up birthday banners?”

you leaned in and kissed him. “happy birthday, jack.”

now

“get in the car.” jack had opened his door and gotten out almost as fast as you had.

but you shook your head and kept walking. “no.”

jack caught up to you rather easily, being in better shape than you for professional reasons. he gently grabbed your wrist and turned you around. “i don’t know who you think i am but i’m not leaving you here. it’s late, we’re in the middle of a parking lot--”

“it’s well lit--”

“and you’re not wearing a coat,” he continued on like you weren’t even talking. “you’re gonna get sick or kidnapped so please just get back in the car.”

“i can’t,” you whispered.

“why not?”

“because you keep looking at me like you hate me.”

that stopped him dead cold in his tracks. any movement he had, whether it was his hands running through his hair or his pacing back and forth. “what?” and you wanted to take it all back just so you didn’t have to hear how broken one syllable could sound.

and then the tears started, the embarrassment and humiliation and the shame from your confession earlier catching up to you finally. “and i don’t blame you because i was awful to you."

“why would you think that?”

“because everyone does!” and you’re so close to tearing your hair out in frustration. with whom? you weren’t sure if it was frustration aimed at yourself or jack or the situation.

“i’m not everyone,” he said in the quietest tone you’d ever heard him speak. “okay? i could never hate you, even if i wanted to.”

you kept sobbing. “you are way too good for me, jack hughes.”

but he shook his head and brought you into his chest, lips pressed to the top of your head. “that’s not true,” he said. “not even remotely close.” a beat passed. “i love you.”

“jack--”

he took your hand and placed it over his chest. “feel my fucking heartbeat right now and tell me i don’t love you.”

“i can’t do this,” you whispered.

“why not? do you not believe me?”

“i’m no good for you, jack! this won’t work. please, just take me home.”

then

a knock drew you out of your reverie from staring at the mirror and obsessing over your flyaways. 

“it’s for you!” your roommate called. you giggled. actually giggled to yourself at the idea of jack standing in your living room with your roommates.

you rushed out, dress flaring at your thighs. jack turned around at the sound of you coming out of your room and smiled with a bouquet daffodils in his hands.

“you uh--” he stuttered. “you look amazing.”

“do a little twirl,” your roommate giggled.

you spun around before walking over to jack. “hi.”

“are you ready?” he asked once he got his bearings.

you nodded. “just let me put these in a vase--”

“i got it!” your roommate said. “you two have fun!” she said before all but shoving you out of the door.

“so what do you have planned?” you asked once you were on the road. you weren’t nervous per se, having known jack for a year before he finally asked you out. 

“would you stop?” he laughed. “you’ll find out when we get there.”

you huffed and sat back in your seat, looking out the window while jack played some country music on his phone. when he finally parked, you recognized the arena almost immediately as the one he played in regularly.

“you took your day off from the ice rink to bring me...to the ice rink?”

jack rolled his eyes. “have some faith. stay here,” he said before popping out of the car and jogging around to your side to let you out.

“i could’ve gotten out myself,” you said.

“i know,” he shrugged. “but thank you for waiting anyway.”

you walked inside together, hand in hand. jack led you to the locker rooms where he picked up a bag and took your hand again before leading you to the rink.

before you was a blanket in the middle of the rink with a basket full of what you assumed was food.

“you didn’t,” you said.

jack shrugged.

“but how are we gonna get out there? i don’t have skates.”

he unzipped the bag in his hand and pulled out a pair of skates. “your roommate told me what size shoe you wore. i figured we could eat and then i could show you how to skate.” he explained.

“you bought these?” you asked.

he shrugged again. “yeah, but it was nothing.”

but it wasn’t nothing to you. it was everything. 

now

you get the call at 4pm from an athletic trainer asking for your name. your heart settles in your throat when you hear the mention of jack’s name.

“there’s been an accident at the game tonight, he’s being rushed to the hospital right now. we called because he has you listed as his emergency contact.”

“o-okay,” you whispered into the phone. “which hospital is he going to?” the athletic trainer gave you the information as you hurried out the door in a pair of shorts and a tee shirt and slippers. 

you didn’t remember to go the speed limit, hell by the time you got to the hospital, you weren’t even sure if you ran a red light or not. all you could focus on was jack.

jack was hurt.

jack was hurt.

jack was hurt.

you needed to call ellen. you needed to call jim. you needed to call that old lady who lived across the hall and ask her to check if you locked your front door. but all of that took a backseat because jack was hurt.

when you parked, you were taking up two spaces, but didn’t give a fuck because you were sprinting to the front doors of the hospital. “hi,” you greeted the front desk woman. “i’m here for my boyfriend?”

“you’ll have to be a little more specific, baby,” she said.

“i--”

you heard your name being called and whipped your head around to see the athletic trainer standing there. “i can show you to his room, follow me.”

you nearly cried in relief and followed the trainer. “do you know what’s going on?”

the trainer shook her head. “we had an idea, but we’re not doctors.”

you nodded, unable to say anything else, even as you entered the elevator. the both of you walked out of the elevator and headed down a long hallway to the very end. she gestured at the door and nodded for you to go in.

you couldn’t breathe. not when even when you saw him laying in bed laughing at a tiktok on his phone with his left leg propped up.

he looked up when you walked in the room. “hey--” but he didn’t have time to finish before you were sprinting across the room, grabbing his face in your hands, and kissing the life out of him.

it took him a second, but he responded fairly quickly, his own hands winding around your waist. you weren’t sure how much time passed before you were pulling away and looking him in the eyes. 

“are you okay?” he nodded, rendered speechless by your display of affection. “i’m sorry, they called me and i freaked out and i didn’t even get to change--”

“did you--” he looked at you, more specifically what you were wearing. “you’re not wearing pants or a coat. are you insane? it’s freezing outside and you’re not even wearing real shoes!”

“they said you were hurt,” you said like it explained everything. “i couldn’t think, i just dropped everything and...”

“why?

“i--”

“you rejected me the other night, which is fine, it sucked, but it’s fine. but it doesn’t explain why you showed up. i think i at least deserve an answer.”

you do, you thought to yourself. that and so much more.

“i’m your emergency contact,” you replied.

“shit,” he said. “sorry i forgot to change that, i’ll--”

“and you’re still mine.” he stopped his rambling as you stroked his cheeks with your thumbs. “when i got the call, i thought i was gonna lose you.” 

“you’re never gonna lose me, baby.” he moved your hands off his face so he could hold yours. “i’m yours, always have been, always will be.”

“i love you,” you smiled.

and it was like the sun came out in the middle of that hospital room when he smiled back at you. jack pulled your lips to his, or at least tried to. you both kept smiling too much for it to fully be considered a kiss.

“do you remember,” you said against his mouth. “do you remember when you moved out and took all our stuff?” 

“mhm,” he hummed, but he was too busy chasing after your lips.

“i kept the skates.”

[sweetly-yours-and-mine]

Tiramisu

Summary: A few days after you find out about his daughter, Marc takes you to a play and then dinner afterwards to talk to you about a few things.

Pairing: Marc Spector x f!Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: A continuation of the universe from this single dad au drabble. Don't look at me I switched POVs. This can be read by itself or with the other part for more context.

Warnings: fluffy, angsty, talk of lawyers and custody, brief allude to Marc's childhood, multiple mentions of smutty times (no smut), swearing (it's Marc), reader is oddly possessive

There's a strange comfort that you find in Marc Spector's presence. The minute, everyday movements of his body that would go unnoticed in anyone else but in him, to you, meant the difference between life and death.

Right now, it's the barely there motion of his temple as he eats. It's going up and down in time with his jaw, the same interweaving pattern his heart and his lungs share with each other.

He's taken you out for dinner tonight. He got free theatre tickets and he took you as his date.

Maya, he said, was too young for the subject matter.

And besides, he felt he hadn't seen you in ages, though it's only been ten days since you saw him last, since you've found out about his daughter.

You can't help but feel that it's a step backwards however. You feel hurt that he didn't take you up on your invitation to make him dinner, though you tried chalking it up to difficulties in trying to find someone to look after Maya. 

Should he stay the night. 

A more irrational part of you had been hoping he'd invite you back to his apartment again. Had thought you had crossed the line between public and private dates last time.

Last time, after cooking you dinner Marc had poured you another glass of wine and let it rest on the table, leaving a circular stain around the glass. He had taken you to bed, just as you had hoped it. He had taken you to his bed and fucked you.

He fucked you and then he made love to you and then he fucked you one more time, just because he could and just because you wanted him to. 

You had left Marc the next morning with a delicious ache in your body, his cologne lingering on your skin. Your lips were a little wet from his kiss before he sent you on your way, weak-kneed and doozy.

Maybe it was irrational. Maybe it was more than a little girlish, but that didn't mean you didn't think it.

The heart wanted what it wanted, despite the cool-headed whims of reason.

And your heart wanted Marc. 

Despite everything that told you you already had him. 

You did have him, you mused, looking at his temples moving up and down as he ate his salad.

You have his temples and the warm, roughened palms of his hands. You had him enough to know of Maya.To see her photos on his walls and know that she’s been taking ballet classes for about two years now. 

Despite your best intentions you think for longer than a passing interest about the other people Marc's dated, if they knew of Maya too. If they had met Maya to the point where they felt they could call her theirs.

You swallow done the jealousy with some water, in favour of wine, to keep an illusion of reason about you, so you could pretend you didn't know what he groaned like when he was close to release, what the soft pudge of his dad-belly felt in the palm of your hand.

In time with his temple, the hinge of his jaw bobs similarly up and down. It draws your attention away. It also makes you feel considerably warm inside. Another bit of the man you've come to deeply care for that you can revel in and enjoy. A piece of him that you can kiss and nudge into its proper place of the puzzle inside your chest that paints a pretty (but as of yet incomplete) picture of him.

Marc inspires in you a severe need to learn human anatomy. The names and systems of bones, muscles, ligaments and veins, so you could look at the hinge of his jaw, the bob of his temple and rattle off names in Latin. 

To seek comfort in a dead language because it speaks the parts of Marc's body, his living, breathing one whose hand held yours in crowds so as to not lose you, as if you were something worth hanging on to, and spoke to his daughter in soft intonations.

"Good?' He's looking up from his kale and at you; he's chewing a half bite with the right side of his mouth. His gaze is beady and intense as it flicks from your plate to your face multiple times, but his voice is gentle and casual, as if he really was just making small talk.

As if this were a regular date, as if he were a regular man and as if you felt for him a regular amount.

The main course will arrive soon and you realise you've barely made a peck in yours while he's almost finished.

You find yourself in a pickle.

Marc's taken a gamble on the restaurant tonight, he grumbled about it as you had waited for the play to start. Had trusted (which you know now means more than most mean it) the word of a co-worker that this was a good, new fusion place.

He hadn't even looked over the menu before coming.

For him that was as good as a death sentence.

You know the choice of restaurant and play had been hard ones for him. Both of them having essentially been decided for him by someone else. Yet it conversely meant that you would, supposedly, be judging him off somebody else's choices.

And you know that won't settle well with him. Settle just the way raspberries do in his stomach.  

You want to tell him, on one hand, that his cooking was better. But that also meant his hamster-wheel of a mind would spin it into thinking you implied that you'd rather be at his place.

Pushing at his boundaries like that was the last thing you would ever do.

Besides that strong moral line, your answer would have had another insinuation between the lines.  

It means you don't like the restaurant. The one he hadn't scoped out ahead of time. His co-worker's favourite restaurant that you now will think was his. Even if he’s never come here before, even if he usually checks menus before going. 

And Marc took his restaurants, like everything else, very seriously.

Of course, the other, more plausible and normal option would be to say that the salad is good.

If there was anyone besides Marc sitting in front of you.

You've barely fuckin’ touched it.

You can hear his voice in your ears now. Can see the displeased little downturn of his mouth which he tries and fails miserably to hide.

Marc builds forests out of salads.

You've become attuned to not only his funny American accent and his funny American swears you usually only hear on TV nowadays, but his way of thinking. Which is neither funny nor American in the slightest. 

It's instead the beauty that is the mind of Marc Spector.

It means both calculus-like computations over salad but it also meant his owl-like observations about the costumes, the lighting, the delivery of the lines in the play. It means that he goes beforehand and reads not just the menu of the restaurant but the play itself, even if you highly doubt he has the time to spare to pile through pages and pages of dense dialogue and sort out the meaning underneath, what with a full-time job and a daughter to raise. 

You had sneaked a glance at his copy, at the notes scribed in the margin in his all-caps cramped handwriting.

You didn't need much to figure out just one jewel more about him.

Marc worked in a business consultation firm.

But he had a talent for whatever he put his mind, or pencil, to.

"Honey?" You've gotten lost in thought again and smile at him, he looks nonetheless worried. He looks back at the salad, at the play program sticking out your purse, then at you. "I woulda ordered the Greek if I knew you didn't like kale."

You shake your head and smile helplessly. You've left him alone with his thoughts for too long and he's jumped to conclusions like a frog on lily pads. "The salad's great, and I like kale. Don't worry."

You pick your fork back up to continue eating but you're not sure it'll do much to assuage his worries.

Like clockwork, the divot appears between his eyebrows. Had you been at his place or yours you would have dared to press it away.

In the blinding spotlight of the public, you sit on your hands instead.

"You've barely fuckin' touched it."

He points out the obvious to catch your bluff. And in some sick and twisted way, to tell you to give him the hard, ugly truth and rip the band-aid off sooner than later.

It's so predictable that you feel like laughing but you keep your face intentionally neutral.

"I like it, I really do," you reach forward with your free hand to press on top of his. His temple and jaw are working over time chewing his kale to a pulp. If you looked under the table, his knee would be bouncing up and down, consistently and tightly. "I was just thinking..."

Of him.

But when were you not?

"Of the play?" This is your chance to right your previous wrongs over the salad and you snatch at it, since it wasn't really far from the truth anyways.

You're also a little shy to tell him that the movement of his temple is something that comforts you.

"Yeah, it was great. Thanks for inviting me."

To an untrained eye, it seems nothing has changed in his expression. To you, his eyes give him away, victorious, satisfied, put-at-ease. His temple calms down a little, he lets himself swallow whatever is left of his food.

True to your word you start eating again.

"'Course, honey. "

That was also new. Had started just this evening when you thanked him for opening the door for you.

Marc called Maya baby; he called you honey.

It's the fact that he's doing it publicly, in front of the watchful eye of the restaurant that gives you the courage to press away the frown on his forehead.

He pauses. 

Swirls your action around in his mind like a salty ocean wave stuck in a bay.

He likes it. There are faint twitches of the delicate muscles of his face that let you know he does. 

Like a teenager he's flustered. He flusters you and makes heat rise all over your body.

The entrées come as a saving grace to those bashful half-glances that were soon to follow.

The two of you need some time to adjust to the renegotiated boundaries of the tulips blooming between you. The silence that falls isn't awkward or misplaced. 

It's right. Necessary.

The up and down of his temple is sweeter than caramel to your soul. You're not sure you can do dessert tonight with the way you've hyper fixated on the movements his head makes when he chews. 

You glance up at him from your salmon, him from his lentil curry bowl. You catch his eye and smile furtively. There might as well have been an adult chaperone on your right.

He sends you a wink. An otherwise confident and flirty gesture that coming from him, like that, was only a direct reflection of how you were feeling.

Honey.

You liked how that sounded in his voice. His voice soft and like fresh towels thrown into the dryer to get hot. Its effect on your heart like spun sugar or cotton candy.

You wonder what kind of sweet pet names you can dole out now, like you would tiramisu.

In heaping spoonfuls.

"The main actor was great," he offers up. He's latched onto the one thing he thinks you enjoyed for certain out of the evening and driving that main point home, making sure you remember the good stuff only. "You see the way he switched in those last two scenes? Phenomenal."

He's talking like he's a full-time drama critic, one that had his own column he wrote for every week.

Though you doubt he finds the time to go to the theatre every week.

"I liked the sisters as well," you offer back. Tilting your head to the side you think for a moment before adding on, "Really strong cast."

"That's all in the writing," he wipes his mouth with his napkin. A little less surely he tacks on, "You wanna borrow my copy?"

"Sure, sweetheart, that'd be nice."

Sweetheart.

That's nice.

Seems to have the same effect on him as honey has on you.

He reaches into his briefcase and passes you his book, the cover blue and a little worn at the edges from being used. You treasure it and tuck it away in your purse, not for the words of the playwright, but the words Marc has layered on top of them like lace trim.

"Look I-uh..."

The waiter comes and asks for the plans for dessert.

Marc always lets you choose and you always get the same thing, if it's on the menu. Otherwise something with chocolate.

Tiramisu.

Nowadays when you eat it by yourself at home, you think of his creamy, coffee kisses after your dates. You think of the tiramisu brown of his eyes, warm and vulnerable every time he's done kissing you.

You ask for tiramisu tonight because they had it and turn back to Marc as the boy walks away.

You feel he's going to talk to you about something important.

He's hinted at it gently and implicitly all night.

So you tune your attention into him like a radio station.

"I-uh wanted to talk to you..." the words are the beginnings of your living nightmare. The threads in his jaw and neck rub on top of each other and he runs a comforting hand over his clean-shave as he prepares to keep talking. "About Maya."

"Alright," you lean forward. The sounds of the restaurant have all but faded away into ether.

He seems taken aback by your answer, frowning again, "You-uh, don't have anything to say first?"

Your heart lurches in your throat, "Was I supposed to have thought about something?"

"No!" He flinches at his own voice, and clears his throat, calms down. "No," he shrugs and looks down at the table. "I just thought that maybe you'd-" he hears the rest of his sentence and shuts down. "Ah, forget it. It was stupid anyways."

He reaches up and tugs at his curls, rubs his neck.

"Marc, sweetheart," you take his free hand in yours. "It wasn't stupid, and I won't think it stupid if you want to share it with me."

He looks you deep in the eyes and then shakes his head again, makes a dismissive gesture with his hand that makes your stomach drop. 

"Just thought..." he ruffles his curls the way a bird inadvertently does when trying to groom itself. "We didn't get much of a chance to talk about it the other night. Thought maybe after it settled in you might have had a change of thought."

It bothers you to no extent that he's thought you wanted to end things with him and all the while he's still taken you out to dinner and will for sure insist on paying for it afterwards. 

"Well, I don't," you say it as assertively as you can. "I...well, truth be told, I like spending time with you, Marc. I like where this is going and Maya seems like a sweet girl."

"She is.” The times when he’s talking of his daughter are one of the only instances you hear his voice so self-assured and relaxed. "And you like having her in your future? With me?"

You nod, reach for his other hand, "I've always liked kids."

"You want some of your own someday?" 

It seemed a little early for the kids and marriage talk, but you see the worries inside Marc like pearls in a clam shell and you touch their shiny, translucent surfaces one-by-one.

You shrug, but you make sure to not look away, "I wouldn't be opposed to it."

He tsks, clearly not satisfied with the ambiguity of your answer, "Maya's mother, she was never in the picture. Left as soon as she could."

"Oh, Marc-"

"Well, that was what we agreed on. She'd carry the baby to term if I took full custody," he looks down at his hands. "We even got a lawyer to make sure it was all sorted out, even if we were never married."

 "How old were you when Maya was born then?" The image of him in the hospital, forever ingrained in your mind, conjures itself all over again.

"Thirty, I think."

That made him a handful of years older than you. The greys in the curled roses of his hair speak testament to it.

"Did you want kids?"

A flushed waiter shuffles over, mumbling something about a broken espresso machine, plops an extra plate of dessert in front of you to make up for it. Then he's going, going, gone away with haste.

It makes you both laugh at the intrusion, those stomach-clenching eye wrinkles of his showing up again. You wonder if you could touch them the way he let you press away his frown.

"Well," laughter hangs around his voice like morning dew and sunshine on a sidewalk after a hot day. "No, never really thought of them. Till Maya's mother that is. Then it seemed that it was all I wanted."

You wish the place had booths, so you could slide in beside him and kiss him the way you want to. To make him laugh and touch his face, his throat to feel the vibrations of it in your fingers. 

"It must have been hard, raising her by yourself." 

“Oh, well,” he laughs, shrugs in a way that makes a lock of his hair curl down into his forehead. “She was a good baby. Hardly ever cried.” 

“Did you have any help?” 

Marc has never mentioned his parents to you, nor has he brought up the names of any siblings. There was a cousin he’d told you about last time. 

He seems to you a very lonely man. 

There’s a strange ache in your chest as you think of Marc again, alone with a baby. Barely getting any sleep and making formula milk at three in the morning. 

Your stomach twists in unknown ways as you think of the way his shoulders must have moved as he tested the temperature on the delicate skin of his wrists, of his hair curling every which way, the way it looked like the morning after he had sex with you three times. 

Marc tenses up, looks to his side, the top of his cheek twitching, “Yeah-uh, here n’there.” There’s a crack in his voice that sounds like a tectonic plate shifting. 

You reach over the table, cupping his face. Though you don’t move, it makes him shift to look back at you. There are sand dunes of emotions in his eyes, morphing into one another and shifting every second you look at him. There’s too much there for you to understand, for you to be able to help with. 

The helplessness that drowns you binds your lungs together. 

“She’s a great kid,” you know what he’s going to say again, but you press against the boulder of an excuse. “Great parents raise great kids. You’re doing so well by her-” 

He scoffs and looks away. His hand comes up on top of yours and places it back on top of the table, gives it two reassuring pats and you a raise of his eyebrows. “Yeah…well-” 

“She’s happy, Marc,” you swat away the mosquitoes of his insecurities, the cockroaches of his excuses. “I’ve never met her, but I know that much. You can’t hide that kind of happiness...or fake it.” 

He pauses, glances at you to let the words sink in and then looks at the tablecloth. “I never really got any help with her,” he says grimly. “My cousin moved…maybe a year or two ago. Before that, it was just me n’Maya.” 

You reach forward and take his hands in yours and squeeze them. You’re quiet for some time, the sounds of a jazz band tuning up in the background almost like static. You’re hardly even vaguely aware of it. 

Marc squeezes your hands, catches your attention again, “And you.” 

You frown, the thundering of your heart not sure what to make of it, to believe him or not. 

“And you, now,” he repeats again. “Me, Maya…and you,” there are nerves trailing at the edge of his voice like shorelines, his eyes are warm like the coloured pieces of floor when the sun hits stained glass. “That is…if you want.” 

“That’d be nice,” you want to say that his words set alight butterflies all over your body but that would be inadequate. There are flocks upon flocks of geese, squawking and flapping every which way, you can barely think over the sounds they’re making. 

And you, now. 

“I want that, Marc,” you smile, and then let out a nervous little shudder of a laugh. An easy breath, after the taught tension that had begun to build up. 

“Yeah?” the depths of his eyes light up, the delicate skin around them creases. 

“Yeah.” It comes out breathy and awkward. You think you said yes to your first kiss much the same way. 

“Ok,” he laughs, the tightness draining out of his shoulders, a smile growing on his face like cherry blossoms. “Ok, that…that went better than I expected.” 

“I’m glad,” you don’t dare to ask what he’d expected, to see what kind of image yourself you’d portrayed and how he’d built it up inside his mind. Underneath that as well is the insinuation that this hasn’t gone the way he’d hoped before. Meaning that he’s done this before, meaning that there was someone that sat across from him, just as you are right now. That he cared enough about them to tell them about Maya. 

You don’t mean to be so nit-picky, so jealous and possessive. 

It just sort of happened to you. 

One day, Marc was the guy you were casually seeing, the one with the pretty smile and the intense loneliness that poured out of him like sludge, and the next you were here, talking about your future together, one that had his daughter in it as well. 

You had never been one to get attached so easily. It concerns you how easily and quickly this came to you, like a newly-hatched turtle already dragging itself to the ocean. 

You wonder what’s made Marc different from the rest of the people you’ve gone out with.  

The question strikes an unpleasant nerve, one that’s embedded deep into tissue and muscle, and you leave it alone. Instead, you pick up a spoon and start to pick away at the long forgotten dessert. 

As you’d expected, it’s too sweet for you right now, even the bitterness of the coffee doesn’t manage to balance it out. 

Maybe you’ll take this to go, enjoy it in the morning and pretend Marc is sitting in front of you at your table, frowning as he looks down at his phone. 

In your little daydream, there’s a faint giggle that sounds like what meringue tastes like, a gentle patter of children’s feet approaches the table and-

Something bumps into your table at the restaurant. It makes Marc’s knife hit the base of his wine glass and draws you out of your thoughts again, heart pounding, heat rising to your face, feeling as if you’ve done something wrong. 

An older couple apologises to the both of you and they swirl away again, dancing to the rhythm of the music. 

Though they’re not exactly the picture of grace and elegance, their movements jerky from dried and rusty joints, there’s a certain light that radiates from out of them. It draws your eyes towards them, brings a smile to your face. 

“Hey,” Marc’s voice is soft like the espresso-soaked ladyfingers of the tiramisu on the table. Though his palm is gently roughened over, it’s even softer than his voice as he lets it rest on top of your hand. “You wanna dance?” 

You look back at him, then down at the table shyly, hiding behind your wing, “I don’t know how.” 

He shrugs, gives you a reassuring squeeze, “I don’t know how either.” Having made the decision for the two of you he stands up, takes your hand and leads you towards the dance floor. 

The warmth of his arm around your waist reminds you of the passion he showed you in his bed. It makes you shiver, draws your body to his the way a compass is drawn to the North. 

You don’t do much of dancing, if you’re being honest. Nothing compared to the intricate footwork patterns the other couples are doing. Marc holds you and sways with you, your feet shuffling together awkwardly. 

He hums along to the music, his voice is gentle and soothing. You can feel the vibrations of it in your chest, the warmth of his body spilling into yours like a waterfall. 

Then, with his hand curled around you, he draws you in closer, almost imperceptibly if you hadn’t been able to tell by the brush of his clothes against you. You’re so close now that the only reasonable choice is to press your head onto his shoulder, to take in the smell of his cologne and his skin. 

There’s the wave of a sigh that comes and fades away. His exhale rolls over your shoulder, curls around your heart like a cat’s tail. Though he doesn’t speak, there are words that come with his breath that you can hear. 

You place your cheek against his and hope that he hears your response. 

You fit together like puzzle pieces, a lock and key.

Thanks for reading, if you liked it, please consider leaving some feedback! I don't usually respond, but I obsess and re-read reblogs and comments constantly.

Masterlist here.

[notsodailykurudoro]

Day 23

(day 19 continuation)

“Not a problem!” Dororo gleamed, giving the smaller man his space as he stared around the place. 

It was… something. 

“I could help you tidy up this place if you so let me.” He offered.

Kururu already had started eating and boy was he going at it, he took a brief break of trying to feed his starving self to muster a “Suit yourself” between bites.

And I shall, thought the taller man, tying together his long hair to work better on the stinking mess that was now Kururu's room. He swore he'd seen burrows ten times neater than whatever the everloving heck was going on here. 

Luckily, he came prepared. A soft smile drew onto hidden lips as he began tossing visible junk on a big plastic bag. The room was dark, barely lit by three monitors from the ostentatious mumbo-jumbo that shaped together Kururu's rather expensive setup. Sometimes he wonders where he gets the stuff, sometimes he is brave enough to inquire about such, and sometimes he gets a halfhearted answer. Sometimes, he worries.

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't actually worried all the time. For him, for them, for everyone. 

Had anyone ever paid him back?

That was also a sometimes. 

He kept working on the task at hand, he had a long way ahead but he’ll manage, he was more than satisfied with just having managed to get the hermit to eat something that wasn't artificially made or not even proper food at all. 

He could tell by all the wrappers and boxes discarded on the sticky floor that he'd spent at least weeks eating garbage, if not more. A pit sank in his stomach, well known worry setting in his limbs, sensitive enough to feel his vacant eyes stinging. He tried not to think too hard about it in order to stop himself from shaking, but he knew Kururu's health was worsening by the second and he couldn't help but feel unfathomably sad about it. 

He steadied his breathing, squatting down to toss what seemed like a bunch of crumpled papers next to the ginger's bed. 

Dororo squinted, stopping in his tracks as he tried to fix his gaze on a single not ruined sheet lying on the floor beneath the disgusting mass of quilts, gadgets, clothes and pillows that was the litter. 

He held it gently between long fingers, glancing quickly at the smaller nerd that was too distracted eating while he pondered at something on whatever in the world those screens were showing him, before returning to try and take a read at the messy handwriting. 

It was, again, very dark, however he was well accustomed to see among shadows.

So he read. 

…

…?

And he read again.

…

…

… It was a suicide note. 

He felt his heart stop for a whole second, eyes wide as could be while trying with every fiber of his being to not freak out audibly at the fatal discovery. He swallowed, dry, debating whether or not it was a good idea to bring it up to his companion. 

This was awful! Why would he think about such atrocity? Had he arrived too late, or just in time? He looked… rather bad, but honestly he could never tell the difference and that made him feel even worse. 

He had to think, read the room, think about his feelings, plan out how he was gonna say it so Kururu didn't felt awkward and decided he didn't want Dororo in his life anymore, think about his tone and words and when and how and

“WERE YOU ACTUALLY GONNA DO IT?” A heavy teary eyed Dororo exclaimed as he held onto the hikikomori with one hand and held the note with the other.

Startled outta his mind, Kururu tried to narrow his own fucked up gaze towards what he was trying to show him, the contact making him uneasy as well as the crying. 

“I- uh- wuh-” He stammered, finally focusing on what he had in his hands and feeling his heart stop for a solid split of a second. 

Unbothered, a strained almost permanent smile kept the snarky bite on his words as he reached for the note. 

“Now where didja find that…?” 

“WERE YOU? KURURU-DONO, PLEASE! YOU HAVE TO TELL ME-”

“Where?"

“Th-T-The bedframe, beneath it…” The martial arts enthusiast sniffed, easing his grasp on the technician as to not keep bothering further. He was honestly kinda surprised he didn't instantly shoved him away. 

The yellow devil remained silent for a few beats, rereading the thing as if having forgotten that he, at some point in his recent life, stood so ridiculously low to write such a pathetic excuse of a letter. 

The flash of a thought came to him, who was ever gonna read it anyway? but after glancing out of the corner of his vision and seen the barely illuminated ninja shed abnormally large tears, he reconsidered. 

He crumpled the note and tossed it away. 

“Don't worry about it.” He lazily elaborated, slumping forward once again to keep scrolling on what seemed to be a shady forum long forgotten by even god himself, stuff that Dororo could not get even if he tried or cared enough. 

“DON’T WORRY ABOUT IT!?” The taller man quickly retorted. “Y-Y-H-HOw am I sure you’re not gonna shorten further y-y-your lifespan!?”

Kururu cringed ever so slightly. 

“And I-I apologize deeply if this is still a sour subject to you, but sir, I hold deep worry towards your well being!”

“I know.”

“I'm serious!”

“... I know.”

“So, please do I beg you… Would you tell me if something greatly bothers you? If there's something straining your chest with anguish?”

Kururu seemed so distant from his spot, even if merely inches away, he always seemed to hide just enough to be unreadable yet clear enough to tell he was going through it™. It didn't helped to ease Dororo's nerves. 

“Please? At least would you try?”

“... ‘k” 

“Thank goodness…” He sighed with relief, wiping away some of his tears with the back of his bandaged hand. “I won't ask about the letter, you’ll know when to reach and I'll assist.”

“Will do my best I s’pose.” Kururu muttered, barely audible. Dororo catched it either way, and felt happy about it. “Y’can go back to whatever you were doin’, ain't going anywhere.” 

Ain't dying soon he would had said instead, but he didn't felt like tormenting the man further. Not today. 

“I shall.” 

The ninja bowed lightly, and that's the last he heard of him as he fixed again on the screens, tired eyes fully hidden under glasses that were hit directly by the blue light. 

He felt arms wrap around his frame and he almost jumped at the sudden touch, the scent of incense and pinetrees giving away the perpetrator if not already painfully obvious. 

“Wh… Why…” Words couldn't leave his mouth properly as he fought with his own weird stoicness and months of being a touchstarved sociopathic freak. 

“I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself, I hope this isn't uncomfortable to you-”

Kururu considered. His smell was awful if not just rotten, had the temperature of an oven on Christmas and not for the reasons anyone thought, and the feeling of someone else touching him was just indescribable pain. 

And yet…

“... I don't mind.”

Maybe that's what the mask was for. 

They remained like that for a short while before the long haired shinobi retreated and kept trying to tidy up the room, and he went back to mess on his computer, none of them said a word afterwards. 

It was nice. 

[steddie-island]

Cabin in the Woods

@steddiemas day 27 - Keeping Warm | WC: 1199 | Rating: G Tags: Snowed in, First kiss, Getting together Also find it on ao3

They’d been looking for the cabin for half an hour. Hopper hadn’t been lying when he’d said the side road leading to the cabin had been easy to miss; they’d had to turn around twice before they’d actually spotted it. It was a couple hundred yards away from the road and surrounded by trees that almost seemed to have grown up around it. It was perfect for a romantic weekend getaway. …Which was why Hopper had asked the three of them, Steve and Robin and Eddie, to take an afternoon and make sure the place was clean and that the firewood was stocked. Robin, the traitor, had caught the flu, so it was just Steve and Eddie. 

Not that either of them were complaining at first. Eddie put on some of Hopper’s vinyls as they wiped the layers of dust from the furniture. The windows were open, the fresh air sweeping in and clearing away the smell of stagnation. 

The two boys changed the bedding, they replaced the pillows with the nicer ones that Hopper had bought because he thought Joyce deserved the best– and because Robin had pointed out that if the pillows had been there for ten years the way he’d claimed they’d been, they definitely needed to be replaced before Joyce used them. 

The refrigerator was stocked with groceries that Hopper had bought. They made sure the water was running and that there were gallons of water in case the pipes ended up freezing. Everything was going perfectly. 

Until they went out to start gathering firewood.

Until the snow that had been coming down in gentle flurries all day decided to stop flurrying and start dumping down on them. 

They hadn’t gone that far from the cabin, really they hadn’t, but with the way the wind whipped the snow off of the ground and into their eyes, they may as well have trekked to the other side of town. “Stay close to me!” Steve shouted before abandoning part of his armload of wood. He wanted to make sure they still had something to burn, but he needed a hand to hold on to Eddie with, too. Both of them being lost was bad enough, but being lost separately? That was another kind of hell that Steve really didn’t want to think about. 

So they held on to one another as they stumbled this way and that, blown about like they weighed as little as the snow drifts. 

It was another twenty minutes before the snow slowed enough for them to make out the shape of the cabin against the trees. Both boys ran for it, and almost as soon as they reached the porch the blizzard started up again. 

“F-f-fuck!” Eddie dropped the firewood into the bin Hop had set up for it inside. “It’s f-f-freezing out th-th-there.” His teeth chattered as he spoke. “Cl-clothes off,” Steve managed to get out once the door was closed behind them. He shrugged out of his parka, removed his mittens and the hat that was stiff with ice and snow. 

“You h-hitt-tting on me?” Eddie tried to joke. His teeth clacked together too hard for that, though, and he began stripping out of his wet layers, too. Which at this point was pretty much everything. 

Steve was shivering too hard to respond. He just walked past Eddie to the bedroom to dig through and find clothes. Hop’s pants would be too big for them, but he found lounge pants that they could cinch tighter and two flannels that they could wrap up in. He managed to dig up some thick socks, too, and made a note to thank Hopper for never properly packing this place up.  

“I’ll g-get the fire going.” Steve passed Eddie’s clothes over to him. He’d hurried to get dressed already, but Eddie had less meat on him and was practically turning fucking blue.

“My– my f-fingers are gonna f-f-fall off,” he complained as he pulled the socks on over his hands instead of his feet. “Jesus Christ, why didn’t we do firewood f-f-first?” “Because we’re idiots,” Steve said. He knelt beside the fireplace and began stacking the few dry logs they had inside. It took some fumbling with crumpled up newspaper, and the lighter Eddie carried around with him didn’t want to work where it had gotten so wet, but soon enough a fire was burning and the cold was seeping from their bones. 

“Hop owes us b-bigtime,” Eddie murmured. Steve had sat him firmly down right in front of the fire so his hair could thaw and his lips could get their color back. He found a can of stew in the cabinet and used a pot held over the flame to get it warmed up. “It’s okay, Ed. We’ll be okay.” “I know.” Eddie pulled the quilt tighter around himself to keep the heat trapped in. “Lucky thing I got stuck with a B-boy scout.” The tease had less heat in it with the way Eddie’s teeth chattered in the middle. 

Steve just grinned and dished the food up. “Lucky I got stuck with a stoner who had a lighter on him.” His voice was fond, though, and as he took his spot beside Eddie the other boy opened his arms to drape the quilt over Steve, too. 

They talked as they ate, about Robin, about Joyce and Hopper, about how Erica was the scariest person either of them had ever met (tied very, very closely with Max.)

Steve put their bowls in the sink and came back to the fire. Eddie looked better now, had most of his color back to his skin. When those doe eyes looked up at him, Steve felt his breath catch in his chest. 

“What?” Eddie asked as he pushed his hair off of his face. “Nothing. You just… look better.” Steve folded back down beside him under the blanket. Eddie smelled nice, too, like cold and snow and the conditioner that he’d filched from Steve’s house that Steve used when he spent the night at the trailer. “Do you have feeling in your fingers again?”

His intention hadn’t been to take Eddie’s hand as he asked the question, but between one breath and the next their fingers were laced together and resting on Eddie’s knee. 

Eddie looked down at where golden skin met alabaster. Something had been growing between them since Steve had taken care of him in the hospital and after. There were so many shared glances, touches that lingered just a little too long, and it had long become normal for the two of them (and a lot of times Robin, too) to share a bed when the nights were long and the shadows grew heads that opened into stars with razor sharp teeth. Steve had seen him at his worst and had stuck around, was still sticking around. 

“Fingers seem to be okay. I think my lips could use some warming up, though,” Eddie said, finally feeling courageous enough to say something.

Steve smiled and brought his hand up to cup Eddie’s cheek. They leaned in closer. 

As their lips met, the storm outside raged on. 

Steve and Eddie had never been warmer.

[definesanity]

The Divine Comedy

Spoilers for the Finale of Murder Drones.

She awoke with a gasp, which then turned into a cough, and then a wheezing gasp.

Uzi's optics were damaged, and could only see errors beyond her vision.

Audio feed was also bugged. It sounded like rain... where was she?

Before that thought ended, her body automatically shut itself down.

-----------

[C: YOU DOING GOOD, THERE?]

[U: Bite me, what the fuck happened???]

[C: SHRUG. AFTER THAT LITTLE TEST. QUESTION MARK EMOJI.]

[U: Greeeeeeeat.]

[BOOTUP_STARTED: WAKE UP, IDIOT.]

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

Tessa James Elliot had just about finished repairing the Worker Drone's left hand when it jerked.

And in that moment, green eyes met neon purple-yellow. Tessa didn't even know that was an actual colour combo until then.

Uzi quickly got to her legs, but then they gave out, and she cursed.

"Woah, woah, easy th--!"

Uzi pointed the Solver at the girl. Her feeds were all working.

[C: TESSA?]

Uzi shook her head. Think later. "Don't even think about coming closer!"

Tessa, surprisingly, listened, and took a step back. Due to Uzi's visual feed being mixed with whatever the hell the Solver's had, she could see Tessa for what she truly looked like.

And... she didn't look that bad. Now that she isn't a skin-suit.

Black hair with a bow framed a small face, green eyes glowing, almost. A simple black dress and heels, too. Was this just her. Every day look?

[C: WISFTUL SIGH. SHE LOOKED, SO NICE, DIDN'T SHE?]

Uzi ignored the Solver in her head, looking back at the girl. "Who are you? And--where the heck am I?!"

Tessa slowly raised her hands up in surrender. "Woah, um. As much as I appreciate the caution, could you, er. You know? With the. Glowy thing?"

Uzi squinted. Then, deactivated the Solver. She did ask nicely. And Uzi was nice. Sometimes. Blame N.

"...Okay," the human let out a breath. "I'm Tessa. This is my home. I saw you were damaged and was repairing you when you suddenly booted back up."

[C: GENUINE.]

[U: We can trust her?]

[C: MAYBE. BE CAREFUL, UZI.]

[U: What's with the care?]

[C: YOU DIE, I DIE. PLUS...]

"...Thanks." Uzi eventually said. It's the least she can say. "...My name is Uzi."

"...What, like, the gun?"

"...Yeah. Like the gun."

Tessa squinted at her. "Kinda cringe, girl."

Uzi's eyes flickered at that. "Ex-fucking-cuse you?!"

A noise was heard from outside the room, and Tessa made a shushing motion with her finger.

After a moment, the noise stopped.

"...Okay, sorry! I shouldn't talk given what my middle name is but--still!"

Uzi raised an eyebrow. Then, sighed, pinching the bridge of her non-existent. "Fine, agree to disagree, I guess."

Silence was between them. Then, Tessa coughed into her hand.

"I, er. Like your eyes. Cool colour combo."

Uzi shrugged. "Thanks. Green suits yours, too."

Uzi then mentally face-palmed. She forgot about the censor.

[C: GOD F%*£ING D@!&IT. YOU HAD ONE JOB, SM@R%-@$$]

Tessa looked almost owlish. "You... can see me? Like. No censored thingamajig or, whatever?"

Cat's outta the bag, and Uzi hopes she won't be, either.

"...Ye--?"

Tessa appeared in front of her so fast Uzi nearly thought she had teleported.

"A damaged visual feedback???"

"Er--kinda???"

"That is SO COOL! I knew that Worker Drones can be cool, but this??? Ha! Just wait until you see I'm right, Mum!"

Oh great.

"Your, uh. Mother?" Uzi croaked out in sheer confusion.

"...Oh, right, right! Sorry, should be more formal, I guess." Tessa cleared her throat, and attempted to make herself look taller. "Miss Uzi, on behalf of. Me. I would like for you to stay in the manor and um. Work. For me. Please? Kinda sudden, I know! But. You know?"

Uzi blinked. On one hand, no. On the other...

Ack. Now that she's thinking clearly, Tessa is her only shot at actually surviving for longer than ten whole minutes...

"...Let's say I did. What do I have to do?'

"Nothing... toooooooo arduous?" Tessa said, seemingly unsure herself. Great. Wonderful.

She moved back towards Uzi, twiddling her thumbs, eyes shifty. "I-I mean, sure, there's plenty we have already, but, what we need is like a... 'elite' squad? I guess? And you seem to know your stuff."

Uzi rolled her eyes.

"Thanks. I know literally how to pirate stuff and maybe do that. Thing." she then paused. "Am I gonna have to change my clothes?"

"..." Tessa made a thinking expression. "...Eh, it'll be fine, probably. Welcome aboard!"

She gave out a hand to shake. Uzi, after a second, shook it.

"Thanks." she then remembered. "By the way, if you have any excess oil, could you, um. Pass it to me? My, er. Motors need it. I overheat. Easily."

Tessa waved her off. "I noticed. Don't worry! I'll be sure to slide you some."

Uzi didn't respond.

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

Just like the average timeskip in. Most stories.

Uzi now was in the service of the Elliot family. Tessa was alright. Cyn definitely played her well, not gonna lie.

Her parents, though... ugh.

They thought that Tessa hanging out with 'someone like her' will 'sully' her mind.

They're right. Except she already did it.

Uzi didn't do friends. Until she met N. And then V. And now also kinda literally everyone else.

She often snuck Tessa manga, and some pirated anime, from her own memory, and projected it on to the wall. Elliot seniors usually don't go and check up on Tessa, leading to the two hanging out.

It felt... good. Nice, even.

After finishing another episode of 'Delicious In Dungeon', Tessa's stomach rumbled, and she groaned to herself.

"Uugh... why did we choose the food anime...??" she moaned out, and Uzi looked at her in disbelief.

"Wha--my sister in Robo-Satan! YOU chose the anime!"

"I didn't know the food was gonna look that good!"

She sighed, and leaned back into her bed.

"...Hey."

"What?" Uzi's eyes flickered up.

"For someone who said they've never worked an hour at a job, you're... alright. When it comes to sorting."

"Blame Autism.exe for that." she rolled her eyes, "Still, what brings this up?"

Tessa rolled over, so that her head was upside-down and looking at Uzi's eyes. "Just... you're literally my first friend."

Uzi blinked at that. And then it made sense.

Technically, in the first... er. What. Timeline? She guesses? It was J.

Now, though...

"...Same here, gonna be honest." Uzi replied quietly. "It's... ugh. No one seemed to like the "goth girl", so I was thrown into the bin. Figuratively and literally."

Tessa looked at Uzi with a complicated expression. This is why she doesn't like humans. Their faces are far too expressive for her liking.

"...Say, on that note, you've been hiding something, haven't you." Uzi asked. It wasn't an accusation, just a fact.

"...W-Well, uh. You see, you do a good job! Really! But, when it comes down to it, you're just. One Drone, ya know? It's... ugh, crikey, this is difficult to say..."

Eventually, she just shrugged and gave up. "I found... a teammate? I guess? J, I've called her! She seems a bit... rough, but, trust me, you'll love her!"

[C: DOUBT. SHE SEEMED TO, DISLIKE YOU GREATLY, MY DEAR HOST.]

[U: I WONDER why. Truly, I do.]

[C: I HAD NO DICTATION IN THAT. SHRUG EMOJI. PERHAPS SHE, MERELY JUST HATED YOU.]

[U: Well, I also hate me, so hip-hip-hooray!]

"...Well, don't knock it until you try it, I guess. Sure." Uzi had gotten much better at hiding what she truly thought. It came with years of having Cyn stuck in her head.

"Perfect! J, you can come in now!"

"Wait, she was just waiting--?"

Uzi cut herself off, seeing who stood now in the room, and who had been hiding in the closet. Literally. And probably figuratively, too.

"...Hey, Boss." J gave a salute to Tessa. And then, turned to Uzi, and gave the same salute. "Hey, Chief."

...Uzi won't lie. She liked the sound of that.

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

"Lift!"

It was like a well-oiled machine. Except it's two well-oiled Worker Drones. Which is close enough.

James and Louise Elliot enjoyed the high life, Uzi had learnt; parties were a common occurrence, and so it led to many things being needed to be prepared in a short amount of time.

Still, out of every Drone in the manor, Uzi and J remained at the top of their workload. It also managed to see J with more screen time. Because if this were an anime, J would have had at least just. Ten minutes. And that's it.

She was annoying, but it came with her coding. JCJenson seemed to have added a part of code to her which forced her to act like companies, and JCJenson was at the top.

Thankfully, what with the goth's new role as 'Chief', J seemed to not be as biting. She regards Uzi with... almost respect? She isn't sure. She's never been respected.

Sure, there was that time she saved everyone's asses, but she did that because the Defence Force weren't. Plus, that wasn't respect, it was just thankfulness. Now, sure, that definitely fueled her ego for the next 24 hours after it, but after that it became a series of unfortunate events. Like. Holy Robo-Jesus.

[C: IN A WAY, YOU YOURSELF ARE NOW "ROBO-JESUS".]

[U: Which, by default, makes you Robo-Satan?]

[C: MM. MAYBE. OR, PERHAPS, THE HOLY SPIRIT?]

'More like unholy...' Uzi thought to herself.

It's... strange. But, hey, Uzi isn't dead yet, so that's a plus.

She came to the past out of an experiment she tried with the Solver. Being basically God came with perks, and she was just using them, was all.

And now, she's here.

In her eyes? Worth it!

[brighttears]

Bask

Joel xreader

No physical description, gender natural, no use of y/n

Summary: You teach Joel how to enjoy the rain. When Ellie joins you, it’s picture perfect.

Word count: 914

Warnings: non just sickeningly wholesome

A/n: keeping my streak of posting every day because i am insane

—

It hadn’t rained in a while. To Joel, the rain was an annoyance, a pain in the ass, and Ellie hated it, dripping from the ceiling seemingly wherever she happened to be. You, on the other hand, were thrilled. It was dusk when the rains started dropping and it took awhile to figure out what you could do to keep warm, dry, and safe in the decaying house you had decided to spend the night in. And while yes, it was decaying, you’re lucky you had decided to walk the couple extra miles instead of staying outside that night. You rushed through helping Ellie and Joel secure the house from the storm, the minute you were all satisfied, walking straight through the living room—where your sleeping bags were set out, Ellie laying on her back reading her book of puns, and Joel cleaning his rifle—into the kitchen to the back door.

Joel caught you. “Where're you goin’?”

“Outside.”

“Outside, why?”

“To run around in the rain.”

“To run around in the rain?”

“Yes, to run around in the rain. Wanna join me?”

Joel’s face was twisted in utter bewilderment. “No.”

“Okay.” you shrug, smiling, and turn back to head outside.

“You shouldn’t go out there.” Joel cautioned.

“Why not?”

“You’ll catch a cold.”

“Well if I do, I won’t complain about it and I’ll let you say ‘I told ya so.’ Also, it’s the middle of summer, Joel.”

“Well, still, it’s gett’n dark out.”

“I won’t be out for long, I’ll be fine, don’t worry about it.”

“Well I’m gonna fuckin’ worry. You shouldn’t be there alone, in the dark, in pourin’ fuckin’ rain."

“Then come with me.”

“No, I—“

“Fuck, Joel, I haven’t been able to do this in so long. I’ll be out there for ten minutes. I will be fine.” Before Joel can say another word you’re out into the backyard, the screened backdoor banging twice behind you.

This is summer rain, warm with thick air. You breathe it in as soon as it hits your lungs and a smile runs out of you. You have to stop yourself from squealing in delight as you begin to bounce and dance through the tall, weedy backyard grass being showered in rain.

It’s wildly rejuvenating. You appreciate every second, taking in every drop on your skin, the feeling of mud and drowning grass in between your toes, the sound of raindrops on the leaves of the trees above you.

After a while you hear the backdoor slam twice. You figured it must be Ellie, but it’s Joel who’s standing awkwardly just outside the door. The idea of sharing this with Joel makes you almost giddy. You bound over and reach your hands out for his, he lifts them up with little enthusiasm but follows you as you pull him out. He can’t help a smile when he sees you beaming.

In the music of the rainstorm you guide Joel along to dance and jump with you. He’s acting like you pulled him out there, pride ruining his own fun, but if you keep it up for long enough, he’ll break. It doesn't take him that long to give in and start moving to your tempo. As you go, Joel pulls out some real dance moves, pushing and pulling you to his left and right, raising his hand up to twirl you. You’re giggling and he’s smiling wider than you’ve ever seen.

The sun has set but there's still enough light out to be able to see, everything shaded gray and blue.

The only sound from you both is laughing, but he catches the ‘told you so’ in your eyes.

You spin and spin in each other’s arms.

Joel feels the rain melting away the dirt and grime and blood that covers him, washing away his coarseness, smoothing his skin, the slick rain on your hands polish each other’s. He’s barely aware of where he is, relying on your direction, so all he has to focus on is you, how he can feel your laugh when he bumps you into him, how the water spins off your hair as you do.

These moments in the dusk, washed clean and pure, never letting go of you, it overwhelms him. As the heavens part, you’re in front of him, and you’ve never been more beautiful than you are now, soaking wet, smiling like it's 2003, your hands never leaving his. And so it overtakes him, and he slips an arm around your waist to pull you in and kiss you. It’s wet and warm and pure.

You’ve slowed to stillness and brought your hands up to his neck and face to steady yourself and kiss him deeper. With your eyes closed, all there is the rush of the rain in your ears, his lips, and your bodies, summer warm, pressed against each other. You don’t know how long you stay like this, but eventually, he pulls away, hands holding your face, and you open your eyes to each other.

The backdoor bangs twice and here comes Ellie, beaming like she does as she bounds over. You throw your hands up in excitement and take her hand in yours and the other in Joels and you three spin together in the drowning grass, heavy rain and thick air.

And you’re getting away with it, the blind joy, with having fun, being alive, living, being a family, dancing in your backyard in a warm summer rainstorm.

[bunchems]

A Date For One

Jake Lockley ANGST

Summary: After Jake asks Dylan on a date he finds that not everything will go his way.

(This was requested to me)

Italics: Marc

Bold: Steven

🌖

Jake remembers the day like it was yesterday, the day he pretended to be Stevens at work since he couldn’t force him to front and Marc was “too mentally tired” to do it himself. He took one for the team, cringing when he put on Steven’s uniform and heading to his job with a frown pulling on his lips.

He opened up the gift shop himself, walking to the counter and waiting on his phone for pretty much anything to happen. He gets tense every time he sees Donna, she’s a yapper, loves to run her mouth at Steven about fuck all and today he honestly didn’t have the time, patience, nor accent to deal with her.

Going through the day wasn’t awful when his coworkers weren’t around, talking in his usual voice and rushing the customers out of his face so he could sit back and rest his eyes. Jake thought it was more boring than frustrating, a yawn slipping past his lips every few blinks until they froze at the sight of a beautiful brownskin woman across the museum, looking around like she was lost.

His eyes darted around the store to make sure it was clear before heading out the door and flipping the sign to “closed.” He went straight to her, raking his fingers through his hair first— taking the Steven look away in exchange for a more fitting one.

With his hair pushed back, he walks up next to her, keeping a small distance before smiling and asking her name.

“Dylan, yours?” He smiles harder, she’s absolutely stunning. Her hair was black and went down to her back, skin glowing and teeth shining when she speaks. He takes a moment to appreciate her eyes before answering, “J- Steven. I’m uh.. I’m Steven Grant.” He taps his name tag with a grimace, the name itself doesn’t sound right coming off his tongue and his heart races at the white lie.

“Well, Steven, can I help you?” She tilts her head and Jake snickers, scratching his pinky over his eyebrow.

“I uh.. I saw you from over there and thought you were gorgeous, absolutely knocked the breath outta me— I had to try to talk to you.” He saw a light peach spread across her face and felt a small boost in his chest, going to compliment her again before being cut short by her voice.

“And now that you’re here?” She smirked, turning her body to face him and folding her arms over her chest.

Oh? Jake found himself getting increasingly nervous, normally he’d be the sassy one or the one that lacks interest, the more confident type. But today? She was making him shrink into himself, having him carefully pick out his words and hang on every word she let him hear, this was a whole new feeling for him.

“I was uh.. hoping you’d wanna go on a date with me? T’some really good steak at that one place down the corner? I could take you one day?” The look of hope in his eyes was one she couldn’t crush, she agreed without a.. third thought and said Tuesday night would be perfect.

“Seven alright with you?” She nods and he mimics it, smiling ear to ear before backing away to Steven’s shop again.

“Oh! Hey uh, can I get your number?” She nods and gives him a string of numbers, waving him away and walking off, success if you ask him.

The rest of the day went by in a skip and a hop since Jake was practically walking on sunshine, he got home and was too excited to go to sleep or do anything without telling the boys.

🌖🌖🌖🌖🌖🌖🌖🌖🌖🌖🌖🌖🌖🌖🌖🌖

Few days had passed and Steven was fronting, working through the whole day and finally getting back home at five, giving Jake, who’d been yapping about the date the entire day, only one and a half hours to prepare.

Once the body was surrendered to him, he took a shower, fifteen minutes.

Chose an outfit, also fifteen minutes.

Did his hair and put on some jewelry, ten minutes.

Putting shoes on and grabbing keys, five minutes.

Walking out the door and walking back in for a jacket because the weather makes no fucking sense, two minutes.

The almost half hour commute to town wasn’t too traffic-y so the first place he went was the floral shop, buying purple flowers that he thought somehow matched her smile. The steak shop was but a five minute walk so he parked his car and strode there, taking a seat and glancing over the menu while he waited for her.

He looked at his phone, it’s only a little past seven so he didn’t feel the need to worry too much, ordering a black coffee to drink while he read the books on his phone. Jake liked to read too, honestly they all do but for some reason he’s the one that found the most shame in it. Only after being around Steven more did he realize reading isn’t an old people thing but a lame people thing.. sometimes.

He was immersed in his book for around ten pages, multiple minutes flying by before he thought to check the time again, debating if he should give her a call because maybe she’s just running a little late? He doesn’t want to come off as impatient, he’d do whatever she wanted one day.

He was calm for another ten minutes, deciding to pull out his phone and send her a text or two to let her know that for one, he’s at the restaurant and for two, he’s got a surprise for her. He sent the text with a smile, peacefully going back to sipping coffee and reading as he waited for a reply.

“Sir? Were you ready to order?” The waitress came up, inspecting his half cup of coffee and offering more while he glanced over the menu one more time.

“Oh, yeah I’ll uh.. just gimme the loaded fries. Please.” He pressed his lips together to mock a smile and turned back to his mug, staring out the window in hopes of seeing her walking around out there, no luck.

“You don’t think she stood you up?” Jake felt a pang in his heart, Marc’s words were harsh but definitely a possibility that had been creeping in the back of his mind.

Lifting his phone to his ear, he began to speak back to Marc— something he started doing so that everyone else who heard them speak will ‘know’ he’s on the phone.

“I don’t want to think about that right now, thanks.”

“Buddy..”

“Don’t ‘buddy’ me like I’m supposed to be depressed. I knew she wasn’t gonna come, all I’m doing is waiting for my food and we can get the hell outta here, okay?” Marc was wiser than his alter’s words, he could feel that Jake was upset. He could feel how fast his heart was beating, how much his mind raced when he thought about why she didn’t come, the way he glances past him in the window hoping he’d see her running up to the door simply because she’s late.

Pissing Jake off in public wasn’t the plan so he stepped back into the headspace, leaving him to himself and allowing him the silence he knows he wants. When his food finally comes out, he stares down at it with no intent to eat it, watching the steam go up and thinking about what it would’ve been like to maybe share these with her.

The longer he sat, the sadder he got, slapping a fifty on the table and just calling it a night. He left the flowers where they were, dreading the walk back to his car but relaxing back in the seat when he finally got in.

He started the car up and started down the road, turning his music up a bit more and zoning out through the ride. British traffic wasn’t the worst Jake has dealt with so he’d gotten used to just cruising down the road without a second thought, having no clue that up at the second red light? She was there. Dylan.

He sat at the light, a smile almost reaching his lips until his eyes drink in the sight of the man next to her. He.. was better than him. He’s tall, lean and blond, touching on her, leaning all close and kissing her plump lips. Jake could only wonder if he knew how to fight, definitely not better than him of course but could he at least protect you? Probably not. Definitely not. He could hop out the car right now and the fucker would have no clue what to d-

HONK!

The light was green. For some reason the loud noise shoved his mind to the right spot. He pressed the pedal while accepting that she just didn’t like him.

She’d rather have that guy than have me. I would’ve done anything for her, got her anything she wanted.

He didn’t know why he thought to do this, he knew it was a horrible idea but he just had to call her once. Would she even answer? Did she have a voicemail so he could hear her voice?

He scrolled through his contacts, taking frequent glances at the road until he reached her name. He clicked it, taking a few more moments to think about this— what if she answered and pretended like nothing happened? Maybe she’d actually mean it and the could reschedule..

He clicked her name, lifting the phone to his ear and hearing one ring, followed by three off music notes that don’t play well together at all.

The number you have dialed is currently out of service.

His eyes widened, heart sinking to his feet and eyes watering. She never really wanted him in the first place, she never planned on coming. The flood of emotions he felt was strong enough to summon both boys to consciousness, ready to front to take the pain away from him.

“Jake? You alright mate?” Steven had never been so violently yanked awake and the fact that it was by Jake? What the hell is going on.

He ignored Steven, parking the car in their driveway and getting into their place before he began to shout.

“If you had just gotten the hell up that day I would’ve never met her! I had to do your job the entire fucking day, dealing with everyone’s bullshit because you were too busy up in daydream land!” Though Steven really thought it was his fault, Marc and Jake knew the truth, and Jake knew he wasn’t strong enough to keep this anger up.

“Jake. You know that’s not the reason you’re upset, you don’t have to take it out on him.” The sigh he released at Marc was guttural, rubbing his hands harshly over his face before facing them both in the mirror.

“I know. Okay? I thought I’d go on a date with her. I actually thought she liked me but from the start she knew I would be sitting in there alone.” The silence that followed was uncomfortable for all of them. Steven didn’t want to tell him he understood how he felt since he didn’t want him to think he’s pulling attention away or making it about himself. He didn’t want to say the wrong thing to him, Jake’s stability was something he always prided himself on, he had to try to do what’s best for him.

“Jake, I’m so sorry.. You didn’t deserve-“

“Maybe I did! Every day I see a woman, I talk, I laugh, I try! And still she only fucks me and runs away! I don’t understand what I’m doing!” He finally tipped over the edge, tears streaming down his face while he tries to cover them out of embarrassment. He’s supposed to be the strong one with no emotions. The one that doesn’t care and doesn’t get hurt by anything, to be completely overcome by something so minuscule was humbling to say the least.

“It has nothing to do with you. Things don’t always go our way but there are seven billion people on the planet, okay? And- and imagine if you had gotten with her? She clearly wasn’t a good person so you dodged a bullet. Figuratively this time.” He frowned when he realized his words weren’t helping him, maybe time was the best that could be offered.. but it wouldn’t hurt to let him know they’re on his side no matter what.

“He’s right. It’s best to be alone than with someone you know you’d regret. But we have each other until further notice?” Jake gave him a small nod, giving him at least a little acknowledgment so he didn’t feel that his words fell on deaf ears.

“We’ll always have each other, we know that. We know how hard life can be and how unfair it is, we just have to remember that even though we’re allowed to feel, we have to stay strong. Keep as much positivity as possible— which I know is rich coming from me but-“

“No you’re right, you are. I just.. I need to be alone. Maybe have a drink and watch the tv or somethin’.” They understood, leaving without many words and leaving him to his evening.

Jake spent the rest of the night lying in bed staring at his ceiling, he left some music on but it was so low he couldn’t tell which songs were playing. He thought about what happened over and over until he felt the emotions slowly pull back, he didn’t feel confused or hopeless anymore. He just knew he’d never be covering for Steven again.

[adelemadouce]

Orchids in Winter

The next morning, I was woken up by Camille. "Madame, it's me! The Grand Marshal has sent a note to say that you are already in the palace!" Camille's cheeks glowed red under her white bonnet. She took off her cloak and stepped out of her overshoes. "Monsieur Duchâtel is very upset, he asked me if I knew why you didn't come home!" I yawned, stood up, took the nightcap off my head and began to pull the papillotes out of my hair. "What did you tell him?" Camille shrugged her shoulders. "Well, what did I say? That you were warming the Emperor's bed!" I slapped her butt. "You did not!" She laughed. "No. But Monsieur triumphantly announced to us all that the Emperor whispered something in your ear yesterday!" I sighed. "...and of course this is a world-shattering event for Duchâtel!" Camille filled the wash basin with hot water while I sat in the small cabinet and emptied my bladder. Afterwards she washed me with rose soap. Camille brushed my teeth and polished my nails. I felt refreshed and put on my silk panthalons. "Go, have breakfast now...he'll be here soon!" Camille looked at my naked breasts. "I hope the Emperor enjoys his breakfast!" What a cheeky thing she was! But that's also why I loved Camille.

I was brushing my long curls when I heard the scratching at the door. I went to open it and let in a storm! At first I was shocked by the Emperor's pale face, distorted with anger. I knew immediately that something was wrong and found my half-naked body inappropriate. But because my long hair covered my naked breast I didn't think to reach for a piece of clothing. The Emperor passed by me, already dressed, wearing his escarpins but no uniform. He sat down on the bed, looked at me and yelled: "I should have fucked you all night instead hoping to lie in that old goat's cold bed!" I approached him and raised my hands in despair: "Sire...please...you mustn't speak so loudly!" The Emperor looked at me with piercing eyes. I had never seen him so threatening! But I immediately felt that none of this was directed at me. "I want to scream even louder...and I don't care who hears it!" When he noticed my shaking, he calmed down. He folded his arms over his chest and pressed his lips together. After a while he said in a moderate tone: "Last night I went down to the Empress. She received me at the very last step and snapped (the Emperor imitated Joséphine's voice): 'Ahh well, Monsieur...was she at least pretty?'" A dangerous spark glowed in his eyes. "She thought I came from a woman!" He raised his head and added loudly: "After I've fucked a pretty girl, I won't even visit my wife anymore! The Empress should know that!" He only used this choice of words when he was very, very angry. Then his expression changed again. He looked sad. He timidly took my hand and pulled me to him, then he buried his face on my belly and put his arms around my waist. "Why is she tormenting me like this? Her jealousy is destroying everything!" It hurt me to see him suffer. I caressed his face, bent down and kissed him. "My love...my poor darling!" I knew my words comforted him. He pulled me onto his lap. "I don't know how much longer this is going to go on. She drives me to the limit!" I kissed him again and said: "Perhaps the Empress just needs a change! It will be good if she goes to Malmaison for a few days. And then the New Year will begin and there will be new hope for happiness!" The Emperor smiled weakly. He looked up at me. "You sweet angel! You're still protecting her...yes, maybe you're right!" We kissed. Again, very longingly. "How much time do we have left?" he asked. I looked at the little clock. "Ten minutes!" I answered. "Do you want to..., Adèle?" I nodded immediately and stood up. When the Emperor saw how quickly I took off my panthalons, he jumped up from the bed, grabbed my arm and pushed me to the dresser. His hands firmly gripped my buttocks, he lifted me onto the dresser, I opened my legs and felt him penetrate me up to the base! In those ten minutes he took me to paradise... Oh, I was also very pleased that I (and my dresser!) had managed to calm him down again. Before he left me, he took my panthalons and pointed to the seam in the crotch. "Do me a favor and unpick that seam!" He pressed the silk pants into my hand, kissed me and left.

At about half past ten I entered the Empress's chambers. Églée and a few other ladies were already there. The Empress was still getting ready. "Come on, Adèle, tell me...what did he whisper to you?" Églée giggled and pinched my side. "...that the Emperor and I can do it better than you and your Michel!" She had no idea that this was the truth. Églée laughed out loud. "You liar!" She put her arm around my shoulders. "Come on, tell me..." One of the red ladies appeared. She was one of the Empress's wardrobe maids. There were four ladies, they all wore a kind of livery, red dresses. "The Empress wishes to see Madame Duchâtel," said the red lady. My heart was pounding. Églée let go of me. "Now you have to tell her!" I walked towards the red lady and followed her into Her Majesty's dressing room. It was foggy and cloudy outside, soft grey light came through the windows, that's why many candles had been lit in the Empress's chambers. In this golden light, everything looked even more beautiful; the precious white furniture, the cream-coloured velvet curtains with thousands of little golden bees, long-stemmed white roses with white peacock feathers, white ermine furs on thick Aubusson carpets. And the large painting of the First Consul... In the middle of the room I sank into a deep, graceful curtsy. Joséphine's pugs came running up to me, whining. I stroked them. The Empress herself stood in front of a Psyche, which was a large oval mirror, and admired her dress in it. She saw me in the mirror. "Adèle, my dear child!" Aunt Joséphine came to me, I stood up and she kissed me on both cheeks. She looked beautiful, but her eyes clearly showed that she had cried a lot. "Your Majesty!" I gave her my best smile. "How are you, Adèle? How are your little ones...? Sit down and tell me everything!" I went to a small canapée, then suddenly I saw Hortense and Émilie sitting at a small desk. Before I sat down I greeted princess Louis with a small curtsy. Hortense looked at me for a long time; she herself was very pale. It was said that she had not yet fully recovered from giving birth. The ladies were dressed for travelling. I was also surprised that none of the powder puffs were present.

In addition to the red ladies, there were also the black ladies. They all buzzed around the Empress. I was served a cup of tea while the Empress sat in an armchair not far from me and had little leather boots put on. I dutifully told her about Tanguy and my little Napoléon, who had started teething and was therefore having trouble sleeping at night. "This is a very trying time for a young mother," she said sympathetically. "And your husband? Are you happy with him, Adèle?" The question came so unexpectedly that I didn't immediately know what to say. Hortense looked at me curiously. "He's a good father...the family is very important to him," I finally said. And I knew it didn't sound very convincing. Joséphine smiled. "That's not what I meant..." She looked at a gold ring she was wearing. "...do you love your husband, Adèle? He's a lot older than you...how old are you again?" I lowered my eyes. "Twenty-two, Madame!" The Empress nodded slightly. I saw a moist shimmer in her eyes. "They say at court that you have many admirers... there is a club of admirers of yours. Is that true, Adèle?" I looked at my hands and shook my head. "I don't know anything about it, Madame! I don't even know most of the people at court." The Empress tilted her head and looked at me intently. "You don't know any of the gentlemen who wanted to dance with you yesterday and who were turned away by the Grand Marshal? You don't know any of these gentlemen,...Adèle?" My heart was pounding so much that I had trouble breathing. I looked at the Empress in distress. "No!...I mean yes,...yes! Your Majesty, I know these gentlemen! I danced with General de Berckheim recently at the Hôtel Théllusson!" Joséphine stood up, I saw that she was crying. "Why were they not allowed to dance with you?...who forbade it?...what did the Emperor tell you, Adèle? Why do you never look at the Emperor when he is here? What do you feel for him, Adèle?...do you love him?" Her voice rose. "...Adèle...do you love the Emperor?" I looked at Joséphine with my mouth open, my whole body trembling. "Of course I love him! We all love him, Madame, he is our Souverain!" Hortense jumped up from her chair and came to my side. "Maman, stop doing that! She's almost dying of fear!" The princess sat down next to me and placed her hand protectively on my arm. The Empress began to sob loudly. "But I'm dying of fear too...and no one feels sorry for me! She knows exactly what I mean...Adèle knows exactly! And I treated her like my daughter...and she does this to me!" Joséphine pressed a handkerchief to her mouth and closed her eyes, crying. At that moment the door opened and the Emperor appeared. In full regalia, high riding boots, grey coat, black bicorn hat, and riding crop on his wrist. He looked at us and said loudly: "I want to speak to the Empress! Everyone else out!" Joséphine immediately threw herself at him, while I scurried out of the room with Émilie and the red and black ladies. The Emperor held back Princess Louis, and I was just glad when the door closed behind me.

The wardrobe women disappeared immediately. I stayed behind with Émilie. Églée came over to us. "Is there another crisis? Why? What did the Empress say?" Neither I nor Émilie responded to Églée. We looked at the door. But this time it remained quiet behind it. There was no sound. We stood there, completely silent, and waited. My knees were still shaking. I wished I could get far away from this place. Unfortunately, my stomach started to growl, because I hadn't eaten anything that morning. Émilie had to laugh when she heard it. Then the door opened and Hortense appeared. She closed the door behind her, put her hand on her forehead and came towards us. "God is merciful to us...they are just reconciling!" We looked at Hortense with excitement. "The Empress seems to have finally come to her senses. She made a terrible mistake yesterday. She thought the Emperor was with a woman, so she made a scene. But he wasn't with any woman! So now he's giving her a choice - either she ends her jealousy or he ends their marriage!" Hortense nodded. "I welcome any consistent behavior from the Emperor, because not only he suffers from Maman's jealousy, but all of us!" Églée said what we were all thinking. "She loves him!" Hortense did not contradict her. "Of course she loves him...he loves her too! But he hates this love...his heart puts him in chains! He would much rather be free of her...then he could finally have children. Children of his own! And the rest of us would all be free too..." Hortense seemed to be the truly unhappy woman at this court, and not Joséphine! "...besides, the Emperor has assured Maman for the umpteenth time that there will be no mistresses at his court! There is nothing he detests more than being associated with the habits of the Kings of France! To encourage reconciliation, the Emperor is prepared to accompany Maman to Malmaison!"

At first I felt a pang in my heart when I heard that he wanted to be with the Empress, but at the same time there was a relief that the truth remained veiled. "Adèle, the Empress will apologize to you when she returns from Malmaison. You are not at all to blame, we all know that. And Maman too! The Emperor told her that he wanted to make an example of his aides-de-camp when he forbade them to dance with you. He does not tolerate anything like 'admirer clubs'; his officers should always concentrate on their duties and not on courtly banter!" She sighed. "Unfortunately, the Emperor is a philistine!" But Églée was not satisfied with all the explanations. "...and what did he whisper to Adèle?" I looked at her. "I don't know! The music was loud...and he was mumbling something. The best thing, Églée, is to ask him yourself!" She was finally satisfied. I turned to the Princess Louis: "Your Imperial Highness, would it be permissible for me to go home? To my children..." I wanted to disappear, just get away from this palace!

...he went to Malmaison with his wife. With his wife!!!

Hortense nodded. "Yes, go home, Adèle, you've suffered enough!" She looked at the faces of the other ladies. "The fun begins for us now, off to Malmaison! Two days of cultivated boredom...and I'm sure we'll all feel sorry for the poor plants. They suffered sooo terribly from the frost!" An ironic smile spread across Hortense's face. "I just hope there's enough champaigne for us! Then the two days will pass quickly!"

When I arrived home with Camille, another unpleasant surprise awaited me. The entrance of our house was a sea of flowers! Duchâtel came to meet me, waving his handkerchief. "Finally, Adèle...I'm waiting impatiently! Look at the attention you're getting! All of Paris is delighted with you since the Emperor has been so gallantly devoted to you!" I pulled little greeting cards out of the bouquets. Read aloud: "Talleyrand Périgord,... Cambacérès... Cobenzl... Fouché...Fouché??" I looked at Duchâtel and said determined: "Send all of this back! I will not accept any of it! I do not know these people and do not want to have anything to do with them!" Duchâtel was horrified. "But Adèle,...you can't ignore these attentions!" I left him standing with his handkerchief in this sea of flowers. "Send everything back...or give it to the poor!"

I really had enough. With heavy steps, tired and sad, I went upstairs to my children. I had a huge breakfast brought to me and went to bed. In the evening Camille came to me with a billet. "Madame, this has just come for you from Malmaison!" I looked at the little billet, opened the imperial seal and read: "Ma douce Adèle! Mon cœur n'appartient qu' à toi! À toi seul! N."

[plounce]

I am like. 70% sure that at some point y'shtola says to alphinaud that she was about his age when the exodus happened. But man the colony/mainland/exodus situation w regads to Thancred, Yda, and Lyse specifically has driven me to madness. The exodus was about five years after the conquest of ala mhigo and I feel like the Hext's could have made that journey far quicker then that- still, at the most conservative estimate Lyse still grew up in Sharlayan for ten years. What was her education like??? Yda seemed to have been working with the resistance for a while before her death, so who was taking care of Lyse? And Thancred- he seems to mostly self identify as Sharlayan? You never see him calling himself a Lominsan. Why was he assigned to Thanalan instead of La Noscea, if he knew the area better and had more contacts there? How much time did he even spend in Sharlayan before starting on field missions? (Also fun fact: Palaymo's dad is actually featured in a sidequest in Old Sharlayan! He never says it outright but he talks about having a son who followed Louisoix)

you are vindicated by @eriyu in the replies to my post!!

i agree with you totally about the hexts. god i wish i had more - okay i went and looked at the wiki page for yda and learned more from the encyclopedia eorzea v1:

Yda fled her homeland following the invasion of Garlemald in the year 1557 of the Sixth Astral Era. She and her sister first came to the Twelveswood seeking succor, but were forced to leave after being rejected by the elementals. After moons of wandering and foraging off the land, they found their way to the Dravanian hinterlands. With the aid of her future bosom companion, Papalymo, Yda was given a chance to begin her formal education in Sharlayan proper.

fuck the elementals 2. DAMN that's a long way to go, but coerthas pre-calamity is way less hostile to life than what we see 3. thancred truly copying the hexts in terms of "wandering around dravania foraging for moons". that would be a funny conversation for him and lyse to have

iirc, the only time yda is ever actually seen in game is in the 1.0 echo visions for gridania starters? every other time we see her is actually lyse in disguise (which - i have my own thoughts on the efficacy of that plotline, since we never actually see any meaningful difference between the two hext sisters or get much yda at all, but that's a tangent for a different day). i have to imagine that lyse was living with the totolymos in sharlayan when yda was killed, and the news of her death reached them first, allowing lyse to take her sister's place fairly seamlessly? or something? i don't think this plotline will ever really be touched on since lyse's story got basically finished when stormblood did (oh, lyse. how i wish your writing was a bit better.) (fordola and arenvald have been the continuing stormblood/ala mhigo plot/theme thread characters - lyse didn't show up at all in the role quest!). oh wait apparently there's some other stuff about YDA AND FORDOLA BEING FRIENDS? i have like no memory of this and i don't see a source but here's the wiki page. this is really stream of consciousness my apologies. oh well let's keep going

with regards to lyse's education, we know she didn't get her archon's mark (since it got vanished when she took off the yda disguise since papalymo was the one maintaining the illusion of it). the encylopedia has this to say about yda:

At first, this did not proceed smoothly, given her aversion to the study of letters. All too often, she could be found sating her hunger for lemoncakes rather than books. What Yda lacked in wit, however, she made up with her amazing physical prowess, and in time would channel this talent into becoming an expert pugilist.

considering how the encyclopedia also says that yda is "mysterious", i think that it knows that our yda is lyse, because it doesn't mention her becoming an archon in the entry.

also i agree with you about thancred, and at this point i'm developing the belief that louisoix tended to put his students in situations that were initially out of their comfort zones: yda/lyse got put in the twelveswood (where the elementals rejected them), thancred got put in the city state he didn't have a backstory in (he doesn't seem to have much fondness for limsa), and urianger got sent away from home and from his best friend. "here, kiddos! grow and develop! sink or swim!"

also it's so crazy that there was extremely little time between thancred arriving in ul'dah and watching ascilia be orphaned (also it's so crazy that he blames himself for that when there are people who literally let the goobbue loose). and then he became a teenage alcoholic. for work, of course. (shakes him)

i think there's an interesting compare-and-contrast between thancred and lyse - lyse has always been pretty vocally ala mhigan, and any association with sharlayan is mostly through her association with the scions. and thancred mentions his lominsan heritage maybe three times in my memory - explaining how he holds his breath so long in stormblood, recalling how minfilia called him a "wine-sodden wharf rat", and when he's reminiscing on the lominsan docks at the start of endwalker. beyond that he's pretty sharlayan. i do have the headcanon that he is faking his fancyboy accent, so i have the accompanying headcanon that he deliberately tries to distance himself from his childhood. i do think that thancred could've easily returned to sharlayan now and again to report in person, get info, etc, since he could still teleport back then. just not very often, what with the old teleport restrictions, but his handler is friends with a guy who's friends with the wilfsunwyns, teleportation experts...!

i do think it's interesting that louisoix had three kids from eorzea, had them educated/trained in sharlayan for their teenage years, and then sent them back off to eorzea to do recon and direct action for the circle of knowing. hm hm hm.

okay that's enough rambling. every day i think so much.

[yellowcry]

I'm just like you, you're just like me

Both of them expected to have a normal day. Instead, Luisa woke up in Isabela's body. And Isabela woke up in Luisa's accordingly

Prompt by @miracles-and-butterflies "Luisa and Isabela randomly swapping gifts and/or bodies."

Luisa blinked several times, staring at the bed canopy. It definitely wasn't her room. Radiant colors were blinding her eyes. Well, perhaps it was a bit of an overstatement, but Isabela's room was so bright, at least compared to Luisa's hard grotto. It was flickering in front of her eyes already. How could Isa nap here anyway? 

And, by the way, where was Isabela? And what Luisa was doing in her chamber? She didn't remember coming in here. By Luisa's memory, she fell asleep as usual. Looking down at her nightgown, Luisa was startled. It wasn't her usual color, but rather the dark blue that Papa and Isabela wore. A moment later she outstretched her arms, taking a note of how different they were. If a much darker tone could be explained by bad light (tho it didn't really make sense) then the fact of how small they were. Everything just seemed so off.  She looked around in puzzlement, before jumping down, almost falling over on the floor. 

Finally getting to see the mirror, Luisa blinked in surprise. Isabela's reflection blinked back.

"What?" She fluttered in confusion, realization was getting to her. She looked at her arms again. Or at Isabela's arms... Whatever she was supposed to call these. At this point, Luisa really doubted that it wasn't another strange dream. Because, well, usually she didn't rouse in her sister's body.  Luisa had heard that caffeine was actually a drug, but to have such ravings? Well, no, she wasn't used to this level.

It took a good ten minutes to proceed with this fact completely. She didn't wake up by this time, and things were pointing out that everything was the same as in reality.... Again, except for the fact that she was Isabela.

"I'm getting crazy from this..." She sighed to herself, realizing that the last cup of coffee yesterday was too much even for her. The situation was way too bizarre to believe in its reality. Also, if Luisa was Isabela, would it mean...

How awesome. Isabela would probably be her now. She had no idea of what would be more strange: to be swapped bodies with Isa or to have two herself in two different bodies.

Luisa grabbed an alarm from the nightstand. It was the only possible way to make her hermana wake up. At least as far as it was known by tested measures. Considering that time when Luisa yelled into her ear just for Isabela to keep snoring, measures were good enough. And it wasn't like Isabela(who's technically Luisa) to drag herself into another room.

As Luisa anticipated, her real body woke up in the very next second when she adjusted the watch to make it seem like it was morning already. It was definitely Isabela. As much as the music of this alarm was disgusting and irritating, only Isa could react so quickly.

Isabela wiped her eyes, staring around in stupor. "Milo, what the fuck are you doing?" She sighed, finally noticing who seemed to be herself. Logically speaking, it was probably the most reasonable explanation of seeing herself.

"I'm not Camilo." Luisa shrugged in awkward feeling, making Isabela roll her eyes. "We... Uh... Exchanged bodies, I think?" 

"Wait, Luisa?" She clarified in a stunner. It took a moment for Isabela to proceed. Throwing a quick look at herself, she seemed confused for a moment, but eventually sighed, staring at Luisa with an exhausted face. "Did you wake me up just to tell me this?"

"Yes? I think it's a bit strange?" 

Isabela looked surprisingly unfazed, despite the circumstances. "At this point, I think we should be more surprised it didn't happen earlier." It was mostly an act, she was pretty stunned with this mess too. But she also was rather sure that being Madrigals meant having to deal with the strangest things ever.

"Fair enough." 

The older... Or younger between the sisters eventually jumped off the bed, examining the grey walls. "How do you live in here? It's so boring." She groaned, displeased by how different Luisa's room was from her own. 

If Isabela's place was covered in all kinds of bright plants, that were throwing colors in their eyes, mixing into blurs, then Luisa's room was a series of underground tunnels, cold stone caves with episodic patches of precious rocks. A whole different world that looked really strange compared to what Isabela was used to. It was simple, plain in a way. Just like Luisa's free clothes style. The middle child was practical and fast in everything. Isabela, even after getting out of Abuela's grasp, still was spending lots of time, making sure everything looked as good as possible. She was a messy perfectionist as she called it.

"Great, so, we've gotten into some shit again." Isabela looked over Luisa again. She had to admit it was a bit strange, even if she tried to imagine that it was Camilo. 

Luisa chuckled. "Can't say better." This night was an absurd dream, and Isabela hoped that she would go back to herself soon. 

As Isabela clenched her fists, she could sense a rush of power, flowing through her entire body, ready to windstand everything, break through any obstacle. It was a powerful sensation. She knew that Luisa's gift was way more physical than her normal plant control. But this time, she was feeling this clearly in every fiber of her body. If Isabela always felt that her gift was a continuation of her body, then Luisa's was a part of it.

And what are they going to do with this entire situation?

There was one huge problem as there was no way anybody would believe this. Honestly, Isabela wouldn't believe herself too. They lived in a talking house and possessed magical gifts, sure. But it still was odd. Being inside Luisa's body was strange and unusual. 

After a moment of silence, her mind got another idea and her face lightened up. They had no idea of what was going on or how to stop this. So why not get the biggest possibilities done? It's not like they were swapping bodies every evening. 

Luisa blinked before realization struck her. "You want to make it a competition." It wasn't even a question. Just a simple fact. It would never be Isabela without getting competition over every smallest thing in the world.

"How do you think, who could pretend that she's the normal body owner better?"