#because of the jean part in their lucky in love series~
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reidmarieprentiss · 4 months ago
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masterlist ♡
my requests are open! i'm comfortable writing for any sexuality, gender, and/or specified reader preference! my basic model is a fem!reader x male!character because that is how i myself identify and who i am attracted to -- so if you want something else just lmk!! <33
click here for my taglist :)
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꩜ -- angst ♡ -- fluff ꕥ -- smut
Spencer Reid
Series
★ Bridges to Belonging ꩜ ♡ ꕥ— Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six (18+) Part Seven (18+)
★ Finding Home Again ꩜ ♡ ꕥ— Part One Part Two (18+)
-- -- -- Extras -- Jeans ♡ ꕥ Migraines ꩜ ♡ Bar ♡ Stood Up ꩜
★ i love you ꩜ ♡ ꕥ— Part One Part Two
★ Short Shorts & Long Hair ꩜ ♡— Part One Part Two
★ Too Sweet ꩜ ♡ ꕥ — Part One Part Two Part Three
★ Make You Feel My Love ꩜ — Part One Part Two Part Three
★ Something Better ꩜ — Part One Part Two
★ Breaking Point ꩜ ♡ — Part One Part Two
★ Too Damn Young ꩜ ♡ ꕥ — Part One Part Two
★ Red ꩜ ♡ ꕥ — Part One Part Two
★ Lost in Translation ꩜ ♡ ꕥ — Prologue Part One Part Two Part Three
One Shots
Whispers in the Dark ꩜ ♡ ꕥ
Set 'Em Up, and Knock 'Em Down ꩜ ꕥ
Needy ♡ ꕥ
Capturing the Queen ♡ ꕥ
Sweet & Sour Motivation ꩜ ♡ ꕥ
Moving Forward ꩜ ♡
Love in the Club ♡ ꕥ
Lost & Found ꩜ ♡
Strawberry Lemonade ♡
Not Her ꩜ ♡
Ghost of You ꩜ ♡ ꕥ
Textual Tension ♡ ꕥ
Hookups & Holdouts ꩜ ♡
Better Late Than Never ♡
Illicit Affairs ꩜ ♡
No More Misunderstandings ♡
Forever & Always ꩜ ♡ ꕥ
Depollute Me ♡
Blurbs
Silent Echos ꩜
Second Chances and Serendipity ♡
Ink Impressions ♡
Love in the Details ♡
The Hardest Goodbye ꩜
Ride 'Em Cowgirl ♡
Home in Jeans ♡ ꕥ
Car Wash ♡
They Were Never You ꩜ ♡
Rewritten Plans ꩜ ♡
Dare Ya ♡
Cream Cardigan ♡
Picture You ♡
Tummy ꩜ ♡
Home with Migraines ꩜ ♡
Matchmaker ♡
Always You ꩜ ♡
Home From The Bar ♡
Bedroom Eyes ♡
Federal Beach Investigation ♡
Stood Up & Home ꩜
Good Boy ꕥ
The Profile of Attraction ♡
Asks
A Gentle Embrace ♡
Southern Charm ♡
Cinephile ♡
Where We Were Meant To Be ꩜ ♡
Love Doctor ♡
Not Strong Enough ꩜ ♡
Birthday Surprise ♡ ꕥ
Technicalities ꩜ ♡ ꕥ
Lucky ꩜ ♡
I Love You, I'm Sorry ꩜ ♡
Languages of Love ♡
Wounds: Physical & Emotional ꩜
Chip Taylor
Something's Gotta Give ꩜ ♡ ꕥ
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macfrog · 11 months ago
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sweet child o' mine | pt. ii
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hi. this is max's lawyer speaking. please don't get mad at her for this part. she asked me to let you know that she loves you all and hopes that you trust her. sincerely, jimmy mcgill
pairing: neighbor!joel x fem!reader
summary: you're pregnant with joel miller's kid. he's dating someone else. you deal with it.
warnings: reader is literally pregnant so typical pregnancy stuff like nausea (none of the v word, y'all are safe with me), ultrasound scene set in a hospital, anxiety and guilt surrounding pregnancy, description of body change/growth, brief and i mean brief discussion of abortion, joel is dating someone who isn't reader, age gap (late 20s reader, late 40s joel), reader has no physical description save for hair, cursing, genderless use of buddy when referring to baby, joel kisses someone who is not his partner, mention of alcohol, disturbing & semi-graphic nightmare about being involved in car accident, reader has a panic attack, discussion of dead parents, fluff and the beginnings of angst DISCLAIMER: this series covers some issues which i know may be sensitive and possibly triggering to some. warnings will always be as thorough as possible, but if there's ever anything you feel i've missed, please let me know. feel free to drop by my inbox anytime.
word count: 9.2k
pt. i / series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🩵
“I know, I know,” Joel holds a palm up, “it’s nine thirty. I know. But I had to lug all this wood over here, and it – You okay?”
You realize when he pauses that you’re gaping at him, wide-eyed and frozen in place behind your front door. Your jaw hinges shut, a gulp like carpet burn down your throat. You didn’t hear a word he just said.
How does he know? He can’t possibly. Did he sense it, from two lawns away? Dream about the binding of cells, the furnace left lit in your body from that night? The embers still floating, just waiting to catch to life again?
Did he do the fucking math, the way you probably should’ve? How does he fucking know?
The minute the question leaves your mouth, you regret it.
Joel’s eyebrows drop. “How did I know what, kid? That you need new closets? Like you ain’t been nipping my ear about ‘em for weeks?”
Your eyes unlock from his and shift to the slats of wood leaning against the balustrade. The toolbox hanging from his fist. The worn jeans and the white dust marks on his thighs. He doesn’t fucking know, you idiot.
Joel steps forward. Takes your wrist. One grounding, steady hand around your thrashing pulse. “You’re freaking me out. What the hell’s –?”
“Nothing,” you chirp, remembering. The closet. The deal. The fucking – the deal. You withdraw your arm. Hidden up your sleeve, quickly slipping out of his grasp, is the news that his life is about to change forever.
Maybe. You don’t fucking know.
“No,” you continue, blinking the burn of sunlight from your vision, “I just – I forgot. Sorry. Come in. Sorry.”
“Quit sayin’ sorry,” he mutters, eyeing you suspiciously. He lifts a foot and hovers it over the threshold, hesitating. Like the first step across a minefield; instinct telling him to tread carefully.
And you swear an oath to yourself, swear it on your own life: if he doesn’t put the heel of his boot in your hallway, if he turns around right now whether because his instinct is razor sharp, or because he forgot his lucky screwdriver, or purely because he needs to take a fucking leak before he gets started – you will never tell him. He will never know.
If his intuition is that good, he’ll turn around and never show up on your porch again. If he has any sense, he’ll forget any of this ever happened. Deal off.
“How’s the stomach?” Joel asks, sole still three inches from wood.
“What?” you bleat, your heel knocking against the bottom stair. It’s a little more panicked than you intended.
“Yesterday,” a crease forms between his brows, “you said you had a weird stomach. That any better?”
Oh, you think, and as you open your mouth to reply, his foot hits the ground. No answer needed. He was coming in whether you tried to deter him or not.
“Oh, yeah. It’s – Well, it’s better than it was. I think I worked it out,” you grimace, tongue curling under the tinge of anxiety and – well. “Thanks,” you add, noticing the brisk cut of your replies.
The heavy thud of his footsteps follows you upstairs, blunt on the carpet as you lead him up. Joel sets the toolbox down and casts your room a quick glance, snapping back to you as soon as you notice him.
You tug on the corner of the bedsheets, a heat bubbling beneath your cheeks. Something shy and self-conscious, all of a sudden. The reality that you don’t feel close enough to this man to share the anatomy of your room with him, mixed with the knowledge that the two of you are, now and forever, bound by the anatomy of something a little more significant than dirty laundry and dusty wardrobes.
A little closer than most humans get, let’s say.
“You want a coffee or something?” you ask, crossing your arms and leaning back against the window sill.
“You havin’ one?”
“Sure. Wait – actually –” Can you have coffee whilst pregnant? A woman at work quit it altogether when she fell pregnant with her son. Fuck. “I’m – No. I’m good. But let me go make you one.”
Joel shakes his head, amused. Screwdriver burrowing into a door hinge already. He flashes you a tickled grin. “I’m good just now, kid. Wait until you’re makin’ one. Thanks.”
You lift a shoulder. “Welcome.”
His eyes flit from the twist of silver to your hunched shoulders, your arms crossed protectively over your chest. “You gonna stand there ‘n watch me all day? You my foreman now?”
“Sure,” you reply, and he laughs. You sniff, twisting your foot into the carpet. The plastic test itches against your skin; you can feel the two lines ripping into your wrist like tiny burns. “I can go, if you want.”
His lip turns, musing. A quick flick of his jaw. “You’re good company, all in all.”
Metal clanking against metal; fingers knuckle-deep in the toolbox. You can hear the harsh sound across your body, like the point of screws and bite of rust are actually scoring your skin. The groan of a near-fifty-year-old man rising to rip a decades-old door from its home. The creak of wood as it splits.
Everything so heightened that it’s actually painful.
Joel straightens up and pauses, turning his screwdriver between his fingers. “Are we –? We’re good, right?”
“Good?”
“Yeah. You’d tell me if things were weird?”
“Why would things be weird?”
His answer scrawls itself across his face. Your response scoffs from your lips.
“I just,” Joel sighs, “I feel like something might be off with ya. Maybe you just ain’t feelin’ too hot. But you’re quiet.”
“Quiet,” you whisper, palms locking heavily against your biceps. More defensive than convincing.
“Yeah. You usually annoy the hell outta me.”
Over your shoulder, Alice Brown waddles down her driveway, eyeing her flowerbeds. She pauses when Diane’s station wagon pulls up across the street; stands motionless as she watches the round figure climb out and totter to her own front door.
“Just – not in a very annoying mood, I guess,” you offer, staring at the white head of hair fluttering in the breeze. The glint of a trowel in her hand.
Joel’s chin lifts. He studies you, tongue tracing the ridges of his teeth. And then he’s nearing you, turning until you’re shoulder to shoulder, two silhouettes stood against the bright square of blue sky inside your window frame. His arms crossed; his stare fixed.
The words begin to boil in your stomach. Violent bubbles against the wall of your midriff. Rising like steam, fading into nothingness over your tongue, the sting of heat where your voice won’t collect them.
Joel moves from foot to foot. It feels like some kind of merry dance, some choreographed moment between you – like a skit in a comedy show. I know something you don’t know.
“What happened – at the wedding,” he murmurs, addressing the polished gold of your bedframe.
Some small sound passes your lips. An affirmative. You’re on the same page.
“We didn’t use – you know. And with you not feelin’ well, it’s…” A deep breath. Chest full of a ghostly bravery. And then he asks, “Are you –?”
Silence swallows the end of his question whole. You didn’t need it, anyway. The stiffness of his frame, his stare shooting straight ahead. The lack of oxygen between you – both holding your breath for fear that something might tear loose from your lungs. He knows. He knows he knows he knows.
You gulp. “…If I was?”
His head cranes upwards, focusing on the cracked plaster of your ceiling. The realization slowly trickling down over his skin. It hasn’t seeped through, hasn’t bled into his brain yet. “Then,” another breath, “then it’d be a conversation…” His voice is halved, split somewhere between knowing and – what is it? Hoping?
Your eyes slip over to the worn sleeve of his T-shirt, stretched around the swell of his bicep; scaling up to his shoulder, the tight set of his jaw. He’s so much taller, he’s so much older. There’s so much life lived and so many lessons learned behind his eyes that you wonder how much the news I’m pregnant would actually crack him.
Your eyes meet. You whisper, “Then – talk,” and his expression softens.
He blinks away whatever’s left of his trying, his polite attempts to skirt around it. He sheds probably a good three decades – turns back into some doe-eyed boy, wonderstruck and terrified. His voice is quiet, and at the same time, the heaviest with emotion you’ve ever heard it. “Are you?” he asks, and immediately, he blurs behind a wall of tears.
Your sentence gets caught in your teeth. It made no sense to begin with. Tangled between your molars, latching at the back of your tongue. Your hand slowly pulls free from your sleeve, the little white test between your fingers.
Joel’s eyes instantly drop, staring at the pale stick with a fraught expression you understand to mean the message has finally reached his brain. The same words now ringing between his ears: She’s pregnant. She’s pregnant. I got her pregnant.
You hold the test out, quivering in the daylight. He takes it in his thumbs, instantly soothing its tremble. Everything muted, every movement steady and considered. And suddenly the sight of that positive test feels less scary, in his hands. Feels like a smaller problem, if that were ever possible.
And he says nothing, and it’s almost unbearable to watch the shape of his lips thin, the shadow beneath his brows darken. Agonizing to stand here and wonder what the next words over his tongue will be.
He stares at it a moment longer. You count the beats of your pulse in your throat. You wrap your arms tighter around your body, holding your skeleton together.
Joel’s lips part. Your breath freezes. Whatever he says, you don’t want to miss a syllable.
“Are you –” he blinks, “– are you feelin’ okay?”
You stare blankly. His eyes finally lift.
“What?”
“Are you feeling okay?”
Your head jerks. “I’m – I’m fine. I mean, I’m fucking shocked.”
He nods. “How long have you known?”
“Took that right before you showed up,” you say, eyes diving to his hands. “Twenty minutes, maybe.”
He’s still switching between you and the test. Checking those two lines are still there, as if they might fade to nothing, and then checking you’re still there – as if you might, too. Might be swept off if he’s not keeping an eye on you.
His face pales. He sinks back against the window ledge. “Jesus,” he breathes, a hand down the scruff of his chin.
And it feels like relief, like a mirror sat before you, presenting the honest truth: you’re fucked, and Joel thinks so, too. It embeds the shock into the cushion of your brain, the weight of it absorbed and laid bare for every particle in your body to pay it a visit. What the fuck do we do now?
“Yeah,” you sniff, “Jesus.”
But then his arm wraps around your shoulder, reminding you you’re still solid. Still whole. He holds you to his side, and when you turn into him, he takes you in the other and pulls you flat against his chest. His lips to your hair. His breathing slowing yours.
“We’re gonna work it out,” he says into your hair. “We’re gonna – Jesus, I did not expect…We are goin’ to be fine, alright? You are goin’ to be fine.”
You’re nodding, the prickle of tears flooding across your eyes again. They’re doing nothing, his words – blunt against your skin and insignificant to the fear swelling around your heart – but it feels better to be afraid with someone. Feels better to hold onto something stronger, something bigger, while you feel yourself beginning to shrink.
“What do we do?” you ask into his shirt.
Joel loosens his grip, pulls away until you’re staring at one another. “What do you wanna do?”
“I don’t…” Your head’s shaking, lips moving quicker than your voice will offer the words over. “I don’t think I want to get rid of it.”
He nods, a hand coming up to hold your cheek. “Alright. Then you don’t have to. You don’t gotta do anythin’ you’re not comfortable with.”
“But,” you sniff, guiltily averting his gaze, “this fucks everything up. Everything’s about to change.”
Joel takes a long, slow breath. “It complicates some things, that’s for sure.” He looks out to the street; Alice Brown now hauling weeds from the edge of her lawn. In his exhale, he breathes a name.
“V…What?”
He looks down. Eyes dance around your damp cheeks. “Vanessa,” he says, clearer now.
“Vanessa?”
A nod. His nose wriggles with an awkward sniff. You push off from his chest.
“Who the hell is Vanessa?”
Joel lets you go; lets you step back. He watches as you brace yourself against the ledge. Runs a hand through his hair while he fixes the right order of words. He’s thinking. Carefully.
Too fucking carefully. He’s taking too long.
“Joel. Who’s Vanessa?”
“She’s…” He sighs. “She’s my ex. From Tommy’s wedding. Vanessa Hart.”
Your jaw slackens. The purple dress. The hair like silk, a halo around her head where the light kissed her perfectly. Her plump lips; the way her head tipped back to laugh. The amount of air you felt her take up the second you laid eyes on her, the second you saw her, arm on top of Joel’s.
“Vanessa,” you whisper, your eyes descending his frame. The memory feels menacing now: her sweet giggle a sneering cackle, and you’ve no idea why. The bulky jewels around her neck, her clawed fingers on his arm.
Joel’s hand sits inches from yours on the wooden sill. Alice is walking back inside.
“We, uh…we swapped numbers the morning after the wedding, at breakfast. I didn’t think much of it, but we’ve seen each other a couple times since.”
This isn’t the time for another it’s a date, it’s not a date argument. What the fuck does he mean by –
“Seen each other?”
“Mhm.” He owes you better than that. He reckons so, too. “Dates,” he clarifies. “We’ve been on a couple dates.”
“Oh.”
Your heart falls to the pit of your stomach. Plummets, dragging with it your breath and your nerve and any other words you can think of. Your chest gnaws at the edges of the cavity left behind. It hurts. It stings.
Though you’ve no right for it to hurt or sting: as far as you were concerned, as far as you think Joel was concerned, that night was a one-off. It meant as little as the alcohol draining from your glasses, the vacant buzz of love and hope loose in the air. Equally as intoxicating as each other.
Cataclysmic, for the first little while. So heavily awkward that you would wait to watch Joel head out in the morning, clear of your path, before you’d set off for work. It felt like the aftermath of some natural disaster – the cleanup of debris and mistake.
But oh, it feels like a punch to the gut. Low, unexpected; a foul move by someone who never meant to hurt or not hurt you. Someone ignorant to every move he made, right up to this moment.
Your arms wrap around your body again, as though tending to the bruise left by the sucker punch shaped something like that tall woman named Vanessa.
Joel scratches the back of his neck. “We were…we were seein’ about starting things up again. Me ‘n her.”
“Yeah,” you nod, “I got you. That’s – I mean, I’m – I’m sorry, Joel, I –”
“Woah, woah,” he’s stepping forward now, “hey, no. No way. This wasn’t you. Well, shoot – it kinda was you. But it was just as much me, right?”
You smile, your face back in the safe hold of his hands. Tears roll down your cheeks, collecting in the corners of your mouth. His thumbs swipe them away.
“This was just as much me,” he repeats, voice soft and soothing.
“But, you know – if you wanted to – just ‘cause I don’t want to get – so if you didn’t wanna have to – that’d be okay, you know that, right?”
His head snaps back, brows low. It’s the first time he looks like his cool has broken all morning. It’s the first time he looks…downright offended. “Are you kidding me?” he asks, and then, “Tell me you’re kidding.”
“I just – I know this ain’t ideal. It’s even worse if you’re tryna make it work with Vanessa. So if you felt like it was too much, then…”
Joel shakes his head. “Shut up,” he says, edged with some kind of groan. “Stop talking, right now. Stop. You gotta take a deep breath, alright? I’m here, ‘n I mean I’m here. We’re in this together. I am not running out on you.”
“Joel –”
What was a mere crack in his cool before, rips through it now like lightning spreading across the sky. He closes his eyes, a sigh escaping between his teeth. “If you think I would leave you right now, to deal with this on your own –”
“I don’t,” you tell him, his vexation powering your sudden animation. You wipe your tears away, shaking your head. “I’m just saying, it’s a fucking lot. I don’t want you to feel trapped. I’m giving you an out, man.”
“I am not interested in taking it. Enough. Conversation over.”
“And what about Vanessa?”
“What about her?” he asks, the question dripping in something akin to anger. He catches himself, draws it back in. “She’ll just – We’ll talk, I’ll explain it. The hell else can we do? One thing at a time, okay?”
“Right,” you nod, “okay. One thing at a time.”
“Let’s just build these damn wardrobes. I sure as hell didn’t lug all that timber over here to not do ‘em.”
“Okay,” you repeat, making for the door.
“Ah.” He clicks, and you turn back. “Where the hell do you think you’re goin’?”
“To get the timber.”
“I don’t think so,” he says, pointing to your bed. “Sit down. Relax. You ain’t getting a damn thing.”
Joel calls it a day at six o’clock.
The skeleton of the closet is up: a smooth, tan frame lining one wall of your room. Much bigger, much sturdier than its predecessor.
You’re in the same spot he left you in: lying across your bed, admiring his handiwork. He’s good at what he does. You told him twice, and the two of you almost heaved both times. Compliments aren’t something you’re used to handing one another.
He left, maybe, three hours ago. Said he had to shower; said he’d be back first thing to finish the job. You sat up to see him out, got struck by a wave of nausea so bad that you fell back to the bed with one hand on your stomach and the other over your lips, and Joel had insisted – demanded – that you stay where you were.
I’ll be back later to check on ya, he assured, setting a glass of water at your bedside. And then he told you to call him if you felt even remotely off – sick, or panicked, or had a tickle in your throat that you couldn’t clear – and that’s when the two of you realized that you don’t even have one another’s numbers.
And you laughed, the both of you; laughed at the absurdity of you carrying his child when you don’t even carry his contact details in your phone. Laughed at how quickly everything has turned one hundred and eighty degrees in the few hours since you woke up. It felt like some form of release, the only way to clear the blockage of tension in both your throats. So, you laughed, until you felt sick again, and Joel swept the hair from your shoulders to cool you down.
The attentiveness is…new. It’s interesting. It’s kind, in the same way that being told to say hi to whoever your grandma is talking to in the grocery store, is kind. Sweet, the same way that answering the door on Halloween to a bunch of kids you don’t know from a street you don’t recognize the name of, is sweet.
Whatever. It’s fucking weird, alright?
You’ve never seen this side of Joel. You didn’t know or even think, in your wildest dreams, that he existed. Let’s face it: you two have spent the entirety of your inhabitance next door to one another, antagonizing each other. Your favorite hobby has always been pissing Joel off – teasing him for having backache, seeing how far down his porch you can launch his newspaper and he’ll still go get it. Playing the same kind of music you heard him playing on his guitar that one time, full-volume from your kitchen window just to fuck with him.
And, likewise: his favorite hobby has always been…well, ignoring you. Doing everything he can not to engage. If it weren’t for that fucking cat lady and her jittery green Chevrolet, none of this would’ve ever happened. She was a catalyst where one was neither needed nor wanted. You would’ve gone about your life, pinning your underwear only slightly more carefully to your clothesline, and Joel would’ve gone about his, doing – whatever the fuck he does.
Sure, it’s weird. But it’s nice. It’s nice to have him on your side, turning to check on you rather than snap at you for something. Nice to have him talk – actual, rounded words in place of grumbles and mumbles and groans and sighs. Nice to hang out with him and watch him work and ask questions about screws and power tools and pretend to be interested just to distract from the weight of queasiness in your stomach.
Your hands trail down, cupping around your navel. Your stomach still feels like your stomach: still soft, still spongey under your touch. If not for the two more tests you’d taken this afternoon, perched on the bathroom counter waiting for Joel to unstick his gaze from his watch and announce, That’s three minutes – both also positive, by the way – you’d have no fucking clue.
You hold the bottom half of your tummy, fingers rubbing gently over the skin that will soon enough grow and swell and protect.
“Hey,” you whisper, staring at the stationary ceiling fan overhead. A pause. An awkward inhale. “…hey, little buddy. I don’t – know you very well, yet. I figure you can’t even fucking hear me, but whatever. Just wanted to say hi. I’m – Ew, no. I’m not Mom, yet. What the fuck. I don’t know who I am right now, so just…maybe go easy on me until I figure that part out. And after, too. Alright? Are we…we cool?
“You can’t tell me, I know. I just have to assume we’re cool. Okay. Well. Keep growin’. Keep…doing your thing. You’re doing great. We’re doing – we’re doing alright.
“Good job, kid. Good job.”
Joel tells Vanessa two days later. She takes it…about as well as you might hope.
He says they talked for four hours. Three cups of coffee and a drive to Taco Bell later, she agreed to meet you. Properly. Not across the cluttered dancefloor of Tommy’s wedding.
She –? Is – is that a good idea?
I don’t know, kid. It’s the best I’ve got.
Meet me? Like, come kick my ass for sleeping with her boyfriend?
Joel had sighed and deadened his eyes on yours. Not her boyfriend, he corrected, passing you a sweater folded a little slapdash for your liking, and wasn’t her boyfriend when we slept together.
You shook the sweater straight again and fixed his work, muttering to yourself that at least he’s a better builder than he is a folder.
Joel heard you, and let it go. Passed you another – unfolded – sweater to sit in your wardrobe. Let’s just see how it goes, alright?
Alright.
We’re really trying this again. It’s only been a couple weeks.
Okay.
And neither of us have had much luck in that department since we broke it off, y’know?
Joel. I said okay.
He held your gaze a moment too long. Okay.
You’re on your porch when he strolls over, wrist blocking the six o’clock sun from his eyes. Newspaper in his fist, wind licking the corners. “Forget somethin’ today?” he asks, meeting you at the top of the steps.
“Came out to get it,” you brace yourself on the railing, “felt sick. This is me workin’ up to it.”
“You want me to toss it back onto my lawn so you can go fetch me it?”
You smile, eyes screwing shut. “Was coming over to ask what time for tomorrow.”
The reminder snaps him from his happy daydream. He says, “I was comin’ to ask you the same thing. Seven work?”
“Seven’s good. Are we getting food?”
“You wanna get food? I figured maybe you wouldn’t be up for it, what with the, uh…” Joel gestures to your hunched position, your head low between your shoulders, your deep, deliberate breaths.
“Maybe just drinks,” you utter, gulping back the sharp taste of bile.
He nods. “Drinks it is. You okay? You need anything?”
“I’m good. Thanks. See you guys at seven.”
Four minutes early, there’s a knock at your door. You pull it open, and there they are. Picture-perfect, like they might be posing for a holiday card. A bottle in his arm, a bunch of flowers in hers. A timid but genial smile between her cheeks, a twinkle in her eye. That same circle of shining light around her head, brunette tresses curled into bouncing waves.
“Howdy,” Joel says, stepping into the space you create. He dips his head, kisses your cheek, whispers a brief, Y’okay? in your ear. You nod quickly, gently shifting him out of the way.
Vanessa lingers for a moment in the doorway. She glances from Joel to you again, blinking in the porch light. Her pale skin lit in an ethereal glow. She’s prettier up close.
Joel addresses you, hand brushing the small of your back, “…this is Vanessa.”
“Hi,” she says, and pushes the flowers towards you – a small bouquet of gypsophila and eucalyptus. Bright, polite. Each sprig laden with the burden of appearing simpatico, but important. Meaningful, in the airiest sense of the word. “Hi,” again.
“Hi,” you echo, and then feel stupid for having nothing more to offer. You can feel Joel’s eyes on you, hot on your shoulder.
But Vanessa takes the weight from your chest. “It’s nice to meet you – officially. I saw you at Tommy and Maria’s wedding. You looked so beautiful.”
“Thanks,” springs from your tongue sooner than the rest of the sentence. Your brain scrams to find more words. “You looked – you looked great, too. Do you wanna –? I mean – Sorry. Come in. Obviously.”
She clicks over the threshold, her pale dress floating into your hallway like she’s part of a dream. She’s just as beautiful in this light, relaxed form – pastel blue and the glimmer of golden jewelry – as she was in the sleeker, more dramatic form you saw her in before. An aura about her which captures and tends to your attention. Intense, captivating, but not intimidating.
You usher them to the living room, offer them a space on the couch while you take Vanessa’s flowers to the kitchen. Joel follows you through, sets the bottle on the counter.
“Nonalcoholic,” he says, unscrewing the cap.
Your eyebrows jump. “Great. Thanks.”
“She’s nervous,” he murmurs, leaning in. “I know you are, too. Y’all are similar like that.”
You slot the stems into a vase of water one by one, carefully organizing a display. “She seems sweet,” you assure him. “She shouldn’t be nervous.”
“Neither should you.”
“Is this…totally weird for you?”
Joel breathes in deep, filling three glasses. “Yeah,” he says, eyes never lifting from the sparkling peach.
“Sorry.”
He angles his jaw. “Stop sayin’ you're sorry. I’ll kick your ass.”
Your head drops between your shoulders, eyes lifting only to his elbows. “Sorry.”
He scoffs, swiping the glasses and stepping back to let you out first.
“I’m trying not to make it weird,” you offer, slipping by.
“I don’t want you to try anything.” He kicks your ankle lightly and follows you back into the living room.
Vanessa sits forward and clasps her hands around her knee when you sit back down, shifting as though to reach for you before she stops herself. “How are you feeling? Joel said you’re a little…worse for wear, right now.”
“I’ve been better,” you say, smiling. “Just morning sickness. Which lasts – all day.”
She nods sympathetically. “My sister had it rough with her first. I actually…” She twists around, reaches for her purse, fishes out an orange packet. “I brought you some ginger tea. Kate told me it helped her a lot, so.”
She holds it out in almost trembling fingers. Likewise, you steady yours to take it from her, thanking her with a shy nod of the head. “That’s so kind,” you reply quietly, eyes darting to Joel. He’s staring at the pack in your hands, watching as you turn it over to read the back.
“And – listen,” Vanessa continues, the acceptance of her offering clearly fueling her assuredness, “I don’t want anything to be weird – between you and I, between you and Joel. I know this situation is…new. It’s, um…”
“It’s kinda weird,” you say, humoring. “It’s okay. I know.”
She breathes a relieved laugh. “It is. Thank God you said it.” She glances back at Joel, who smiles at her, slips his hand onto her knee. “But I guess,” a deep breath, “I guess it is what it is. And we’re all adults, you know? We can make it work, right?”
Your head switches rapidly between nodding enthusiastically and shaking enthusiastically. “Yeah. Yes. No, absolutely. And, you know, me and Joel – there isn’t – we’re not at all…”
“Oh,” she bats the idea away, “I know. I know that. He told me everything. It’s – You know, it’s just a timing thing.”
Joel’s staring down at his hand locked around her leg. Unblinking. Unmoving. His expression doesn’t shift until the two of you settle back into your seats; until Vanessa asks if he’d mind making you a cup of ginger tea.
You barely notice his absence, the way she takes you up in conversation. Like twirling you off in some kind of dance, each sentence strung safely to the next. There are no lulls, no awkward pauses. She asks about work, asks about your family. She tells you stories about her niece, who’s three now, and compares how you’re feeling to how she remembers her sister feeling.
Then her work, and the IT guy her friend hooked up with, and her class at the gym which she’s trying to convince Joel to come along to, and Kate’s hot yoga class every Thursday night, and the new sushi place which just opened downtown and You gotta try it some day; the nigiri is divine.
And you nod along, and you laugh at her anecdotes and tell your own, and Joel tells her to tell you about the jazz band who were playing at the restaurant they visited a couple weeks ago, and you offer to top her drink up and she says she’ll do it herself and she leaves you and Joel alone for the first time all evening, and – it’s weird.
Because – behind the veil of conversation you’re doing your best to uphold, sits an image of this very night – only, in Joel’s house. In Joel’s house, on Joel’s couch, drinking nonalcoholic wine with Joel’s brother. Joel and Vanessa leant against one another on one couch, Tommy and Maria on the other.
You can’t help it – you’re wondering what Maria thinks of Vanessa. How long they knew each other, if at all, before the breakup. Whether they hung out, whether they discussed sushi and yoga, or the housing market, or their Miller boyfriends and their annoying Miller habits.
Maria would’ve liked her, you think. Would’ve found her as lovely as you do. And the idea, the image of them giggling together at family parties and being Tommy’s Maria and Joel’s Vanessa – presses a firm, bullying finger into the bruise you thought had faded some from the other day.
And once they’re gone, once you’re left alone again – lying in still silence, closed in on yourself by the thick darkness of your room, nothing but you and your thoughts and your unborn child for company – it slips out.
“Fuck her, right?” You hold your hands out, addressing your stomach. “She was so fucking nice. Did you like her? Fuck me, I liked her. I hope they break up.”
And then, realizing who you’re talking to: “No. Sorry, baby, no. I don’t hope they break up. I want your dad to be really happy. But – Goddamn. She was so sweet. I thought she was gonna slap me, and she just – she brought ginger tea! Fuck. They look good together, don’t they?”
It’s just hormones. Just the emotional trip that is being four weeks pregnant. Everybody feels like this when they fall pregnant – sensitive, vulnerable, clingy. Right? Right?
Your words sit stagnant in midair. You swear you can see them, heavy and intruding. Awkwardly lingering someplace they don’t belong. Because none of it even matters – the hormones, the emotions. The weird knot burning a hole in your chest, shaped like a clenched fist, knuckles branded by the heat of longing. It can’t matter.
You’re where you are, he’s where he is. A pillow in your arm, Vanessa in his. Feet apart, bricks and mortar and something like twenty years and two dates too late separating you.
Both staring up at the ceiling, wondering who the other’s thinking of.
“At eight weeks, your baby is roughly the size of a raspberry.”
Your knee bounces, breath coming and going in shaky ripples. The rubber sole of your shoe cries against the sterilized hospital floor. Your chest hums anxiously and your throat catches when you swallow and are the lights too bright? The room too hot? You’re sweating. Why are you sweating? Can you breathe right now?
Joel nudges your arm and your eyes roll to the pamphlet in his hand, his finger tracing the words. “C’mon,” he utters, leaning in, “how can anything the size of a raspberry be scary?”
You squint under fluorescent white. “A raspberry that grows into the size of a watermelon, can break my ribs, make me throw up, make me lose hair, and then tear my vagina apart on its way out? That’s pretty scary.”
He smirks. “Not to me it ain’t. My vagina stays perfectly intact the entire time.”
“Oh, fuck off,” you reply, whacking him.
He laughs, swatting your palm away, keeping ahold of your fingers inside his own. “Speaking of – we gotta talk.” He elbows you, waiting until you’re looking again to speak. “We gotta cut the language.”
“Cut the language?”
“Uhuh. Rein it in. And by we, I mean you.”
“Uh,” you scoff, “I don’t think so. When you do the growing, then you can rein your own swearing in. Leave me alone, asshole.”
“Charming,” Joel says. “You know the baby can hear you? You want it to come out swearin’ like a trooper?”
You grin, tipping your head to him. “If it comes out and says anything, we’re rich. So – yeah. Let it.”
He opens his mouth to reply when a nurse emerges from a nearby room and calls your name.
“You’re up, kid,” Joel says, standing beside you.
You turn back, speaking before your brain settles on words. “I’m scared.”
“Hey,” he says, taking your hand. He squeezes it gently, uses the other to keep you facing him. “This is the easy part, right? We’re just going to meet them.”
“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, and wander over to meet the nurse. Joel’s hand a vice grip around yours.
She leads you into a similarly washed-out clinic room, only slightly dimmer with the lights turned out, and yanks a roll of paper across the bed. Tapping it twice, she smiles. “Hop up, darlin’.”
You settle into the crinkly paper, leaning back until you’re blinking up at the speckled ceiling. Another door opens and a woman in a white coat floats in, and you swear that if it weren’t for Joel’s Evenin’, ma’am when she greets the two of you, you’d believe she were a figment of your imagination. Another character in this fucking insane dream.
“Not often I do these past five o’clock,” she says, clicking her mouse and typing on her keyboard and fixing a hair grip back into her bun. Casual. It’s not even a thing to her, introducing parents and children. She does this all fucking day.
Joel tosses half a glance to you and then realizes you’re not currently in the room. He pinches your hand again. It grounds you for all of two seconds.
“Yeah, uh,” he clears his throat, “work commitment. I couldn’t get away any earlier, so we’re havin’ to do this a little late.”
“What do you do?” she asks, staring at her screen. Her glossy brown eyes and rich, dark skin.
“I’m a contractor,” Joel replies, thumb stroking your shoulder.
Something bubbles in your stomach, something akin to jealousy, an urgency to tell her that right now, in this room, he’s mine. No more questions. Something which quickly dissipates when you remind yourself to quit being fucking ridiculous and that right now, in this room, he’s someone else’s, and the thumb on your shoulder is merely to hold you back from fleeing. Nothing more.
The sonographer nods. Her name badge reads Freya. Pretty name. Stop picturing what your kid would look like as a Freya. You are not naming them after the first sonographer you meet.
“Shouldn’t be too long, then y’all can get home for the night. You live nearby?”
“Twenty minutes’ drive. Not far, are we?” Joel asks you.
Your eyes shoot down to his. “No,” you push your cheeks up, telling Freya, “not far.”
She flattens her lips against one another, lending you a sympathetic smile. “You got nothing to worry about, honey. Promise. Gel might be a little cold, that’s about as scary as this gets. We’re just gonna make sure everything’s looking good, check your dates, check your measurements. You’re doing great.”
“You hear that?” Joel murmurs, settling down into the chair by your side. His hand hasn’t left yours. His voice is low, meant just for you, when he repeats, “You’re doin’ great.”
You huff a laugh, some nervous release from your lungs.
Freya smiles, face lit by the faint glow of the screen in front of her. “We ready?”
You roll the hem of your tee up when she motions, bunching it under the wire of your bra. She squeezes a bottle over your stomach, which tenses solid when the frozen bite of gel curls right below your belly button. Freya smiles apologetically when you wince. Told you, she murmurs, and your breath escapes in a slightly more comfortable laugh. Lighter, easier. Scariest part over.
She presses the probe to your skin and spreads the gel, coating the bottom of your tummy in a slippery slick which tickles with each inch she covers. Two buttons pressed, and a dark image appears on a screen opposite you.
A gray fan, speckled like the ceiling above your head. Dark, black shapes growing and shrinking at the turn of Freya’s wrist. She pauses, two blobs onscreen: the larger, black, round, home to a smaller, misshapen one. Flecked with white and silver and moving slowly, gently, but – right there.
“Mom, Dad,” she grins, “meet your baby.”
You and Joel move forward at the same time, drawn closer to the crunchy image as if by some kind of natural magnetism. Eyes never blinking, lips agape. The shapes flutter, the smaller dipping in and out of view.
“You see right here, right in the center?” A white cross appears over the blob’s middle. “That little movement? The kinda – pulsing?”
You each nod. Your nails dig so deep into Joel’s hand that you risk drawing blood.
“That’s the heart. Ticking away.”
“The heart?” you ask, watching the rhythmic flicker in the center of the screen.
“Yep. Perfect, too.”
She hits another key and suddenly the room is filled with a muffled thudding; a steady, energetic pulse in your ears. It matches the movements onscreen, the tiny throb of the baby’s chest, the shape of your womb moving like waves before you.
And suddenly, it's real – all of it: the screen and the room and the sonographer and you, and Joel’s hand encasing yours, holding your knuckles to his lips, and –
And the heartbeat. Right there, right in front of you. Shy, probably as nervous as you are to introduce themselves. Feeling your eyes on them, curled up somewhere safe inside you. Right there.
You turn to Joel, and his illuminated face is staring straight at the screen. Eyes soaked with tears, blinking as they form, cheeks dappled with wet. He draws his eyes from his child only to look back at you, only to mirror your stunned smile, your disbelieving laugh, more tears dripping down into his beard. He sits up, presses his damp lips firmly to your forehead.
Freya mutes the heartbeat, pauses the scan where the image is clearest, and sits back. “I’ll give you guys a moment to yourselves,” she says, wheeling back in her chair. “Take all the time you need. I’m right outside.”
“Thanks,” Joel mumbles for the both of you, sweeping hair from your face.
The door closes on your little bubble – you, Joel, and the grainy image of your baby. The evidence that – yeah, that night happened, and yeah, you’re forever changed because of it. The evidence that you’re about to become a mom, for real, no matter how much the thought makes you feel like your stomach is kicking around at your ankles.
And the evidence that, no matter how scared you might be, how unprepared and unworthy you feel – you fucking adore that little blob already.
Love it as much as Joel does, stood over you, kissing your hair and whispering words you’re only half-listening to. A quiet thank you, a shaky I can’t believe it. Something about showing his brother. And when you look up at him, blinking at one another, inches apart – he takes your jaw in his hands and lowers his lips to yours.
Different. Softer. No want laced through. No urgency. Nothing needed, nor requested, that isn’t already right here in this little bubble of yours.
He kisses you slowly, eyes closed, holding you until you pull away for breath. His nose bumps against yours and you laugh, heads together, eyes low.
“Still scared?” he whispers.
“Terrified,” you tell him.
“Me, too,” he says, and kisses you again.
You lean back against the bed, relief settling your bones and soothing your heartbeat. The notion washes over you that, if you could, you’d stay in this room forever. Staring at the screen, holding Joel’s hand. Whispering fears into his mouth and letting him swallow them in a kiss.
He hands you some paper towel and helps you drag it across your stomach, your eyes still fixed on the little shape opposite. He hooks his chin over your head – the fresh, woody smell of his cologne infiltrating your lungs and throwing you under the haze of something you’re not quite sure how to define.
“Duck,” he says, voice vibrating into your skull.
“Huh?”
“Start saying duck. Make the baby think we’re saying that, then you can say –” he lowers his voice, “– fuck, all you want.”
“The hell would I have to say duck for?”
Joel stands upright and shrugs. “I don’t know. Think of somethin’. A nickname, maybe.”
“Duck?”
He nods plainly, glancing over to the screen.
The pillow beneath your head sighs as you turn from Joel back to the ultrasound. “Baby Duck,” you offer, and he smiles.
Smiles in a way you don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile. Eyes glistening, cheeks swollen. Something innocent and earnest about it. Something pure.
He agrees. “Baby Duck it is.”
Joel insists that you spend the night at his place.
“It’s been a big day,” he reasons, fixing the bed in his guestroom. “Just – let me run around after you for a little bit.”
You fight your corner as much as you can be bothered – I gotta maintain my independence, I’m gonna be a single mom soon enough, you know – but, truthfully, you’ll take any excuse to have him rush around at your beck and call. Some days you open your mouth and he hears the wet click of saliva between your lips, and grabs a glass of water for you before you’ve even voiced the request.
He orders takeout, settles shoulder-to-shoulder with you on the couch, and lets you pick whichever movie you feel like putting him through until the food’s gone, he’s out of beer, and you’ve abandoned Heath Ledger and Julia Stiles for an argument about the best part of pizza.
You don’t like the crust?
Nope.
What fuckin’ age are you?
If it ain’t stuffed, it’s just not worth it.
At eleven, you bid him goodnight and wander upstairs, falling into a sea of navy-blue sheets to be delivered to sleep by the serene silence of Joel’s home. It takes no time for your eyes to flutter closed, the soft sheen of moonlight painted across the wall, sweeping from your view to be replaced in a whir by –
Lights. Overhead and all around and so bright and so close that you swear they’re etched on the inside of your eyelids.
You’re in the backseat, watching them soar by in blurs of white and red and amber and green, and your pulse is rattling through your veins and throbbing between your temples and you can’t focus on any one object for longer than three seconds, before your eyes roll and your head dizzies.
A word, slung from your lips in a half-wakened attempt to stop it. A word you barely recognize at first, don’t understand the meaning of. It’s been years. Why now? Mom.
You’re not sure why, or who you’re even reaching out to. There are two figures in the front seats, heads facing forward. She’s not turning around. She’s not even fucking moving, not reacting to the speed or the lights or your voice. Mom.
You scream it, the syllable ripping violently from your throat, and your tiny fingers reach for her swirls of hair. You pause, staring at the chipped polish on your stubby, kiddy nails. Mom, I’m scared.
The distorted blast of a horn scoops the car up in one motion, hurtling over itself along the freeway. You’re thrown to the roof of the car, plummet back down to your seat; the seatbelt throttles you, rips a burn deep into the skin of your neck. Back up again; your head hits the spongey roof of the car. Your stomach somersaults.
Mom, please, you wail, swiping for her hand. It’s lying limp by her thigh, dark droplets on her wrist. Mom Mom please Mom I��m scared Mom please I’m so scared I –
“Baby.”
His voice is low, earthy. It chews apart the high-pitched squeal of brakes and screaming. The glass smashing. The metal crunching.
You lift from the bed like it’s ice water, gasping when you finally surface back on Earth. Your chest heaves, it’s not sucking in enough breath; you can’t breathe you can’t breathe you can’t fucking breathe.
Joel whips the cover from your legs and you roll from the mattress, feet planting on the floor. You bend forward to grip onto the sheets, a choking rising up your throat, closer and closer until it tugs on your tongue.
“Icantbreathe,” you pant.
Joel’s body curves around yours. “You’re alright,” he’s telling you – urging you; one hand between your shoulder blades, the other holding your wrist for fear you might collapse. “I’m here, you’re okay. You’re at my place, you’re safe, but, kid – I need you to slow down. You’re hyperventilating.”
You work your breathing to the strokes of his hand up and down your spine: in out in out in and out and in and out and in, and out, and in, and…out…and in…and…out.
“That’s it. Keep doing that. You’re good, baby, I got you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
In – and out. In – and out again.
The room slowly desaturates back into boring, moonlit blue. Feeling sputters back into your hands, clawing at the sheets once the sharpness dissolves. The cotton pets back, smooth under your quivering touch. Your lips stop tingling, your ears stop ringing. One after another, until your blood settles back to a steady stream and you straighten up.
“Can you sit down for me?”
“No,” you whimper, and Joel nods.
“That’s alright,” he says. “I’m gonna get you a drink, that okay?”
You grab his T-shirt. “No. Don’t leave me. Please. Sorry.”
He cups your frozen cheeks. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere. Just downstairs. You can come.”
He settles you at his kitchen table and shuffles over to the cupboards, rubbing his eyes. You feel the heat of embarrassment and guilt, watching as he settles down with a groan minutes later.
“Ginger,” he tells you, voice rounded by his mug, sliding one of your own over to you.
“Sorry,” you mumble, lifting it with two hands. The smell sharp, cutting up the remnants of gasoline and smoke.
“Many times do I gotta say it?” he asks dryly. “Quit sayin’ you’re sorry.”
You gulp nervously. “You got work in the morning. You’re gonna be exhausted.”
“And if I hadn’t let you keep me up watchin’ chick flicks, I’d be rested. That’s something I can deal with later. I got you to worry about right now.”
You shake your head; the ceramic hits the table with a sharp thud. “I don’t want you to worry about me.”
“Well,” Joel sniffs, “you’re carrying my child. I’ll always worry about you.”
You sit back, the curve of the chair cradling, your heart beating lamely against the wood. Joel’s jaw rests in the cushion of his palm, staring back at you.
“What time is it?” you ask, and he glances over his shoulder.
“Three. Take a sip.”
“I’m fine.”
“Sip.”
You obey, lifting the tea and swallowing harshly.
He watches every move, every shift reflected in his dark eyes, decorated by a tense, stony expression. “Does this happen a lot?”
“Never,” you say. “This never happens.”
Joel cranes his jaw, cracks his neck. “Alright,” he sighs, “that’s okay. Breathe again. You’re doing fine.”
But you don’t feel fine. The dregs of panic sizzle into something thicker, hotter. Anger. Frustration. “Why the fuck is this happening?” you hiss, fingers prodding into your eye sockets. “What the f–?”
“Easy. I don’t know. Hormones? Stress?”
“You sound like my fucking doctor.”
Joel smiles. Amusement, before concern wipes over it again. “Let’s just give it some time to pass, okay?”
You nod, hanging over your drink, the silhouette of your reflection staring back at you. The steam snakes up, seeping into your skin, bubbling under the surface. Wiping clean any memory of freeway or nail polish, like coating over a bathroom mirror. The shapes still visible behind, but blurred. Gone.
“How’s Vanessa?” you ask, an attempt to distract yourself.
Joel adjusts a little awkwardly in his chair. “She’s good. She loved the scan photo. Showed it to her sister. They’re sure it’s a boy.”
“Ha. Joel Jr.”
“Joel Jr.,” he agrees, and then attempts to distract himself. “So,” he says, “Allandale.”
“Mhm?”
“Wonder if I ever saw your mom or dad. When I was there visitin’ Sam.”
You shrug. “Doubt it. I mean, they always lived right next to the elementary school, if that helps. My mom was a first-grade teacher. The two of us used to walk there ‘n back together, every day.”
“First grade, huh? Best one.”
“Yeah. Yeah, and she was the best of the best. She used to go all out for her kids; used to go to Michaels and get all this crafty stuff so they could spend all afternoon making little houses or zoos, or – whatever she could think of. And she’d always keep some aside, bring some home for me to make one, too. One time, she came home with all this blue tissue paper and little foam fish, and we made an aquarium together.”
“That’s pretty cool,” Joel says.
“Yeah,” you say again, nodding eagerly. “She was so cool. And fun, y’know? I just remember her being so much fun. I always felt safe with her, felt loved. I actually used to think she hung the sun every morning, just for me.” You take a deep breath, replacing it with a broken sigh.
“What about your dad? What was he like?”
You frown. “He was…fine. Real quiet, reserved. A little grumpy, I guess. I always got the idea he couldn’t be bothered with me, young as I was. Always wanted to be left alone. I think my mom overcompensated a lot.”
Something flashes across Joel’s face that seems to say he knows – or, at least, he understands. Almost imperceptible, a quick flicker of annoyance. “You miss her?” he asks, switching back.
“My mom?” You almost laugh, gripping onto your mug. Staring at the slow swirl of ginger. A shrug which presents more like a flinch; an animal swatting a fly away. “I miss those parts, when I think of them. The aquarium, the walking to school. Miss the memories. But I don’t think I knew her well enough or long enough to miss her.
“I’ve lived way longer without her than I ever had her. Done everything without her, like –” gesturing down, “– this. But, sometimes…sometimes, I bundle the sheets up behind my back in bed, and I pretend it’s her. Pretend I have a mom, and she’s cuddling me to sleep. I dunno. Maybe that’s what missing her feels like.”
Joel soaks in every word you say, letting the shape of each one settle on the table between you before he speaks again. Letting them be spoken into the dead of night, collected by no one, and letting them fade into silence. Secrets sweeping off into starlight. Nothing you would admit in the daytime.
“What was her name?” he asks, voice timid and gentle in the dark kitchen.
You almost choke on your tea. “Shoot – I’m sorry. That was a lot. Sorry. She, uh – Her name?”
It brings the first genuine smile to your lips; the memory of your mom now clear behind your eyes. Her round cheeks, her fluttering earrings. The deep, dark curls of her hair, thick ringlets twisting and lighting in the sun. The gap between her front teeth, the purse of her lips as she kissed your cheeks, your hands, your tummy.
Her name like a melody in your head; a safe word, a calming mantra when the world becomes too noisy, too saturated, too sharp to bear. Two syllables. Two little beats, like a piece of her still lives in the sound of her name.
“Sarah,” you tell Joel. “Her name was Sarah.”
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mothandpidgeon · 29 days ago
Text
Nine Lives (witch's familiar!Ezra x witch!f!reader) - Part 1
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Moth's Masterlist // follow @mothandpidgeon-updates and turn on notifications to stay updated with my fics!
SERIES MASTERLIST
pairing: witch's familiar!Ezra x witch!f!reader
rating: T (evenual E) MDNI
summary: As you came into your powers and your curves filled in, Ezra realized he feelings for you were more than just affection. The only problem? He's a 300 year old crused witch. Oh, and he's a cat.
contents: age gap (like 300 years), slow burn, yearning, soft!Ezra, probably anachronistic witchy stuff, love triangle (quadrangle?), reader is a millennial but otherwise not described, Ezra is a cat, he won't be forever, this isnt a beastiality thing, moth never uses y/n.
wc: 3.1k
a/n: This one is for all my Thackary Binx girlies. I've had some version of this story in my brain for years now. I'm very excited slash nervous to be sharing it with you!
Thank you @moonlitbirdie and @lowlights for the beta and help with witchy stuff. Thanks @tinytinymenace for suggesting the title and @schnarfer and @whocaresstillthelouvre for listening to me ramble about this.
🐈‍⬛
Connor’s mouth is on you before you can get your key in the door. He’s lucky he’s a good kisser because he spent most of your date talking about his music. You’re lucky you don’t have a guitar because you’re pretty sure he’d serenade you. 
“Sorry. I’ve wanted to do that all night,” he says after you press him back. 
You laugh, triumph blossoming in your chest.
“At least control yourself until we get inside,” you tease. 
You hold his hand as you let yourself in. It’s quiet and dark now save the little reading lamp beside the faded, floral sofa. You’re relieved, maybe nobody’s home. 
“Cool place,” Connor says wandering in behind you. 
He’s taking in the details of your little apartment— a small kitchen tiled in green and an equally cozy living room. The attic ceilings slant with the roofline. There are pressed flowers and astrological charts on the walls, their frames outlined by the vines of overgrown philodendron. You pull him into another kiss so his eyes don’t linger too long on the books on your shelves, before he wonders why the spice rack is full of jars of belladonna and blackthorn instead of garlic and cinnamon. 
He squeezes your hips and your hands lace through his hair. Connor might not be the one but that’s not what you’re looking for. He’s exactly the kind of guy you won’t feel guilty about ghosting. Until then, he’ll be a good lay. 
He’s got his hand up your shirt when you hear your bedroom door squeak on its hinges. Out saunters Ezra, stretching out his long, black body like he’s just woken up. He was probably dozing on his favorite spot in the bay window.
“Hi, Ez,” you say, stepping out of Connor’s arms. Your cheeks heat, feeling like you’ve been caught doing something obscene.
Ezra brushes against your shins, a move that’s more territorial than it is affectionate. 
“Did we wake you?” you ask, scritching him on the white patch between his ears. 
“This your cat?” Connor asks. 
To call Ezra your cat as if you owned him doesn’t feel right. Even calling him a cat seems inaccurate. Ezra’s been your familiar since you were 18, passed down through generations of your family, but he was once a witch in his own right before being cursed to live in this form for 1000 years. 
“That’s Ezra,” you say, sidestepping the question entirely. 
 “Ez, this is Connor.”
“Hi, kitty. Pss pss pss,” Connor tries, crouching down to offer a hand for Ezra to sniff. 
Ezra does no such thing. He merely looks at him disdainfully, then his golden eyes shift to you with a look that says you’ve got to be kidding me. 
“Want a drink?” you ask, pulling Connor’s attention away. 
“Yeah,” he says. He takes off his jacket making himself at home. 
Ezra never approves of any of your dates and he isn’t shy about letting them know it, scratching up their jeans and hiding wallets under the couch. Once he left a hairball in a pair of new sneakers. As much as it drives you insane, you can’t be angry with him. It’s his job to not only be a companion and do your bidding but also to protect you. Now it feels like you’re bringing dates home to your older brother. Your older brother by a few centuries. He was turned sometime before the country existed. 
As you pour two glasses of wine, Connor slips his hands around your waist and his lips graze your neck. You’re already working up incantations for passion, whispering the words to yourself as he kisses down to your shoulder. The one good thing about being a witch is you can mask even the worst sex with a little bit of magic. Not that you have low expectations for Connor. There’s a promising bulge where you grind your ass back into him.
A crash rouses you from your reverie. 
“Ez!” you bark. 
Ezra has swatted Connor’s phone to the floor. He sits on the counter with a mild defiance on his feline face. 
“That’s ok,” Connor says, retrieving it and turning it over. “He didn’t mean it. Right bud?”
You’re not sure that cats can roll their eyes but Ezra does whatever the equivalent is before turning away with his tail raised to give Connor a full view of his asshole. He hops gracefully to the floor and retreats back into the other room. 
“Sorry. He doesn’t really like…people,” you say. 
“That’s ok. As long as you like me,” he says, pulling you back into his body. 
You laugh at him before you let him kiss you.  
“Should we go to the bedroom?” you ask. 
You’re straddling Connor’s lap on the sofa. The strap of your black, lace bra dangles off of your shoulder. 
“Huh?” he replies, as if he’s been roused from a trance. “Yeah.”
You chuckle to yourself. His lips are kiss swollen and eyes dazed. There’s a reason why witches are known to be seductive. Mortals can’t resist the magic.
You slide off of his lap and guide him up towards your room. 
Ezra’s sleeping on your pillow, curled into a soft little ball. 
“Wait here,” you tell Connor, depositing him on the edge of your bed. “Let me just—“ 
You scoop Ezra up and he lets out a yowl in displeasure. You take him to the living room, set him on the back of the couch and he blinks up at you, groggy and annoyed. 
“Exiled once again,” he complains, his human voice a silky southern drawl. 
“Just for a couple of hours. Can you stay out here?” you ask, your voice hushed. 
“Have I not suffered enough?”
“Youre right. It’s so terrible.” You roll your eyes.  “I make you sleep on the couch instead of the bed.”
“Two hundred and fifty three years in this feline form—“ he goes on. 
“Keep your voice down,” you hiss. 
“ —And the true curse is listening to you fornicate with a cavalcade of dim witted mortals,” he goes on.
“Did you say something?” Connor asks. 
You whip your head around to find him standing in your doorway.
“Not to you, hun,” you say. With a flick of your finger, he turns on his heel and goes back inside. You’ll have to cast another spell to rid him of any magical memories.
“I live here, too, little mage,” Ezra says. 
“Well, when you start paying rent, we’ll get a two bedroom,” you quip. 
“That little jest never gets old,” he grumbles. 
He leaps down from the couch and heads to the entryway. 
“Where are you going?” you ask, keeping your words as quiet as you can. 
“Leaving you to your debauchery,” Ezra says over his shoulder and he disappears through the flap in the bottom of the front door. 
In the morning, you wake up alone. 
Of course, you got rid of Connor as soon as you were sated. He asked to see you again to which you have a noncommittal answer. 
You’d expected Ezra to return, though. He might complain about being kicked out of bed but he knows nobody stays the night. 
“I only sleep with one man and that’s you,” you joke all the time. 
Each night you rest your chin on the top of his head, his warm body pressed back into your chest. It’s hard for you to fall asleep without Ezra purring beside you.
You linger for a while after getting dressed, sitting in the bay window and watching the leaves begin to fall. The apartment feels so empty without Ezra in it. It’s too quiet. That damned cat has two centuries worth of stories and you’ve heard them all ten times. You’re constantly begging him to shut up. Right now, you feel oddly lonely. 
Eventually you decide that waiting around for him is silly. You’ve got to get to work. Fortunately, you only need to venture down the back stairs and you’re there. Your apartment is in the attic of The Arcane Page. 
You let yourself in and you’re immediately hit by the smell of leather bound books, old paper, and the drying herbs Aunt Margot has hanging from the ceiling. The shop is packed so tightly with rows of bookshelves and oddities, it’s almost impossible to tell that this used to be a proper house. What had once been confined to the front rooms grew to take over the kitchen and sun porch, up the stairs to the bedrooms until the whole thing functioned as the store. 
The old Victorian is just off the main street that’s filled with quaint cafes, gift shops, and antique stores. It attracts all sorts— wannabe spiritual types looking for selenite wands, academics in search of rare books, and old ladies drawn in by the lush garden out front. Witches, too. The basement is full of spell books and strange ingredients, off limits to mortals. 
You hear aunt Margot’s jewelry before she comes into sight, Her gold earrings tinkling, bracelets jangling.
“Morning, dear,” she says, without glancing in your direction. She knows you’re coming before you arrive and not just because she can hear you on the back stairs.
She’s behind the counter in one of her regular linen dresses, dark hair streaked with silver falling around her shoulders. She pours from her porcelain tea pot.  
“Has Ez come down here?” you ask, glancing around the bookshelves to all of his favorite hiding spots. 
“No?” she says. She pushes one of the cups your way. Delicate and decorated with spell work, the scent of assam wafts up to your nostrils. “Percy, have you seen your friend Ezra?”
A little white mouse appears on the counter, paws clutching one of Margot’s rings. He scrunches up his pink nose at the suggestion he’s a friend of Ezra. Margot’s familiar has never gotten along with him. Despite the fact that one of them is a demon and the other is a cursed witch, the old cat versus mouse thing is somehow universal. Ezra’s threatened to eat Percival a hundred times, sometimes leaving dead chipmunks and mice at the threshold of the bookstore just to amuse himself. 
Percy shakes his head haughtily and then wraps his body around Margot’s steaming teacup. 
“He’s mad at me,” you sigh. 
“How come?” she asks, an eyebrow arched curiously. 
“I had company last night.” You put the cup to your lips as soon as the words leave you. 
“Let me guess. Another mortal.” Margot rolls her dark-lined eyes. She leans on the counter and sips her tea. 
You just shrug. 
“Then I don’t blame him,” she says. 
“It’s not the ‘50s. I can date a mortal. Didn’t you read Harry Potter?” you ask, knowing it’ll get a rise out of her. 
“You millennial witches and Harry fucking Potter. 
A mortal—“
“Killed my great great great great grandmother. I know,” you say. As if you haven’t had that fact drummed into you since you were old enough to walk. You decide not to mention how hypocritical it is that Margot dislikes mortals when she’ll happily take their money. It’s not worth it. The two of you have had this argument a hundred times. 
“I like mortals. They’re uncomplicated,” you tell her. 
“Uncomplicated? They’re boring.” She sets down her tea cup. “Have you ever been with another witch?”
Your cheeks heat at the question. Not because she’s your aunt. You’d tell her just about anything and, considering the fact that she raised you, she knows pretty much all there is about you. You’ve had plenty of sex but you’ve never done it with a witch, a fact that makes you feel like a virgin all over again. It’s not for lack of trying. There’s just not a whole lot of hot, single witches in your area. And while you’ve talked about going somewhere where the witches are in excess— Salem, New Orleans, Portland— you’ve always found some reason to stay in the Catskills screwing mortals. 
Luckily, you don’t have to answer Aunt Margot’s question because Percy squeaks and she says, “I know but she won’t.” Then she turns her attention to you and translates, “Percy says you ought to just summon Ezra.”
You frown at him. You could. A simple spell would compel Ezra to return to you but you can never bring yourself to cast it. Maybe if he were just an ordinary familiar, not a witch with his own desires, you might feel more comfortable using magic on him like that, but he has so little of his own. The least you can give him is the freedom to be alone if that’s what he wants. 
“You spoil him,” she tells you. Sometimes you’re not sure if Margot can read your thoughts or if she just knows you well. “He’s your familiar not your roommate.”
You finish your tea and put the cup down on its saucer. 
“You know what? I’m going to shelve some books downstairs,” you say. 
“Oh would you look at that,” Margot says, peering into your empty cup with amusement on her lips. “Maybe there is a witch in your future after all.”
She holds the teacup out for you to see the wet leaves have formed a clump in the shape of a heart. 
Ezra’s limping by the time he returns home. The sun has already begun to dip below the trees, painting the sky autumnal shades of purple and orange. Though he resents the idea he’s turned into a house cat, he’d much rather spend the night on the couch than have to do another in the damn woods. No matter how much it hurts. 
“Where the hell have you been?” you ask when he slips back through the cat door. 
You’re immediately kneeling beside him, concern cutting your pretty features. Shame settles between his shoulders. As your familiar, he has no right to disappear for an entire day. He almost wishes you’d punish him— dunk him in an ice bath or beat him with a hair brush like some of his old masters had— but he knows you won’t. You’re too good to him. That’s where he went wrong and fell in love with you. 
It happened slowly. You treated him more like a pet than a servant. From the very beginning, you let him sleep in your bed, drifting off to sleep as you stroked his belly. Sometimes he thought you were the one purring. You talked to him.  Not just about magic but you shared your entire life with him. No witch had trusted him, called him a friend in all the time since he’d been cursed, not until you. 
As you came into your powers and your curves filled in, Ezra realized this was more than just affection. You were beautiful and bold. And he couldn’t do anything about it. 
You’re off limits in every way. In human years, you’re not young but you’re practically a child compared to his 300 years. The bond between witch and familiar is sacred, a line even a witch as forward thinking as you would never dare to cross. And, of course, there’s the little matter of his being a cat. 
“I was getting really worried,” you say. 
“You requested solitude,” he responds. 
You sigh and pick him up, setting him on the counter. 
“You hurt your leg,” you tutt, taking his paw in your hand so you can examine his injury. 
He spent the night prowling the forest, anything to save himself the agony of hearing you with that mortal. In this self pity, he’d picked a fight with one of the feral tomcats that lives in the old graveyard. 
“This is why I don’t like it when you stay out all night,” you chide as you disappear into the bathroom. “Those cats are vicious.”
You return with a small jar of healing ointment you brewed specially for him.  
“I’ve walked this earth a cat longer than those mangey beasts. Longer than I was human,” he says. 
You begin by cleaning the cut, his fur now matted with blood and leaves. Your touch isn’t unfamiliar to Ezra yet he still wonders what it would be like to feel your skin, the softness of your cheek and plush thigh without a layer of fur in between. To hold your hand with one of his own. 
“I’m sorry I kicked you out last night. You’re right. You live here too. And I know you don’t like mortals,” you say, as you clean his wound. 
He’s let you believe that that’s why he’s so petulant when you bring your suitors around. Mortals have never been his cup of tea but he absolutely despises the ones that you bed, humans that have no business being with any witch let alone one like you. 
“They’re below you. You deserve a proper witch,” Ezra says. 
That’s a far more painful reality. Even if he were in the running, which he never will be, There are thousands of witches more worthy of you. One day you’ll find one and Ezra will watch you fall in love. With someone else. He’ll stay the same just as he has all these years, and be your loyal familiar even as you inevitably share less with him. He’ll watch you age and fade. Eventually, he’ll lose you entirely. Perhaps you’ll have a daughter that will take him on as her familiar but he can’t imagine caring for any other witch half as much as he loves you. 
“Come on. You act like you never seduced a mortal,” you say. 
The peppermint oil of the ointment tingles on his tender leg. 
“There was an art to such things in my time. One had to concert more effort than opening an app,” Ezra says. 
You smirk as you finish bandaging him. 
“I got you something. To make up for it,” you say when you’re finished. 
You glance towards the coffee table, a cheeky smile playing on your lips. Ezra follows your gaze to find a tray of take out sashimi waiting there. His stomach growls. Perhaps he is a house cat. He’d forgotten to catch himself dinner.
You bring him over and lift the plastic lid off of the container and Ezra sniffs at the glistening fish. It smells glorious.  
He wishes he deserved you. You know what he is, what he did to be convicted of such a harsh curse and yet you care for him like no other witch has. 
He swallows down the lump in his throat. 
“Is this tuna belly?” he asks. 
“Your favorite.”  
“I suppose I could find it in my heart to forgive you,” Ezra says though you’ve done nothing wrong. 
You scoop him off of the table, cradling him like a baby. 
“Easy on the wound, little mage,” he complains but secretly his heart swells. 
You laugh and kiss the white patch on his brow. 
“I love you, Ez.”
🐈‍⬛
Part 2
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seeingivy · 8 months ago
Text
sofia
actor!eren x f!reader
**part of my method acting series
previous part linked here
songs mentioned: champagne problems by taylor swift, when emma falls in love by taylor swift, and minor sofia by clairo insinuation (+ the name of the chapter)
“Can I ask for a favor?” Eren asks. 
You look up to find Eren and Armin standing in front of the dining table, both leaning on the backs of the chairs. The first whiff you get is a mix of sweat and deodorant, and you instinctively push your notebook closer to you and nod. 
You hate that Eren and Armin work out together. 
Not really, of course. You’re glad that Armin was able to find some type of segway that felt comfortable enough for him to interact with Eren, that they were slowly building back whatever it was that they lost. 
You just hate that Eren always wears that stupid headband to keep her hair back and insists on wearing a tank top – or no shirt at all –  for the five mile run they do at the end. 
You’re lucky that today is the former and not the latter. 
“Yeah, what’s up?” you ask. 
Eren places the little glass bowl in front of you, before giving Armin a nod, and sliding into the chair across from you. Armin takes his leave with Annie at his side, before giving you a passive wave over the shoulder. 
The first thing you note is that Eren’s fish tattoo is on display. It’s one of the few moments that you get to admire it – the physical reminder of you inked on to his arm – since the makeup team is always covering it up or he’s wearing a jacket. 
And the second is that Eren doesn’t really fit in the chair – because his legs are overstretched and hanging against the sides of the legs – and he nearly falls back when he moves a little too much. 
It’s crazy to think that there was a time that you and Eren would have your feet dangling in the air from how high the chairs used to be. 
You eye the little bowl, before reaching forward for it, and taking it in your hands. There’s only two little requests left, though you swear yesterday that you only had one left – which was Eren’s. 
“I know I technically already have a request in there. But could you please do another one for me?” Eren asks. 
“Sure. Which one is it that you want me to pull? The green slip or the pink one?” 
“Oh, no. It’s a separate request. I need you to write a song about Mikasa for me.” Eren responds. 
“Ah, yeah. Sure.” 
You reach forward into the bowl anyways and pull both of the slips out but Eren’s quick to reach forward and snatch them from your hands, much to your dismay.
“Hey!” 
“I just asked you to write a different song. Why did you take both of these out?” Eren asks. 
“Why are you in such a rush? I already have a song about Mikasa somewhere in one of my books, I just need to find it. I’m more curious about who added a request yesterday because there was only one left last night.” you respond. 
“It’s part of my gift for Mikasa. The wedding is next week, idiot.” 
Shit. You had yet to plan what you were going to give Jean. 
Eren looks back at the little slips, before tucking the green one closer to him and handing you the pink. You take it in your hands and find Sofia’s name scribbled over the top and open the slip. 
“It’s Sofia.” 
You pale when you read the slip. 
write a song with historia about how she said no to ymir’s proposal. (please!!!! if you can!) 
You hand it over to Eren who reads it before setting it down on the table. 
“Just don’t sing it at the end, especially if Ymir is there.” Eren responds. 
“I…do you think I should? From my very limited information, I think Ymir would hate it if Historia wrote another song about her.” you respond.
“That information is very limited because you refuse to talk to Historia. And Ymir won’t talk about it unless you ask, which you won’t.” Eren responds. 
You slouch back into your chair. 
“I’m not refusing to talk to her. I’m just in my nice….ignorance is bliss bubble. I like Ymir and Sofia but I also like Historia. I don’t want to get all complicated with the feelings if I know everything that happened.” you respond. 
Eren rolls his eyes. 
“You’re already mentally siding with Ymir because you know that Ymir got on her hands and knees and begged Historia to be with her after she said no to the proposal. And because you like Sofia.” Eren responds. 
“Can we go back to when you weren’t calling me out on my shit? What gift are you getting, Mikasa?” you ask. 
Eren smiles, before leaning forward. 
“For the record, I…I sided more with Ymir and Sofia too. Or did originally at least. I feel like you’ll run into the same thing as me, but we can’t really hold it against Historia. She just has different priorities than us and picked differently than we would have, but it doesn’t mean she’s wrong. And I’m making Mikasa an edited video and I want the song in the background to be about her. Preferably written by her best friend.” Eren responds. 
“Do you think Historia will hang Sofia at the stake for requesting this?” you ask.
Eren shrugs. 
“I’m positive that Sofia just requested it because Historia’s been making lots of snide comments to Ymir all week. And saying stuff about Sofia that she eventually finds out about. Everyone’s been telling her about how the songs and stuff have been helping them with their own situation, so she might have just seen it as a segway. Just don’t tell Historia who asked for it and  make it seem like it’s your idea. I don’t think Sofia meant ill will.” Eren responds. 
“No. No, I don’t think she meant anything malicious either. She’s so sweet. And she must feel awkward since we all grew up together and she’s the other woman, or something” you respond. 
“Yeah, she is really sweet. She kind of reminds me of you, sometimes.” Eren adds. 
“As if. She reminds me of you – she literally has the same dimples.” 
Eren scoffs. 
“Lots of people have dimples. I would look like half of the people on the planet by that logic. She actually reminds me of you, when you first got here. She’s just so…” Eren responds. 
“Normal.” you respond. 
Eren sighs. 
“Yeah.” 
 You choose to withhold your comments about how you're not that type of normal anymore. And it sours all together – because that was one of the things that Eren really loved about you when you first started dating. 
Eren gives you a smile before making his move to leave. But he stops before he retreats to his room, his hand is warm on your shoulder as he squeezes. 
“Still the same in all the ways that matter. To me, at least.” Eren mumbles, before walking off. 
You sigh. 
If Sukuna was still here, he’d call you hopeless. And you’d have to agree with him. 
--
You find Historia on set, intently watching Eren and Armin while they’re filming. You take the seat next to her, reaching forward to squeeze her shoulder and catch her attention, as she shuffles to the side and makes space for you. 
“Hi Hisu.” you whisper. 
“Is the Y/N L/N finally gracing me with her presence?” Historia responds. 
You roll your eyes. 
“Shut up.” 
You feel a tiny smack, before you turn around to find Levi glaring at the two of you. And the guilty culprit – the pencil he projectile launched at the two of you. 
“You two shut up.” Levi warns, before walking back to where he was standing at the viewfinder, with Hange. 
You both smile, like you’ve been caught passing notes by a teacher, before looking back down at the script to the scene that they were filming. 
“So what did you think?” Armin asks. 
“About what?” Eren asks. 
“About Y/N?” Armin asks. 
You lean forward, tucking your legs close to your chest, as you watch them. 
“The makeup team did really well with the hair.” Historia whispers. 
“Yeah. It almost looks like he still has the man-bun.” you respond. 
“Which hair was your favorite?” Historia asks. 
You pause. 
“I like the length it’s at right now. But, I kind of liked his short hair, like from before. Sometimes I feel like when his hair is too long it kind of drowns everything else out, like his eyes and stuff.” you respond. 
“Imagine thinking you’re not in love with the guy but talking about him like that.” Historia grumbles, as you reach to shove her in the side. 
“Who said I think that?” you respond. 
You watch as Historia’s eyes widen and you turn back to the two of them. 
“Do you think she’ll be able to forget about you and live happily with someone else? Just like you wanted.” Armin asks. 
Eren shrugs. 
“Well. Who knows?” Eren asks. 
Armin reaches forward and punches Eren in the face. You bite down on your cheeks to stop yourself from flinching, as you turn to your left to find Reiner and Connie shoving their faces into their own scripts to avoid distracting them with their laughter.
Reiner and Connie never got over laughing at immature stunts. Like punching each other. 
“The hell kind of answer is that? I still haven’t forgiven you! How do you feel about the fact that you ignored Y/N’s feelings?” Armin screams. 
You bite down on your lip. The deja vu feels uncanny. 
“Y/N risked her life and only ever had eyes for you. Did you really think you could say forget about me and it would be just that?” 
Sometimes you wonder if Eren’s a sadist for writing scenes like this into the show. You’re positive Levi must have insinuated the same when he suggested the entire thing to him. 
“At the very least, Y/N should forget about a heartbreaker like you and find happiness. She might find a good guy sooner than you think and hit it off with him.” Armin responds. 
It comes out quietly – Eren’s voice. Almost like a whimper. 
In all honesty, you had almost forgotten he was there for a second, with Armin’s screaming. But when you look over, you find Eren sitting there in the water, with tears streaming out of his eyes. 
“No. No, that would kill me.” Eren responds, his voice breaking. 
You press your hands to your cheeks, letting your fingers block out the periphery as you watch the two of them, and feel your chest compress. It’s almost like you can feel everyone else looking at you – Jean and Mikasa, Historia at your side – and you choose to ignore it for the time being. 
“I don’t want her to find someone else. I want to be her one and only for the rest of my life! And after I die, I want her to pine after me for at least ten years!” Eren responds. 
Armin pauses, lifting his hands to tousle his hair. 
“Oh. I didn’t think you’d say something so…pathetic…” Armin responds. 
Eren sighs, shoving his palms into the sockets of his eyes to still the crying. 
“Don’t tell Y/N any of this. I want her to find happiness. I really do…I don’t want to die. I can’t leave Y/N…or any of you.” 
Armin crouches down, hands heavy on his shoulders, as he pleads. 
It’s enough to make the wave of discomfort bubble up in your throat – because it’s the exact same as last time. And even in the fictional version, Eren won’t heed anyone’s advice. 
“Eren! Let’s keep trying! Let’s find another way!” Armin screams. 
You can’t watch them anymore. You reach for your script, giving Historia a smile, before you retreat to the dressing room and give Levi a wave as you pass. You can tell that he shoots you a concerned look, which you shake off, before you settle into one of the makeup rooms at the back and slam the door behind you. 
“We don’t need you till later.” 
“Yeah, I���just needed a breather from out there. Do you mind?” 
The stylist shakes her head as you shoot her a smile and settle into the chair. You lift the script again, still open on the page that they were just shooting out there, as you pause. 
You focus more carefully this time on the lines. You had read this scene when Eren wrote it – way back when, when he and Armin were still fighting. But Eren had given you the second half – about meeting each other in hell. 
You never read the part that he just said because Eren never wrote it. The only line that he was actually in the script was the first one, about how it would kill him. 
He had improvised the rest. 
It was like a lingering thought that was in the back of your mind at all times. 
Now that your previous excuse, that you needed everything to be settled before you could even think about Eren, was virtually gone. 
You had done the awards show, you had given your performance. And as annoying as it was, Eren was right. The heaviness of letting go was because now you had to move forward, because that chapter of york ife was sealed now. Danny and Sareen, Scott Clarkson and Hyla, Ricky even – they were always just going to be a footnote from here on out. 
Which is why you spent all three days of the break that Levi and Hange gave you thinking about Eren. About what would be the right way to approach him again. And every idea that you came up with seemed horrible, not good enough to bring him back. 
Deep down, you knew that Eren wanted you. That some part of him still loved you, and that if you made the move, he wouldn't reject you. 
The fear was what came after that. What if your relationship wasn’t the same? What if you two had changed too much, that there was just too much baggage that you both came with, that it would eventually drag you down? 
Then you’d really lose Eren forever. It almost felt safer to keep it the way it was now. 
But that came with its own mess. Because Eren wouldn’t wait for you forever and if you had to watch him move on with someone like Sofia, the same way Historia had to watch Ymir, you’re positive that you would handle it worse than her. 
There’s a knock on the door and it’s almost like you’ve summoned her by thinking about her. Because Historia’s peeking into the room, gesturing for you to follow her out. And you oblige, as the two of you quietly march back to the townhouse, arm in arm. 
--
Historia takes you straight to her room. And you note the sign scribbled on the door, how Historia’s crossed Ymir’s name out as you walk in. You both settle into the sheets, Historia throwing the throw blanket over the two of you, as you stare up at the ceiling. 
It’s quiet. And the thoughts are racketing around in your brain like a pinball machine. 
“I’m getting deja vu.” Historia states. 
You laugh. 
“Tell me about it.” you respond. 
“Can I tell you something that won’t help in any shape or form?” Historia responds. 
“Please.” 
“He improvised all of those lines.” Historia responds. 
“I knew that already. I realized it when I went into the stylist’s trailer.” you respond. 
“Well, he kept going after you left. He’s either down horrendous or he really wants to win an award.” Historia responds. 
You smile. 
Eren probably would win an award for this. And if he was lucky, he’d win Actor in a Leading Role – and actually get to celebrate it this time around. 
The thought of getting to win a triple threat again crosses your mind, but falls dead in its tracks. No one’s ever gotten it twice. And it was insinuated enough that it was more of a…lifetime achievement award, so your chance was already out the door. 
“So. You said no when she proposed to you?” you ask. 
She doesn’t respond. You look over to find her staring at the ceiling, her eyes almost blank. You reach for her hands under the blanket, following her lead instead of asking again. 
You can only imagine how agonizing it must be to watch someone as…nonchalant as Ymir beg on her hands and knees. 
“I would have married her.” she whispers. 
You feel your chest tighten, as you pinch your eyes shut. This is exactly what you didn’t want to hear. 
“I-I really would have, I swear. I just wasn’t ready.” Historia repeats. 
The retort is on the tip of your tongue. How were you not ready when you’ve loved Ymir since you were kids? 
But then again, you’ve loved Eren since then you were kids too. And you have yet to muster up enough courage to go for him, when he’s standing right in front of you basically waiting for it. 
“It was really perfect. She had invited everyone to fly out and come watch us, after I was done touring. Levi and Hange were there, Sasha and Jean, even Erwin was there. And they were all watching from afar and…and she…” 
Historia pauses. 
“I…I was already crying when she started by saying my dear, Historia. I could see the little box in her hand and I knew what was coming. And then she….she dropped to her knees.” Historia starts. 
She shakes her head, almost like she’s trying to rid herself of the mental image. 
“I always had this stupid running joke, ever since we first got together, that Ymir would never humble herself to propose on her knees. That…that was never really her style, to do something like that even though I’ve always wanted someone to propose to me like that. I’m more traditional and…and Ymir really hates that type of shit, so I just figured she wouldn’t do it when the time came.” 
You sigh. 
“I only knew the answer was no when she actually got on her knees and asked me. Because…because if it was me, I…I wouldn’t ever do that for her.” Historia adds. 
“What?” 
“I wouldn’t do that for her. If getting on my knees and proposing wasn’t my style, I wouldn’t get on my knees and propose. But…Ymir would, for me. And I know it’s fucking stupid and not that serious, but I just…” 
Ymir loved Historia, more than Historia loved her.
“I couldn’t say yes in good faith… because I wouldn’t give something up for her like that. Or…or for anyone, at that time. Even if it was something as trivial as where you stand while you’re proposing.” Historia states. 
You pause. You can tell what she’s trying to get at, though the comparison is hardly fair. 
“Well, your career is hardly trivial to you. But in all honesty, I don’t think you’d lose your career if you were a popstar who was gay.” you note.
Historia sighs. 
“I know you don’t feel the same way. I know that…that a lot of you don’t and that…that I must seem stupid but. But –” 
You hear her sniffle, turning your side to note that there’s tears flowing out of her eyes. 
“I’m not a bad guy for wanting to keep my career the way it is now. I’m not the villain for saying no to her proposal and not wanting people to know that I’m gay. Getting to make music, being in shows like this – it’s what I love. You know that most things like this are…are temporary anyways. I still need something I can fall back on.” she responds. 
You deflate. There was a small part of you that was hoping that she would deny it. That this wasn't really the reason that she said no. You lean closer to her, resting your head against her shoulder. 
“No one thinks you’re the bad guy, Historia. And you’re not the villain for wanting to keep your own life private. We…we just don’t like that you think you can’t be a popstar and be gay at the same time. There’s….there’s so many people who are successful. Just look at Hange.” 
Historia shakes her head. 
“Hange…doesn’t count to me. I had even tried to talk to them about it, but…it didn’t really apply. They even agreed with me.” 
“What do you mean?” 
“Hange blends in more than I do. Then Ymir and I would. They’re dating Levi and...if you didn’t know, you would think they’re a straight couple. On the outside, when they walk on red carpets together, they still look normal to people. But if Ymir and I…” 
“It would be different. There would be no question.” you respond. 
“You know that Hange gets overlooked for certain opportunities, right? Imagine if it were me. I’m not charismatic like Satoru Gojo and…and maybe I don’t want to have to forge my own path. I get that it’s glamorous to do things like this to some people but…it feels unfair that everyone else gets to do things normally but I have to be some trailblazer just to get to the same place.” 
You don’t know what to say. Because it makes complete sense to you. And she had checked you on what you had been thinking yourself. 
That Historia was insanely talented and that she’d continue to prove herself just as she did before people started doubting her. That when she came out of it at the end, people would love and praise her – for going above and beyond mere expectations that were put on her and staying true to herself. 
But it wasn’t fair. And you know well enough now, there’s nothing glamorous or fulfilling about climbing your way to the top like that. To have people speculate on every portion of your life, especially something so sacred like the ones you hold ear. To expect Historia to do it would be unfair. 
Eren’s words echo through your mind. Just because her priorities aren’t the same as ours doesn’t mean she’s wrong. 
It’s a silent thankfulness you have – that you and Eren are on the same page. You wouldn’t be able to handle it half as well as Ymir if he wasn’t. If he had picked his career over you.  
“Things like love aren’t temporary, though. You could have fallen back on her when things got hard.” you murmur. 
Historia scoffs. 
“You don’t believe that.” Historia seethes in response. 
“I do. There’s…there’s so many examples of it around us.” you respond. 
“I know that everyone’s on a high because Jean and Mikasa are getting married next week. But you weren’t here when they were fighting. I promise you, no part of that was pretty for Jean. She gave him more hurt than he deserved.” 
“But they moved past that! They love each other now.” 
“But not everyone does. Not everyone gets to rock bottom and climbs their way out – and in fact, most people don’t. Jean and Mikasa are the exception, not the rule. If you didn’t think that was true, you and Eren would be going to the wedding as a couple.” 
You sigh. She’s wrong. She’s so wrong – but you can’t throw it in her face. 
“It doesn’t seem like you really believe it either.” you respond. 
Historia shrugs. 
“Two things can be true at one time, Y/N. I can believe in love but know that Ymir and I are hopeless. We have been since she kneeled.” 
You reach for your notebook, which you had discarded on the floor, and for the shitty pen that was left in between the pages and scribble on the first open spot you find. 
sometimes you just don’t know the answer till someone’s on their knees and asks you 
The question bites at you. Historia still loves Ymir. 
“Would you say yes if she asked you now?” you ask. 
“Yeah. I think I would.” 
“Even if she got on her knees?”
“I’d crouch down just to be there with her.” Historia responds. 
The earnestness in the statement makes your heart crush. She was already too late. 
“What do you think about Sofia?” 
Historia rolls her eyes. 
“It’s irritating how likable she is. Like it actually pisses me off.” 
You snort. That sounds familiar. 
“Lacy, oh lacy…” you hum. 
“You’re not funny, bitch.” Historia responds, reaching to shove you in the side. 
You both laugh. 
“I wrote a few songs about her and Sofia. No one knew it was about them, but…but Ymir knew. Sofia knew, but she was too nice to say anything about it. I wrote this song called traitor, because technically, Ymir actually knew Sofia while we were still together. And she got mad because…” 
“Because how is she a traitor if you’re the one who said no…” you finish. 
“Yeah. It…it really hurt, Ymir. And maybe I did that on purpose, just because…I never actually expected her to move on. It felt like a betrayal to me.” Historia adds. 
“I know you’ve been making…comments here and there. To Sofia and Ymir. I know you don’t like her, but…you made your bed, Historia. You have to lay in it now.” you respond. 
She doesn’t respond. 
“I think Ymir and Sofia just want what’s best for you. Sofia is the one who wanted me to write a song with you about it, just…just so you could get some of it off of your chest. We all want you to be happy.” 
Historia pushes up off the bed, hiking her knees to her chest, as she buries her face into the hardness of her knees. You can tell that she’s racking out a sob, her breaths heavy, as you wrap your arms around her, resting your head against hers. 
“Historia–” 
“If Ymir wanted me to be happy, she would have gotten back together with me when I asked yesterday.” Historia mumbles. 
You cringe. 
“Don’t tell me you –” you murmur. 
“We…we were talking about how nice it was to be around each other again at the funeral. And Ymir was saying that…that I’d always be someone who would bring comfort to her, just like I did to her then. I thought she was trying to say that it was always going to be me so I asked. I begged her this time. And she said no.” Historia adds. 
“Historia, I’m so sorry. You–” 
She shakes her head. It’s almost like you’ve hit a brick wall, because instead of talking further, reaches for your notebook and scribbles the words onto the page with you. You can tell that the conversation is over, and that in true Historia fashion, she’s so stubborn she won’t touch it again. 
Wwith your permission, she rips the page out of the spine. The look she spares you over her shoulder before walking out of the room is haunting. 
--
Eren pops his head into your room an hour later. 
“Can you do me a favor?” Eren asks. 
“Can you stop asking me that?” you retort back. 
“My response is contingent on your answer.” Eren
“Yes. I can do you a favor, Eren. What is it?” 
Eren smiles, holding his hand out to you, as he all but yanks you off of your bed. 
“It’s not really a favor. I just wanted you to come into my room. Gabi and Falco are trying their outfits on for the wedding.” Eren responds. 
You smile as you walk straight across into Eren’s room, to find Gabi and Falco sitting eagerly on the couch. There’s four big boxes in his room, freshly delivered from the courier, as you take the seat next to Eren on the bed. 
“Okay. Falco, this is yours. Gabi, you can change in Y/N’s room and Falco take the bathroom. And don’t rip anything or you’re both going to the wedding naked.” Eren instructs. 
You watch as the two of them burst out into a fit of giggles, before they shuffle into their respective rooms with the hangers stretched over their shoulders. You turn to Eren, tapping on your thighs, as you wait for them to come back. 
“Your dress is here, too. If you want to try it on.” Eren offers. 
“Oh! Yeah, maybe I will. Are you going to try yours?” 
“Yeah. Yeah, I might.” Eren responds. 
It’s swelteringly awkward. You have no idea what to say. 
“I…found the song I wrote about Mikasa. Nico and Armin put together a backtrack for me so I’ll send it to you.” 
You watch as Eren’s eyes light up. 
“Thank you so much! I really hope she likes it.” 
“She will. You know how sentimental she is, I-I think she’s really going to love it.” you respond. 
“Speaking of. What are you getting Jean? I am morally obligated to hang you at the stake like it’s the Salem witch trials if it’s something bad.” 
You roll your eyes. 
“I actually need your help with my gift for Jean.” you state. 
Eren dramatically places his hands on his chest. 
“It’s your lucky day, Y/N! I live to serve. Especially when it’s you.” 
“When did you get so theatrical? Are you on something?” you state, voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Not only am I extremely helpful, but I’m really generous too. I’ll give you some of my fix.” Eren responds, returning the energy back in full flesh. 
“Not me getting the princess treatment! What did I do to deserve this?” 
Eren shoves you in the side. 
“Shut up. What do you need my help with?” Eren asks. 
“Well…” 
It’s right at that moment that you hear Falco and Gabi’s giggly voices again, as they both run into the room. You immediately press your hands to your cheeks and nearly squeal at how cute they both look – and specifically melt at Falco’s bowtie matching Gabi’s dress. 
Seeing Falco wear suits is less cute than it was when he was a kid. Only because he looks like a full grown person, instead of being a sweet little kid, and it makes your heart hurt at how big he’s getting. 
You know that Falco can tell what you’re thinking and he preemptively complains about it. 
“Y/N. Quit looking at me like that. You’re embarrassing me.” Falco states. 
“Do you remember when you threw up on me in first grade? Don’t talk to me about being  embarrassing.” you scold. 
Eren shakes you off, before gesturing for Falco to walk closer to him. Eren’s readjusting the collar against the coat, tightening the tie, before he gets up and rummages around in his drawers. 
“Okay, Falco. I’m going to let you borrow my cuff-links for the wedding, but you have to promise to take really good care of them, okay? These are really special to me.”  Eren states. 
“Really, Eren? You’re going to let me wear them?” 
Eren reaches forward to lightly mess with Falco’s hair, before he hands him the box. Falco sticks his hand out as Eren secures them on for him, before offering him a smile. Falco’s sheer excitement makes your heart flutter – and melt that Eren so freely offered something of his own – as Falco excitedly shows them to Gabi at his side. 
“You didn’t have to do that.” you whisper. 
Eren shrugs. 
“Of course, I did. It’s Falco.” Eren responds. 
Eren turns back to the two of them, watching the excitement on his face, as they thank him profusely. 
“What’s special about the cuff-links, Eren?” Gabi asks. 
“I wore them at one of my first award shows where I won something for Attack on Titan.” Eren states. 
Gabi curls her nose in disgust. 
“Eren. You hate award shows. You don’t even care about awards!” Gabi complains. 
“You’re right. I don’t. But, it was a pretty memorable one for me. Got my first tattoo, performed with Y/N for the first time.” 
You turn to him, as he gives you a knowing smile, and you shake your head. And he has the nerve to call Mikasa over-sentimental. 
“Wait, Gabi. I have something for you too.” 
Eren watches as you quickly rush to your room, noting that you must really be rummaging through things in your dresser since he can hear you drop things and shout in pain, before you run back with a little blue box in your hands. 
You hold it open for Gabi, as she admires the little earrings. 
“Do you like them?” you ask. 
“I love them, Y/N.” 
“You can wear them at the wedding. Here, I’ll put them on for you.” 
Gabi excitedly pushes her hair back, as you watch Falco with his lovesick eyes as he observes you fixing them. You tuck her hair behind her ears as you admire her dress in full, squeezing her wrists. 
“You look beautiful, Gabi. They’re perfect.”
“Thank you so much, Y/N. I love you so much.” 
You can’t help but frown as she presses herself into your arms, returning her warm embrace in full. You look over at Eren, who wraps his arm around Falco and smiles at you. 
“Gabi! You’re going to be the prettiest girl at the party. You should have at least given Mikasa a fighting chance.” Eren jokes, as you watch Gabi shake her head and blush at the compliment. 
“You’re corny, Eren.” Gabi responds. 
“Do you have a date to the party, Gabi? It would make my night if the prettiest girl at the party walked in with me.” 
Eren’s so sweet. It reminds you of how Levi used to be with Sasha. 
“Sorry, Eren! You snooze, you lose. Falco already asked me.” Gabi responds, linking in her arm with Falco’s. 
Eren clutches his hands to his chest, giving the two of them a dramatic display of hurt, before he puts his hand on Falco’s shoulder. 
“Fair enough. You’re a very worthy opponent, Falco. Make sure you put the cuff links and the earrings back in the box nicely. And again, if you rip your clothes, you are going to the wedding naked.” Eren states. 
It’s an innocent thought that crosses your mind. That Eren would be a really good dad, when it came to it. 
The two of them wrap their arms around you again before they run out of the room again and Eren turns to you, narrowing his eyes. 
“You’re a copycat. You only got the earrings idea from me.” 
“You’re just bitter because she gave me a bigger reaction than Falco gave you.” you bite back. 
Eren shakes his head, as he starts shuffling through the tagged clothes and looking for your dress. 
“Have to ask. What’s so special about the earrings?” Eren states. 
You smile. 
“I wore them to Levi and Hange’s vow renewal.” 
It was the first time you and Eren said that you loved each other.  Eren turns back, giving you a soft smile. 
“You’re a sap.” Eren responds. 
“Takes one to know one.” you respond. 
Eren places the dress at your side. You eye the silver beading through the little zipper, admiring Mikasa’s cursive handwriting on the little label. 
“So what do you need my help with?” Eren asks. 
“Oh. Well.” 
You tap the open spot next to you. 
“When we were going to the awards show, Jean told me something. I had asked him back then if he was delaying his wedding because you and I were fighting. He said that it wasn’t just that, but it was because…he wanted you as his best man and he was having a hard time letting go of that thought when it was how he always imagined his wedding.” 
Eren nods. You figured Jean had told him as much. 
“He said that he’s always imagined his wedding the same way. That Mikasa would have long hair, a short train but a long veil. That you would be the best man and I would be the maid of honor. And that we’d sing a song for them, one that we wrote together for their first dance.” you state. 
Eren smiles. 
“Fuck. Your gift is way better than mine.” 
You laugh. 
“Is not.” 
“You’re giving Jean his dream wedding. I’m giving Mikasa America’s Funniest Home Videos.” 
“She loves that show!” you defend. 
“Alright, alright. I’ll help you write the song.” 
--
Levi attempts to ban Connie from coming to set the day you’re filming the kiss scene. Naturally, Connie decides to sneak in by dressing up as one of the crew members, before he’s dragged out by the ear when Hange catches him. 
You count yourself lucky that Hange and Levi had thought ahead and made sure that the cabin scenes were the last ones that you filmed for the show. Dead last – meaning everyone would have already been gone by the time you and Eren actually prepared to film them. 
It was enough consolation that you’d be alone with Eren in the last few days, before it was all really over. Similar to the way it really started, just the two of you in the townhouse.  
Eren’s sitting high in the makeup chair, lazily reading through the lines of the script, as the artists paint deep red lines into the sides of his cheeks. You give him a halfhearted wave as you take a seat a few feet away, cracking all your knuckles in nervous anticipation as they start powdering your face. 
Levi and Hange walk over, hands on their hips, as they look over to the two of you for weary eyes.
“Are you ready?” Levi asks. 
You give him a nod, Eren shooting two thumbs up to them, as they both squint their eyes. They don’t believe you.  
“Just one kiss. It’s not a big deal – you’re both grown adults. And you’ve done it before! So it’s not awkward. If anything, it’s like a peck. Just a quick one and you’ll be good, Y/N.” Hange adds. 
Eren glares at Hange.
“If it’s not awkward, why are you being weird about it?” Eren deadpans. 
Hange deflates. 
“Right then. Well, legs up in five!” Hange responds, before shuffling off to the other side of the room with Levi. You can hear the two of the murmuring under their breaths, rolling your eyes at how utterly disbelieving the two of them were of you. 
You turn to Eren, the two of you giving each other a shared annoyed look, before you turn back and focus on the scene at hand. You watch as the entire crew tasks themselves with testing the lights, pulling the cameras into view, and scribbling quickly on the clapperboard. 
It’s fairly simple. You just have to stand there and kiss him. No lines, no big confession – just one kiss.  
The cast stages you and Eren – bustling hands fixing the lapels of your clothes, the stray strands of your hair as you and Eren look at each other. 
“Hey.” 
Eren smiles. He seems fairly calm, considering things. You on the other hand, you can’t help but feel that bubbling ball of anxiety pulsating in your stomach. 
“Hi Y/N. How are you today?” 
“I’m good. Good, good. You?” you respond. 
“Great.” Eren responds. 
You shove your hands into your pockets, wiping the accumulating sweat on the inside of the pants, when you feel the little plastic box in your pocket. 
“I have something for you actually.” you add. 
You pull the box of Tic-Tacs out of your pocket, before holding them out in front of Eren. He gives you a hearty laugh, before cupping his hands and holding them out to you and you pour three in his hand, before downing your own. 
“That was very self-preservationist of you. But, I’ll have you know that I didn’t eat anything all day just to avoid this type of issue.” 
You snort. 
“No way.” 
“They had pizza for lunch. God forbid I taste like marinara sauce when you kiss me. I’m not a dog.” Eren responds. 
“I’ll admit. I did eat the pizza, but then I vigorously brushed my teeth for like five minutes.” you respond. 
Eren smiles, placing his hands on his cheeks. 
“All for me? I’m flattered, Y/N.” 
You smile. 
“Okay. So, like…do we need a gameplan? Do I lean towards the right? The left? Do you have a preference? Because I can –” 
You watch as Eren’s eyes go wide, as he looks at you like you’ve grown another head. 
You can tell that he’s trying not to laugh. You glare at him, huffing as you cross your hands over your chest. 
“What?” you seethe. 
“Are you…staging a kiss right now?” 
“Just so we’re on the same page! You know, I don’t want to just lunge at you and catch you off guard.” you respond. 
Eren smiles, before reaching forward and placing one of his hands on your neck. He uses his thumb to rub into the softness of your cheek, before narrowing his eyes at you. You can tell what he’s trying to say. 
Relax. 
“Okay, okay. I’ll just do what feels right. Sorry for being weird.” you respond. 
Eren shrugs. 
“S’not weird. I just think you’re overthinking it. We’ve done it hundreds of times. It’s on your move anyways, so you’re in control.” Eren responds. 
“You guys ready?” 
You and Eren look over at Levi and Hange, their legs crossed in the director’s chair, as you give them a nod. You turn back to Eren, who gives you a mini-salute, as you back up a few steps and shake your hands at your sides. 
“Alright, Y/N, we’re rolling. On your move.” Levi calls. 
It’s like your feet are cemented into the ground. You can feel the unease that had been pooling in your stomach all day wash over you as you become acutely aware of how thick and warm the air is. It’s almost like it’s weighing down on you – hanging heavy on your skin, nearly throwing you off balance. 
You try to shake the feeling off, shutting your eyes before cracking each of the knuckles in your fingers. You can see it out of your peripheral vision, Levi shifting his head to the side to look at Hange, and the embarrassment bubbles in your throat. 
“I’m good. I just need a second, sorry.” 
Levi shakes his head. 
“Take your time. Whatever feels right.” Levi responds, giving you a comforting enough smile. 
It’s just a kiss. You’ve done it hundreds of times. 
The walk towards him, though it’s only two or three steps, is excruciatingly long. The clothes are too starched, too constricting, as you reach forward, and press your hands to Eren’s cheeks. The makeup pressed to his skin comes off on your hand, as you tilt his head up – slotting your lips against his. 
Eren’s quick with it. His lips quickly glide over yours, the familiar taste of the mint you had just offered him lingering, as he lifts his hands too, pulling your face closer to his. 
Eren can feel it – your entire body freezing against his, like the first time he had ever kissed you. The urge to swoop in and fix it, even though you’re the one who was supposed to take the lead is too overwhelming. 
He knows it’ll crush you if you don’t do it right. 
(And maybe Eren’s a little selfish.)
You can feel the blood rushing to your head, as Eren brings his hands up – one hand cupping your cheek and the other one slithering around your back to pull you closer. You nearly gasp into his mouth as he leans forward this time, the softness of his hands making you melt in his hands. 
It’s Eren. Tender, soft, and intoxicating. You don’t want to stop. You return the kiss in full this time, properly leaning forward and giving it back. 
But Eren’s the one who pulls away, resting his head against your forehead, as he lightly squeezes at your neck, where his hands are resting. You’re both panting in tandem, eyes still pinched shut and foreheads pressed together, as you swallow hard and try to catch your breath. 
“Hey guys. Quick note for you.” 
You both flinch at the sound of Hange’s voice in your ears, awkwardly taking a step away from each other, as a different embarrassment washes over you. You avert your eyes from Eren and look at Hange, who shoots you a weird look before focusing back on Eren. 
“Hm? What, Hange?” Eren mumbles. You can see him out of your peripheral vision – lifting his fingers and pressing them to his lips, a slight shake in his hand. 
“Eren, honey. She just decapitated you. Like, cut your head off. You are dead.” Hange clarifies. 
“Right?” Eren hums. 
“So, you can’t use your hands to kiss her. You don’t have hands anymore! And…and that was way too lively for someone who is supposed to be dead. Tone down the excitement a little.” Hange responds before shuffling off, as Eren’s cheeks go bright pink. 
Eren turns back to you, giving you a sheepish smile, as you shake your head. 
There was no need to be embarrassed. Not when you were the one who led wrong and he was trying to fix it. 
Not when you enjoyed that way more than you should have. 
Eren watches as you march back to your spot, shaking your hands at your side, as you fix your hair. Eren turns back to look at Hange and feels the humiliation increase when they mouth something that looks an awful lot like touch starved. 
Eren throws the thought out of his mind as he leans back again, tucking his hands behind his back. The situation is less than ideal, with his eyes closed – because Eren doesn’t really clock that you’re kissing him until you’re actually doing it. 
It’s your sweet hands cradling his face and then the warmth against his lips – before he can feel himself sinking into your embrace.
You can tell that Eren’s more apprehensive this time, as you flutter your eyes shut and lightly bump your nose against his on accident. You pull him up closer to you, scanning his face and smiling, before you lean forward and rub into the skin on his cheek. You can’t help but smile as you lean forward, the anticipation palpable as you press your lips to his. 
Eren can still feel his heart thrumming, at the way you’re so carefully holding him like glass, while making him feel like his body was on fire. He’s caught off guard when he feels your tongue against his, unable to contain his smile. 
You pull back, your lips burning and skin humming, as Eren looks at you, with a soft smile on his face. You give his cheek a little pinch, which he responds to by giving you a wink, before Levi walks over – his hands crossed over his chest. 
Eren groans. 
“What did I do now?” 
“Not you, Eren. Y/N. Well, you too, but she started it. Y/N, you just murdered the love of your life. LIke fully, had to be the one to murder him even though you didn’t want to because you were the only one strong enough to do it.” 
“Right.” 
“Could you not…smile into the kiss? You have no reason to be smiling.”
You cringe. 
“Right! Right, so sorry, Levi. Won’t happen again.” 
“Okay, because. You smile and then he smiles because you did. And again, just for extreme clarification, he is dead. This is supposed to be sad.” 
Levi rolls his eyes, as he shuffles back to the chair. You spare him a glance while Eren isn’t looking and he mouths something that looks an awful lot like the word freak. You shake him off, as you turn back to Eren, giving him a sheepish smile. 
“Sorry.” you offer. 
“Not a problem. I love it when you smile.” Eren responds, running his fingers over his lips again before he drops them. 
You can feel your head spinning. 
“Okay. Last one.” you clarify. 
“Third time’s a charm, princess.” Eren responds. 
You walk back to the spot, before you wait for Levi to give you the cue. And this time, walk forward as slowly as you can and repeat it to yourself. No hands, no smiling, no tongue.  
You reach forward, placing your hands around his neck, and lean forward. You slide your lips over his, circling your fingers into his neck to ground yourself into the touch rather than his intoxicating smell, as you kiss him. It’s overwhelmingly tender this time – the way you linger over him, before you pull back and let go. 
But the second you pull apart, it’s an immediate pang in your chest. It felt too final. 
“That was great guys! That’s the one.” Hange responds, as you look over and give them a smile. 
You awkwardly drop your hands, letting go of Eren, as he offers you a polite smile in response, holding out his hand to give you a high-five. You oblige, slapping your hand into his, though you can’t help but notice that the smile he gave barely reached his eyes. 
--
On your way out, you can feel the steaming that was pooling under your skin fizzle out as you walk out into the cold air, as you start marching on the pavement back to the townhouse. You prepare yourself for the unnecessary barrage of questions, and for how irritating Connie can be, as you push into the foyer. 
When you walk into the main room, it’s unexpectedly quieter than you thought it was going to be, the faint sound of the piano getting louder as you walk closer. And when you push into the room, the quiet warmth that was blooming under your skin is replaced with an ice cold pinch when you catch sight of what’s happening. 
Historia’s playing the piano, for the group of them. 
Mikasa looks up at you immediately, giving you wide eyes, as you press your hands to your temples, and look to your left. Jean and Connie give you the same look, the group of you all sweltering in the awkwardness, as you avert your gaze back to Historia. 
You booked the night train for a reason So you could sit there in this hurt
Bustling crowds or silent sleepers You're not sure which is worse
Because I dropped your hand while dancing Left you out there standing Crestfallen on the landing Champagne problems
Your mom's ring in your pocket My picture in your wallet Your heart was glass, I dropped it Champagne problems
Eren walks in right behind you, nearly bumping into you, as you press your hand to his forearm and squeeze hard. 
“Wha-” 
“Be quiet!” you whisper. 
Eren gives you a puzzled look, as you watch his eyes scan around the room, and watch the realization register in his face. He looks down at you, giving you an awkward look, as you shake your head. The two of you avert your gaze to the left again, to find Sofia crying with one of her hands pressed to her chest. 
How evergreen, our group of friends Don't think we'll say that word again And soon they'll have the nerve to deck the halls That we once walked through
One for the money, two for the show I never was ready, so I watch you go Sometimes you just don't know the answer 'Til someone's on their knees and asks you
"She would've made such a lovely bride What a shame she's fucked in the head, " they said But you'll find the real thing instead She'll patch up your tapestry that I shred
Watching Ymir is like watching someone get sucker punched in the face in real time. It reminds you of the same reaction that Eren gave you the other day, while you were filming, a visceral physical reaction. You watch as Ymir stumbles back, nearly loses her balance, as the tears start collecting in her eyes. 
And even worse, watch as Sofia tries to reach for her but Ymir pushes her away. 
And hold your hand while dancing Never leave you standing Crestfallen on the landing With champagne problems
Your mom's ring in your pocket Her picture in your wallet You won't remember all my Champagne problems
You won't remember all my Champagne problems
The second she stops playing, Ymir runs up the stairs – her feet leaving a pounding sound before the door slams shut. And you watch as Sofia takes a deep and heavy breath, before running out the front door. 
--
You find Sofia two hours later, a block and a half away from the townhouse, on a bench. You reach down, picking up her bike off of where it’s toppled on the concrete, and rest it against the edge of the armrest, before taking the seat next to her. 
Sofia doesn’t hesitate to talk – like almost half of the people you know. 
“Is Ymir okay?” she asks. 
You shake your head. 
“Last I know, Eren and Mikasa went to talk to her. I’m sure they talked her down.” you respond. 
Sofia gives you a nod, inhaling shakily, as she hikes her knees to her chest. You can barely see her face – the hood pulled over her head obscuring her face – as she presses her cheeks into her knees. 
“I didn’t think she was going to sing it. I’m really sorry, I –” 
“Did you know that Historia asked Ymir to get back together with her yesterday?” 
You deflate. 
“Yes. She told me right before I went to film with Eren.” you respond. 
Sofia doesn’t respond. It’s chilling – to see someone you’ve only seen smiling for the past week and a half so defeated in one fell swoop. And even more than that, knowing how small it can feel to be competing with things that feel larger than life, in an entire world that you don’t feel like you’re a part of. 
“Ymir said no. I know she really loves you.” you offer. 
“I know she did. She came and told me right after it happened. She walked in all hot and heavy, nearly red in the face, pissed at the audacity Historia had to say that.” Sofia states. 
She pulls her hood back, resting her head against the back of the bench, as she flutters her eyes shut. 
“There’s nothing that…that gets Ymir moving like Historia. Whether she’s mad…or happy…or sad, no one can make Ymir feel as much as Historia does. If Historia and her have a good talk about how they’re always going to be important to each other, she’s on top of the fucking world. If she gets on her hands and knees and begs for her back, it’s enough to send her into a blind rage. And if she sings a song about how she got away…it’s enough to send her sobbing into her room.” 
You swallow hard. 
“I feel like I’m intruding on people who are meant to be. I don’t think I should be here.” she adds, her voice cracking. 
You shake your head.
“Ymir really loves you, I-I can just tell by the way that she looks at you. It would kill her if you left, Sofia.” 
She shrugs. 
“I know I’m never going to be Historia. And I know that first loves and…and sexual awakenings or whatever are sacred to people, but…I can’t sit here when I’m not even a part of the competition. I’m smart enough to know when two people still care about each other more than they should. I feel like I’m committing a fucking crime by keeping them apart.” Sofia responds. 
You bite down into the hardness of your cheek, before leaning your head against her shoulder. She welcomes the touch, leaning her own against yours before you break the silence. 
“I don’t necessarily think you’re wrong. There isn’t anyone that gets Ymir going like Historia. But that doesn’t mean that they’re right for each other. It doesn’t mean that you aren’t Ymir’s perfect match.” you respond. 
You shift. 
“Just because Ymir gets to these big…big emotions with Historia doesn’t make her better than you. In fact, I think that’s the leg that you have up on her. Why you’re the one who is marrying Ymir and not her.” 
“Really?” she whispers. 
“I’m not sure how familiar you are with Jean and Mikasa’s situation but –” 
“I know. Jean slept over at our house once when they were fighting. We ate ice cream together at three in the morning and talked till the sun rose.” 
You smile. 
“Jean told me that there’s lots of different types of love that you have in your life. And I just think that there’s one person…or one situation that deeply cuts into you, so hard that it changes you. I think that’s what Historia is for Ymir. Because to her, it must have been devastating that she would have done anything, that she could have changed herself any type of way, and she still wouldn’t be enough for her. I think that would get anyone moving, being reminded of the deep hurt, the complicated feelings that come with that person.” you respond. 
You feel your phone buzz, as you look at the little screen. 
[eren]: did you find her?  [eren]: ymir wants to see her.  [eren]: really badly. 
You respond back, before turning back to her. You have to turn this around for Ymir. 
“The big feelings aren’t the ones you chase after, Sofia. They fizzle out eventually, when the spark is gone. You pick based on comfort, on consistency. And Historia’s never…been consistent. She could never give Ymir what she wanted like you could. Like you do.” 
Sofia gives you a halfhearted smile. 
“You’re really sweet, Y/N. I really like you.” 
You smile, your chest panging with hurt. 
“I really like you too, Sofia. I hope you know that Historia didn’t do any of that to hurt you. She just…feels first, thinks second. It’s how she’s always been. And it’s not fair to you, but…but I hope you know it’s not personal. Or anything about you.” 
Sofia puts a hand on your shoulder. 
“Thanks.” 
You can tell that she’s ruminating over your words and the two of you sit there quietly, dangling your legs over the side of the bench, as you wait for Ymir. Your stomach rumbles loudly, as you shoot her an apologetic smile. 
“Sorry. I didn’t take my lunch after Eren and I were done filming.” 
Sofia’s eyes light up, through the redness and puffiness. 
“Didn’t you kiss?” 
You groan. You only oblige the conversation because you know she means well. 
“Yes. We kissed.” 
“Was it hot?” Sofia asks. 
You snort. 
“Um…kind of. I accidentally used my tongue the second time.” 
Sofia gasps, excitedly pressing her hands to her chest as she leans forward. 
“The second time? Meaning you did it more than once?” you ask. 
You bury your face in your hands. 
“Three times. He…he got too into it the first time. Then I got too into it the second time. It’s supposed to be a really sad scene but –”  
“But you guys are horny, I get it.” Sofia finishes. 
“We’re not–” 
“Ymir says you guys eye fuck each other. I thought she was being kind of crude, but you really do.” 
You groan. 
“Sofia–” 
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! You guys are actually really cute and I hope you don’t think we’re all pressuring you. I just think it’s really neat the little things you guys do for each other. Connie was telling me about the mints that you got him before you kissed.” 
“Oh. Yeah. I was just kind of trying to break the ice so he was comfortable and stuff.” 
“No, I totally get what you mean. Okay, like. The first time Ymir and I went on a date, I was so ready to kiss her – I had been thinking about it all week. And before we got into the car, I ate an entire box of Altoids.” 
“An entire box? Doesn’t that get painful after a while?” 
“Listen, she’s like way out of my league. I had to impress her! Plus, it gets rid of that doubt in my head when I lean in and stuff.” 
“You wanted to impress her with minty breath?” 
“Okay, don’t question my methods. She’s my fianceé now. After we kissed and I went home,  Ymir told me that she really enjoyed it. So every time I went to see her, I would eat another box just so that she would enjoy it again.” 
“You know that Ymir hates mints, right?” 
“Is this just common knowledge that everyone knew or something? I literally had no idea. Mikasa told me a month later and I was fucking furious. God, I never bought another pack again.” Sofia complains. 
“You didn’t? I thought you said it got rid of the doubt.” 
“Yeah but, why would I? She doesn’t like them. I got over it.” Sofia states. 
You pause, leaning your head back. You refuse to comment on it, because winning her over was Ymir’s battle. And you surely hoped Ymir would be able to do it, because this was, in fact, her perfect match. 
Who would give up trivial things for her, like kneeling on the ground or chugging mints, just because Ymir asked. Just because it would make her happier. 
“How did Connie know I gave Eren the mints? Hange kicked him out.” you state. 
“Oh. He climbed onto the roof. That kiss was really important to him and Mikasa.” Sofia states. 
You roll your eyes. 
“Of course it was.” 
You scoff, before shaking your head. It’s enough to make her laugh through her tears. And surely enough, Ymir and Eren appear after twenty minutes – out of breath and panting. You take the cue and jump off the bench, reaching for Eren’s outstretched hand, as the two of you quietly walk back to the townhouse and leave them to it. 
“They’ll be fine.” Eren murmurs, trying to pull you into walking the other way. He’s trying to reassure you. 
You look up at him and smile. 
“Yeah, I’m sure they will be.”
--
Jean and Mikasa don’t do bachelor or bachelorette parties. Early on, Eren had clocked that something like that, a party celebrating them get married without the other present, wasn’t something that wouldn’t even be remotely fun to them. 
But you still had to do something. Which is why Eren settled for throwing the two of them a laid back party after filming at the end of the week, with enough alcohol for them to get drunk to their hearts desire. 
“Sometimes I have genuine concern for how their livers are still functioning.” Eren states. 
You avert your gaze from Gabi and Falco – who are sitting in the corner playing a very intense game of cards together and giggling – to Jean and Mikasa, who are very drunkenly dancing with Niccolo and Sasha, who unfortunately got roped into it. 
“Tell me about it.” you respond. 
You can’t help but smile as Niccolo takes turns spinning Mikasa around, as Sasha and Jean attempt a very dangerous version of a dip, which results in Jean dropping her flat on the floor. Eren’s ready to jump up, but Armin gestures for him to keep sitting before jumping up. 
“Sometimes I think it’s sweet though. I think back to all those award shows and realize that they probably had a really great time together. Just dancing together, enjoying each other's company.” you respond. 
“Yeah. That first one we did though was really fun. I mean, Sukuna and the lollipop thing was like really fucking annoying. But besides that, I really liked that we were all just sitting together having a good time.” 
You snort. 
“Do you ever think about how…important moments seem after the fact? And that…sometimes you don’t really know how much something will mean later?” you ask. 
“What do you mean?” 
“When we went to Seattle, I was talking with Lana. And I was telling her that Sukuna and I are nowhere near as close as you and her are. And she was telling me that Sukuna and I were like that. And that back then, when I met him, I was the one of the first people to kind of… understand that he was joking. To not immediately think bad of him or be weirded out by it, I guess.” you respond. 
Eren shrugs. 
“I guess. I mean, you showing up for my birthday dinner, it must have seemed to you that I was being so reserved when I left with Hyla. But that was the moment for me that I knew I wanted to be out of that thing, that kind of started everything.” Eren responds. 
You feel your cheeks heat up. And you’re sure that the four shots that Mikasa gave you earlier, the slight buzz in your veins, is what makes you say it. 
“This is one of them too. The important moments I’ll look back on.” you respond. 
You watch as Eren’s eyes go wide, before he awkwardly scratches at the back of his neck and smiles at the ground. 
“How so?” 
“All of this time that I get to spend with you. It’s up there, with everything else.” 
Eren reaches forward, linking his hand in with yours, before he squeezes three times. 
“Me too.” 
The two of you keep your hands that way, linked together and raised in the air, before the wind nearly gets knocked out of you by Jean leaning his entire weight on you. You can see that Mikasa is doing the same to Eren, hands tangled around his neck and nearly strangling him. 
“Did you guys know you’re the best maid of honor and best man ever?” Mikasa whines. 
Eren takes her hands, untangling them from cutting off his circulation, before letting her lean against his shoulder. You can see that he’s pleasantly surprised from the affection, wrapping his arm around her and leaning his head against hers as well. 
“Yes, Mikasa. We know.” Eren responds. 
“Stop being cocky, Eren.” Jean grumbles, as you turn your head to the side to smile at him. 
“Yeah, Eren.” you respond, emphasizing each syllable as he rolls his eyes. 
Eren shakes his head at the two of you, before looking down at Mikasa. 
“Are you ready for your gift, Mika?” Eren asks. 
“What? Really?” 
Eren gives her a nod as she nearly jumps up with excitement, teetering on the heels of her feet as Eren momentarily disappears to grab the little tape. Jean looks down at you, giving you a steely glare, as you roll your eyes. 
“What, Jean?”
“You are getting me a gift, right?” 
“Do you think I’m a nutjob? Obviously, I’m getting you a gift. You’re getting married.” 
“It better blow my fucking mind, Y/N. I have seriously high hopes after finding out what Eren got Mikasa.” 
You grin. 
“Trust me. It’s going to be everything you wanted and more.” 
Jean glares at you. 
“I don’t like your tone. If it’s a gag gift, you’re not meeting any of my children.” 
“They’re also Mikasa’s children. She’ll let me see them.” 
“No, I won’t let her.” 
“You don’t own the kids, Jean.” 
“The fuck do you mean? They’re my kids.” 
You elbow him in the sides. 
“These aren’t even real kids yet! Why are you getting territorial over people who don’t even exist yet?” 
Mikasa slings her arm around both of your shoulders, before squeezing the two of you way too hard under her grip. The two of you give each other wide eyes as she nearly cuts off your circulation and scolds both of you. 
“Why are you guys always so mean to each other? I thought you guys were getting along.” 
“We do get along!” Jean responds. 
“So along! We’re two peas in a pod!” you respond. 
Mikasa slightly loosens her grip as Eren walks up, twisting the little CD in his hand, as he eyes the three of you. She absentmindedly links her arm in with his and Jean, as Jean and Eren mimic their motions and loop you into the circle. 
There’s tears bubbling in her eyes, as you and Eren spare each other a glance, and prepare yourself for the waterworks that are going to follow. Mikasa was always an emotional drunk. 
“Thank you guys for planning such a good party for us. And for being really good friends to us.” Mikasa responds, voice cracking. 
You smile, cheeks nearly hurting, as you squeeze Eren and Jean’s arms. 
“Of course, Mikasa. You-” 
“We’re never going to be able to repay you both. I never forgot how many times you both took the fall for us back in the day whenever Levi got mad at us for switching our rooms around. And that you guys always did it whenever we asked.” 
Eren shakes his head. 
“I promise that we wanted to switch rooms just as badly as you guys did. Relax, Mikasa.” 
“I want you guys to be so happy. You guys are both such good people that it makes my heart hurt. You’re so, so perfect for each other.” 
You can feel Eren stiffen at your side as your cheeks heat up, the awkwardness sweltering in the air. 
“Thank you, Mikasa. That’s very sweet of you.” 
“I want my kids to be like ring bearers or flower girls at your wedding! I want our kids to be best friends like we were best friends and make those stupid videos like we used to do back in the day.” 
“Speaking of those videos, can I give you your gift now, Mikasa?” Eren asks. 
Mikasa lifts her hands, wiping the wetness off of her face, as she nods. Eren walks towards the TV, setting up the little video player, as you grab the group of them and signal them to join you around the couch to watch the video. 
The song starts playing, the soft little piano, of a song you had coincidentally written about Jean and Mikasa years prior. You and Jean had visited Mikasa on the set of one of her old films, Emma, and you had half heartedly scribbled some lyrics about it. You were able to find the old book in the back of your drawers and piece it together properly with Armin and Niccolo’s help. 
When Emma falls in love, she paces the floor Closes the blinds and locks the door When Emma falls in love, she calls up her mom Jokes about the ways that this one could go wrong She waits and takes her time 'Cause Little Miss Sunshine always thinks it's gonna rain When Emma falls in love, I know That boy will never be the same
'Cause she's the kind of book that you can't put down Like if Cleopatra grew up in a small town And all the bad boys would be good boys If they only had a chance to love her And to tell you the truth, sometimes I wish I was her
Eren pieced together the perfect videos. You’re positive that he’s stolen from all of Levi’s old tapes, as well as the dumb camera that the group of you all used in the early seasons. The clips are all of Jean and Mikasa – of such seemingly unimportant moments that nearly make your heart burst at the sight of the two of them now. 
There’s sprinkles of you and Eren in the videos, of the two of you recording them in the background holding hands when you were trying to catch their attention. And of Connie and Reiner just blowing kissy faces at them or Sasha and Bertholdt trying to imitate the two of them. 
Nearly everyone’s laughing at the clips – at how little Jean and Mikasa look at all of the clips – and Mikasa secures her hand in with yours. 
“Is that you singing? Did you write this song about me?” 
“Yeah. Way back when you filmed Emma.” 
You can see her face curl up in emotion, before she leans her head against your shoulder. She still has one of her hands wrapped in with Eren’s, stopping every few seconds to give him a really big smile that you can tell means the world to him. 
Emma met a boy with eyes like a man Turns out her heart fits right in the palm of his hand Now he'll be her shelter when it rains Little does he know, his whole world's about to change
'Cause she's the kind of book that you can't put down Like if Cleopatra grew up in a small town And all the bad boys would be good boys If they only had a chance to love her And to tell you the truth, sometimes I wish I was her Yeah, between me and you, sometimes I wish I was her
The clip ends with the group of you hugging, when you had finished wrapping season one. You remember the moment distinctly – the dread that came with it. Because you didn’t know if you were going to get a season two, if anyone was even going to like the show, or if you’d ever see any of them again. 
Armin initiates it first, by leaning forward over the couch and wrapping his arm around Eren and Mikasa. And then one by one, you’re all piling on each other – warm tears in your eyes as everyone ruffles Jean and Mikasa’s hair – the two of them pink in the face with their tears. 
You stand up to pop the CD out of the box as you watch Eren and Mikasa give each other a long hug, Eren responding warmly to the babbling mess coming out of her mouth. 
“Eren. Eren, I love you so much.” 
“I love you too, Mikasa.” 
“This is perfect. This is so perfect, you’re one of my best friends ever, you know that?” 
Eren laughs, before placing both of his hands on her shoulders. 
“You’re one of my best friends too, Mikasa. Save one dance for me at the wedding, okay?” 
“Of course. Of course, of course we have to dance together. You can’t leave me hanging, Eren.” 
“This was my idea! And you’re the one who’s going to be so busy. Just don’t forget me.” 
You’re caught off guard from watching the two of them when you feel a tapping on your shoulder to find Ymir at your side. You give her a smile as you both lean against the wall. 
“Hey.” 
“I was wondering if you could do me a favor. You can say no.” Ymir states. 
“Yeah, of course. What’s up?” 
“That was…a really sweet song you wrote about Mikasa. I’ve always really loved how you can feel the emotion in songs you write.” 
You smile. 
“Is there any way that you could write a song with me? About Sofia? Because, we’re good but I want her to know that she means the world to me. And she’s been a fan of yours for so long that I think that it would be something that was really special to her. And I know that things are complicated because of Historia and that you might have picked a side, but I’m just asking you for this as your friend and –” 
“I’m on your side too.” you state. 
“Hm?” 
“Historia is my friend. But you are too. And I want you and Sofia to be happy, I really like her and I really like you.” 
You watch as Ymir deflates. 
“Really?” 
“You’re meant to be together. I think that she can really love you in the way that you deserve.” 
Ymir leans forward, uncharacteristically affectionate, as she wraps her arms around you and squeezes your arms. 
“You’re a really good person, Y/N.” Ymir states. 
You laugh. 
“You must be as drunk as Mikasa.” 
“No, no I really mean it. You always have really good intentions at heart. I know that your whole lover girl branding must be…frustrating to look at after everything that happened. But that’s always who you’ve been, with all of us. It’s a really good part of you.” Ymir states. 
You smile. 
“You’re speaking really highly of me. All I did was say I was going to write a song with you, Ymir.” 
“I think you deserve really good things. People have given you way too much hurt than you deserve.” 
--
The following morning, you’re able to snag Armin to help you play Ymir’s song for Sofia. And surely enough, you can feel it radiating as you watch her face light up, the way she nearly beams at the two of you as you sing. 
You sit abandoned in the room, hours after Armin, Ymir, and Sofia trickle away. 
Only because it’s so overwhelming that it nearly suffocates you. The love in the room. 
Ymir and Sofia. Jean and Mikasa and Gabi and Falco. The way Eren and Armin have reconciled and how you always see Levi smiling at you from the back of the room when the group of you are messing around. 
You’re so full of it that you can barely breathe, so nervously anxious that it makes your stomach hurt. 
“You okay?” 
You look up to find Eren looking down at you. At the love in the room, staring at you so intently. 
“Yeah.” 
“I had a question.” 
You tap the open seat on the couch next to you, shuffling to the side, as he joins you. 
“Sure. What’s up?”
You watch as Eren leans forward on his knees, eyes trained on the ground as he cracks through each of the knuckles in his fingers. 
“You can say no. You don’t have to feel obligated to answer in any way because it was just an idea I had. I won’t be hurt if you don’t want to, or…or had other plans I don’t know about because you’re obviously entitled to that! And you know, it’s a harmless type of thing that I just wanted to –” 
“Eren.” 
He pauses, looking up at you. 
“Just ask.” you finish. 
“Will you be my date to the wedding?” Eren asks. 
You feel the butterflies swarming in your stomach as you smile at him, squeezing your hands into fists as you hold them close to your chest. 
“Really?” 
“Yeah. Yeah, I want to go with you. We’re doing a song together and…and we’re all good. It would be nice to be together, like we did back when we wrote invisible string. That and I kind of need you to point out all the love in the room for me just so I can remember it all.” Eren responds. 
You smile. 
“Of course. We’ll take turns. I’ll point one out and then you.” 
Eren grins. 
“Deal.” 
You reach forward, placing your pointer finger against his chest. He looks down before looking back up at you, confused. 
“What?” he asks. 
“You just asked me to point out the love in the room.” 
You watch as Eren leans his head back, unable to contain his smile, as he shoves your hand away and mimics the motion by pointing back.
--
next chapter linked here
an: anyways ymir requests a song about her relationship with historia later on and they write you're losing me. and yes, you're losing me and champagne problems end up being about the same relationship. also historia being so jo march coded by saying she would accept ymir's proposal now that she's actually with someone else and can't have her....anyways jeankasa wedding oh we cried
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lunarspiral1127 · 7 months ago
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X-Men 97 episode 8 *SPOILERS*
Bastion
Not gonna lie, I busted out laughing when I watched his origin story. This is the second time an antagonist had to wait for a couple to make a child and use said child for their plans. Nimrod was lucky that the guy he infected was in a relationship. Plus, I thought it was gonna make Bastion sympathetic due to his childhood flashbacks, but nope.
So, he made a Utopia for humans, but the mutants are enslaved. Saw old Polaris and the Phoenix. But, what bugs me is that he claims that many of the humans consented to be turned into Prime Sentinels without knowing all the details and won't have any memory of being turned. I find it hard to believe that every single one of them would've consented, especially his elderly mother. Dude omitted many details and I'm pretty sure he turned some of them without them knowing. Plus, I'm still mad at him for killing Gambit.
Cameos of Dr. Doom and Zemo (hydra n@zi Zemo, not the MCU version). Wasn't expecting to see them being members of OZT.
Mr. Sinister's just in it for the mutant experimentation.....y'know what? I shouldn't be surprised with that reason why he "teamed up" with Bastion. More test subjects.
Summers Family
Not gonna lie, I was really annoyed with the drama between Cable and Scott. If this was comics Scott, I can understand why Cable's giving him the cold shoulder. But, this Scott didn't wanna abandon Nathan like his dad did to him! It was Madelyn that gave him to Bishop. So, if Scott was there with her, things would've been cool?! God, I'm so sick of this drama. Thank goodness that it didn't last long and that Jean stopped them from escalating it further.
Summers family vs. Prime Sentinels was pretty cool. I like that father/son fistbump, which means things will get better between the two.
It's funny that Jean's being the mom at Cable who's like this big man in his 50s.
Also, Jean and Scott's relationship is getting better which is a relief.
Nightcrawler
Once again, precious boy and MVP. What he said to Jean was really nice. He's always been there as someone's shoulder to lean and cry on. When he talked about Mystique, I felt so bad for him. Honestly, I hated what she did to him just because he was born that way. In the 90s show, she did feel guilt for what she did when Nightcrawler talked to her. But, I still didn't like her for what she did to him. However, with all the words and hugs he's given to others, I hope he has someone who'd give him words and hugs too. He also needs a shoulder to lean and cry on too.
SWASHBUCKLING NIGHTCRAWLER HELL YEAH!!! I've been waiting to see him use swords and it was worth the wait. Him teaming up with Wolverine was really cool. Plus, seeing how his teleporting works was cool too. Love that he was protecting his sister, and I'm glad that we got something with him and Logan cause we haven't had anything like that since he first appeared.
Beast
Why the hell would he let the reporter stay in?! Even if she's not doing her job, she's shouldn't be involved! It has nothing to do with her, plus, I'm pretty sure he revealed a lot of classified information that only the X-Men should be allowed to hear and see. Dammit, Beast. And, dammit Morph for letting her in too.
*sigh* Anyone else think, he's been done dirty in this episode? Cause having her stay in there got his butt kicked. Sure, he didn't know that she was a Prime Sentinel, but they do know the possibility that any human could be one, right? Now, Beast is knocked out along with Rogue, who hasn't woken up still.
Jubilee and Roberto
Okay, so they are gonna be part of the main plot, good. I was worried that they were gonna be sidelined, especially Jubilee.
His mom is a beech. She sold her son out to the Prime Sentinels and didn't believe him and for what? Her reputation?! Man, f**k this beech, she sucks. Poor Roberto though.
Finally using his powers more than once! I counted four times in this whole series so far of when he used them. It's also something that annoys me about the character. He said that he was training in the Danger Room to surprise Jubilee, but why couldn't we have seen that?! Why couldn't we have Roberto training with one of the X-Men's help and see him develop his abilities?! Hell, have Jubilee be there to train him! That way we could've seen more of his abilities and see him grow more and have him interact with other characters, bonding with them. Not just Jubilee. Maybe have him open up to when he first awakened his powers and why he wants to hide them, instead of just telling us.
On the plus side, they should be okay thanks to Magneto's magnetic EMP ability. Speaking of which....
Magneto
I'm glad he didn't get turned into a Prime Sentinel, but I still don't understand how Bastion and Mr. Sinister got his hands on him from Genosha. That blast should've killed him along with the Morlocks. I don't even think it's gonna be explained how they captured him.
His prisoner numbers....yeesh. 😬
The one good thing that Cooper did. Letting him go and realizing that he was right. Aside from that, f**k her. Seriously, was the only good human (regular human, not enhanced) shown in this was Moira?! Cause that's what it feels like.
Now, I was confused at first with what Magneto did, but I think he went to the North or South Poles and used the Earth's magnetic field which is strongest there to cause a worldwide blackout, disabling all the Prime Sentinels. Not killing them, mind you. All while in his underwear, too.
Honestly, I wouldn't blame him if he wages war. He tried to be good. He tried to respect Xavier's dream. But, look what happened. So, I wouldn't blame him if he did this.
HOWEVER! I like that Magneto was good. Part of me doesn't want him to go back to his old ways cause that's gonna be more conflict between him and Xavier. Plus, only Logan claimed that Magneto waged war. If he did, he would've killed the Prime Sentinels, but he didn't. If anything, he'd be waging war on Bastion since he's the one responsible. But, yeah, I'm sorry Xavier. You're cool and all, but Magneto was right.
Cameos
I mentioned Zemo, Doctor Doom, Future Polaris and Future Phoenix. But there were much more.
Omega Red and the Silver Samurai, but one that made me so excited to see......SPIDER-MAN!!! I was so happy to see 90s Spider-Man. I know many would want a sequel to the animated series, but we'll have to wait and see.
The rest I wanna talk/rant about
Professor X shows up finally, but I got miffed when he said "I hope I'm not too late". CHARLES! YOU ARE VERY VERY LATE!!! I know space travel takes time, but COME ON! He better do something real quick to help stop all this crap that's been happening. Dunno how, but it better be something good.
By the way, I'm still annoyed with that black hole excuse. Why couldn't he just contact Scott and the others and stay in touch with them right when he was fully recovered or was well enough?
WHERE THE HELL IS STORM?!?!?! I know she's with Forge, but you'd think the moment she heard about Genosha, she'd head back home flying. She'll probably show up next week, but it's been like two episodes since she got her powers back. Is her not being there sooner a choice the writers made cause if she was there, the fight with the Prime Sentinels would've been over quicker? *sigh* I just wanna see one of my favorites come back and kick some butt like she used too.
I dunno if Forge is gonna come back with Storm, but I hope he does. I want him to help with this Bastion mess. Plus, he did take a photo with him, which has me worried that he was connected somehow but I hope not. It also would be cool, if he contacted the rest of X-Factor and meet up with the X-Men and team up. But, I don't think that's gonna happen.
So, Bishop is definitely out of the picture for the rest of this season, which is bullcrap. It would've been cool to have him and Cable work together again like before along with the X-Men. But, instead, the excuse was they got separated from the time stream. So, we don't even know if he's okay or if he's lost again, or if he actually made it back home. God, I feel like his character's purpose of the show was to help create another characters origin.
Okay, I think that's pretty much it. It was a good episode, even though I did rant on a lot of stuff. We'll see how parts 2 and 3 play out in the next two weeks and hope that the finale will stick the landing.
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tightjeansjavi · 1 year ago
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blue jeans n’Texas dreams | part 15
“I love you, and that’s all I really know”
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A/N: another chapter in the books! I don’t want to spoil too much of what happens, so I guess you’re just gonna have to read and find out ;)
~word count: 8.3k~
Pairing | Joel Miller x horseback riding instructor f!reader
Summary: Joel and Tommy have a serious conversation, you and Joel talk things out and discuss the future of your relationship.
Warnings: smut, protected piv, dom/sub vibes, Joel is a whimpering mess, verbal consent, teasing, edging, denial of orgasm, sub! Joel, oral (f receiving) sex in public (on a bathroom sink) angst, panic attacks, discussion of relationship trauma, emotions, forgiveness, accountability, fluff, reader has no physical descriptions, readers nickname is clover because you’re Joel’s lucky charm, (+18) minors dni!
main masterlist series masterlist playlist
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Tommy Miller had only seen his brother have a serious meltdown on one other occasion; the night Joel came home to find his wife had up and left him and Sarah. The younger Miller brother almost didn’t know how to initially react when he found Joel crouched down against the side of his truck with his face buried deep into his hands.
“Joel?..” Tommy hesitantly asked as he crouched down in front of his older brother. “Hey man, what’s goin’ on? Do you wanna sit out here and let the skeeters get us, or do you want to sit in your truck?”
Joel wordlessly pulled himself up to his feet, refusing to make eye contact with his brother out of shame. Once Tommy unlocked the door, Joel quickly climbed into the passenger seat and slammed the door behind him.
Tommy took a moment for himself to mentally figure out exactly how he was going to approach this extremely tender situation. On the one hand, he understood why his brother was freaking out over the news he received from you. On the other, Tommy knew that he was going to have to knock some sense into Joel before he would have the chance to really spiral.
“Alright, before we get down into the nitty gritty stuff, you—didn’t just go and break up with her did you? Cus’ if ya did I’m gonna have no choice but to smack you upside the head.” Tommy asked as he pulled the driver's side door shut.
“I didn’t break up with her.” Joel murmured with his back facing the center console and his arms crossed over his chest in a protective stance.
“Well, ain’t that a relief.” Tommy responded with an exasperated sigh.
“At least..I don’t think I did. Oh god, did I? I just told her I needed some space to breathe and that we can talk when I’m ready. Does—does she think that we broke up? Fuck. I look like such an asshole right now! What the hell was I thinking?!”
“Woah woah woah. Easy there cowboy. Let’s not go and get ourselves all worked up, okay? Joel..can you look at me please? C’mon brother. I just wanna help you out here, but I can’t do that if your ugly mug is facin’ the other way.”
Joel grumbled out a response as he pushed himself as far into the corner of the seat that his broad frame would allow him to.
“Joel, c’mon. Ain’t gonna get much talkin’ done if you’re gonna be a little shit.” He gently placed his hand along his shoulder giving it a soft reassuring squeeze.
“I’m just terrified that this is all becoming too fuckin’ much for me to handle Tommy.” Joel responded with a deep sigh as he reluctantly faced his brother finally.
“..your relationship with Clover is becoming too much for you to handle? Brother, just this mornin’ you were goin’ on about how you want to marry her and that you want me to be the best man at your wedding.”
“Yeah and jus’ under 24 hours ago we confessed our feelings and had sex for the first time. Then this mornin’ we went at it like fuckin’ rabbits, and I brought up the marriage thing again. Then I find out that Sarah called Clover mom, and for fuck sakes Tommy, can’t I just feel for a minute?”
“Yeah, Ryder told me about how Sarah called Clover mom. So that’s what you’re really all freaked out about. Ain’t it?”
“Yeah.” Joel responded flatly.
“Alright well, how ‘bout you start off by tellin’ me what about this is freaking you out? I can make some educated guesses, but I’d rather you tell me.”
Joel responded with a huff as he sank back against the passenger seat, looking up at the weathered fabric ceiling. “Tommy, you and I both know that this is the first woman to get close to my daughter since—y’know. Not only that, but this changes the entire dynamic of our relationship.”
“How so?”
Joel looked over at his brother as if he had suddenly sprouted five heads. “How so? Oh, I don’t know, maybe the fact that I have to now think about the idea of co-parenting with someone after raising Sarah primarily on my own? How about the fact that I have to think about finances, and living with a romantic partner? How about—”
Tommy cut him off almost immediately. “Now hold on just a minute here. You’re makin’ it sound like this is some terrible thing that has happened. Co-parenting? Clover moving in? Shared finances? Brother, these are all good and exciting things to think about.”
“Tommy, what if this is just movin’ too fuckin’ fast for me to keep up with? I’m scared that these inevitable changes are going to ruin the relationship I have with her. What if down the line she ends up not wanting to be Sarah’s step-mom? What if we break up and things get ugly? Tommy, I can’t go through that shit all over again. I can’t come home to another fuckin’ empty house with no explanation. I can’t have my heart fuckin’ ripped out of my chest again, because—because I love so fuckin’ hard.” Joel spoke exasperatedly as he vigorously wiped the tears that were beginning to stream down his face. His voice cracked, and his throat felt raw as he finally broke down into heavy sobs that had his entire body trembling.
Tommy was immediately reaching for his brother over the center console. He did his best to wrap Joel up in the tightest hug possible from the angle he was at. His heart was snapping in half right down the middle as he did his best to try and bring him back down to earth.
“Joel, hey..hey, big brother..Joel, it’s okay. You listen to me alright? It’s okay. I know you love so fuckin’ hard, and you don’t want your heart to end up broken and I can’t blame you for that, I really can’t. But now I need’ya to listen to me real good now. That woman upstairs? She loves you. She loves you and your daughter unconditionally. She’s a dime a dozen, and I have never seen you light up so much around someone before. Your eyes fuckin’ twinkle man. They twinkle! Relationships are hard. They’re scary, and complicated and easy to get caught up in. Change is hard too, but you’re one of the strongest fuckin’ people I know. You’re my big brother, for fuck sakes. You’re the person I’ve looked up to since we were little shits.” Tommy was holding back his own tears from falling as he held onto his brother tightly.
“What I’m tryin’ to say is that you ain’t got nothin’ to worry about with that one. She loves you, and you love her. She’s the best damn thing to happen to ya other than when Sarah was born. I don’t believe in all that soulmate mumbo jumbo crap, but y’all? Y’all got somethin’ fuckin’ real. Like that shit out of those cheesy romance movies that Sarah loves to watch. Besides, if y’all did break up? Man, I think I’d stop believing in love entirely.”
Joel was holding onto his brother equally as tight. He wasn’t sure what he would do if he didn’t have the privilege of having a brother that was so supportive of him. Tommy just always knew exactly what to say when it came to situations like these. “Tommy..” Joel began to utter softly, “I don’t have a goddamn clue what I would do without ya.”
“Oh, you shut the hell up. I will not be sheddin’ any tears tonight! Don’t go and sayin’ sappy shit like that or else I will cry Joel.” Tommy playfully threatened him as he slowly pulled back from the hug.
Both Miller brothers sat in silence for a few minutes, sans the crickets chirping their nighttime tune, and the occasional soft hoot of an owl in one of the pine trees surrounding the property.
“Tommy?..” Joel softly asked as he broke through the silence. “D’ya think..I should go in there and talk this out with her tonight? I–don’t want her goin’ to bed thinkin’ that we’ve broken up, or for her to think that i’m upset with her cus’ i’m not..and I just think maybe I should–” He was cut off by Tommy literally holding his hand up in the air to signal him to stop talking.
“No. I don’t think you should go and talk to her tonight. Now, before you go and get your panties all in a twist, lemme explain my reasoning. I know this pretty much goes against your nature..but you gotta give her some space tonight. Y’all just dropped the love bomb on each other yesterday, and then proceeded to fuck like bunnies for half the mornin.’ Not only that, but she’s probably g’nna spend the night with Ryder and have some girl time. Y’know pillow fights and scissorin’ each other. Girly stuff.”
“Tommy, I don’t think they’re fuckin’ scissorin’ each other. D’ya ever think with that pea sized brain of yours?” Joel responded with a light snicker.
“Will ya let me finish? Sheesh. As I was sayin’, I think that tonight you go in there and spend some time with your kiddo. G’on n’hug her real tight. Read her and El a bedtime story and then tomorrow morning, you and Clover can talk. You’ve put yourself through enough emotional turmoil today, big brother. Tomorrow is a new day, and I don’t need you thinkin’ yourself into a hole, alright? This is your Clover we’re talkin’ about here. Not Sarah’s mom, not any of the other women you’ve been with. You ain’t gotta stress, alright?”
Joel nodded his head begrudgingly because deep down he knew his brother was right. Talking to you tonight was not going to make the situation better. Tomorrow was a new day, and he just had to trust his gut feeling that everything was going to be okay.
“You’re right.” Joel muttered under his breath.
“What was that? I, Tommy Miller, is right about somethin’ for a change?” He had the biggest grin on his face as Joel reached over and lightly punched him in his bicep.
“Yeah, y’heard me. Don’t go and let it get to that already massive head of yours.” Joel teasingly warned him.
“Pshh.” Tommy replied with a scoff, “I would never.”
“Mhm. I ain’t too sure about that.”
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When Ryder found you in the upstairs bathroom, her heart sank at the sight of you pruning up in the tub. Your knees were pulled up to your chest with your cheek resting against your kneecap. The water was room temperature at this point, but you didn’t have the heart, nor care to move. Maybe you might have been acting a tad dramatic, but even if that were to be true, there was no denying the present pain you were feeling in your heart.
“Oh, babe..That bad, huh?” Ryder softly spoke as she went to sit down on the edge of the tub.
“I just..I thought he would be happy..” Your voice was barely above a whisper as a stray tear rolled down your cheek.
“Honey, I'm sure he is. Guys can just be..well, weird sometimes. I’m sure Tommy successfully knocked some sense into his head, and then you guys will be able to talk it through tomorrow, okay?”
You let out a deep sigh as you lifted your chin to the side so you could briefly make eye contact with your best friend. “Do you..think i’m overreacting about this right now? Everything was fine until I told him about Sarah calling me mom this afternoon and then it was like something suddenly flipped in him. I was already nervous to bring it up to him because I know that it is a big deal, but I didn’t think it would..freak him out that much.”
“Clove, you’re not overreacting about this at all. I think it’s completely valid that you’re upset over how he reacted to the news. I would have felt the same way if I was in your position. From what Tommy has told me, Joel hasn’t had it easy in the romance department, and you’re his..first real girlfriend since Sarah’s mom left. I’m sure he is excited to take this next step with you, but I can also understand why he was feeling a little overwhelmed.”
“Yeah, he hasn’t had it easy, and the last thing I wanted to do was stress him out over this. I think what’s hurting me the most is he was so focused on the logistic changes, and not the sentimental value? I don’t know if that makes sense, but he immediately brought up the fact that I would have to move in, and us co-parenting and finances..it just took away from the moment y’know?”
Ryder gently reaches for your hand that is now resting along the side of the smooth porcelain tub. She interlocks her fingers through yours and gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. “Clove, I completely understand where you’re coming from. If Tommy and I were in that situation, and he acted like that? I would be pretty hurt by it as well. Your feelings, and his feelings are valid. It’s all gonna work out baby. I promise. Now, let’s get you out of this tub and into some comfy pj’s and then you and I can snuggle all night? How’s that sound?”
You squeeze her hand back gently with a small smile tugging on the corner of your lips as you gaze up at your best friend lovingly. “You wanna snuggle all night with me? Just like old times?”
“Baby, of course I do. I can even ask Tommy if he can make us some tea?” She gently lets go of your hand and grabs a towel just as you're standing up from the tub. You’re shivering slightly from the slight chill in the air and being in lukewarm water for too long as she wraps the fluffy towel around your body.
“That sounds perfect.”
When Joel and Tommy return to the house Tommy could sense that his brother is torn about waiting to talk to you until tomorrow morning. The younger Miller shakes his head disapprovingly. Joel mutters under his breath as he saunters down the hall instead. He knows Tommy is right, but that doesn’t mean he’s not going to be stubborn about it.
He stops just outside Ellie and Sarah’s door that is half open. He can hear Ellie telling yet another ghost story from her book. Their girlish giggles are infectious as a warm smile graces his face. He knocks softly before gently pushing the door open.
“Daaad.” Sarah giggles as she playfully tosses her pillow at him. “What are you doing here? El was just getting to the best part!”
He catches the pillow with a soft chuckle. “Well, I was thinking maybe I could read to you girls tonight?”
“What about Clover?” Sarah softly asks as a frown slowly spreads across her face.
“Oh, she’s spendin’ some time with Ryder tonight. They need their girly time together y’know?”
Sarah and Ellie both look unconvinced by his answer, but agree nonetheless.
Ellie tosses him her book from the top bunk and he catches it with ease.
“You kids gonna make this old man climb all the way up there?” He muses with a gentle grin.
Both girls look at each other before giggling. “It’s not that high up, and you aren’t that old!”
Joel lets out an annoyed huff as he shakes his head. “Little shits. You’re lucky I love ya both so much.” He murmurs as he slowly climbs up the bunk stairs. “Move over and make some room.” He curses under his death when his head accidentally bonks into the ceiling of the top bunk.
When he finally gets situated, Ellie and Sarah are already snuggling up on either side of his shoulders as he opens up to the chapter Ellie left off on and begins to softly read. At some point, both girls doze off, and so does he with the book open and resting flat against his chest.
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You’re the first to emerge from your bedroom the following morning. It’s half past 5 a.m when you throw on one of Joel’s sweatshirts and grab your book and pen before heading downstairs. Your footsteps are quiet as you don’t want to accidentally wake anyone up. You make yourself a fresh pot of coffee and head down to the dock. The lake is still with a gentle cloak of fog dusting across the surface as you sink down along the edge of the dock. Your legs loosely dangle above the surface as you languidly swing your legs back and forth. You scribble something down in your book as you finish up on the page you left off on. Your mind is at peace as you allow yourself to leave the present world and transport yourself into a fictional one.
It was around 7:30 when Joel had somehow climbed out of the top bunk without disturbing Sarah and Ellie. He bonked his head yet again as he quietly descended down the bunk steps. He rubs the sleep from his eyes as he trudges down the hallway and into the kitchen. Tommy is up and leaning against the counter as he glanced out the kitchen window where he has a clear view of where you’ve been sitting for what he can infer has been a couple of hours.
Joel spots your sitting Silhouette at the end of the dock as he pours himself a cup of coffee. “Mornin’ Tommy. How long has..she been out there?”
“Mornin’ brother. Not sure. She was out there when I got up, so maybe for a couple hours?” Tommy responds with a shrug as he takes another sip of his coffee. “Y’gonna go out there and talk things out?”
Joel sighs as he sinks back against the otherside of the counter. “Yeah, I’m plannin’ on it. Kinda nervous if I’m bein’ honest. I don’t even know where to start..” he trails off with a deep frown painted on his lips.
“Good. You should be nervous. Being nervous means that you give a shit. If you walked up to her all confident n’shit, she wouldn’t appreciate it.”
Joel couldn’t help but chuckle at his brother's words. He was absolutely right. You would not appreciate him going in and acting like he didn’t fuck up last night. “Yeah, she wouldn’t appreciate that. I will say after you and I talked last night, I definitely feel a lot better than I did before.”
“I’m glad I was at least able to calm you down. I know it was really upsetting for you, but I’m relieved that you’ve come to your senses. You just gotta be raw and honest and talk it out. Let her know you’re sorry and that you want to work things out.” He reached over and gently gave Joel’s shoulder a squeeze. “Get on out there and make up with your girl, lover boy.”
Joel playfully pushed him away with a roll of his eyes. “Alright. Alright. I’m goin’ now.” He took another nervous sip of his coffee before he left the kitchen and slipped out past the porch door. His palms were sweaty as he slowly walked down the dock, and it felt like his heart was about to fall right out of his ass. He swallowed his pride as he slowly sank down along the dock next to you. He held the mug between his thighs as his feet dangled above the surface of the lake.
“What’re you readin?’” He softly asked you as he glanced over in your direction. He watched the way your eyes skimmed over the page you were currently reading. He was trying to detect any emotion on your face, but you were doing a pretty damn good job of hiding anything that you were presently feeling.
“Game of Thrones.” You curtly responded before gently closing the book between your fingers to hold the page down. “Book number three, A Storm of Swords.”
“I’ve only read the first one.” He admitted softly as he nervously adjusted his posture. He could already feel sweat beading up along the back of his neck and below his hairline.
Relax. Relax, Joel. You just need to let her know that you’re sorry.
“Do you believe in soulmates, Joel?” Your question was unexpected for both you, and him, but after reading about how deeply devoted Oberyn Martell was to his soulmate and lover, Ellaria Sand, you couldn’t help but ask if Joel believed in soulmates like you did.
“I think I do. Well, at least in some capacity I do. I think there’s definitely a person out there for everyone. I’ve uh—never researched the topic or anything like that.” He cleared his throat as he rested his one hand between your two bodies. “Why do you ask?”
“Oberyn Martell was devoted to his soulmate and lover, Ellaria Sand, who could produce him no legitimate heirs as she was born a bastard. Despite this, she blessed him with several daughters. Oberyn's demise is caused by his desire to avenge his sister Elia Martell who is brutally murdered by ser Gregor Clegane. Ellaria is desperate to change her lover's mind as she fears for his life, and he refuses to listen. Driven by his lust for revenge, he grows cocky during the duel and is murdered in front of Ellaria by The Mountain.”
Joel can feel his stomach churn with unease as he tries to piece together why you felt it was necessary to disclose this information to him. You could tell that he was deep in thought by the way his brows furrowed and his eyes shifted to the calm lake below. “Clove, what does this have to do with yours and I’s relationship?”
“I’m telling you their tragic story because it’s relevant to what we’re presently going through, Joel. If Oberyn would have listened to Ellaria’s concerns, he would still be alive. If they had come to a mutual agreement, he would have ultimately realized that his lust for revenge would be in vain. While this takes place in a fantasy realm, and we live in the real world, I just want us to..be able to communicate our feelings on a mutual ground. I want you to feel like you’re being heard, but I also want to feel the same for myself.”
Joel let out a soft breath as his shoulders relaxed and slumped forward. He nodded his head in agreement, letting you know that he was fully listening and understanding what you were explaining to him. “I understand. I want that as well..and I know that a relationship is not a one-way street. I don’t want our relationship to be like that. I want it to be a two-way street where we both are able to discuss and communicate our issues.”
You both fell silent for a moment before Joel grew enough courage to finally say what he needed to say. He turned his body so he was fully facing you. “Clover, I am deeply sorry for how I treated you last night. I let my emotions get the best of me and I know it hurt your feelings. I know that you were excited, and nervous to tell me that Sarah called you mom, and I’m sorry that..my reaction was different than what you were expecting. There are a lot of things I wish I had said differently last night, and I know you and I share our own forms of relationship baggage and trauma. I was focusing on the fact that everything in our relationship will inevitably change, and I’m sorry if I made you feel like you weren’t ready for these changes or able to handle them. The last thing I wanted to do was make you feel like I wasn’t hearing you. That I wasn’t respecting the fact that you do have your shit together, and that you want to be more involved in my daughter's life. Truthfully? I was scared. I am scared. I’m scared because..I have gotten so used to raising my daughter on my own that I never thought of the prospect of settling down with a partner who I would co-parent with. I was so focused on the logistic changes that it clouded my underwhelming joy that Sarah loves you just as much as I do. That you have been more of a mother figure to her than her own mother has.” He felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders as he waited for your response.
“Joel, I know that you’re scared. I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t scared either. This is a huge step for me, as it is for you. You are the first man that I have ever thought about seriously settling down with. I know there are inevitable changes that are intimidating on the surface, but Joel, I want this life with you. I want all these changes. I want to move in with you. I want to get married and co-parent with you. Change is always going to be scary. It’s inevitably scary, but we can’t let our fears rule us. We can’t let them control our emotions and cause us to lash out at the ones we love most. Joel, we have all the time in the world. We can take these steps as slow, or as fast as we want. We can do everything at our own pace, our own comfort levels. If you’re not ready for me to move in just yet, that’s OK. I’m never going to shame you for your feelings, okay? Yeah, last night should have gone differently, but I need to apologize as well.” Your eyes locked on his as you slowly reached for his hand and interlocked your fingers through his and rested it along your lap gently.
“You’re..scared too? I didn’t know that you were. Well, that honestly makes me feel a lot better..but darlin,’ I want this life with you too. Even if it’s done in an unconventional way. It’s our relationship, and we can make it work however we want. I do need some time working through the idea of you moving in. Maybe to start we could do a couple sleepovers during the week? Just so Sarah can get used to you being in the house more. Maybe on the nights you sleep over, you can drive her to school and I can pick her up in the afternoon? Or vice versa? I know you usually have to be at the barn early, so we can plan a schedule out that works for the both of us. You’re right about change inevitably being scary. It’s scary as fuck honestly. I’ve struggled to not let my emotions rule me for years and I know that I have a lot I need to work on. I think our relationship has a strong foundation, and I wanna build up on that and make it stronger. Clover, you have nothing to apologize for. You didn’t do anything wrong.” He reassured you.
“Of course I’m scared. Joel, I wouldn’t be human if I wasn’t a little scared of the next steps in our relationship. I totally understand that you need some time with the idea of me moving in. We don’t have to jump the gun on any of this, but I think your idea to do sleepovers would definitely be a good way to start transitioning. We can work all those details out after this trip. I do however need to apologize because I reacted to some of the things that you said last night in a triggering manner. Joel, I know you didn’t call me baby to..take advantage of the situation and try and manipulate me, but past partners have used pet names on me during arguments to gain the upperhand. I know that’s not what you were doing, but I still reacted in the way as if you were doing that. Not only that, but I also acted like you were insinuating that I didn’t want to take this next step with you. I was pretty much putting words into your mouth and that wasn’t okay for me to do at all. For that, I am sorry. I’m working through my own issues and triggers everyday, but that doesn’t give me the right to take it out on you.”
Joel gave your hand a reassuring squeeze as he gently swiped his thumb back and forth across the top of your hand in a soothing motion. “Clover, I completely understand why you reacted the way that you did. It was an inappropriate time for me to call you baby, and your reaction was valid. Honestly? I probably would have felt the same way if you called me baby or something when I was already getting caught up in my own emotions. I’m sorry that past partners used it in a malicious context. I would never ever do that to you, but now I understand why you were triggered.” He took a deep breath as he squeezed your hand once more. “We both made some mistakes last night, and we’re both holding ourselves accountable. I love you, and I am willing to do anything I can to make this work. Do you forgive me?”
“Joel, I know you would never do that to me. After you left the bathroom I thought about everything that was said, and how I chose to react. There’s so many things I would have done differently, but I also love you, and I am willing to do anything I can to make this work as well. Of course I forgive you. I know you were coming from an emotional state of mind and you held no malicious intent. We’re going to work through this together, okay? You and me.”
“You and me.” He confirmed as he scooted closer to you so your thighs were touching. His head tilted down as he rested his chin along the crook of your shoulder, nuzzling his face affectionately against your skin as his arm gently draped along your lower back so that you could lean up against him if you chose to. “Now, can you tell me more about this infamous Oberyn Martell and Ellaria Sand?” He mused in curiosity as he pressed a feather light kiss to the base of your neck.
“Well, he is very handsome. Might even be handsomer than you are.” You teasingly responded as you gently leaned back against the weight of his arm.
“Is that so? Well, I highly doubt that.” He teased back.
“They call him the red viper, and he has the nicest cock in all of Westeros. Men and women of all shapes, sizes, and colors beg to spend a night in his chambers.”
“Now you’re just fibbin’ darlin.’ Nicest cock in all of Westeros? Lemme see where it says that.” He’s grinning against your skin as he reaches for the book. Before he can grasp it, you're gently grabbing his chin and kissing him sweetly.
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You and Joel spend all morning out on the dock until it feels like your skin is baking under the rays and you are left with no choice but to retreat back inside away from the powerful rays.
More egg jokes are cracked as everyone enjoys a late brunch at the kitchen table, and Tommy and Ryder silently decide that you and Joel deserve some privacy in the house to ‘properly’ make up.
Joel is visibly apprehensive as you take his hand and lead him up the stairs. His heart is thrumming wildly in his chest as he glances behind him momentarily. You already reassured him that Tommy and Ryder were going to take the kids out on the lake for a couple of hours so you and Joel could work things out in total privacy. There was an edge of tipping into the unknown when you practically dragged him to the bedroom. You talked things out and were able to reach a mutual understanding of one another but now?…he wasn’t sure what was about to happen.
“You’re not in trouble, Joel.” You reassured him shamelessly.
“Kinda makin’ it seem like I am.” He murmured as you dropped his hand and made yourself comfortable along the edge of the mattress, smoothing the comforter down with your hands.
“Take your cock out and get on your knees Joel.” It wasn’t a request, it was a demand and you watched as your Texas tall glass of water blinked thrice. It was as if his brain was rewiring in a panic because you had never spoken to him in such a demanding tone. He secretly liked it.
“You want me to do what?” He asked in disbelief. Eyes in an innocent almost doe-like gaze.
“You heard me, Miller. Take your cock out and get on your knees. Now.” You raise your eyebrow in his direction challengingly.
His mouth has seemingly gone dry as he blubbers like a fish. He’s obedient however as he’s already reaching for his cotton shorts and pushing them down his thighs. His cheeks are flushed beet red as he can already feel his cock twitch in his briefs.
“Take it out, Joel.” You cross one leg over the other as you wait impatiently.
He lets out a visible puff of air as he grabs the hem of his boxer briefs and tugs them down his legs, kicking them off to the side. His cock springs free and you can’t help but smirk at how hard he already is.
“On your knees. C’mon and be a good boy for me baby.”
He sinks down to his knees like an obedient dog on a leash. His ears pathetically perk up to the sound of you using a pet name instead of his birth name.
“Good boy.” You praise him as you curl your fingers in a come hither motion in the air “Now, crawl to me.”
If he wasn’t so disgustingly in love with you, he probably would have scoffed at your demand and mutter out a ‘fuck no I ain’t doin’ that.’ He wanted to be a good boy for you, so he placed his palms down along the plush carpet and crawled to you.
You were already removing your sleep shorts and panties by the time he had reached you. You leaned over and grasped his chin between your fingers and tilted his head upwards so he was looking up at you. “I’m going to tell you how this is going to go, okay? You really hurt my feelings. I forgive you, and I love you, but I’m going to punish you in a way that is still enjoyable for both of us. If you wish to tap out, I will obviously respect that and won’t push you if you’re not comfortable.”
Joel’s pupils are blown out wide as he gazes up at you. “You ain’t gonna whip me..are ya? That’s uh—that’s where I draw the line.” He nervously asks as his cock shamelessly twitches between his thighs.
You can’t help but giggle as you shake your head, stroking your thumb across his cheekbone gently. “No baby. I’m not going to whip you. I’m going to play with myself and you get to watch. You can’t touch me, but you can touch yourself only in the way I tell you to do so. Most importantly? You can’t cum.”
Joel can’t help the pathetic whimper that slips past his lips as he leans into your soft touch as if he’s been deprived of affection and he’s desperate for it. “Fuck. That’s hot. I can’t touch you at all?”
“No. You can’t touch me at all, but you can get as close to my pussy as you’d like.”
His eyes roll back into his skull as his heavy cock twitches once more between his thighs. “Okay.” He murmurs in agreement.
You give his cheek a gentle loving tap as you lean down and steal a quick kiss. “Good boy.” You release his face gently before spreading your thighs open along the mattress. You reach behind you for one of the pillows and tuck it under your back so he has a better view of just how wet you are.
His mouth falls open when you lick your fingers before dragging them down between your thighs. He’s pathetically mesmerized by the way you shamelessly begin to play with yourself. He scoots himself as close to the edge of the mattress, locked in a trance as he rests his cheek along the comforter right between your thighs. His eyes are glazed over in utter, lustful, pathetic stupidity. They’re glued to the spot between your legs as drool begins to drip down the corner of his mouth and dribble down his chin. He’s yearning for a fucking taste and you’ve barely started to touch yourself. “ya know for such a big hearted lil lady you sure can be fuckin’ mean” he murmurs, whimpering at the sight of you glistening in arousal.
“I know, baby. You just have to be a good boy, and then I’ll reward you.”
He licks his lips as he slowly gazes up at you from between your thighs. He lets out a frustrated puff of air as he rubs his cock against the side of the mattress for some form of relief. “Can I touch myself, please baby?” He whimpers desperately.
“Yes, you can, baby. I want you to slowly wrap your hand around yourself first.” You request as you rub your clit in slow circles, lips parting open as your thighs fall open further.
Your Texas tall glass of water obeys as he slowly wraps his hand around the base of his cock. He’s so hard in his hand, it’s nearly painful.
“Good boy. Now, slowly twist your wrist. You can squeeze a little, but not too much.”
He pathetically whines as he slowly begins to pump and twist his wrist around his length. His face is so close to your pussy. So close that he can nearly taste you on his tongue.
“Don’t even think about it.” You tut as his tongue darts out for a quick taste. “Don’t be a bad boy.”
He breathes out a heavy puff of air through his flared nostrils and it fans your core deliciously as your fingers dip down and gather up your wetness. He lets out a shuddered breath when two of your digits slip inside your warmth. The squelching sound your pussy makes is nearly too much for him to handle as his freehand fists at the comforter, knuckles stark white as he continues to pathetically jerk himself off. His knees ache, his back aches, but he doesn’t care. He’s never been so fucking humiliated and turned on at the same time in his life.
“Please. Please let me taste you. Baby, please. I’m so sorry. I’ll never—never hurt your feelings again. Your pussy needs me darlin.’ She’s weepin’ for me. You’re killin’ me slowly ov’here. Please. I’m fuckin’ beggin’ you.”
He’s a blubbering mess as tears begin to roll down his cheeks. His words stumble out of his parted lips like word vomit. “Please. Please. Please. Clover, baby. This is fuckin’ torture.”
His pleas only seem to spur you forward before you’re ultimately giving in. You slip your fingers out slowly before tangling them in his scalp. He wastes no time to wrap his lips around your clit, sucking greedily as he murmurs ‘thank you baby.’ Over and over again with a mouthful of your pussy.
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It’s late afternoon when Tommy, Ryder, and the girls come back from being on the lake for the majority of the day. The girls are visibly exhausted as they head to their room for a quick nap while the adults play a round of poker at the kitchen table. You and Joel are glowing from the inside out as you play footsie under the table like a couple of teenagers.
By 7pm everyone is piled up in Joel’s truck to head out for an excursion. He already told Tommy earlier in the week that it would be fun for everyone to go out for a sunset trail ride, so he found the nearest ranch to the lakehouse, and booked it without a second thought. It was a short 20 minute drive to the ranch and as soon as you passed by a field of horses grazing peacefully, you looked over at your boyfriend with a smile that lit up like a damn Christmas tree.
“How did I know that this little excursion that you have planned was going to involve horses? How did I know?” You asked with a grin. He replied with a little shrug of his shoulders and sheepish grin. “Jus’ figured we’d all enjoy a lil’ sunset trail ride before hittin’ the town for some good ole dancin.’”
Ellie and Sarah, who were smushed in the middle seats between Tommy and Ryder, both looked at each other before whispering in unison, “Yep. They’re soo twitterpated.”
Joel and Tommy looked like proper cowboys in their white tees and blue jeans that did absolute wonders for their thighs and ass. They both were sporting their cowboy hats as well. Man, you were gonna climb your Texas tall glass of water later like a damn tree. Once your horses were saddled up, you and Joel took the lead at the front as your horses calmly walked side by side along the marked trail. You held onto the reins with one hand while the other was outstretched towards Joel. He interlocked his pinky with yours as he looked over at you. “Did I ever tell ya that the sunset really brings out the color of your eyes? Man, are you jus’ stunnin.’” He’s grinning from ear to ear as you feel cheeks begin to get hot from his comment.
“Hmm..I believe you have. At least a dozen times at this point, baby. Have I ever told you just how fantastic your ass looks in a pair of blue jeans? You’re looking like an absolute snack this evening, honey.” You shoot him a playful wink.
He playfully fans his face with his freehand. His eyes squint under the soft glow of the fading sun as he chuckles. “Nah. I think this is the first time you’ve ever given’ me a compliment like that darlin.’ Does my ass really look that good? Snack worthy? Well, lil’ lady, that’s a mighty fine compliment. I am deeply flattered.”
“Breakfast, lunch, dinner, and dessert worthy baby. I will be taking a little nibble on it later tonight.”
He blushes a deep shade of red as he looks away from you bashfully. It’s a good thing the kids are far back enough that they can’t detect yours and Joel’s disgusting flirting. “Jus’ a nibble?” He looks back over at you with the tips of his cheek still as red as a fire hydrant.”
“More like a bite than a nibble”
“Atta girl.”
The sunset is absolutely stunning. The sky is painted in a brilliant hue of pinks, purples, and oranges. The colors fade together like a watercolor painting. You and Joel are still holding pinkies when Ryder takes her camera out from her bag. She snaps a picture of the two of you looking over at one another lovingly.
The ride back to the ranch is equally peaceful and you make it back just before the sun has completely disappeared from the sky. Sarah and Ellie insist on giving their horses a well deserved carrot and brush down. The ranch owner ends up taking a group picture of the six of you and your horses.
You’ve never actually attended a proper ‘hoedown’ till now and boy, did you wish that you’d gone before. The barn where the dance was held was properly lit up with twinkling fairy lights along the wooden ceilings and panels, and a disco ball glittered brightly in the middle of the dance floor. Every attendee was dressed in some form of country attire to fit the theme. There was a bar area and food station, and the girls immediately filled up on kiddy-cocktails paired with burger and fries.
When the music started Joel wasted no time to pull you up from your seat so you could dance together. You’re both out of breath by the fifth song but man, you’re having so much fun you can’t even feel the ache in your feet or your heart pounding out of your chest. You're both filled with bright smiles and echoing laughter as a new country singer named ‘Blanco Brown’ takes the stage and performs his new song called ‘The Git Up.’ It's got all the classic country flare with a pop vibe mixed in. There’s even a choreographed dance to go along with it. Joel nearly eats shit on the last couple of spins but you’re right there to keep him steady as he twirls you around.
Even Ellie and Sarah are swinging each other around in a circle.
There’s not one frown in sight. Just smiles, laughter, and good music.
At some point you and Joel disappeared into the bathroom. He was smart enough to lock the door behind him so no one would interrupt. Your infectious giggles quickly turned into moans as he took you up against one of the bathroom sinks. Your own cowboy hat nearly falls off your head from how hard he is thrusting into you while you’re gripping onto either side of the sink for dear life. His freehand that isn’t presently grasping your hip, is gently placed over your mouth to block out your high pitched moans. “Gotta be quiet, baby. Or else we’re gonna get caught red handed. You didn’t think that I was actually gonna let you get away with your little game earlier, did ya?”
All you can do is shake your head as you cry out against his palm.
He’s a total gentleman after fucking you, so it comes as no surprise when he uses a wad of toliet paper to gently clean up the mess between your thighs before he fixes your dress for you. He kisses your lips sweetly as he wraps his arm around your shoulders and you reach up to interlock your fingers as you exit the restroom.
“Did you just—” Tommy raises a brow in yours and Joel’s direction as you approach the table he and Ryder are sitting at.
“Fuck in the women’s bathroom?” Joel finishes the question for him. “Absolutely not. That would be downright un-American, brother.” His subtle wink says otherwise.
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It’s a little before eleven when you all arrive home. Everyone is doing their own thing as the energy from dancing all night begins to wind down. Joel finds Ellie out on the wrap around porch with one of Joel’s guitars resting across her lap. She’s messing with the strings when he sinks down alongside her on the outdoor couch. “Y’need some help, kiddo?” He can hear you and Sarah through the open window near the kitchen, mumbling about how stupidly difficult this puzzle is, and why won’t these pieces just fit? He can’t help the smile that washes over his face knowing that everything was going to be alright after all.
“Oh, hey Joel. Yeah..would you mind? I’m just not very good at this.” Ellie responds softly with a defeated sigh.
“El, that ain’t true. Y’jus’ need a bit of practice is all.” He murmurs softly.
The younger girl lets out a soft huff as she looks over at him. “Can you teach me then? I don’t even know where to start.”
“Course I can, kiddo. I’d love to teach you.” Joel wraps his arm around her in a gentle squeeze
Ellie’s eyes softly light up as she leans into his comforting touch, resting her head against his shoulder. Joel loves Ellie as if she were his own, and in some ways she is. He knew that her life at home wasn’t the best, but he didn’t know the full extent of her situation. What he did know is that he cared for her, and he’d be there for her no matter what. By the end of the night Ellie had learned a few chords and how to properly tune the strings on a guitar. Joel loved every second of being able to teach her.
After the girls were tucked in and Joel was finally back in bed with you, he found himself being the big spoon as he wrapped his body around yours.
“Whad’ya think about adoptin?’” He softly asks as he presses a gentle kiss to the back of your head.
“Is this hypothetical or something that you’re seriously thinking about?” You respond softly as gently grab his hands and bring them up to your lips, kissing his knuckles affectionately.
“Hypothetical..but it could be serious. It’s jus’ that Ellie’s folks are hardly ever around. She’s pratically fendin’ for herself, and it ain’t right. She’s just a kid.” He murmurs as he buries his face into your neck.
“Do you love her like she’s your own?”
“I do.” He softly confirms as he inhales your natural scent through his nose, followed by a soft exhale.
“Then I say..we should look into it.” You press another gentle kiss to his knuckles as you snuggle further back into his warm grip.
“Okay, you and me?”
“You and me, baby.”
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saintgoths · 8 months ago
Text
ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴏʀʙɪᴅᴅᴇɴ ꜰʀᴜɪᴛ
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LEVI ACKERMAN X READER - THE FORBIDDEN FRUIT. [AOT AU]
[PART FIVE TO THE REALM'S DIAMOND SERIES].
WORD COUNT - 2,977.
RATING - 18+. [unrequited love maybe? Not between reader and Levi, m/f sex and breeding kink].
[she also has other pairings thus the hashtags but its mainly levi x reader]. comments, liking, following and reblogging would be appreciated!
SUMMARY - after visiting the ackermans you meet with a man who tells you unfortunate information that leads you to be stuck between a dilemma choosing between the forbidden fruit or the unwanted proposal.
previous chapter - chapter four.
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Mikasa had been happy systems were pass the time where a lady had to have a male companion to walk in public, or when a woman who was seen beside a man who was not a part of her family was not looked down upon, currently, she had been beside Eren. She had come back from her trip in Oscaar visiting the Reiss family, specifically Historia.
When she was in Oscaar, she had missed the presence of her friends, even though Historia was good company along with her close friend, Ymir, Mikasa had missed being around Eren and Armin, and even Jean.
Eren who had seemed blue ever since Mikasa had seen him, had eventually opened his mouth, for a brief moment the two walked in silence and Mikasa had known it had something to do with the gossip she had heard. “Have you heard about your cousin becoming the main suitor for Lady van Richesse?” Eren asked and with a knowing look on her face, Mikasa clasped her hands, paws in front of her hung low.
“Word travels fast in our continent,” Mikasa forwardly answered and with a neutral look on his face, Eren agreed with her. “How do you feel about it?” Mikasa asked and when she shared her inquiry a quick flash of distaste sped past the Yeager’s man’s face, and automatically, she had known Eren had felt bitter. “Maybe, when you were younger, you should’ve been less obvious about the desires you had for [Y/N],” Mikasa said and with a short sigh, Eren fixed the hat he had worn.
She had been right. “Of course,” Eren whispered. “Well maybe in the next life I have with her, I’ll remember your advice,” he breathily chuckled and with a quick look of sadness, Mikasa briefly pushed her lower mouth behind her teeth. “Enough about me,” Eren smiled as he twisted his sight towards her. “How comes you didn’t come to the Annual Ball?”
“I’m not ready to be married,” Mikasa shrugged. “My parents do not pressure me.”
“Lucky,” Eren whispered. “But, let it be my turn and let me give you advice now,” Eren said as he simply fixed his tie. “All the good men are being taken away, so it would be best to try and get married now.”
Mikasa had then scrunched her nose. “Like Jean?”
“Somewhat like Jean,” Eren shrugged.
“Do you want to be married?” Mikasa asked and with an unsure look, he had then shoved his hands into his pockets.
“If I wanted to marry, I would’ve wanted to marry [Y/N],” Eren said and annoyed, Mikasa stood up straight.
Hands unclasped and arms now folded, Mikasa furrowed her eyebrows. “Evidently, that cannot happen, you cannot have that, you cannot have Lady van Richesse.”
“I’m aware of that,” Eren said with his teeth gritted. “And I am aware of the feelings you have for me,” he continued, perceptive of the awkward shuffle she did with her shoulders. “Let us make a deal, since we have a good connection, and we evidently have no one else we would want to be with, marry me.”
Perplexed, Mikasa stared at him as she had felt wind catch in her throat, eyes slightly wide, the Ackerman girl gently shuddered as Eren’s offer translated in her head. Alas, she’d have Eren, but not because he loved her, because he saw her as a placeholder. Blue, Mikasa gently bit the inside of her cheek. “I’ll think about it,” she responded and before she curved her back to him, every muscle in her body had wamted her to leave. “I’ll see you soon, Eren.”
Thus, without allowing the man to say another word, Mikasa began on her trip back to her family home.
༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶
“You are a natural at this,” Kenny smiled, it had been the afternoon, you had visited the rest of Levi’s family for the first time and after moments of drinking tea and eating finger-food, Levi’s uncle couldn’t help but test his nephew’s suitress’s gun skill.
A handful of feet away from them, had been Levi and his mother, sat on chairs with a silver table between them that had an umbrella pole that shielded them from the sun. Kuchel, had still been hungry, so she had fussed for Levi to tell one of the maids to bring them over while they watched you and Kenny interact with each other. Then, with a short smile, Kuchel glanced towards her son. “She’s pretty,” Kuchel said to Levi who had currently had a half-finished cup of tea in his hand, the object held in the unique way he’d never been bothered to explain why he did in such manner.
“I didn’t believe you would be able to become a suitor for someone, not saying that you’re not handsome,” she began to ramble. “Because you are, you’re my son, and it’s not because you’re a bore to be around, because you’re not---”
“I understand what you mean mother,” Levi sighed.
Comforted, Kuchel sat up with a look on her face that spoke of her feelings being reassured. “I know Kenny and I say that a lot, you not being a suitor for someone.”
“Petra died, and there’s nothing I can do about it,” Levi said, lips tight, the man then crossed his leg.
“Yes, there’s nothing anyone can do about it,” Kuchel gently agreed, eyes softly trained on her son. “I’m thankful that you’re ready to move on.”
Both Levi and Petra had fought in the army a couple of years ago, against one of the countries in the continent that had been exposed for ill testing of subjects, Petra and Levi fought together, loved one another and truthfully wanted to marry each other, but their dreams---his dreams, had been scarred when a rival soldier’s bullet flew right into her.
She had died in his arms, eyes cold and mouth agape as she spoke her last words of “I love you,” to Levi. A moment that had terribly haunted him.
“And we’re done!” Kenny cheered as both you and him returned to the other Ackermans and while Kenny had then collected the shotgun he provided you, Levi stood to his feet and aided his suitress to sit on one of the empty seats.
“Thank you,” you smiled as you had sat opposite both Kuchel and Levi, the only chair available being the one next to her, which you had been aware Kenny would take.
“She’s a natural,” Kenny mumbled as he placed the guns away. “Perhaps in a past life she took part in the First Great War,” he said as he then moved his feet towards the empty seat. “She was probably a beast,” he carried on, unaware of the awkward looks his sister and her son shared with each other.
As she had then picked up another finger sandwich, Kuchel forced a comfortable smile at the girl. “So, [Y/N], are you an only child?”
“No,” you replied. “My brother, Alan is in Oscaar right now, doing business,” you smiled before you reached for one of the finger sandwiches. “He will be taking over father’s business when he steps down.”
“When do you want the wedding?” His mother then asked and when the words left her mouth, you could feel the entire atmosphere pause.
To be fair, the question was bound to come up. It was the Annual Ball season, everyone was getting married, and you had been the Realm’s Diamond, everyone had anticipated your betrothal event. “Well,” you breathily chuckled. “Levi is my main suitor, but I’m unsure if we’re actually going to get married.”
“I’ve yet to speak to her family about the entire thing,” Levi added while his metal-like eyes softly trailed all over you, a certain look on his face had appeared as if he had summarised a thought, quietly, you had looked away from him, you had known what that look had meant, thus, you had placed one hand above the other, both paws against your lap.
“Though,” you continued. “Levi is my main suitor and I wouldn’t want it to be anyone else.”
Content, Kuchel picked up her almost cold tea as she had taken a sip, Levi placed his one down before he spoke. “I’m glad to hear that.”
 ༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶
You had been well too aware of all the expressions Levi had up his sleeve during the previous times you had shared with him---when he had sent you the short but knowing look when you had mentioned that you weren’t sure if the both of you were actually going to get married. You had noticed it strung a bad string in his heart, as if it had activated a bitter and acquisitive emotion in him.
It had slightly surprised you, Levi had normally been calm with how he expressed himself, the only time he’d be eminently reactive is when you two would intimately share time with each other, like now, his steel blue eyes fiercely studied into yours as he protectively folded his arms around your waist, supporting your movements as you ardently bounced on his girthy cock, while his lips ringed around your breast as he gently suckled your nub, deep moans vibrating against your skin as he gently rocked his hips.
You had almost forgotten how many rounds the both of you were in, when you had first stepped into Levi’s room, he had first taken you against the wall, then the floor, then his bed, his lust animalistic as he commenced to thrust his body upwards, he had promised countless of times he’d learn how to control himself when it came to you. Yet, whenever he’d feel your wet warmth cover him, a sex varmint would take over his body, his mind and drown his thoughts with intentions to breed and dominate you.
“Right there----oh Levi! Yes!” You cried as your area clamped around him while you released your high, your arm that had once curved behind his neck had now supported you from riding his length, your juices flowing and coating his shaft while it throbbed and ached inside your cunt, the curved length had slipped and kissed the sweet spots before it released its sweet white nectar, Levi, tired had petted one last kiss against your neck before you pulled away from him.
Your body collapsed next to his, both of your figures uncomfortably sprawled against his wide sofa. As he reached for a cigarette, he passed one towards you, aware that you had sometimes smoked, when you first made him realise your smoking habit, he had slightly been against it, but you had promised him within time, you’d stop. Plus, it was nice to smoke when you two finished fucking, it helped Levi calm down, he couldn’t put a finger on it, but there had been something about you that turned him into a wild animal, and as much as he never spoke about it, during the short period the two of you shared with each other, the Ackerman had easily fell into a pit of yearn and ache for your presence.
That’s why he sometimes liked it whenever you were gone, to fall into the cycle of the thirst of wanting to see you again and quenching that thirst whenever you were in his arms. “In a day or two I’ll have to actually speak with your family.”
As you shortly agreed, you pulled yourself to sit up. “I’m actually surprised you’re going along with this,” you said after you exhaled a smoke.
“You’re a good suitress,” Levi answered. “And I’m willing to settle down.”
Offended, you twisted your face. “You know what I mean,” Levi sighed as he watched you cross your arms, aware of how your arms pressed against your breast, and as he could feel his breath catch in his throat, the man hastily looked away from you. “Don’t give me that look,” he continued as he pulled on the rest of his clothes.
“I’m upset you’re not completely enamoured by me; other men quickly fall in love with me…and you’re just…” you sourly confessed and with a quick look that flashed in his eyes, Levi put down his cigarette.
“What makes you think that?” He asked.
“You’re not kissing my feet like other men,” you said and with a curve of his eyes, Levi pushed out a breathy chuckle.
“You’re unbelievable,” he smirked and shortly humoured, you pulled yourself off his sofa. “I feel pride when I’m with you,” he softly spoke and as his eyes slightly trailed pass your body, he turned his gaze to the ajar window, unaware that you had planned to continue your complaint.
With your hands on your hips with an increasing disappointment, you had tapped your barefoot against the ground. “So, I’m just arm candy to you?”
“I’m not good with my words,” he mumbled as he stroked his raven-toned hair with his digits.
Annoyed, you rolled your eyes and picked up your clothes. “Evidently.”
-Confused, Levi turned to look at her. “Where are you going?” He questioned and with a twisted look on your face, you pulled your garments onto your body.
“Home.”
“Are you seriously upset with what I said?” Levi apprehensively asked and with a tight light, you turned away from him.
“Yes.”
Adamant to leave her alone, Levi reached out to her. “At least allow me to take you home.”
“No, I want the next time you see my parents to be a special day, even if I’m arm candy,” you stubbornly responded, and annoyed, Levi closed his eyes, exasperated by your adamance to not understand him, though, before he could say anything else, you had already pushed his bedroom door open and left.
༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶
When the carriage had come to a halt, the coachman had immediately pulled himself off his horse to open the vehicle door for you, during your trip back from the Ackerman estate and to your family land, you had nervously re-thought of that interaction you had exchanged with your main suitor. Perhaps you had over-reacted you had thought, mayhap you should’ve allowed Levi to continue to express himself, to explain what he had actually meant, but overall, you were spoilt and usually wanted things handed to you forwardly with no obstacles.
Though, your pool of thoughts had immediately been eliminated when you stepped out of the carriage and noticed a presence you thought you wouldn’t have seen in ages. With a big smile, you picked up your dress and quickly used your feet to run towards them. “Alan!” You screamed in happiness once you saw your brother walking around the van Richesse estate.
Content once he saw his sister, Alan wrapped his arms around you once you jumped towards him. Alan was tall, so he had to bend low to experience your warmth. “[Y/N],” he smiled, first to pull away, Alan quickly looked you up and down. “It seems as if you’ve shrunk since the last time I’ve seen you,” he smiled and as you clicked your tongue, you comedically slapped his arm.
“You just got taller,” you reminded and with his charming smile, Alan patted your head. “Where’s mama and papa?” You asked, now side by side with your brother, you clasped your hands together as you began to walk inside the manor along with him.
“They went out on a date,” he responded and with a short blow of your tongue, you rolled your eyes. “Business in Oscaar was a success,” your brother mentioned, his face now expressionless yet calm.
With a short raise of your eyebrows, you hummed in response. “The business is boring, I’m glad you’re inheriting it,” you muttered. “I just came back from the Ackermans, wonderful family,” you explained, expected to see a proud look on your brother’s face, your brows then furrowed when his face gently twisted in distaste.
You had wanted to question it, but it had appeared your brother beat you into talking. “I’ve actually been in du Aurous for two days,” your brother explained. “For those short two days I was actually in another meeting.”
“Oh, please tell me who,” you replied in faux interest and as you stopped in front of him, you had realised the dark look your brother had in his eyes.
His icy look had aided you to grow a feeling of anticipation, but before you could egg him on to speak, your brother opened his mouth. “It was with Sir. Argent.” With a slight freeze, your body paused before you allowed yourself to walk side by side with your brother around the manor. “He told me everything,” Alan said and muted, you had looked down to your feet.
As you raised your view to your brother, you gracelessly smiled. “You really believe anything that stubborn and bitter old man has to say about me?” You gently chuckled.
“Mama and papa think Eren has not laid with you yet, and think they have protected your integrity by forbidding him from you---but I know,” Alan seethed. “I kept your secret, and I’m willing to keep your secret, but Sir. Argent on the other hand, is not. He is willing to tell the entire world about your promiscuity, your events with Sir. Levi Ackerman and is even willing to tell the world you had influenced Lord Erwin Smith to lay with you.”
Frightened, you gently sucked in your breath as you had attempted to hold back your tears. “I’ve never laid with Erwin Smith,” you whispered and adamant, Alan folded his arms.
“Sir. Argent is willing on holding himself back,” Alan then said and with a slight relief, you had dropped your shoulders to your sides. “If you call off your promise to Mr. Ackerman and marry Sir. Argent.”
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lowkeychenle · 1 year ago
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SOS [ZCL] (M)
Description: Road trips with Chenle are your favorite thing. Late at night, the two of you stop at a hotel, but it's not everything it seems to be. You barely have time to settle before you get a call to evacuate immediately. Beneath red neon flashing lights, you and Chenle have to try and escape the group of people hunting you down.
Genre: Smut (literally the first 1.5k is smut help) // Thriller/Horror
Content Warnings: Explicit, rough, unprotected sex (don't do the unprotected part), Chenle says pretty girl again (not sorry) and also slut because duality, also this fic includes murder and creepy elements with Psycho!Dream so do with that what you will.
Word Count: 4,127
Pairing: Zhong Chenle x Reader (feat the rest of Dream too!!)
ISTJ 7Dream Series Masterlist
Juliet's Masterlist | Requests
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After being in the car all day, you and Chenle are both ready to settle down for the night. Concentrating on the road for so long makes your eyes numb. Chenle’s a few steps behind you as you slump on the bed, starfishing out a bit as you take a deep breath. The mattress is soft beneath you, the cotton comforter already warm enough to make you want to fall asleep.
“Don’t get too comfortable,” Chenle says, making his way over to you. He nudges you over so he can climb on too, lying on his side as his eyes scan over your face. “We still need to find something to eat.”
You groan in response, shaking your head.
“Babe, you haven’t eaten in hours. You gotta.” He reaches over to play with the bottom hem of your shirt before his hand dips lower and lower and lower—
“I thought you were tired?” You raise an eyebrow at him, but you don’t stop him.
“Did I say tired?” He fakes pondering for a moment as he pops the button on your jeans. “What I meant to say was I’m tired…of not being inside you.”
You laugh, pushing his shoulder. “That’s what you’re thinking about right now?”
“Bold of you to assume I’m ever not thinking about it.” He traces along the fabric of your panties from hip to hip, repeating the motion as he leans closer to you. “We’ll be back on the road tomorrow and we’ll have missed this golden opportunity.”
“Well, you do make a valid point there.” Your voice drips with sarcasm.
“You gonna kiss me or are you gonna keep denying how much you want me?”
The words barely have time to leave his mouth before you silence him with the kiss he’s asking for. He immediately sighs into it, moving a little further over you. His tongue dances with your own as his fingers dip inside your underwear. He doesn’t have much range to move with your pants still on, but he somehow manages to find your lace-clad core.
Rubbing you gently, he rests his forehead on yours. “I’m gonna fuck you good, pretty girl.”
 You moan at his words, craving his lips back on yours. He stops, one finger tracing up your entrance to find your clit. His circles are mind-numbingly slow as he teases you into wanting him as badly as he wants you.
“How lucky for you we don’t have our usual toys.” He pouts, moving down a bit to kiss your neck. Leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses, his teeth graze across your skin.
“So lucky,” you answer, rocking your hips up to hurry his hand. Chenle can be absolutely brutal with edging if he uses toys on you. He likes bringing you so, so close to the brink before stopping. The pattern repeats until tears brim your eyes. He loves to see you so stimulated that you cry.
Two fingers press against your clit, a gasp escaping you in response. He chuckles but keeps his infuriatingly slow pace. Your body continues to heat up, especially with the thick layer of clothing you have on, and now that Chenle’s started this, all you want is him buried deep inside you.
“This is what I like,” he says, feeling the wetness soak through your panties. “I like when your body tells me you need my cock.”
“Chenle.” You push your jeans down your legs, but can only get them as far as mid-thigh. Crying out in frustration, you tangle your fingers in his hair and pull him in to give you another kiss.
His teeth bite down on your bottom lip, hard enough for the tang of iron to hit your tongue. You whimper into his mouth. Everything around you feels like it’s burning, and all you want to do is take off all of your clothes in an attempt to cool down. Chenle doesn’t change his pace for even a moment. He’s skilled, practiced in making you whine and beg and cry for more. You’re pretty sure you’re radiating heat at the moment, but Chenle doesn’t seem the least bit affected by it.
“You just want me to fill you up so bad, don’t you?” he hums, fingers moving off your clit to play with the soaked fabric. “I bet I’d slide right in, huh?”
“God, would you fuck me already?” you hiss at him, grabbing his wrist to pull his hand away from your core.
He smirks at you, but before you know it, he’s helping take your pants off. You sit up and pull your shirt over your head, tossing it across the room. There’s only one thought on your mind, and it’s how fast you can get Chenle out of his clothes.
Fabric sticks uncomfortably to your core. Thankfully, Chenle helps you strip him down to his boxers, where his length leaves a prominent bulge. You palm him, grinning to yourself when he lets out a shaky breath.
“You’re always so needy for me,” he breathes out. “Such a little cockslut, aren’t you?”
You reach inside to wrap your fingers around him, jerking him slowly. 
“All fours, get that ass in the air,” he commands and grabs your wrist to pull you off his length.
You don’t hesitate to do what he says. Making quick work of your panties, you toss them aside before pressing your chest and head against the mattress, back arching as you wait for Chenle.
He stands to slide his boxers off, and then the bed dips as he climbs on behind you. His hands grope your ass, squeezing roughly before delivering a smack that has your body shaking. Your fists clench the comforter.
“God, I love your ass.” He slaps the other cheek, the sound echoing around the room as you bite down on the blanket to stop yourself from being too loud.
You arch further, moaning as he massages where he most likely left red marks. Then he’s no longer touching you, and you push yourself back to tell him how much you need him. It feels embarrassingly good when he smacks his cock against your clit. He slides himself along your entrance, collecting your wetness on his length. Your arousal drips down your thighs.
“I don’t know, pretty girl,” Chenle coos. “Are you sure you’re ready for me?”
You nod the best you can, pushing back again.
“Not gonna go easy on you, baby.” The tip of his finger ghosts along your spine, leaving goosebumps in his wake and shivers weaving through your vertebrae.
You feel like you’re ready to explode, and all you want is to have him buried inside you. Luckily for you, he’s getting impatient too. He makes it to your hair, and right when he slams you full of his cock, he grabs your head and tugs it back. You suddenly forget about the people in the rooms around you because you scream in pleasure, unable to mask it with the blanket anymore.
Without giving you a moment to adjust, he pulls out until his tip is barely in before rutting his hips forward. You hold on for dear life, the arch in your back dancing the thin line between pain and pleasure.
His pace is brutal. The bed creaks loudly beneath you, joined by the sound of his skin smacking against yours and the slickness of your arousal.
He pauses, nudging your legs a bit further apart with his knees. You question it at first, but then he’s thrusting again, his balls slapping against your swollen clit. The pleasure numbs your brain, and all you’re thinking about is how good he feels rubbing on your inner walls like this. He tugs harder on your head, straining your neck without missing a beat. His name slips from your mouth so many times, you lose count. If it weren’t for his grip on your head, he’d probably have you across the mattress by now.
“What a good little slut.” His palm strikes your ass. “Pussy swallowing my cock while you drool.”
You’re shivering at this point, body begging for release. His thrusts slow and he reaches around you to find your clit. His chest heaves, scattered breaths escaping him as his fingers glide easily back and forth on your sensitive bud thanks to being coated in your wetness. You feel it all the way down your thighs to your knees, where you know it’s soaking into the comforter below you.
The knot tightens in your stomach, threatening to unravel at any moment regardless if you want to stay like this forever. As you hit your high, your vision goes black and you shake. Next thing you know, Chenle’s shoving your head into the mattress and chasing his own orgasm. It only takes a few more thrusts for him to finish, filling you up with his cum.
He grips your hips instead, holding you against his hips as he gently rocks back and forth to help you both come down.
You catch a glimpse of him over your shoulder. His eyebrows are furrowed, eyes clenched shut, lips parted. This Chenle is one of your favorites—absolutely spent, so overwhelmed with pleasure he can’t even comprehend it yet.
You whine when he pulls out of you. Without his support, your body crumbles. He catches you with an arm around your waist, flipping you over so he can look at you. Both of you are shiny with sweat, his skin gleaming in the dim hotel lighting.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, climbing to hover over you and press a gentle kiss to your lips.
You smile softly, nodding.
“C’mon.” He gestures behind him. “We’ll take a shower and then go get some dinner.”
You nod again, unable to formulate a response just yet. He slides his arms beneath you, lifting you up and walking you over to the bathroom. Setting you on the counter, he turns on the water. While the two of you wait for it to heat up, he finds his spot between your legs and connects his mouth with yours.
“I love you,” he whispers. “You sure that was okay? Don’t want to be too rough with you.”
You shake your head. “Not too rough. It was really good. I love you, too.”
“Good.” He smiles at you, kissing your forehead. “Let’s get in.”
After your shower, you get dressed in one of his shirts and a pair of soft shorts, hoping his idea of dinner isn’t the two of you actually getting out of the car. You just want to eat and then go to sleep. While you run the brush through your hair, he comes up behind you and grabs it from your hands so he can do it for you. You sigh in appreciation, closing your eyes and enjoying him and the heated air around you.
“You look good like this,” he hums and kisses your cheek. “Ready?”
“Yeah, I’m actually hungry now—”
The power goes off. You and Chenle are suddenly draped in darkness, and you instinctively move closer to him in fright.
“What the hell?” he mutters under his breath, flicking the switch on the wall. Nothing happens, and as your eyes adjust to the pitch black, you catch a glimpse of irritation laced on his features.
“We should just go.” You tug on his arm. “They’ll probably have it back on by the time we get back.”
The air is so still that anxiety starts clinging to your spine. You roll your shoulders a bit, but the pressure pressing you into yourself refuses to let up. Chenle intertwines his fingers with yours and leads you both toward the door.
“We paid $200 for this fucking hotel room,” he grumbles. “It better be back on after dinner.”
“Speaking of, what are we eating?”
As soon as Chenle’s hand touches the doorknob, a bright red flash emits from the previously lit bulbs. Both of you freeze, the eerie feeling climbing up your back making the hair on your skin stand straight.
“Chenle—”
“Mayday! This is not a test!”
A robotic-like voice fills the room, and a soft whimper escapes you as Chenle pulls you toward him.
“Evacuate the building immediately!”
A warbly siren joins the voice, and that’s when the panic sets in. The room flashes red again, a steady rhythm between the pitch black and neon. What kind of hotel has warning sirens? Your hands shake as Chenle throws the door open, practically tugging you down the hallway as the countdown starts.
“Ten.”
Your heart throbs in your throat as your bare feet smack against the carpeted hallway. When you try to ask Chenle what the hell is going on, the words refuse to come out. You’re barely able to breathe. The red flashes start to hurt your eyes, and it’s just frequent enough to throw off your vision when they fade back to black.
“Nine.”
Chenle looks back at you as he slams the door to the stairway open. You frantically look around for any sign of anyone else, but it’s almost like you and Chenle are the only two people here.
“Eight.”
You nearly fall down the stairs trying to match Chenle’s pace, but you don’t feel the pain shooting up your legs. Adrenaline courses through you, and as you reach the third floor, you can’t help but wonder what happens if you don’t make it.
What happens when the countdown hits zero?
“Seven.”
“Come on!” Chenle shouts.
The sound is lost on you when the awful siren is still ringing through your ears. Your lungs ache from the lack of oxygen, but nothing matters—nothing except you and Chenle getting the fuck out of this place.
“Six.”
“That one was faster,” you finally say, digging your fingers into his skin to try and ground yourself.
“We have to keep going.” Chenle’s out of breath too. You see his chest heaving and the fear on his face every time the lights flash. Despite that, his words are surprisingly calm. You want to scream, but your tired body won’t allow it. You can’t.
“Fi-Five.”
“Chenle—”
You’re at the bottom floor, and Chenle sends the door flying open. You see the exit, so close that you can practically taste the freedom that comes from getting the hell out of this hotel.
“Three, two, one.”
“No!” Chenle yells, his voice ricocheting off the walls, echoing down the long hallway. Right before your eyes, a metal barrier drops in front of the door. Bile rises in your throat, and you shake as you grip his wrists.
“What do we do?” You almost crumble to your knees, the weight of the world on your shoulders as you contemplate what this means for you.
How the hell do you get out now?
“I don’t know.” He pants, tugging his fingers through his hair.
The flashing stops briefly, allowing you a bit of time to catch your breath as you and Chenle back up down the hallway. He keeps a tight grip on you, like he’s scared to lose you in the dark.
And then the red returns, and when you look back to where you once stood, your heart stops beating. A man stands there, twirling a knife with his fingers. His head tilts slowly, slowly, slowly, until he can’t anymore, and you see the faint shade of pink in his hair. He lifts the blade up to the wall, the sound of it scraping against plaster sending shivers up your spine. The white of his shirt is illuminated by the neon. One thing is written across it in big, scrawled letters: JAEMIN.
“Chenle,” you whisper, smacking his chest. His gaze follows yours, and you see the hard recoil.
“What the fuck?”
You turn the other direction, preparing to run that way, until you see a second man. With a dry throat, you back up toward the door leading to the stairs, holding onto Chenle’s sleeve for dear life. Silver hair reflects red. He stands impossibly straight, head lifted as if he’s looking down at the two of you. Gripping the base of an ax, he allows it to hang loosely at his side. His shirt matches the other man’s, but the word spelled out on his is JENO.
Chenle gulps, tugging you back. “We need to go.”
You don’t say anything, stuck in the middle of the two men like your body has frozen completely.
“(Y/N), now!” He finally snaps you out of your trance, and the two of you hurry into the stairwell.
You’re barely able to keep up with him anymore, every part of you wanting to stop running. There’s no way you can keep doing this for long.
You make it to the second floor, and as you round the corner to go up to the third, you halt. Narrowed eyes stare at you from the platform. Chenle runs into you, opening his mouth to ask you why you stopped until he sees.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Chenle tries to hide his fear—for your sake or for his own, you’re unsure—as the man at the top of the stairs tilts the container he’s holding. Liquid sloshes down the stairs, and it doesn’t take you long to realize what it is.
Gasoline.
You catch a glimpse of the word on his shirt—DONGHYUCK.
You get the sinking feeling to turn around, and that’s when you see another standing on the platform below you. He stands there, staring straight at you with a blank look on his face. His hands are buried deep in his pockets, his word reading: MINHYUNG.
Your breath catches in your throat as you watch him pull something out. A familiar sound reaches your ears—
A flame flickers to life from the lighter, illuminating his face. His hair is black, short with an undercut. He raises an eyebrow at you, taunting you to stay in your spot. The liquid reaches your feet, soaking them as it continues to trickle down toward the guy with the lighter.
As soon as you break from your staring contest with him, you and Chenle break through the door to the second floor. Running down the hallway, you take the first right you can. The room before you seems to be a conference room. A long, oval-shaped table takes up the majority of it, but almost like they were waiting for you, two more people stand at the back of the room.
The taller of the two grips a machete, a small smile forming on his face when he sees the two of you. His shoulders are broad, arm flexed with how hard he’s holding his weapon. JISUNG is sprawled on the white fabric covering his chest, and the man next to him says RENJUN.
He has darker silver hair than the other guy from the hallway. At first, he appears weaponless, but the metallic gleam around his fists prove otherwise. The pain and fear finally catches up to you, and your knees wobble as you let out a terrified sob. No matter where you go, they’ll find you.
They’re going to hurt you, and there’s nothing you can do about it. They’re going to hurt Chenle. 
The two of you aren’t making it out alive.
“Where do we go?” you ask Chenle.
Instead of responding, he tugs you back out the door. Before you’re able to go anywhere, the four men from before are waiting for you. They slowly close the distance, and Chenle puts you behind him, pressing you into the wall.
You grip onto his shirt, closing your eyes and hoping, praying you wake up from this dream soon.
“Stay behind me,” Chenle says, chest heaving.
The two from inside follow you out, and the group of six slowly get closer and closer until you’re able to clearly make out their faces. As valiant of an effort it is, you know there’s no way Chenle can take all of them on his own. Not without any weapons.
You hear the knife scrape against the wall, like it did before, but this time, much nearer. Shaking your head, you wish you could stop the tears rolling down your cheeks. The first one approaches—Minhyung—and his fist grips Chenle’s shirt.
Without another thought, Chenle shoves him back. Almost like he’s caused a chain reaction, the others move forward. Donghyuck aids Minhyung in ripping your boyfriend away from you, leaving you alone and afraid as he struggles against the other two men.
Out of instinct, you lunge forward to help, but hands wrap around your wrists, tugging you back so hard, you’re pretty sure you hear a loud pop coming from your shoulders. You scream, in both pain and fear, as you crumble down to your knees and watch as Chenle gets dragged away.
He’s shouting at you, begging you to get away, but you know it’s impossible. You must be getting dragged by Jeno and Jaemin, because the further you get, you still see Renjun and Jisung staring at you from the doorway.
You fight against them as much as you can, the sight of Chenle down the hallway urging you on. It doesn’t matter what happens to you—you need to know what they’re going to do to him. By some miracle, you get free of them, immediately bolting away. You think you’ll make it to him, but the second you get confident, Renjun steps in your way, reeling his fist back and launching it forward.
You crumple, the flashing red fading to black one last time before you lose consciousness.
When you wake, your head throbs. You attempt to move, but your wrists are chained together, the links connecting up to the ceiling. Your arms ache, your toes barely brush the ground, and you’re alone.
The events quickly come back to you, and you immediately look around for Chenle. The lights are back to normal, a dull, yellow glow making the wide, cement room around you seem that much bigger.
There’s nothing in here. Nothing except you.
Your heart is beating so fast, you’re sure it’s going to burst from your chest. Chenle’s out there somewhere, and you can’t help but wonder if he’s alive. If he’s somewhere, suspended midair like you are.
Tears brim your eyes, and you weakly shake the chains holding you.
The warbly siren sounds behind you, this time as if it’s coming through a cheap speaker. A familiar voice follows, the same one you heard earlier.
“Mayday! This is not a test! Evacuate the building immediately. Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Fi-five. Three, two, one.”
You cringe as the lights turn off again, and at this point, you give up. If they’re going to kill you, you want them to get it over with. There’s no reason to make you suffer.
The red light returns. Rather than flashing, it stays on, and through your blurry vision, you see the six forms standing in a line about fifteen feet in front of you. You clench your fists.
“Where is he?” you ask, voice weak and feeble. “What did you do with Chenle?”
You hear a laugh, but it’s not from any of the men in your eyesight. A warm hand touches your waist, making you flinch and do your best to pull away from whoever it is.
“Oh, don’t be like that now,” the voice coos.
God, that sounds familiar.
The realization dawns on you right before he walks around to face you directly. Chenle. But he’s not your Chenle anymore, he’s dressed exactly like the men behind him, his name scrawled across white fabric. His fingers linger, tracing shapes on your skin through the T-shirt you’re wearing.
“What’s going on?” Your entire body trembles.
“I’m okay, baby. Isn’t that what you wanted to know?” He shows no traces of the man you know, his face blank and eyes emotionless as he regards you. “My friends wanted to play a little game with you. Wasn’t it fun?”
“Chenle…” More tears cascade down your face. Please, please let this be a dream.
“None of that now.” He tsks, reaching up to grip your jaw. “They wanna kill you so bad, you know. I told them no.”
Hope sparks, and for a second, you believe you might actually get out of here alive.
“Jaemin has a particular taste for the thrill of watching someone bleed out. He begged and begged, but I said no. I said nobody was allowed to kill you. Nobody except for me.” His eyes narrow, and his other hand tangles into your hair.
“Please…” is all you can muster.
“Thanks for playing, pretty girl.”
He jerks your head with one quick, clean movement, and the sickening cracking and popping of your neck is the last thing you ever hear.
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softquietsteadylove · 24 days ago
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Love that broken up au. Maybe we can get some more? 🥹
love your works.🫶🏻
"Wow, it really looks the same."
It felt the same, watching Gil walk into Seri's old flat. It was hers now, but it felt just like when they used to all spend time together. Of course, it wasn't just her breakup with Gil which had put a damper on that. Sersi and Ikaris' split had been far more damaging.
Perhaps that was part of why Thena had always wanted to keep her split with Gil as civil as possible. Despite it being the single most devastating event of her life.
"I like what you've done with it, though," he smiled, pointing at some of the small additions she'd made, things on the wall or little historical things on the shelves.
She smiled, hanging up her coat, "thanks. You know how to make yourself at home."
"Sure," he tossed over his shoulder, slipping his hands in his jeans pockets as he drifted aimlessly into the living room.
Thena bent to get her heels off. She smiled; Gil had taken off his boots and carefully lined them up with the rest of her shoes on the doormat. It was nothing short of heartwarming, and that was not what she needed to be feeling at the moment.
They were two friends--just two people, reconnecting. It didn't have to be more than that. She had kissed him, and then he had gone and really kissed her back. But she shouldn't have. They weren't here to get back together.
But she had missed him. Seeing him in front of her again made her feel it in her bones how much she had missed everything about him. It was like seeing the glow of home after being away in the dark and cold.
Gil turned back to her, hovering in the middle of the room, wondering what she would do.
She tried not to seem like she was fidgeting as she moved sideways into the kitchen. "Have a seat. Do you want tea--or coffee?"
"You have coffee?" he asked immediately.
She rifled needlessly in her tea jar, facing away from him. "I may not drink it, but everyone else does."
It was a good enough excuse. And it kept her from having to admit that it was because she associated the smell of it with him, and every once in a while she would unseal the airtight container just for a smell of it. Because that would not be the behaviour of someone who was completely over her ex-boyfriend.
She put the kettle on, scooping some coffee for Gil and tea for herself. "You still drink it black?"
"Yep," he grinned back at her. He sat himself on the far end of her couch, leaning against the armrest. "Brings back memories, huh?"
Perhaps too many. But if he could reminisce about happier times then so could she (she decided). She left the kettle to boil and moved into the living room with him. "It certainly does."
"I remember when Sersi first got this place," Gil chuckled, crossing his arms and angling himself towards her at the other end. "All of us helping her move in."
"It was quite a day," Thena smiled at the memory. She could recall flashes of them all together, making light work of things, helping before things became complicated and their careers had completely consumed some of their lives. "I knew Ikaris was disappointed that she asked us to help as well."
"Guy was so obvious," Gil shook his head, rolling his eyes. He snorted, "gave me and Druig attitude all day because of it."
"That does rather sound like him," Thena lamented about her cantankerous brother. Not that she could claim to be any less unpleasant.
"I'm glad she stayed in this place," Gil added somewhat more sullenly, "after they split."
Their breakup had been...messy. There was an animosity there that hadn't escaped any of their friend group, no matter how much Sersi had attempted to keep their private affairs private. "I am too. I told him he was lucky I didn't kill him myself, but Sersi always insisted it wasn't his fault."
Gil scoffed, as did she. He turned himself more towards her, even scooched closer to her on the couch. "Did he ever tell you...?"
"No," she shook her head. It was no lie, if he had, she would have told Gil at least. "He still maintains they simply drifted apart until there was no repairing it. Unfortunately, I am well aware that he can keep things to himself to such a degree that he even he forgets then."
She was like that too.
But Gil didn't point any fingers. He shrugged one of his massive shoulders, "We've all got our own stuff to sort out. Maybe it was best for them that they did it apart from each other."
That was what they had ultimately decided for themselves, too--that there was too much else consuming them to give their relationship the care and time it deserved. She scooched closer to him as well. "I agree."
"But hey, I like Dane," Gil brightened again, hoping to draw up the mood. "Seems like a nice guy, maybe kind of quiet."
She smiled. She did like Dane, and he seemed like a good match for Sersi--so good she was ready to move in with someone for the first time since Ikaris. "Everyone is quiet standing next to you."
Gil laughed from his belly. On her bad days, she would wonder why it was always so loud. Now, she yearned to hear more of it. "Guilty, but I don't think that's it. He's more...thoughtful, like he really thinks about what he says before he says it."
She laughed faintly, unable to resist Gil's natural, easy charisma. "I have found that as well. Dane is considerate in a way I don't think my brother is capable."
She sometimes wondered if she was capable of it.
"You seen her lately--Sersi?" Gil asked, moving closer again. She did the same, merely to hear him better. "I haven't gotten to catch up with her since - probably - a few months ago?"
"I saw her a week ago, maybe two," Thena confirmed. They were approaching the line between the two long cushions which composed her modestly sized sofa. She didn't know what would happen when they met in the middle. "She's doing well. Her classroom is already decorated for the coming holidays."
"It's almost two months away!" Gil squawked, but then laughed again, offering her ears a deserved enrichment. "I should have known, she loves that stuff."
She did. Sersi was much like Gil in how warm they were and the gentle nature their hearts shared. Thena had often wondered how a sweet soul like Sersi had ended up with her adamant and immovable twin brother. When she got together with Gil, she had to wonder the same thing, but no longer wanted the answer.
"Even the children have told her it's too early," she added, recalling the devastation on Sersi's face even just recounting the story. "She's handled the transition from younger children to pre-teens well, though."
"Dane teaches sixth, right?" Gil asked, to which she nodded. "She won't admit it, but I still think she agreed to teach a higher grade because her new class would be across the hall from Dane's."
That was exactly the reason. She had drunkenly confessed it to her and Makkari late one girls' night. But Thena kept her lips sealed, in the metaphorical sense, "I suppose we'll never know."
"I'll get it out of her one day," he shrugged. He had always been somewhat of an older brother type within their friend group. It had always been something she admired about him. Even as an only child, he had a strong sense of protectiveness. It had always been attractive to her. "Thena?"
"Hm?"
"Water's boiling," he pointed.
As soon as he did, she realised the water was, in fact, screaming throughout the apartment. She rushed to take it off the burner, alarmed that she hadn't been aware of it in the slightest.
She poured it over their drinks, trying to calm her flustered heart. There was no reason for her to be so unnerved--they were just two old...companions. They were catching up, convalescing in a friendly way. There was nothing on the line, here.
But then why did she feel she had so much more to lose?
After making sure her hands weren't shaking, she picked up the mugs and padded back to the coffee table. She set hers down first. She smiled again; Gil had pulled out coasters for both of them. When he had developed these habits was beyond her. "And for you."
"Thanks." His hands rose to accept the mug from her. He didn't have to, and she almost told him not to let his hands get burned. But he had always shown off how much endurance his hands really had. He let his palm take the bottom of the mug while his fingers brushed against hers to secure the handle.
She had once asked if he still had the sensation of touch in his hands, and then he had proven to her that he very much did.
She rushed to sit down again, avoiding a look that she really doubted he gave all of his friends. She cleared her throat, reaching for her mug. "So, you hired some new help at the restaurant?"
He puffed through his nose, the steam from his coffee bending from it. He gulped down the boiling hot liquid without so much as blinking. "Yeah--finally, I mean. It's nice to have the extra help, and they're actually pretty decent at things."
"Hm," she offered lightly. She also took a sip, mostly to occupy her hands and her mouth. Her tongue got terribly burned from the heat of it but she kept quiet. "Did you ever hear from the friends you abandoned the other night?"
When they had run into each other and spontaneously gotten a late night coffee and then kissed?
"Yeah, they gave me some shit for it, but whatever," he waved off easily, taking more sips steadily. "I mean I'm not a young, dumb twenty-something. I don't think I even like partying with those guys anymore, they're just the only ones my schedule could actually align with."
Because they were always up for going out and getting drunk, their own jobs be damned. They didn't have early morning prep, or classes, or papers to edit.
"Did you mention," Thena paused, wondering if even asking the question was really a good idea. She shifted in her seat somewhat. They were awfully close to that line between them. "Running into me?"
Gil also looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. "No, I, uh, just said I ran into a friend."
"Hm," she nodded, trying to disguise her anxious habit of playing with her hair by looking back into the kitchen. "Maybe for the best."
"Yeah," he moved that final last bit. he was all but sitting on the crack between the cushions, now. "Uh, Thena..."
"Maybe-"
"Would you-"
They both blurted it out at the same time, again. She set her mug down, although it left her hands vulnerable. She clasped them together. "Sorry, you go."
He chuckled, reaching for her hand. "Look, I don't...really know what this is either."
Her heart hammered.
"But that's okay, right? We don't have to figure that out right away?" He asked her genuinely, looking hopeful, although she wasn't sure what answer he really wanted.
She wanted to be cynical and believe this was his way of not wanting to label things despite their complicated history. Perhaps that failed relationship of his hadn't been his last foray into dating. Meanwhile she hadn't managed to conjure a single warm feeling for anyone but the man in front of her.
But she also didn't know what this meant for them. And she wasn't ready for him to find out that he was still the greatest love of her life, and that she had been prepared to bear that knowledge for the rest of her single life.
"Right," she agreed, although she sounded breathless. He had a point, though. She also wouldn't know what to say about them seeing each other, no matter in what capacity. They weren't getting back together, but she wouldn't say they were denying that it could happen either. At least, she wasn't, but she also couldn't afford to let her hopes get too high.
"Okay then," he smiled. It was so warm, and he always spoke so softly with her. His hand laid over hers more heavily, squeezing her fingers. "Is this okay?"
She nodded, and tilted her head up into the gentle kiss. For people not getting back together, the number of times they had kissed was getting awfully high. But she couldn't help but savour them, seeing how she didn't have the power to resist them anyway.
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soulofapatrick · 2 years ago
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Not a One Night Stand - Tommy Miller x Reader
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Summary: Your first week in Jackson doesn't go as planned but Tommy is there to protect you and help you forget. Part three of the Instant Attraction series
Words: 1.9k
Warnings: mentions of past attempted SA; male and female receiving smut (consensual) 
Y/N’s POV
I’d been given my assignments from Maria the very next day, I’d be taking the route up to the cabin in the mountains with a patrol leader until I was trusted enough to them on my own. It meant that Tommy and I rarely got to see each other, random kissing in passing or a quick ‘hi’ and ‘bye’ as we were on separate schedules. It was driving me insane, having to come home to an empty house and just fall asleep without any interactions. 
Daniel - my patrol partner - is nice but he’s too quiet and weird. He tries to be all silent and wise but it doesn’t work. He just seems a little creepy with the way his beady eyes try to undress me when we’re trotting along, those stupid eyes stuck on places on my body that shouldn’t be. It makes me shower and scrub myself clean every time I get home and even then I still feel dirty. I want to swap but I can’t as Maria’s orders are final. 
That quickly changes when we come back from a certain patrol, about a week into my patrols, and Daniel is trotting through the gates with definitely a broken wrist and nose as well as a budding black eye that will be very much visible by morning. Maria approaches at the sight of him, stopping short when I come cantering in after him. I’m jumping off of Indiana - my horse - and storming my way towards Daniel and he’s cowering away. 
“Now now baby girl,” arms are grabbing me but I’m struggling against them, seething with rage, “What happened?”
“He tried to grope me in the cabin.” I snap and suddenly those arms are gone and Daniel’s out for the count with Tommy standing over him with a fist still raised. Maria finally interjects: telling me and Tommy to go home while ordering others to help get Daniel to the medical bay and she’ll deal with him when she wakes. 
I’m ripping off my jacket, hoodie and shirt as soon as Tommy has the door shut, my skin feeling dirty with Daniel’s grabbing hands. It’s as if Tommy understands because suddenly a sense of calm washes over me when familiar hands replace those slimy ones and I’m leaning back against his chest, letting my eyes slip closed. 
“Where?” Tommy asks, voice shaking with anger and there’s also a hint of guilt as if he could have done something to protect me. I can protect myself, it took nearly everything in me not to shoot Daniel when he tried his luck. Lucky for him he’s only got broken bones, but I should have done so much worse- “Y/N.”
I take a deep breath, moving Tommy’s hands to my hips and stomach, just above the waistband of my jeans. He inhales sharply, spinning me around and pressing my back to the wall before sinking to his knees. I should feel scared or panicked by Tommy’s actions after Daniel’s attempt but I can’t seem to feel anything but want, trust and love for the black haired man looking up at me with those dark eyes. I caress his cheek lightly and he turns his head to kiss my open palm before he focuses his attention on where Daniel’s hands made contact with my skin. 
Sweet kisses replace the stinging sensation on my skin, his hands on my hip and thumbs gently rubbing soothing circles into them. It has me relaxing my weight against the wall, letting my eyes slip shut and I just focus on the way he’s mumbling about never letting anyone lay a finger on me again and singing praises about my body. The calloused pads of his fingers hook under the waistband of my jeans, looking up at me for consent as he darts his tongue out to wet his bottom lip. I just reach down, curling my right hand in his hair, trying not to let the pain show on my face as the split knuckles pull apart again. He sees it though and is grabbing my hand, face softening and he’s rising to his feet again. 
“Tommy.”  
“After baby girl, after.” He soothes, pressing a chaste and heartfelt kiss to my lips before leading me upstairs to his room. He sits me on the bed before disappearing to the bathroom to get the med kit before he’s sitting next to me again. There’s not much to Tommy’s room but every item in his room screams Tommy. He’s got a few pictures littered around, most in cracked or broken frames-
I’m hissing in pain when the damp cloth covered in disinfectant is dapped against the dried and caked on blood. Tommy soothes me, telling me about his morning and how he and Joel were talking about their childhoods. Apparently both of them wanted to be singers but ended up being contractors. Contractors were people who build all sorts of things and were paid for it. Doesn’t sound too bad of a job. 
“There, all done baby girl.” 
“Baby girl.” I echo, his face breaking into a breathtaking smile that has me flushing red and eyes going down to my now patched knuckles. He’s moving around, putting things away until suddenly a familiar shirt lands by my feet. It has my head flying up to him standing in front of me in just his jeans. My hands move of their own accord, tracing my fingertips over the multitude of scars covering the softly defined sun-kissed skin. It has him inhaling sharply when my nails lightly drag down from his chest to the waistband of his jeans, taking in every bump and crevice of his abs until my fingers find that happy trail of dark hairs leading south. His chest is rising and falling quickly as I make quick work of unbuckling his belt then unbuttoning his jeans, tugging them down his legs until he’s able to kick them aside. 
My eyes are widening at the heavy tent in his boxers because I can already tell he’s huge. I don’t care though, leaning forwards to suck him through the fabric and his head is falling back with a groan and whine of ‘tease’. Not wanting him to change his mind about this I quickly pull his boxers down, swallowing at the way he springs free and oh fuck he’s big. Tommy’s opening his mouth to probably say we don’t have to do this but I will actually scream if he stops now when he’s so close. To shut him up I lean forwards again, giving the weeping head kitten licks and guiding Tommy’s hand to my hair. 
Before he can do anything I swallow as much of him down as I can, looking up at him between my lashes as I suck him. He lets out the dirtiest moan I've ever heard, making me groan around his length. My eyes flutter shut when he grips my hair tightly, pulling hard and bucking his hips forwards so he’s hitting the back of my throat. It turns me on even more and in approval I drag my teeth lightly down his length, making his hips jerk and me gag. 
I would keep doing this for as long as he keeps letting out those all consuming moans and his hand tugs on my hair but he’s pulling my mouth all too quickly, “Fuck baby girl, you carry on like that and I’m gonna cum,” I try to capture the tip between my lips but he holds my head out of reach, “You make me cum and no sex.” 
In this moment in time I don’t care, I just want to watch him come apart because of me and his grip on my hair loosening enough to take him in all at once. It takes a few seconds of teasingly swirling my tongue around the tip before Tommy’s lips are thrusting forwards, causing tears to build behind my eyes from holding back the urge to gag, “Oh fuck baby girl, hollow your cheeks out for me.” He murmurs, other hand coming to cup my jaw, eyes meeting mine and thumb rubbing my cheeks softly as he thrusts. I just do everything in my power not to gag until his dark eyes slide shut, a low moan leaving his lips and his hips stuttering, that bitter liquid hitting the back of my throat and some spilling down the corner of my mouth. 
Instead of disappearing into the bathroom like other men I know would he lets me go, growling out lightly for me to get undressed. I comply, almost tripping over myself to get my jeans and underwear off. It has Tommy laughing, kneeling down and helping me before he’s pushing me back on the bed. His hands grip my legs, yanking me forwards until I’m by the edge, my legs spread and completely exposed. His umber eyes flicking up to meet mine before he’s focusing back on my leaking core, delving forwards and licking one strip between my folds with the flat of his tongue. It sends a jolt through me and his arms are wrapping around my thighs to hold me in place when I start to wiggle away as it’s been so long. Every move of Tommy’s tongue is precise and has my back arching off the bed which is soon pressed back down by a broad hand, making me moan even more. My eyes pretty much roll back into my head when a finger circles my crying opening, my hips rolling down to get it to breach but Tommy teases until I’m a begging mess, “Please Tommy.” The finger immediately curls inside on me and I’m suddenly struggling to breathe because oh fuck the pleasure radiating through me. It’s tensing every muscle in my body and my hands in flying to his curly locks, tugging hard as he focuses his attention on the sensitive nub. 
“T-tommy,” I whimper and a second finger is added, the pace picking up as my walls start to flutter around the digits. I can feel the pressure building and my toes are curling as my hand tightens in his hair, causing him to moan. The vibrations of the moan is the final straw and suddenly the coil snaps and I’m trying to close my legs with the pleasure that has the corners of my vision whiting out as Tommy continues what he’s doing as I ride out my high. I think I cry out his name but I’m sure, fading in and out of reality until it becomes too much and I’m pulling his head away by his hair. My chest heaving as I finally catch a glimpse of him: his moustache and chin soaked in my juices, pride in those umber eyes and I think I almost come again when he licks the fingers that were just inside me. 
I just let myself fall backwards, eyes slipping shut as Tommy bustles about, disappearing from the room then coming back, the door shutting behind him, “Come on baby girl.” He’s nudging me up the bed, pulling the duvet back enough for me to slip under it and sliding in next to me before manhandling me closer to him. He grips my chin, drawing my malleable body up into a lazy and sleep filled kiss before I’m laying my head on his chest, arm around his waist and his around my shoulder. 
“Not a one night stand?” I find myself mumbling and his chest rumbles with amusement. 
“No fucking way. Not a one night stand.”
-----------
Part One // Part Two // Part Three // Part Four // Part Five
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jerzwriter · 7 months ago
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Six Times.... Part 1: Think About It
Series Summary: Casey and Jessica both knew how it felt to have their hearts broken. That's why they vowed to focus on themselves and becoming the best doctors they could be. Love had no place in their life right now... and then they met. This short series tells their story through six significant moments during their relationship.
Part 1 Summary: It's Newly Admitted Student's Day at the University of Pennsylvania's Perelman School of Medicine. Jessica Philips and her friend, Diego, are working the LGBTQPM+ (Lesbian Gay Bisexual Transgender Queer People in Medicine) table, with seemingly different goals. When Diego notices Jess's interest in a new student, she balks until she walks over.
Pairing: Casey MacTavish (F!MC) x Jessica Phillips (F!OC)
Words: Approx. 1200
Rating: Teen
A/N: This is a prequel to Open Heart and takes place during Casey's (F!MC) time attending Perelman Medical Center at the University of Pennsylvania. @choicesaprilchallenge24 (smiling/teasing) and @choicesprompts Spring Fling Event (Spring is a time of new beginnings, how appropriate...) Artwork in the banner is by the incredible @rosefuckinggenius.
Series Masterlist
About Casey || About Jessica || About Casey x Jessica Casey x Jessica Masterlist
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The late afternoon sun beamed through the glass walls of the cavernous conference room, blinding anyone within its path. It had been a long day, and Diego couldn't take any more squinting. He reached under the makeshift table to grab his sunglasses from his backpack and set them firmly on the bridge of his nose. Feeling much better, he sat back in his metal folding chair, running a hand through his thick, black mane with a flourish. Beside him, a petite redhead with a smile that rivaled the brightness of the sun shook her head.
“I don’t know how you do it,” Jessica chuckled. “You can be so relaxed anywhere. Look at you! You’d think that folding chair was a comfy couch.”
He lowered his glasses momentarily to stare into his friend's warm brown eyes.  
“Relaxation is a state of mind, love... not a piece of furniture.”
“And the sunglasses?” she teased. “Is that really the image we want to project for our organization? We're not a frat, you know."
“If someone comes over, I'll put them in my pocket. But the sun is blinding me, and, besides, it’s easier to check out the new recruits behind these shades.”
“And that is precisely the image we don't want to project! Diego, Newly Admitted Student's Day is not supposed to be speed dating.”
“I know that,” he smiled. "I run the speed dating event, remember?"
Her playful punch landed a little harder than expected, and Diego rubbed the sore spot with a grimace as he followed Jess’s path of vision.
“Sure,” he smirked. “I’m some sort of a deviant because I dare to say I'm assessing the new kids; meanwhile, you’ve been checking out that adorable blonde all afternoon.”
“Have not!” Jess insisted with another quick slap.
“Please,” Diego waved. “Your cheeks have turned red every time she walks by. Despite your accusations, I am not using this event to find the next lucky man in my life, but there's nothing wrong with taking note of who we want to get to know better. There's no harm in that.”
“Diego,” Jess sighed. "Stop it."
“I’m serious! This is a social event. Go... be social... say hello to her.”
“Why? There’s no point.”
“Really? And why is that, Jess.”
“Because I’m sick of chatting up women I'm interested in only to find out they are painfully straight. I’m exhausted, Di, and I’m not doing it anymore.”
Diego took his glasses to get a better look at their subject from across the room. Women may not have been his thing, but he could understand why Jess was interested. Her wavy blonde hair was pulled into a flirtatious ponytail. In her well-worn jeans, plain blue t-shirt, and barely a stitch of make-up on her face still, she effortlessly exuded approachability and radiance, a rare combination indeed.
Her conversation with the curmudgeonly Dr. Marks was apparently going well, too. The old buzzard almost seemed charmed, and when she flipped her head back in melodious laughter, Diego turned back to Jess, who was surreptitiously looking the young woman’s way.
“It’s hard for me to tell from all the way over here, but I’m not getting total straight vibes. I say it’s worth a shot.”
“NO!” Jess reiterated. “She hasn’t stopped by our table once all afternoon. That's screaming straight at me. Besides, even if she wasn’t, I...” Jess’s voice trailed as she heaved a heavy sigh.
“Even if she wasn’t, what?”
“Ammarah. Ammarah really did a number on me, Diego. I think I may just swear off women until I’m done with med school.”
Diego raised a brow at his friend, “You really want to give her that much power over you?”
“Diego, it’s just that....”
"Just nothing!" He stated. "That was last year, Jess... and it's spring, the perfect time for new beginnings!"
“Hi!” An overly cheerful voice interrupted. “I’ve been dying to come over here all afternoon, but there were so many tables to visit. I figured I’d save the best for last.”
“Well, hello!” Diego beamed smugly while slipping his sunglasses into his pocket. “And welcome to Perelman! More importantly, welcome to our table. I agree with you, it’s the best one here! Are you familiar with LGBTQPM+?”
“I am,” the perky blonde nodded. “I’m coming from NYU and worked at the LGBTQ+ Center there. I’ve heard great things about your org and Perelman as a whole. That’s why it was my first choice.”
“Well, you made the right choice,” Diego smiled. “Penn Medicine’s dedication to providing the LGBTQ+ population with culturally competent and compassionate healthcare is unrivaled, in my opinion.” He turned to Jessica with a twinkle in his eye. “This is my classmate, Jess. Jess, do you care to elaborate?”
“Uh... sure,” Jess stuttered, nervously shuffling papers in her hands. “We were, uhm, recently declared a leader in LGBT Healthcare Equality by the HRC. We’re very proud of that, and... uhm, you know, it's... uh...”
Jess thought she had hit a stride, but once she caught a glimpse of the new student’s crystal blue eyes, all progress was lost. But Jessica was determined, this was not the first impression she was going to make. Taking a cleansing breath, she smiled and looked directly into the eyes that were making her weak and continued.
“... we’re very proud; it’s a testament to the university and hospital’s commitment. And it's not stagnant; they are constantly conversing with us to see where improvements can be made. So, by being a part of LGBTQPM+, you will be helping to shape the future of healthcare.”
“Well, that’s quite a sales pitch,” the new student grinned, extending her hand to Jess. “By the way, I’m Casey.”
“Oh, and I’m...”
“She’s Jess,” Diego jumped in.
“Yeah,” Casey giggled. “That’s what her name tag says. Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Jess, and you too,” she squinted to read the tag on his chest. “Diego. I’m going to take this literature, but I’m sure I will be seeing you around.”
“Definitely,” Jess barked out far too quickly. “I mean, we have meetings every other Tuesday at seven. I hope you'll pass by."
Casey glanced at Jess, a gentle blush on her cheeks.
“You can count on it,” Casey winked. "Turning to "Diego," she extended her hand. “It was very nice meeting you, too.”
“Likewise,” he nodded. “I look forward to working with you. I think you can do great things here.”
Jess fought every visceral desire in her being and didn't watch Casey as she walked away. Opting to begin packing up their materials instead. She knew it was futile, but hoped it would help her evade any further conversation with Diego... but she knew better.
“So," he smirked, slipping his sunglasses back on. "Definitely not straight."
“We don’t know that. I don't recall her telling us how she identifies, did she?"
“No, she just works at the LGBTQ Center at NYU and is eager to join us in our work. That just screams straight to me.”
Jess looked up with exasperation. “Diego, do I have to smack you again?”
“Not unless you want me to file charges. I'm getting sick of your shit. So," he asked, more genuinely. "Are you going to try to get to know the lovely Casey?"
“I guess,” Jess shrugged. “We're going to be classmates, after all... and it looks like she wants to join our org, so....”
“You know what I mean. Personally, I think I saw sparks there."
Jess wanted to deny it with all her heart, but she didn’t like to lie. How could she say there wasn't a spark when she felt the butterflies in her stomach awakening from their long slumber? Her heart, which had firmly adhered to the cease-and-desist order Jess placed on it, quickly took note.
“I’m not doing it again, Di. There’s plenty of time for love, romance, and all that other shit when I’m done with my residency. Until then, it’s all work and no play for me.”
“If you say so,” he frowned.
“And speaking of work, here,” she tossed a tape gun his way. “Start sealing the boxes. This event is officially over.”
“Hmmm,” Diego pondered. “Funny you should say that because it feels like they're just starting to me."
~~~~~
Thank you so much for reading! I will be tagging others separately.
@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics
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txemrn · 2 years ago
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Déjà Vu
Chapter 4
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New? Check out the first THREE chapters HERE! (Go ahead; we'll be here. 😉)
Series Summary: After an unforgettable night with a stranger, Princess Eleanor finds herself caught in a secret love triangle between a noble and a commoner.
Chapter Summary: Drake heads to Club Core with Leo; he unexpectedly meets a young woman that reminds him of a past life.
Pairing(s): mention of Liam x Riley; Drake x Riley (former)
Word Count: ~4970
Warning: 🔞 Mature Audiences Only 🔞 language (tons; it's Drake); sexual references (crude); mention of excessive drinking; drug-use reference; brief violence
A/N: Welcome to my Crack Fic! If you are new, hi! Thank you for joining us! This story takes place approximately 2 decades after TRR/TRH. I have made some canonical changes (they will be mentioned). Although this is from my crazy mind, it takes a village! Huge thanks to my sweet writing buddies for helping me figure out various parts! Love y'all! Characters and some plots belong to our friends at Pixelberry! This was not Beta'd; please excuse my errors.
~🖤~
Drake
What the fuck was I thinking? I hate large crowds and eardrum-piercing music. I hate being around people who can't hold their liquor, not to mention I hate dancing. But even worse, I hate Leonardo Anselm Phineas Rys. Old thorn in my side. What in the actual fuck made me agree to hang out with blondie in the first place? At a club? On opening night?
Because you're lonely, and he offered free booze…
My twisted expression relaxes as I shrug my shoulders. Meh. I guess it could be worse.
"Okay, baby… I'll be home later… yes… I'll tell Liam you said, 'hello'..." Leo gives an obnoxious kissing sound before disconnecting his call with the touch of a button. He lets out a sigh, taking a hit of his vape pen. "Dahlia," he answers to the question I never asked. He glances at me, sucking in his bottom lip before giving me a slow flutter of a wink.  "She's a bit clingy."
I nod, drumming my fingers against the leather interior, playing it cool like I care. "Is… she your–?"
"Friend."
Ah. Okay. 'Friend.'  The term just glides off of his tongue. Nonchalant. Sweet and syrupy, almost as if he believes the bullshit he's feeding this poor girl that's waiting at home for him. 
And she thinks what now? That he's coming over after an evening with his brother's family which, no doubt, she has never met. And judging by that brief interaction with goldie locks here, she doesn’t seem to have the intellectual capacity to wonder why she wasn't invited to the dinner in the first place.
Side-piece. Booty-call. Friend. It's all just semantics to douchebags like Leo Rys.
I fidget with the navy collar to the button-down shirt Leo loaned me. I could barely fit my broad shoulders into the lean cut of his tailored threads. The guy has a rock hard physique, but tough, manual labor creates a different kind of body. A strong one. Like mine.
The buttons pull slightly across my chest as I flash a glance in the car visor mirror. I look like a fucking tool. I'm not used to my stubble brushing up against starched cotton; I'm usually wearing a tee, my work denim and my steel-toes. I mean, unless I'm meeting with a client or going out to dinner where you have a waiter and utensils. But, other than that, I am a fish out of water: this shirt is uncomfortable. And I have a feeling this is just a prelude of what's to come.
At least Leo approved of my jeans and Tecovas. He tried throwing my trusty chambray shirt in the trash.  "No one has worn this for at least twenty years… and they weren't even wearing it then."
Fuck off.
We pull up to this club, and I swear everyone in Cordonia has turned out for this spectacle. The moment Rys steps out of his 'I didn't want anything too flashy' red Ferrari, the paps were on him like white on rice. Flashes of light rain from every direction as reporters flood him with curious questions about his Gucci loafers and gray Brioni blazer. 
Lucky for me, I'm a nobody, and the press quickly discovers that the moment I step out onto the red carpet. Dropping their cameras and microphones in disappointment, they instantly turn their attention elsewhere.  I don't know if I should be grateful… or offended, to be honest. At least confuse me for Leo's new lover… bunch of dickwads.
I push past the commotion, combing my hair out of my eyes as I look around the red carpet. This place is pretty snazzy, but holy fuck, they didn't spare with any expenses. It’s like a fucking fortress: a tall, wrought iron fence encased with stone surrounds the perimeter. Armed security in black tie a la James Bond swarm the space.
Now, the entrance? This wasn't just any ol’ red carpet; oh, fuck no, that wouldn't do for such a prestigious guest list. Contortionists and acrobats on pedestals perform sultry poses and maneuvers, leaving the crowd bewildered and amazed. 
Scantily clad women tend to the average Joe commoners waiting in line. They serve hors d'oeuvres and complimentary spirits, fooling them into thinking they're still important even though they're on the outskirts of the main event, and truth be told: they'll never get in.
Taking it all in, I suddenly feel a massive clap against my back before an arm hugs tightly around my neck.
"Ready, Walker?" Leo pops his gum in between his smarmy grin. "Let's get our dicks wet."
Fucking. A. I'm pretty sure I just entered the third level of hell.
"Hey-yo, Walker!" 
Make that the fourth level…
I glance back at Rys who is now flocked with an entourage of, and I quote, ‘aspiring models,’ all with their fake tits falling out of their tops, their overly-injected blow-job lips, and lashes so thick, you can't tell if they're sleeping or having a stroke.  He flashes those pearly whites as he dangles a small, gram-size plastic bag of white powder.
Now, I'm not against tokin' up or getting obliterated with alcohol, but cocaine isn't my style… not to mention, if we got caught–no doubt, Leo knows people that could bail us out, but if Liam and Riley were to hear about this? They'd kick me to the curb in an instant, especially with their kid around. They’d label me as a bad influence, and Liam would give me that fatherly disappointment glare.
"What do you think, Walker?" Leo nods with eager anticipation. "Wanna join… all of us?" He lets out a knowing laugh, winking at the women around him. They take his cue and begin to giggle, as if he was the funniest, most charming man they've ever met.
And my IQ just dropped two points.
"I think… I'm going to… " I notice a large bar area, quickly throwing a hitched thumb back at it. "...I'll check out the bar," 
"Suit yourself." The women practically swallow him whole with their arms. "Don't forget: give 'em my name. Drinks on me!"  
The drove of venereal diseases buzzes off with their king, and a sense of relief washes over me. Would I rather be at home? Absolutely, but since I'm already here…
I make my way toward the crowded bar area, ducking between drunken cat fights and groping couples. Finding a stool, I plant my ass down, and despite how busy it is, the bartender tends to me quickly–probably because I'm a 45- year-old man alone in a club. Translation: I have money, I know what I want, and chances are, what I order doesn't require my rim being bedazzled with seasonings, flowers, or fruit.
"What can I get ya?"
Oh, shit, I haven't heard that distinct nasally Portavira accent in so long. My God…
"Um… Larceny. Neat."
"Double?"
My man… I nod as I watch him pull out the bottle and a clean tumbler.
"Do you have a tab started, sir?"
I reach for my wallet, but I abruptly stop, remembering Leo's words. 'Give 'em my name. Drinks on me!'
"I do. It's under Rys," I smirk, "and actually, do you have Macallan?"
The bartender stops, giving me a glance over when finally a Cheshire grin creeps across his face as if he just struck oil. "We sure do, Mr. Rys." He extends his hand to fist bump me before reaching to the top shelf for a new bottle of the liquid gold. Before I knew it, he's twirling the tumbler across the bar. "Enjoy, Mr. Rys."
Taking a sip, I give him a wink as a thank you as I bask in the much needed woodsy burn of clove on my tongue. Damn, that's tasty.
Feeling more relaxed, I glance out onto the dance floor as other club-goers get lost in the hypnotic buzz of the ethanol electrifying their veins. The tantric beat of the music and the flashing swirl of multicolored lights feeds the adrenaline and raging hormones as people grab and grope one another.
I am way too old for this scene.
I grab my glass to take another pull when out of the corner of my eye, I see a familiar face at the bar. Turning my head to get a better look, I suddenly swallow my whiskey down the wrong pipe, causing me to fall into a fit of coughs. Smooth, Walker, real smooth. 
Blinking back the tears, I sniff into a napkin before looking back at the beautiful face. Shit. She's absolutely…wow. Gorgeous dark, silky waves, porcelain skin, that pouty mouth with those big, doe eyes… She's the spitting image of… Riley. 
"Fuck," I growl at myself before rubbing the shit out of my eyes. No way, it can't be. I look up again, and instantly I can feel my jeans begin to tighten. 
You're just wanting to see her. You're just wanting it to be her, especially with what happened back at the palace.
I down the rest of my drink before allowing my attention to be completely saturated by this girl. 
It's not Riley. It's not…
See? Her nose appears more prominent from the side, and-and her neck. Her neck seems longer, slender. And her eyes. They're gorgeous and big… they aren't Riley's navy blues, but damn, that sparkle–
"Would you like another–?"
"Please," I grumble as I stare at this Riley look-alike. I just… can't tear my eyes away. Her presence feels so real, so intimate. Now, judging from this woman's creamy, velvet skin, she's young. Maybe early 20s. Way out of my league… but still that face. It's like looking into a past life, a life I once loved.
(Two decades ago…)
"Brooks," Drake whispers loudly, "come on!"
"Shhhh!" Riley presses a finger to her lips, stifling her giggles as she looks down from her palace window. "Are you trying to wake everyone up? You're going to get me into trouble."
"You are trouble, lady."
Riley looks back at the commoner, the glint of mischief in his eyes making her adrenaline pump faster through her veins. "Now are you sure about this?" She bites her lip, "you'll catch me if–"
"For the hundredth time, yes," Drake rolls his eyes, holding his arms out wide. 
Since Drake's confession to Riley at Applewood, the two of them have been enjoying each other's company, especially after hours. They flirt with danger, sharing in kisses that they swear will never happen again for obvious reasons: she is there to pursue Liam and his hand in marriage; Drake is his best friend.
After watching Liam share a kiss with Riley, a dam of excruciating jealousy broke in Drake's heart. He already shared with Riley before that he was developing feelings for her, but now, it was… something else. Something more.
During dinner, the commoner passed her a note, asking her to meet him outside her window after midnight because they needed to talk.
Riley is staying in the guest quarters off the West Wing with the other suitors. She's only on the second floor, but still, a jump from that high could be dangerous. So, Drake helped the brunette construct a climbing rope with her top sheet. 
"I've got ya. Just… ease yourself over."
Riley takes one step at a time, following Drake's directions; but when she gets close to the ground, she looks back at Drake, raising an eyebrow, then jumps. 
"Whoa!" Drake stumbles as Riley crashes into his chest, his arms quickly cradling her close. "What the fuck are you doing?"
Riley giggles, combing her fingers through Drake's thick hair. "Sometimes a girl just wants to be caught."
Their eyes lock on one another, Drake's hand finding her cheek. He gently rubs his thumb across her soft skin, her eyes fluttering closed as she leans into his touch.
"Come with me," he whispers softly while grabbing her hand.
"Wait… I thought we were going to talk–"
"I want to show you something." Riley gives him a curious glare. "It's a surprise," he smirks, pulling her to follow him.
They walk silently, hand-in-hand across the grounds, playfully gazing back-and-forth at one another–that is, until all a sudden a bright flashlight skims over where they are walking.
"Who goes there?" A palace guard bellows.
"Brooks, take off your flip-flops," Drake commands under his breath, watching the guard in the distance.
"What? Why?"
"Just trust me," he squeezes her fingers. 
Riley quickly kicks them off, holding them in her hands. "Okay… now what?"
Drake grabs her hand again, his grip tight. "Run!" Giving her a warning tug, they both take off across the wet lawn, Riley following Drake's lead.
"Where… are we… going?" She pants, laughter bubbling from her chest.
"You'll see," Drake chuckles, "but we have to lose Barney Fife first!"
Dodging the glow of the searching lights, Drake and Riley finally make it to a large wall of greenery. Finding an entry, they pass through the walkway and hide behind the vines and leaves.
Drake looks to see if they finally lost the guards, but Riley takes a moment to look around the thicket they just entered. 
"Whoa," her eyes widen as she looks at the well-manicured covert. "Where… where are we?"
"It's… a maze. A hedge maze that we used to play in as kids."
"Are you serious?" She meanders down a corridor, looking around a corner. "It's so dark. Did you ever get lost?"
Drake chuckles, reaching into his pocket. "Plenty of times." He saunters closer to Riley, pulling out a flashlight and handing it to her. The air crackles around them as the charm of the blue moon ignites the twinkle in their eyes. Drake lowers his voice into a deep gravel. "Come get lost with me, Riley Brooks."
With that, he smiles and takes off jogging, Riley staying close behind. "Hey, not so fast Drake." She turns a corner and notices his denim shirt discarded on the grass. "You lost your shirt."
"Did I now?" He snickers. "Can you bring it to me?"
Riley scoffs into a giggle as she continues through the maze at the sound of his voice. "Maybe if you'd stop running away–"
"Maybe if you weren't so slow–"
"Hey!" Riley chides, "I just jumped out of a window–" she falls silent as finds Drake's belt tossed on the ground.  She collects it in her hand, biting her bottom lip. "Drake?"
"You're getting warm," he teases. Riley stumbles through another corner, turning left, then right. The sounds of her toes in the grass compliment her heavy breathing as she stops again to the cooing of his voice. "Warmer, Brooks." 
She continues until suddenly, she notices a warm glow just up ahead. Her steps quicken until finally she reaches a small clearing in the maze that opens to a stunning backdrop of the star-filled sky. Gas-lit sconces illuminate the garden, revealing tapestries of vines and flowers fixed to wooden lattice work amongst the bushes.
"Wow," Riley gasps, her eyes glowing with the wonder all around her. "This is beautiful." She feels Drake's warm touch on her hand, their fingers lacing together. 
"Cmon," he tugs on her, "I want to show you something."
"There's more?" She giggles, following his lead. They walk a short, pebbled path until they are standing in front of a large gray-stoned well. Riley presses her fingertips to the cold marbled edges before looking down into the dark abyss. Her eyes shift to Drake, "Is this where you murder me?" He chuckles, shaking his head as she turns back to the well opening. "Hello!" She shouts, the echoes welcoming each other back and forth.  
"I'll be honest, Brooks." Riley looks back at Drake. "I'm kinda shocked Liam hasn't already brought you here. It's one of his favorite places to show off in the entire estate."
"Oh," Riley's eyebrows knit together with a pained expression. 
"Hey," Drake nudges her playfully. "What's with the long face?"
Riley snickers into a scoff before finally succumbing to tears. "I'm just exhausted," she pulls her hands to her face.
"Brooks," he pulls her into his comforting arms.
"This social season bullshit is just … it's really screwing with my head," she sniffles. "I've never been more insecure in all my life, and what for?" She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand, clearing her throat. "I wish I knew where I stood. I wish the competition was over. I wish–"
Drake reaches into his pocket, pulling out a couple of worn copper coins. He offers them to a confused Riley.
"Pennies?" She sniffles.
"Yeah," he chuckles, "I forgot to get rid of them when we were in New York. They're worthless here. No conversion."
Riley's lips begin to curl. "Then why keep them?"
Drake starts inspecting the coins in his hand, allowing them to softly clang together in his palm. "I read a book once–"
"--picture books don't count as reading."
"Ha. Ha." He smirks, feigning annoyance as he starts to jingle the coins in his hand. "I read that in ancient civilizations, finding random metals was a sign or a blessing from the gods."
"You see them everywhere back home. The streets, sidewalks," she snickers, "a whole cent. How generous of the gods."
"What? A penny isn't enough for you?" Drake playfully growls, slowly leaning closer to Riley.  She coyly bats her lashes, a soft titter in her throat. "Here." He puts a coin in her hand.
"What's this for?" Riley studies the trinket.
"For something bigger, citizens would offer the metal back to the gods, like a payment.  So they would say a silent prayer, then toss it–"
"--into a well," Riley softly finishes.
Drake nods over his shoulder to the stoned well. "Let's make your wishes count."
One by one, Drake and Riley silently take pennies, casting them into the well with unspoken hopes and dreams until every last coin was gone. Feeling his close proximity, Riley stares up into his dark eyes, getting lost into a charming stillness.
"What did you wish for?" She whispers.
Drake slowly shakes his head. "Nothing."
"Nothing?"
He offers a crooked grin. Combing his fingers into Riley's dark, espresso waves, his hand gently grips the back of her neck, pulling her closer. "All my wishes have already come true, Brooks."  He closes the space between them, their lips grazing one another. The feather-light touch instantly ignites a hunger, one they both feel and crave. Drake pulls back, chuckling under his breath as he fidgets with the hem of Riley's shirt. "So... why didn't you take off any clothes?"
Riley bites her bottom lip. "Maybe... because... I wanted my wish to come true." She pauses, her fingers tucking into the front pocket of Drake's jeans, pulling his hips flush against hers.
He swallows thickly. "Which is?"
"Take them off for me, Walker."
(Present)
Damnit.  I adjust myself in my jeans, but my cock always hardens at the memory of Riley and me that night. We fucked. A lot. But that night, our first night together, it was more than just sex. We made love.
I take a swig of my new drink that the bartender must've dropped off while I was taking a stroll down the boulevard of broken dreams when my eyes dart to my Riley look-alike.
And I feel my dick shrink.
She's with someone, some blond tool, probably named Chad, with a tool haircut that shops at Tools-R-Us with a matching trust fund. 
I sigh to myself, polishing the rest of my drink before staring at my empty glass.��
He is pretty hot; I don't blame her.
I glance at them one more time, kissing my own dirty fantasy away when I notice something odd. His hand is sternly gripped around her wrist, staring at her like she's his next meal. 
But her face tells a different story. She seems to be struggling, trying to tear her arm away from him. Those big, doe eyes are panicked, large as table saucers as she frantically looks for help. 
I sigh. Goddamnit...
I wipe a napkin across my mouth as I stand, my glare fixed on this commotion transpiring before me. I shrug my shoulders, loosening the tight fabric off my back as I stretch my muscles. Just in case.
I hurry my way through the dense crowd of patrons gathered around the bar. I flex my fingers, bending my wrist as I get closer.
Ah, shit. This is the part I'm bad at. What do I say first? 'Stop that!' No, that's lame. I need something clever, like maybe, 'Is there a problem here?' How about–
My clenched fist meets his jaw, knocking the asshole in one swing into a bartop table before he crashes down onto the floor.  He's so disoriented; he's trying to get up, but he keeps slipping on shards of glass, falling back into the pathetic rumple he calls his life.
Fuck. My hand. I know it will hurt like a bitch in a few minutes when my body depletes of adrenaline, but for right now, I'm basking in the moment. 
A smirk grows on my mouth, but it doesn't last for long. The young woman. I turn to the Riley look-alike, her terrified stare already fixed on me. Instinctively, I carefully put my hand on her shoulder. She's shaking.
"Excuse me, miss. Are you alright?"
Ho.ly. Fuuuuuuck. 
Brooks? Seeing her up close is almost painful; I can feel my balls beginning to ache.  This woman is hauntingly stunning: the subtle freckles on her nose, the curve of the bow to her top lip, even the flounce of her long, flirty eyelashes. She's beautiful; she's… like somebody I used to know…
The young woman shyly nods, but she's trembling. She's clearly not alright. 
And I suddenly possess this overwhelming need to take her in my arms, hold her tight and let her know she's safe. 
Calm down, Walker. 
"Let's get you away from this." I look up, noticing an open lounge-type area near the dance floor with large, plush couches. Offering my arm, she holds on tightly as we escape through the debris of the nightmare that just happened. Placing a reassuring hand on her back, I encourage her to sit. 
I, on the other hand, keep an eye on douche canoe who is being helped up by security and his friends. But, I don't think he'll be a problem for us anymore tonight.  He never got a good look at me, and even if he had, something tells me his ego would keep him away from telling the truth of who made him taste his own blood.
Turning towards the young woman, I notice she is anxiously looking around, her body on edge.  I tilt myself to her ear, shouting over the blaring music, "Are you here with anyone?" 
She nods, "B-but it's okay," she yells back, waving her hands. "I'm fine."
"Are you sure?"
She fakes a smile, and my God, it knocks me back. Stunning.
Focus on her words, Walker...
"I don't exactly want to…" 
I don't quite understand the rest of her statement, her words lost in the heavy beat of the music. I give her an inquisitive look, causing her to careen towards my ear, her hand brushing across my shoulder.
And my cock twitches. Breathe, buddy…
"I said… I don't want to interrupt their fun." She motions aimlessly to the dance floor. Got it.
"Can I call someone for you? Family perhaps?"
Her eyes widen. "What? No, no." 
She grins, but it's clearly hiding her true feelings. Which is fine. I'm a complete stranger. Shit, she probably thinks I'm some creepy old man, hitting on her at the bar. And sure, maybe on a night where she wasn't assaulted, maybe I would've bought her a drink, asked for her number.
But the fact of the matter is this: I really don't feel comfortable leaving this girl alone. She  just got into a physical altercation with… whoever that guy was. Her boyfriend? Oh shit, husband? I look at her hand; I don't see a ring, but that doesn't mean anything. You never know these days. Still, she doesn't need to be by herself right now. She really doesn't need to be here, but again, who am I but another creep at the bar.
I run my fingers through my hair. Oh, what the hell. "Do you mind if I sit with you?"
A hint of fear crosses her expression as she looks me over. 
I hold up my hands in defense before leaning over her shoulder. "I don't feel comfortable leaving you alone in a place like this," I shout, "especially with what happened with your boyfriend."
She takes a deep breath. She flashes those big, brown eyes at me before finally nodding in agreement. 
And my heart melts. 
I offer my hand. "Drake."
The corners of her lips curl as she takes my hand, leaning towards my ear. "Jake?" She yells.
I shake my head, facing her ear more directly. "Drake!" I holler over the deep thrumming of the bass.
She raises an eyebrow. "Jake?" 
Eh, close enough. I smile in agreement.
"I'm Nora," she smiles, already more relaxed.
"Nora?" I repeat, ensuring I heard her correctly. At least one of us should be called by our real names this evening. 
She nods innocently, a beautiful rosy pink painting her cheeks. "Oh, and, um… he's not my boyfriend."  A piece of her hair falls like liquid silk into her eyes as she looks down at her lap. She quickly shoos the wisp away, chasing it behind her ear before looking back at me, trying to figure out my angle. Am I here to hurt her? Flirt with her? Invite her home for a messy, drunken fuck?
Don't worry, sweetie, you're safe with me.
"American?"
She catches me off guard with that one. "Uh, yeah. How did you–?"
She points to her mouth, her lips perfectly rounded and plump, painted a deep crimson. Oh, duh. My watered-down accent. Toto, we're not in Texas anymore. It's hard to believe that at one point in my life, I actually sounded like these people. Every once in a while, the Cordonian beast pounces, but these days, I sound like the typical American mutt.
"Are you on vacation?" Nora asks.
I smirk, shaking my head. "I… moved here for work."
"To Cordonia?" She snickers. "Of all places?"
"Fair," I chuckle under my breath as I feel the heat rise up my neck. "I… grew up here, so I have… connections, friends and family. It makes for an easy transition. How about you?"
Her eyes brighten, like a pageant contestant being asked about world peace. "Cordonian. Born and raised."
"That's unfortunate," I joke. Sorta.
"Hey," she giggles, scrunching up her nose playfully.  She swats the back of her hand against my shoulder. The touch sends a shockwave of familiarity, robbing me of my breath. "I love Cordonia–"
"Spoken like a true Cordonian."
"And… what's wrong with that?"
Drake guffaws. "What isn't wrong with that?"
"Your tone is suggesting that there's something wrong with having pride in your country–"
"It's egotistical–"
"The only thing egotistical is thinking that your opinion about Cordonia is the only opinion to be had." She furrows her brows. "If you hate it so much, why did you come back?"
Shit. She's feisty. And this conversation has gone completely off the rails.  I can't tell if she's really pissed… or if I'm just really turned on and wanting a sparring match. 
Fuck. You just had to be a jackass…
"Okay, truth?" I offer, even though I'm sure she wants to toss a drink in my face at this point.
She turns to face me, tucking her leg underneath her. "Please."
"I had a rough time fitting in here. Except for my best friend. He's–" I grin thinking about Liam and I, growing up together, how perfect and inseparable we were. "--as Cordonian as you can get. Well, except… I mean, his mom… nevermind," I shake my head. "He's the nicest person I've ever met in my life. I needed some help after a bad business deal, and… he was there and… now I'm here."
"Huh." She sits back, crossing her arms as she takes me in. She raises an eyebrow, the corner of her lips curling. She's clearly unsure of me, and I don't blame her. 
"Drinks?" A cocktail waitress dressed in a skimpy, leather skirt interrupts us.
Rubbing the back of my neck nervously, I turn to Nora. I have a feeling that this might be the end of the night for us, especially if I don't offer her a cocktail.
I stare at the sparkling flecks of bronze in her eyes. There's something about this girl, more than just the memories she stirs up in me. I can't explain it… shit, then again, maybe I'm fooling myself, wanting something to be there that never was. Still… I clear my throat… you never know unless you try.
 "Would… you like one? A drink?"
She narrows her eyes in thought… and fucking hell, she's so goddamn beautiful. Like Riley incarnate. The mannerisms, some of her expressions. Watching her literally robs me of speech and air, and I am dying to spend more time with her. Hell, who knows where the night will take us. 
I really hope she agrees to this drink. I can tell I haven't exactly won her over in the past twenty minutes, but if she would just agree to one more drink, just a few more minutes with me, maybe history could repeat itself. Maybe I could experience the woman of my dreams in a different way. Now, I could never tell Nora this; she could never find out. I mean, I am attracted to her, it's just…
"Sure," Nora interrupts my thoughts, her lips curling. "I'll take a drink."
~🖤~
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📸 Cole Saladino
✨ This interview is great! ✨
not just because he mentions tony in it
I feel fortunate that I have a lot of different fans. So there's fans that only know me from the improv world that don't watch the TV stuff. There's fans that are in animation that haven't really watched any of my live action stuff. There's House of Lies people. And then there's Parks and Rec people. I love that I get to intersect with all that, but when I go out, a lot of the times when people want pictures, it's because of Jean-Ralphio. It is crazy to think about that out of the whole series, I'm only in 21 episodes. And I mean, I can't even imagine how much actual time I'm in it. I'm assuming it's under 20 minutes total. I don't know how long I'm in the thing. But I'm so excited that people can have that character so much and they find it funny enough that they dress as him for Halloween. It still blows my mind. I feel so lucky to be a part of that show.
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stayandot8 · 1 year ago
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Chapter Three- Part One: Heaven's Grief
series summary: this one is a little different than anything else I've written. An AU where the members work in a bar with my MC, no idols among them. It's also going to be on the longer side. The fluffy Chris we know and love is nowhere to be found. He's broodier, moodier, and has jokes up the wazoo. So buckle up, kitties. This one's gonna be good 😏.
inspo: the song by Fall Out Boy.
Genre: i'm not really sure tbh
Relationship type: ???
Important Contents: bar setting, so mentions of alcohol, chris is a lowkey-highkey dick, swearing as usual
a/n: Sorry this took so long, my loves. If you read, thank you. I hope this was worth the reallyfuckinglong wait.
WC: 10.1k
Last part l Next part I masterlist
~
If I was being honest, I didn’t sleep at all that night. I tried, I really did. But it was all I could do to not think about everything that had just happened. It was on constant replay in my mind, reliving those lips on mine, the way he held me against him, it was all so much to take in. From being at odds with each other to this, it was so new. Something I never thought to explore and yet, here I was, hours away from doing just that. I thought of my list of concerns about what this would mean not just for us, but for everyone around us. What would the rest of the boys think? If we kept it quiet, would they even notice? Would Minho? Would he care? 
You know he would. It was an obvious answer. And if we decided to move forward, he should be told. Together, though. We should tell him together. 
I spent the rest of the moonlit night writing down any concerns or questions that came to mind and when the sun started rising, I couldn’t contain myself any longer. I picked out the cutest jeans I had along with a black top that may have helped my boobs pop just a little. I smiled to myself and I slipped on my Vans and grabbed my bag to leave. 
The drive downtown to Felix’s bakery was longer than it would have been if I hadn’t missed so many turns. There was too much running through my brain to truly focus on where I was going. I was lucky I didn’t cause an accident. But when I finally parked, I couldn’t help my eye roll as my mouth involuntarily turned upwards. 
“Have you been here all night?” My voice groggy but light, giving away my butterflies at seeing Chris sitting at one of the outdoor tables. He snapped his head up at the sound and grinned as he stood up to greet me.
“No, I just couldn’t sleep.” He walked up just close enough to encourage any touch I may initiate, waiting for my go-ahead. I bumped his shoulder lightly.
“Me neither, actually.” I lead the way around the few people out on the streets to the front door of the cafe. Chris rushed from behind to open the door, stepping to the side to place his hand on the small of my back as I walked by. I did my best to pretend not to feel the icy cold when he dropped it. The bell ringing as the door closed caused a flour-covered Felix to rush out from his back room in his pink apron to greet the new customers. 
“Hi! Welcome to- Oh, it's just you guys.” His face dropped to a new neutral expression he saved just for friends, then shifted into one of confusion. “Wait, why-”
“Felix, honey, can we talk in the back for a second?” I waved Chris to sit at the usual table I occupied and shoved Felix to the back before he could object. 
“You know I get suspicious when you call me that. It makes me nervous.” Felix grabbed a towel from his work station and started wiping his hands as he turned to look me up and down. “Why are both of you here? Together? What’s going on?” The look he was sporting was way too serious for this early in the morning. 
“Felix, there’s something I need to tell you.” His face didn’t change, waiting expectantly. “And I’m only telling you this because you know how to keep a secret and this is remaining a secret for now. Okay?” He nodded. “Me and Chris are here to talk about the possibility of a relationship between us.” I waited for the realization to hit him, for some kind of inkling that he heard me. But those big doe eyes just stared at me, still waiting for something so I continued. “This literally just happened last night so we haven’t told anyone at the restaurant yet. You’re the first one.”  
“And?” He wiped his hands further on his apron before grabbing some oven mitts and walking over to the industrial oven to take out his breakfast loaves. That confused me more. 
“Honestly I was expecting a bigger reaction from you. Why aren’t you more shocked?” I stuck out a hand to rest on the counter while placing the other on my hip while I waited for him to turn his attention back to me. 
“You think you're the only one in that situation that came to me with their feelings? I’ve been waiting for weeks for one of you to break, Jesus.” He tossed his mitts to the side, the heat from the loaf pans radiating into the air. His cheeks were flushed from the heat of the oven, making him look cuter than normal and making me forget my own confusion. I shook my head to return to the present. 
“You mean to tell me that he’s been coming in here too? To talk about me?” My heart fluttered at the idea of that beautiful man in this place talking about me. Maybe the heat of the oven was getting to me too. I felt it on my own cheeks now. 
“Oh please. Here, take these.” He handed me two plates with fresh banana bread slices. “And go get to talking so you can stop talking to me about it. Go. Go!” He shooed me out of the back room, grabbing those mitts to swat me with if necessary. I scurried away, plates in hand to sit at my usual table, a new guest sitting in front of me. 
That damned morning sun cast a soft orange glow across the room, bathing Chris in almost an angelic halo. His shining eyes were even more so when they saw me coming his way. I had never had anyone look at me quite like that before, like I carried all of his happiness within me. My swallow was thick. I had to look away for a moment so I wouldn’t go blind. I placed one plate in front of him and sat across the table. 
“Fresh bread from the master himself. Don’t try to pay for it though, he’ll yell at you until you leave.” Chris chuckled, nodding as he broke off a piece and dropped it into his mouth. His eyes went wide. 
“Holy fuck, that’s good.” I nodded slowly. 
“That’s why we sell his stuff. He’s the best baker in town. What he should do is hire more help around here. It’s just him.” I broke off a piece of my own slice and let the heavenly warmth lure me into heaven for a momentum savoring the taste. I sighed before opening my eyes to see Chris watching me eat. “What?” 
“Nothing.” He said to his piece, trying to hide his grin. He took another piece off. “Alright. Go ahead and take out that list that I know you have and we can go through it together.” I slowly shook my head but retrieved my list anyways. 
“You wait until you need something and one of my lists saves you. See who’s complaining then.” I unfolded the paper, scanning it over once more. I tried not to let the tremor in my hands show too much. “Well, first thing’s first: the boys. Obviously, we have to tell Minho because, let’s face it, he’ll find out eventually. And I think it’ll be better if it comes from us. You know how he can get.” Chris nodded as he chewed. 
“I agree we should tell him, but not until we know for sure.”
“I can agree to that.” I mentally checked it off. “What about the others? Do we need to tell them?” He watched his plate, carefully thinking. 
“Unless they guess, I’m not telling them. You know they’ll just taunt us the whole time.” 
“That’s true. I can see Han now.” And I could. See how he would yell at the top of his lungs something super embarrassing while the dining room was full of guests. Or Hyunjin making kissing noises in my ear while I was cleaning something. “Yeah, let’s wait on that one. Unless it comes up, let’s not tell them directly.” Chris nodded again and watched me take another bite. “If you don’t stop staring at me, I’ll think I have something on my face.”
“You don’t, I promise. I would tell you.” I raised my eyebrow at him and quickly wiped my mouth with a napkin.while eyeing him with narrowed eyes. 
“Moving on.” I said while waiting for his laughter to subside. “First date. I’m telling you this now so that you can decide if you want to back out.” I connected my fingers as I counted off my expectations. “You’re picking me up. You’re paying for the first one, but I believe in equality. You get one, I’ll get the next and so on. If you’re paying, you’re picking the place. If I’m paying, I’m picking. Unless there’s somewhere we really want to try or something we want to do, sound good?”
“My mother raised me as such, so yes. Sounds good.” You could’ve knocked me over with a breath when he smiled. I didn’t realize how much I had grown to care for it. 
“Okay, great.” I couldn’t help but smile back. “Next.” I looked down at my list, my eyes going straight to the bottom. I remembered debating whether to bring it up at all, deciding it was vital. “About that thing I caught you doing.” He smiled dropped immediately and his eyes shuttered from that open invitation to closed tight. He quickly looked around to scope out the surroundings while he waited. “You can’t be doing that.”
“I haven’t been. Living with Minho has stopped that from being an option. You saw to that.” 
“I know. But I just wanted to make sure because I can’t be with someone like that. I can’t be scared of what you’re doing when you’re not with me. I don’t want to find you dead somewhere and not know why or how or who to go after. But if you say you’re done, then I believe you. I won’t question it further.” It was his turn to avoid my eyes, his now empty plate the point of focus. I leaned down to try and catch his eye. “One day, I’d like to hear that story.”
“And one day, I might tell you.” It would be a matter of trust and time, then. He would open up eventually, I just had to be patient. And I would be. For now. 
My phone buzzed in my pocket at the same time Chris’s did on the table. 
“Text from Minho.” Chris said.
“‘Meeting in 15. Be there or miss the fun.’ What in the fuck?” Felix emerged from the back room once more, sporting the same confused look I was sure both Chris and I were. 
“Any idea what this is about?” He called in his deep voice.
“Not sure.” I called back as we each grabbed our things.”But if it includes you, it ought to be good.” Felix posted the sign on his door saying he was temporarily closed and locked the door behind us. 
*
The restaurant had a peaceful quality to it when it was fully closed like this. Before the hustle of people came in to disrupt it, the quiet of what I knew could be a symphony of chaos was gratifying. The silent buzzing of the ice machine and humming of the upper vent was as quiet as it could get. Sometimes when a shift was particularly busy, I would simply sit in the silence after I was done with the closing paperwork. I cherished it when I could. It was a rare calm. 
The sun waxing into it’s position higher in the sky, I was surprised more of our staff wasn’t late. Well, not really. Han, Felix, Chris, and I walked into the room to see Changbin and Minho talking quietly into their phones. Seungmin was resting his head on his arms, eyes closed with soft snores emitting from him. Hyunjin and Jeongin were the only ones missing. 
The younger burst through the door with three minutes to spare, his face flushed and his hair disheveled. Changbin hung up whatever conversation he was having to tease him. He never missed a chance to do so. 
“Didn’t even have time to brush your hair?” He whisper-shouted. He ruffled the younger boy's hair even more, earning a groan from Jeongin. “Innie, you know better than this. I raised you better.” Jeongin squirmed out from under him. 
“I know, I know.” He tried desperately running his fingers through his hair to repair whatever damage had been done. 
“Geez, Innie. Didn’t I tell you to always bring a brush with you everywhere?” Hyunjin appeared out of nowhere with a brush in hand and was holding it out to him. Jeongin took it and hurriedly ran it through his locks. All of my boys in casual clothes was a sight to behold, usually at least one of them was in work attire. But they were each dressed like they normally would be, in some variation of denim, slacks, sweaters, tanks, and tshirts. It felt like a family meeting of sorts. 
“Someone wake up Seungmin before I do.” Minho strolled back to the group, his hands now in his pockets. I searched for any sign of what this meeting could be about, but his face gave nothing away. All I could gather was that he wasn’t angry, which was always good. As Hyunjin roused Seungmin awake, we all gathered around Minho like ducklings, each taking seats around him. Chris grabbed a seat next to me, brushing our knees together as we sat. I snuck him a glance before we all turned to him. Once Minho was sure he had all of our attention, he began again. “I just got off the phone with my father, who has just told me that we have had a record-breaking year sales-wise and he would like to reward everyone for their hard work over the past few years. So, he has bought us a very nice, very fancy, four-day beach vacation, starting today.” Whoops and yells of joy rang through the empty room, bouncing off the walls and echoing around us. Some of the boys were hugging each other, others were clapping each other on the back, it was a nice ruckus to see. All I could do was smile while I looked back to Minho, who couldn’t hide his own pride in his team.
I knew his father wouldn’t have come to this conclusion on his own. Minho didn’t like to express it outwardly, but this was as much his family as his actual one. Sometimes, I thought even more so. He cared about each of us like we were his own. He fought for us when it was needed and had our backs when it wasn’t. He trusted us and encouraged the best from us without even knowing it. This was as much his gift to us as his father’s. 
Minho called for quiet. “I haven’t even told you the best part.” That pride I had seen had been replaced with something else, something more sinister. “You all have an hour to pack and be back here or you’re getting left behind. Go!” The scrambling to leave was pure chaos, everyone trying to get out the doors at the same time. I stayed put as everyone left, waiting for the rush to calm until there was only myself and Minho left. He was sitting quietly, now letting his softness out since everyone was gone. I stood to follow the rest to leave but something stopped me from opening the door. I turned back to Minho. 
“How much convincing did it take?” He didn’t look away from his phone, but his smile remained. 
“More than it should have, but they’ve earned it. They work hard so it’s about time.” He finally realized I wasn’t moving. “You better go start packing, I know how long you can take.”
“You wouldn’t leave me behind.” It was meant to be serious, but came out more breathy and high-pitched than I meant. He glanced at me from beneath his brows, like he certainly would. I tilted my head with a smirk. He relented with a breathy laugh and returned to his phone, bringing his finger to his lips and waved me off. 
*
Exactly fifty-eight minutes later, all nine of us were standing around the parking lot, baggage scattered around the gravel. Debating who would travel with whom for the two hour car ride, the discussion was going a whole lot of nowhere. Han was whining that he didn’t want to ride with Changbin, who was cackling and dragging him off towards his vehicle with frightening strength. Felix, being the softy he was, bounced towards the two with his freshly-dyed hair fluffing out in the wind and volunteered to ride with them. Han pursed his lips and crossed his arms and eventually followed Felix into the awaiting car. Minho was leaning against his own, waiting for everyone else to figure out where they were riding while checking his watch every so often. Hyunjin was sitting in the passenger seat while Seungmin was climbing into the back before Minho could protest. Jeongin was the last one to decide, standing between all of the vehicles, his head bouncing from one to the next before deciding Minho’s car was the safest. 
“You guys take all the time you need, I’m driving myself in case you lot annoy me to the point where I want to come home.” I strolled over to Minho, who sent me the address with a wink. I typed it into my maps and opened my car door to slide inside, my tshirt and jean shorts catching the eye of someone who scanned me up and down as he oh so casually made his way over to my car, eyes going left and right to see if anyone would find him and call him out.
Chris flung his bag in my backseat and slid into my passenger side seat before anyone could notice, quickly picking up his phone to give the appearance that he’d been there the whole time. He flipped his hat backwards to heighten the effect.
“Oh would you look at that?” He said nonchalantly, face still buried in his phone. “I seem to have found myself in your car. Oh well. Guess I’m riding with you.” A slow smirk grew on those plush lips as he continued to scroll, a matching one on mine as I took up the wheel. Car after car rolled out of the parking lot as we followed them out onto the interstate. A comfortable silence fell over us as he took over my speakers, filling it with his own music taste. I hadn’t been able to get the thought of his music setup out of my head since we helped him unpack at Minho’s, how complex the setup had seemed. It looked as if he had been gathering equipment for a while, gaining enough knowledge to know what was the best quality. 
“Trade one secret talent for another?” I wiggled my eyebrows at him. He looked at me like I had suggested we crash the car. Then slowly, he shrugged his shoulders with a small smile. 
“Fine, but you’re going first.”
“Alright, but the only rule is you can’t look at me or else I’ll lose my nerve.” I let my nervous laughter escape me. I glanced over just in time to see his nod of agreement, his eyes sparkling in interest. “Give me your phone.” He dropped it in my outstretched hand and I pulled up the music app, going straight for my favorite show tune of the moment. The beginning piano keys paired with the familiar percussions of What Baking Can Do from the musical Waitress soundtrack boomed through the speakers. I settled into the familiar headspace I had when I sang, letting the music come through me and pretended I was alone so the threat of nerves wouldn’t threaten my voice. It rarely worked but it was worth a shot. Chris just stared at his hands, unmoving as the tune progressed. It was like he could focus on nothing else while it played, his other senses shutting down as he put all his effort into listening. He listened with his whole body it seemed, every part of him still.
When the song ended, I could only watch the street in front of me, my heartbeat a drum in my chest. It was a thick silence. A small voice that was not mine broke it. 
“Am I allowed to look at you now?” I snickered.
“Yes but I make no promises that I’ll be able to do the same.” I hit the steering wheel for emphasis. 
“You can really sing.” It was one of those voices he had where you could hear the smile even without looking at him. The flush of blood to my face was immediate.
“Your turn. Lay it on me.” Taken aback at my sudden turn on him, his open grin shifted to one that didn’t reach all the way across his lips. He nodded and returned to his phone, his thumb scrolling through whatever he was doing until a repeating piano key rang through. 
“Same rule applies to you. Don’t you dare look at me.” He said, holding up a finger in warning. 
“Okay.” The upturned corners of my mouth slowly started to sink as a lilting voice hit my ears. It sounded vaguely familiar, that voice. The lyrics were so sad, playing into the notes of the piano so fluidly. How could I forget? The day you lied to me. The lyrics hit me like water splashed on my face. The overwhelming sadness in what was being laid out in front of me was like a weight settling into my chest and I suddenly understood some of the pain he had been carrying around was all he had to hold onto and this was his way of letting it go, letting it free. His voice was ethereal, his high notes forcing every emotion to the surface. 
As the end of the piano faded out, I was speechless. It was as though Chris had told me more than just one secret just now, more than just a passion project he was working on. It felt like a peak into his soul, what drove him and why. It was up to me to decipher just how exactly it affected me but the pieces of the puzzle were there. He would hand them to me, one by one. Eventually. I cleared my throat.
“I don’t have any words.”
“That bad, huh?” He gave me a sheepish smile. I shook my head so quickly my ponytail whacked my neck multiple times.
“No Chris, not at all. It was like…” I tried to put the emotions into words, finding it harder when he was waiting. “It felt like you. I feel like I just got a peek into your mind for the first time. Have you ever shown that to anyone?” He shook his head, keeping his eyes down. 
“You’re the first.”
“Oh wow.” I sat fully back in my seat, trying to get oxygen back to my lungs, my brain so I could form coherent thoughts again. “Thank you. For that.”
“Thanks for wanting to hear it.” More silence as the road passed under us.
“Have you ever been to the beach?” He put his phone in his lap and adjusted himself so he was staring out the window without straining himself. He sighed. 
“I grew up near one actually. My mom would take me and my sisters all the time. I would go with friends when I was young.” I couldn’t quite see his face as he spoke, but the shift in his tone was enough for me to guess what kind of memories it brought up. “I would love coming home with sand in my shoes. The post-beach shower when you’ve been in the sun all day? There’s really nothing like it. Putting on a fresh pair of comfortable clothes too, my mom cooking dinner and my sisters watching TV…” He trailed off, leaving me lost in his memories too. I could see it, him in his cutoff t shirt watching his family be themselves. It was a nice picture. “I miss them. A lot.”
It was the first time he had mentioned his family in the present. Every other time had been in the past, recalling a memory or dream of some kind. He inhaled sharply. 
“Is there a way you could visit? I’m sure they’d love to see you.” It took everything in me to keep my eyes on the road, my hand itching to grab his in comfort. He turned away from the passing scenery to angle his body towards me. 
“I don’t know where they went. They’re off, safe somewhere I hope. I’ve thought about reaching out but everytime I pull up a message box, I lose my nerve and close it again. Over and over, again and again. Year after year.” My arm moved of its own accord as I felt it grab his fingers and lock them. He moved his opposite hand over mine and encased it between his. 
“It’s okay, we don’t have to talk about it if you’re not ready.” I gave him my best comforting smile. His eyes were beginning to sparkle, the kind of glint when you’re tearing up.
“I want to be ready. I want to tell you everything.” 
“But you’re not. And it’s okay. We’ll get there, don’t worry. There’s no rush.” I squeezed his hand. He squeezed right back. 
“Thank you.” He brought my hand to his lips and held it there for a few seconds. I couldn’t help the flush this time either. I felt the reaction to let go shoot down my arm but he was having none of it as he held tighter.  
“We should probably discuss what we’re going to do about this weekend. If you can’t keep your hands to yourself, they’re going to get suspicious.” I nudged his knee with my knuckle, earning a laugh. 
“I say as long as we can keep our interactions friendly, there shouldn’t be a problem. But that does push our date back until we get back, which is an awfully long time to wait.” I pursed my lips, thinking. 
“Hmm. Yes, indeed it is.”
“Unless I’m allowed to find a quiet moment on this trip to officially ask you to be mine…” A shiver ran down my spine. This man wants me to be his. A cautious grin spread on both of our faces. If I was able to look into his eyes, really look into them, I would’ve been able to see the sincerity in which he meant those words. He would make me his whether he had a moment or not.. 
“If you can find the perfect moment, I’ll say yes. But it has to be perfect. Okay?” I heard a hushed ‘yes whisper-shouted in victory and beamed.
*
Hours and pointless, laughter-filled conversations later, we each received the group text from Minho stating the conditions of our arrival. We each would receive our own key, which we would return upon departure. Failure to do so would result in a fee and a ‘serious talking to’ from Changbin. Respecting the property was a must, including but not limited to excessive partying, broken items, or damage to the pool and/or hot tub. Failure to comply would result in a fee and a ‘bitching out’ from Minho. 
“Looks like we’re definitely reaching beach city.” I said. After hours of passing nothing but trees and winding roads, we finally came upon a small town with pastels and different hues of beige lumps for houses, all ranging from single shacks to sand castles in their own right. They all were characterized with their own charms, a garden of rose bushes in front of one, surfboards leaning against most of them. 
“Do you surf?” I asked while I had the thought. 
“I used to. I haven’t in years though. I was never good at it.”
“Of course you do.” I said under my breath, the hint of yearning in his voice not lost on me. He seemed good at everything he did, never forthright with his skill though. It had this subtle power of making you want to root for him, no matter what the condition.
The houses were lined along the gravel road on each side, the ocean not too far off. Within walking distance if anyone desired to do so, but far enough that they would be safe from the high tide. Flashes of lime green and yellow houses caught my eye as I drove down the long street, myself and Chris each looking at our respective sides. I recognized Minho's and Changbin’s cars in the distance in front of us, leading the way. Palm trees scattered along each way only added to the cheerful demeanor of the town and with the sun shining so brightly high in the blue, it was shaping up to be a beautiful day for such an occasion. 
“I never asked you. Have you ever been to the beach?” He asked while still watching each house pass by.
“Only a few times. I promised myself I would live in a beach house when I was a kid.”
“Ha! I said the same thing.” He squeaked out another laugh. The familiar cars in front of us turned and disappeared behind a cove of trees lining a paved driveway, even more winding and eventually coming up to a gate where the other two cars were parked in front of and the rest of the gang were standing and stretching around them. Minho was punching some numbers into a keypad on a metal pole in front of the elaborate gated way, gold rods interconnecting to keep out strangers. The gate stood before a circular driveway that stood before a tall, three-story house with white railing alongside the middle floor. There was a built-in section off to the side, open for the elements to be enjoyed. The stairs leading up to the front door were painted white, narrowing the closer to the house you got. The black shutters on the windows complimented the gray paint on the house nicely, making for a classic look without taking away from the nature surrounding it. The black metal fence peeked out from the back, hiding what could only be a backyard big enough for the impending shenanigans to come. The house loomed before us, a haven from the outside world and far enough away from everything else that everyone could go as nuts as they wanted to. 
Minho coughed very loudly to chase the clammor away and regain the attention as the gates swung inside for us to enter. The chatter died down as we all turned to Minho for further instructions. 
“I’m handing out the keys before we get in because once we’re in there, I don’t want to see any of you until dinner. This house is big enough that I should be able to get my wish.” Minho went around to each of us, staring directly into each person’s eyes as he handed them out. “Any damage done to this place will result in the repairs coming out of your own pockets. If it doesn’t need repairing, I don’t want to hear about it. Now be gone.” Most of the boys ran up the twenty or so steps to the front door in a race to claim the best bedroom. Some of them went through the opening in the gate to see what awaited us in the backyard. I just watched them all run around like teenagers, the yelling and shouts of excitement coming from inside and outside. 
When all that remained was myself and Minho, we each grabbed our own luggage from our respective cars and dragged it up the stairs. 
“What’re the dinner plans?” He smirked at me.
“I’m planning on holding a tournament and the loser has to go grocery shopping for us all.” I nodded, amusement taking over my features. As we entered the main floor, my jaw dropped. 
The opening room was enormous. Open floor plan with a kitchen in the back corner, a door to the open attachment I noticed earlier had an outdoor eating area and a grill that I’m sure would be occupied come dinner time. An island sat in the middle, marble countertops lining the walls with the dark wooden cabinets above. The fridge was a double-doored mountain that was tucked into its place in the wall, just jutting out enough for us to access it. If I turned my head further right, I could see the huge indoor dining table, enough to seat ten and making it a perfect fit for all of us. The windows on the walls shone on the worn tabletop, showing the years of wear and tear and proving the space was lived in. The chairs were perfectly in place, showing the others hadn’t messed with it yet.
Turning my head to my left to the open lounging area was when my already opened mouth fell all the way down. The soft light green walls wrote the perfect invitation to cool off in the area, the dark wood framed couches and white cushions adding to the air of comfort. The plus white rug was centered in the middle of the room, outlined by the matching smaller couch and end tables in each corner. Everything was facing the huge television mounted on the wall with every gaming system on trend since the early 1990s sitting beneath it on the low table, waiting to be used. A karaoke machine was amongst them, and I knew who would be the first to pick up the mic. 
The pool table was occupied by Chris and Changbin, already setting up the balls for a game for who got the bigger room downstairs. The other ruckus was coming from either set of stairs, shouting and expletives coming from just about everywhere. I followed the string of waterscapes downstairs rather than the shell drawings leading upwards. The walk down was short without my suitcase behind me, unknowingly leaving it behind me as I lowered down to the scene in front of me. 
It was a huge basement game room, complete with, what I was told, two bedrooms  and a full bathroom. Each room had a trundle bed, sleeping options available for two in the room if needed. The walls were in the same shade of green the living room was, the dark black rattan couches tucked away into a small corner. No one seemed to be paying much attention to who was coming down though, too busy playing the old Pac-man game and Street Fighter stations in the corner or the basketball set-up close by. Hyunjin was cheering Jeongin on at Pac-man and Minho had taken over Street Fighter, quiet compared to Hyunjin’s loud cheering. Han was shooting baskets to his heart’s content as I walked over to him to inform him of my discovery. His eyes shot open and his brows upwards. 
“Where is it?!” He shouted, bolting up the stairs now towards the karaoke machine. “How did I miss it?!”
I chuckled, watching his little legs run as fast as they could before the music playing at full volume masked Hyunjin’s cheers, even when he was a foot away from my ears.  I looked back over to Innie, who was completely consumed by his game, his tongue poking out between his teeth. His concentration was admirable sometimes. I glanced around the room, taking in the rest of the room and all it had to offer before going back upstairs to the music and Han’s very loud voice.
The sunlight was peeking in through the sliding doors, left open just a crack as more voices were coming in. I followed them out to see Felix and Seungmin in a small hot tub, big enough for a few people. The thought struck me that if all of us were to attempt to get in, it would definitely be a tight squeeze. Some people might even have to sit on the edges. 
“How are you guys not boiling up in the heat?” I asked, my brows raised. 
“The heat takes a minute. Now it’s just lukewarm water with jets.” Seungmin replied, eyes never opening with his head resting on the side, facing the burning sun. Felix was across from him in a similar position.
“Okay, well, don’t forget sunscreen or you’ll roast like a chicken.” I poked back through the way I came out, Felix’s ‘thank you, MOM!’ making me shake my head and smile. 
Back inside, Chris and Changin had paused their game to watch Han’s performance, intermittently laughing when he did something funny. Which was always. I couldn’t help but notice Chris’s eyes disappearing while he watched Han sing. He looked relaxed for the first time since he started with us. His hat was still backwards, probably so that he could see to shoot the cue balls straight but now, it was for watching Han do anything and everything to keep them looking at him. I stood and watched him for a second, leaning against the sliding doors behind me as Jeongin appeared from downstairs. 
“I heard singing and I came up.”
“And?” I teased. Jeongin gave me a knowing look and came closer to whisper to me. 
“And Hyunjin kicked me off when I lost.” I nodded.
“You guys have fun with this, I’m going to see where the biggest bedroom is and steal it. Jeongin nodded and I grabbed my bag and headed up the stairs where it was quiet.
These stairs were softer, carpeting leading the way from the hardwood floors below. The stairs ended with a long hallway with several doors on each side, each leading to a bedroom with a different color theme. The first door on my left had a bunk bed and bathed in navy blue. Pictures of Sailboats littered the walls and a dark wood dresser stood beside a small closet with a small lamp on top. The room diagonal to that on on my right was cascaded in yellow, with a queen size bed in the middle. No dresser, but a TV on the wall and a closet tucked in the corner. I made a mental note about this room and moved on to the next. A large King sized bed was in the pink-painted room next door, complete with a flowery comforter on the top and pink and white pillows. This room had two dressers and no closet, with a small television propped on top of the closest to the bed. The last room was a light blue just like the first, bunk beds and no TV. I knew that would cause a problem later, which would have some very funny consequences. 
The last few doors were full bathrooms, totaling three. There would be plenty of beds but the bathrooms would have to be shared. Good thing these boys were so used to sharing…
The screen door at the very end of the hall led to the porch outside, where old wooden rocking chairs were placed to look at the ocean and the streets not-that-far off. It was a perfect getaway. Minho’s feather found a great place, although I wasn’t sure it was him who found it after all. Minho had a way of knowing things that he shouldn’t. It was a secret talent of his. The breeze touched my cheek, gently bringing the smell of the water with it. I had to close my eyes and take it all in. Having a moment to myself, I was able to finally go through my thoughts and how I felt about the one person who was on my mind constantly. 
How come he finally snapped? What was it about that moment that compelled him to tell me his true feelings? It wasn’t like he never had the chance before. There had been… moments. But I assured he was just trying to get to know me? Could those have been when he was trying to show me how he felt? There was so much to try and decipher with him. But for now, that could wait until we got back into the city. I took down my hair to let it breathe in the air and took one last look at the scenery before going inside to claim the yellow bedroom for myself. 
It wasn’t until I heard the stomps soften on the carpet while I was unpacking that everyone else had the same thought I had. Different clamors happening in each room, fights over the bunk beds, which drawers they would get, and so on. Jeongin popped his head into my room and looked around, eyes wide. 
“You were smart to get up here first. Although with you being the only girl, I’m sure everyone else would’ve given you your own room anyways.” 
“Who’s fighting out there?” I walked over to the doorway towards the commotion to see Han and Chanbin on the top and bottom bunks of the dark blue room while Hyunjin and Seungmin debated with Felix over who got the top bunk down the hall. Hyunjin had his eyes closed on the bottom, interjecting everytim Seungmin would say something.
“I’ll just cuddle up to Hyunjin then.” Felix’s blue head dove for Hyunjin, who’s eyes flashed open just in time to see him coming and scream. A few kicks of the blanket and grumbles, Felix’s head was attached to Hyunjin’s shoulder and Hyunjin’s face had dropped into a set expression, begrudgingly accepting what was happening. Seungmin had climbed on the top bunk and settled. 
“You guys know there’s beds downstairs, right?” They blinked back at me, bewildered that I dare suggest such a thing. I threw my hands up in defense and backed out slowly to investigate further down the hall. 
Minho had taken over the pink room with the biggest bed, his bag open and spread out to claim his territory and literally growling at anyone who dared come more than two steps into the room. Chris and Changbin were looking at all the occupied rooms and turned to each other. 
“Looks like we’ve got the downstairs all to ourselves.” Changbin clapped him on the shoulder as Chris gave me a knowing look that seemed to say ‘you got a room to yourself?’ I just shrugged and smirked at him. He shot one back, having the same thought.
“If everyone is done fighting over sleeping arrangements that you all know will change over the course of the next few days, meet downstairs!” I shouted and headed down the stairs, closing the door to my room behind me. Some followed, some didn’t. It was a funny picture actually, like a mother duck and her ducklings crossing the road.
We fanned out in the sitting area, waiting for the rest of them to follow and take their own bags to the rooms they had chosen. When everyone had done so and gathered in the sitting area on the middle floor, Minho stood in front of them like he was ready to present something to a room full of business colleagues. 
“We’re having a tournament downstairs for dinner. Loser buys and shops for groceries for the whole weekend and takes one victim with them.” He looked around for any objection, finding none, and went downstairs. 
“Minho, what are we playing?” Han asked, the echoes bouncing off the walls of the stairwell. 
“Basketball.” Minho responded without turning, finding the bottom floor and heading straight for the propped game in the corner. 
“But I’m no good at sports…” Han grumbled. “Why can’t we do the karaoke machine instead?” He finished under his breath. Chris clapped his shoulder.
“Don’t you worry, little buddy. There has to be someone worse than you.” I could only picture the eye Han was giving him. 
“Alright losers. Line up. Any order, I don’t care. Stop pushing him, Changbin.” Hyunjin stepped up first and with all the elegance and grace he had stored in his skinny little body, he sunk it right in. Everyone ooohh’d and ahhh’d appropriately as he walked away with a very cocky smile. I flicked his forehead as he passed me. 
“Stop that.” I joked. “You’ll get a big head.”
“I got it in first try!” He whined, holding his hands to his forehead. “No fair.”
Jeongin went next, missing and looking at Minho nervously. 
“You haven’t lost yet. We still need to see who else misses.” Minho’s words reassured him and he went back in line. Changbin sunk his, as did Chris. Seungmin missed and looked at Jeongin. 
“We can go together, I don’t mind.” Jeongin looked hopeful to have a willing victim.
Minho went next and sunk it in, going back to leaning on the wall to watch everyone. I was next. I blamed my sweaty hands and the multitude of eyes looking at me for how badly I missed at such a close range, and I went to stand with the rest of the losers. Han, to his and everyone else’s surprise, made his shot. He turned, an equally shocked expression on all of our faces, his mixed with delight. His arms flung up in the air and he paraded down the line, collecting high fives from all of us. Felix missed his shot, shrugged, and stood with the rest of us, queuing up to go again. Jeongin fiddled with the ball, looking nervous. Minho watched him. 
“Do I have to cook too?” Minho shook his head. Jeongin breathed a sigh of relief and sunk the ball. A huge smile spread across his face as he joined the winners, more high fives going around. Seungmin shot again and missed. He turned back, looking more annoyed than anything. Felix took his turn next and made it. He danced to the other side of winners. I looked at Seungmin. 
“Minnie? Will you come with me when I lose?” He smiled at me and nodded. I stared down the menacing hoop with a net, took another breath, and made the shot. My mouth fell open. “Since you said yes, I’ll say yes too.” I let Seungmin look at the others before volunteering to go with him. He shook me off. 
“No, you stay with the heathens. I’m taking Hyunjin since he wanted to be cocky about it.” All the boys turned to see Hyunjin’s shocked face and bursted out laughing. Seungmin did the smart thing and took off up the stairs before Hyunjin started chasing after him, passing by in a blur of blonde hair. 
“Kim Seungmin, you will pay for this!” 
*
After the two boys left with a laundry list of groceries to get, the others spread back out to explore the house for themselves. I went to the back yard, complete with a small pool and a soccer goal. The trees provided just enough shade to cover the pool from the beating of the sun. A small shed in the back equipped with what I could only assure to be pool floaties and maintenance things. After about three seconds of contemplation, I rushed back to my haven upstairs to put on the only swimsuit I owned. A plain black two-piece with simple straps going over my shoulders was all the appeal I could muster, knowing the boys around me (except one) had seen me in it before. That didn’t help the feeling of slight anxiety as I pulled the bottoms on and grabbed a big tshirt to walk around in and rushed back to the pool, Jeongin and Felix asking where I was going from their spot at the pool table. 
“There’s a pool outside! Come on!” They glanced at each other and raced to put their suits on as well. I opened the door leading to the back and walked down the matching stairs to the grass waiting for me at the bottom, trekking through it to dip my toe into the water. It was just the perfect balance of cool for anyone wanting to jump in. The breeze wafting, casting a chill on my skin despite the warm summer air. I was just about to walk down the ladder when I heard a screech behind me and feet rushing on the grass. A flash of blue and blonde hair, the two boys grabbed their legs to their chest, and shouted “Cannonball!” 
“Felix!” I shouted, bracing my rms before my face to stop whatever I could. Of course it was useless. My mouth fell open at them both, shock still evident. My tongue poked through my cheek, the smirk growing. “You both are gonna get it now.” I dashed for the shed five feet away and flung open the doors to find that I was right. Deflated floaties littered the floor as well as old crates of… There. I grabbed one and hid it behind my back, moving as slowly as I could nearer to the water without bringing attention to myself. I lowered the water gun to the water to fill it, and aimed at that blue head. I hit him square in the back of his wet head. 
“Ah!” His hand flung to the back of his head, spinning to find where the surprise attack came from. We locked eyes, both of us smiling. 
 The yells echoed throughout the house, causing the rest of the boys to see what all the ruckus was about. Seeing the water fight that started caused a flurry of them running back inside to get their own suits and they emerged, one by one. Changbin asked where I got the water gun and I pointed him in the direction of the house and I took what cover I could behind the childrens playhouse. Teams were selected and lines were drawn. Friend turned on friend. 
It wasn’t pretty. 
*
Hours later, showered and clothed, I had brought the boys to repair their temporarily burned bridges and put on a movie. Felix had started a cuddle-puddle, all the boys had piled on top of themselves and refused to get up, even with the extra seats I brought them. Sometimes it was a nice reminder how close they had become, how much of a family we all had grown to be. Moreso a family than my actual family. And I knew most of them would say the same. 
Chris had found himself on the outskirts of the pile, begrudgingly having Han’s head on his arm and eyes glued to the movie. From my place on the comfy chair, I was able to look at them, really look at all of them. The faces I knew as well as my own, and the one I was getting to know. 
His face was blank when he was concentrating. And when he concentrated a little too hard, his lips would purse ever so slightly. His eyes would twinkle at whatever he was looking at, and I wondered what he looked like when he made music. The song he showed me still rang through my mind, itching to look deeper into the lyrics and the sadness behind them. If I thought harder about them, the sadder they became. It brought the question to the forefront. What happened to you? Who hurt you? The longer I had these thoughts, the more I watched him. He seemed relaxed. No trace of anything dark beneath that dark curly hair. He must have felt my gaze on him, because he turned his head just enough to see me. His face softened, a slight smile gracing his features. I shook my head, knowing that someone would catch us locking eyes. I nudged my head back to the television and followed my own gaze, feeling the sear of his eyes on my cheek as I tried my best not to look back at him. My resistance didn’t last long. When I looked back, his smile had grown wider. 
This boy will be the death of me…
My thoughts were interrupted by the return of Seungmin and Hyunjin, bags in hand. 
“More in the car. If you want anything from them, help us unload.” Heading Hyunjin’s warning, we all picked ourselves up from underneath the blankets and trudged outside, grabbing bags. 
“If I had known I would be doing any kind of manual labor, I would’ve stayed home.” 
“Han, this barely qualifies as manual labor.” Minho was quick to retort. “And we all know you would’ve blown up all of our phones if we left you behind, BEGGING us to stop and pick you up.” 
“‘You guyyyss!! This isn’t fair!’” Changbin pitched his voice up. “‘Come back!’ That’s what you would say and you know it!” Laughter drowned out Han’s whiny protests, insisting he ‘ so does NOT sound like that’ as he followed everyone else up the front stairs. 
*
Dinner was as much chaos as it could’ve been. Changbin got stuck doing dishes, grumbling at the sink. SO much so that he had convinced Chris to help him. I had drifted into the hot tub, letting my back rest on the waterproof cushions lined along the sides. The stars had been particularly bright tonight, and I had found my constellation, even way out here. That little piece of home that seemed to follow me everywhere I went. It was a comfort.
I was brought out of my head with the opening and closing of the sliding door. Felix had come out to join me, back in his suit from before.
“Room for one more?”
“Of course.”
He gently lowered himself across from me, careful not to splash around. When he was settled, he looked down at his hands, pruning from the constant submersion of the day. He seemed quiet. I scanned his face, searching. 
“Felix?” He looked up, the low hum of the jets loud in our ears. He sighed. His voice was low, to keep it away from prying ears.
“I just want you to be careful. I don’t know what I would do if he hurt you. I like him, I really do. But just know that I’ll be watching him.” His words of comfort brought a smile to my face.
“You’re always looking out for me, aren’t you, Lixie?” He was serious as he nodded. As lightly as I tried to make it, I felt the gravity of his emotions in his words. I didn’t break his gaze. I nodded, thanking him for his watchful eye. He finally smiled back at me, just in time to be distracted by Minho opening the door and climbing in beside me. 
“Ahhhhhh.” He sighed and settled in, closing his eyes in relaxation. 
“Careful, Minho. The owners will notice if the whole hot tub is missing.” He contorted his face, wordlessly moving his lips. I smacked his arm, making him giggle. 
Hyunjin was peeling Minnie’s arms off of him when they came out. 
“Get off of me, you’re clingier than plastic wrap.”
“Don’t act like you don’t secretly love it.”
“Seungmin, I will stuff your pillow with leaves tonight. Get away from me.”
Hyunjin sat on my other side and filled his pressed hands with water, threatening it in Seungmin’s direction. Minnie held up his arms and sat across from him on the ledge, calves in the water while the rest of his body was out. Chris came out with Han in tow.
“You would tell me if my voice sounded like that, wouldn’t you?” Chris was fighting a smile, nodding his head in doing whatever he could to get him to focus on anything else. Hyunjin pulled Han down beside him, Han hissing at the sudden shock to his system with the hot water. Chris picked a spot beside Felix, sitting on the edge of the tub and quickly eyed me. His eyes stopped for a second too long on my exposed neckline before flickering back up to my face. My arms shot up to cover as much of myself as I thought I could, giving him the most incredulous look I could muster. He had the decency to look slightly embarrassed. 
I picked up my phone from the space behind Minho and sent a text. 
Me: Whatcha lookin at? 
Chris: …busted.
I giggled to myself. My thumbs were hovering over the keyboard when another text appeared. 
Chris: Water’s never been so cruel
I shook my head again. Bringing my eyes back to the group, I couldn’t help finding him looking back at me. I wagged my finger at him, small movements so no one would sense it. He was smiling at me, warmer than the water I was chest-deep in. I’d never seen someone’s eyes shine like that. Especially looking at me. No one had looked at me like that before. 
Changbin had finished the dishes and was now climbing into the center of the tub, splashing everyone and bringing our attention back to the group. We all had a good laugh at his antics and the night passed on with subtle glances and a racing heartbeat.
*
Retiring to my room was met with protests and attempts at convincing me to stay.
“Come on, you’ll miss Jeongin getting his ass whooped at Pac-Man!”
“As much fun as that sounds, Hyunjin, I think this mother needs her beauty rest. Think of it this way: I get sleep and a break from all of you for a few hours, and I don’t have to kill you tomorrow. How does that sound?”
I walked away to a few grumbles, laughing and shaking my head once more. I savored the quiet of the house, the creaking of the stairs as I climbed. I shut my door and changed into my pants and big shirt again, determined to force my heart to slow down before I could fall asleep. All my thoughts were of him, the way he kept glancing my way, how my body would react to him, my pulse quickening. If I had any shot of sleeping tonight, I needed to distract myself properly. I shuffled through the shows on TV, found a classic and let it play. I watched until I couldn’t fight my eyelids anymore. 
I was in and out, the light on the bedside table keeping me out of a deep sleep. I thought I had dreamed of my door opening, but the creaks were too familiar. I fluttered my eyes open to see Chris shutting my door, his back turned to me. 
“What do you think you’re doing?” My voice was heavy with sleep, not coming out in full force.
“Changbin snores like a lawn mower. You can hear throughout the whole floor. I’ll be out of here before everyone else wakes up.” His sheepish smile told me he was going out on a limb, trying his luck upstairs. With me. 
“This doesn’t mean I’m letting you in my bed! Sleep on the floor. There’s more blankets in the closet.” He pouted, glancing from the closet back to me, back to the closet. “Ugh. Fine.” I flung the comforter open, letting him in. “But only because I’m cold.”
He practically danced over towards the bed before snuggling in. I turned my back towards him, not letting him see the grin begging to be let out. 
“Well, if you’re cold, then I should help with that.” He flicked off the light and scooted closer, making the bed dip the closer he got. “You know, because I’m such a nice guy.”
“Oh, you’re such a nice guy, huh? Yeah, okay.” My laughs came out more as scoffs.Then out of nowhere, strong arms, arms I had seen and imagined against my will, snaked around my waist. My back hit his chest as he closed the open space, and his body hit me like a heat wave and lulled me into the best sleep I’d had in years. No energy left to read into what he meant by this action, or any of his actions of the day. None left to think about what this could mean. Just body heat and a comfort I had never known. 
Until I heard through the distance of my subconscious a creak of my bedroom door. I fought the sunlight coming in through the window until I couldn’t and opened my eyes. Chris’s arms were still around me, his faint snores close to my ears. It took a minute for my still-sleeping brain to realize that the door creak I heard hadn’t been in my dream. My neck moved to see Minho, hand still on the doorknob, staring at Chris’s arm.
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lumine-no-hikari · 5 months ago
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Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #192
Today's letter is probably going to be somewhat short; my whole body is crackling with energy and I gotta do… something that is a bit more taxing on the brain than writing. Writing is easy. Writing to you is especially easy.
Last night, I added a temporary supplement to my diet. I took it at around 7pm yesterday. I didn't notice any difference at all, until I went to sleep.
Last night, I had multiple very vivid dreams about you doing very ordinary things. There was one in which you were washing dishes. Another in which you were folding laundry. Another in which you were sitting in a house, eating a delicious meal, laughing and talking with some others whose faces and bodies were blurred and unrecognizable. There was another in which you were playing Elden Ring, and asking the person next to you (also blurred) for advice because you were struggling with some part. There was another in which you were wiggling around some kind of toy for some cats. There was yet another in which you were walking through some trails in the woods. There were more - just brief snippets of things, each lasting no longer than a few minutes. In all of these you were just wearing ordinary clothing - comfy jeans, hiking boots, and a loose-fitting T-shirt. You had a kerchief on top of your head with your hair tied back for a few of these sequences.
...I wasn't able to remember these very well when I woke up. I find it interesting that the memories from this series of dreams are coming back to me as I try to write them down. In any case... this is most unusual. Normally, I don't dream at all, and when I do, something horrible is usually happening to me in it, until I wake up. But for this... when I woke up, the resulting feelings were so lovely that my eyes almost leaked. My eyes are almost leaking even as I recall it now. I can say with absolute certainty that I've never had a dream so wonderful as this before.
I completed my training for my new job today, and next week officially begins my first week of work; I have 8 hours next week on two days - Thursday and Saturday. But this is not the important part; it is small, trivial potatoes. It is nothing. The important part is this:
I might, potentially, have an opportunity to give you the locket I made for you. Do you remember it? It's this one; I wrote about how I made it in my 53rd letter to you:
Tumblr media Tumblr media
...I can't believe that, counting today's, I've written 139 letters to you since making this... I wonder if you've been receiving them... Hm...
I'm not gonna give you the details about how I'm gonna get it to you just yet. But… that is the intention. That is the plan. Preparations are underway, and part of those preparations are already completed. J is gonna handle the logistics of the rest of it because, of the two of us, J is the most impacted by things such as planning and whatnot. J gets overwhelmed easily by things such as transportation and lodging, you see.
…I just hope that those very important people will agree to see me a second time. I'm aware that they might not, and of course, I will not push if I am told no; I respect other humans, and I already know that I got astoundingly lucky last time; it is why my best handicraft and why my very first letter to you is already where they live, a continent and an ocean away from me. Admittedly, I am worried about pushing my luck and potentially angering or frightening people, even though that is absolutely not my intention.
But… if it's for your sake, I have to try. Even if it doesn't work out, it's worth the risk. If there is the smallest chance you might smile, if there's the smallest chance that you might think that you can still find belonging and compassion in this world, if there's the smallest chance that you might feel just a little better… I'm willing to try anything that is within my power to do.
Even though it's not gonna happen for a while yet, I still feel like my stomach is doing acrobatics inside my body. So I'm gonna eat something, drink some water, and try to get my mind off it for now. I might play some Dead Cells, and hope that the energy coursing through my body and crackling along my hands gives me a little extra "oomph" as I do so. Or I might talk to a friend. We'll see.
I'll leave you with this just in case, either way, in case you or anyone else wants to chill with me, if I play:
twitch_live
I love you. Please stay safe out there as you do your things, okay? I'll write again tomorrow. Count on it.
Your friend, Lumine
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hbyrde36 · 1 year ago
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@griefabyss69 really keeping me busy with the tag games AND I LOVE IT 💜💜💜
1. How many works do you have on AO3?
20! A few are short drabbles and one also one series that prob should have just been a multi-chaptered fic, so it sounds like a bit more than it is, but i'm super proud of my body of work so far
2. What’s your total AO3 word count?
219,683 😱- which sounds absolutely insane to me considering i just started writing/posting in February of this year.
3. What fandoms do you write for?
Only Stranger Things for now, but I could see myself doing this with future hyperfixations as well.
4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?
Times Like These
Shelter In Place
Caught in the Undertow
Life is a Game (and True Love is a Trophy)
Steve Harrington: Vampire Hunter
5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?
Yes! I don't always manage to respond to 100% of comments, but I really try because they do mean SO much to me and i want ppl to know that and to thank them for reading!
6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
I don't think I have any, at least right now, with an angsty ending. Happy endings always and forever over here 💜 Angstiest fic, in general, would be (i think) Caught in the Undertow.
7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
This is a tough one because, of course, happy endings always, but I like the hopeful and open ending to Times Like These. It's nice after all the rigamarole of the time loop.
8. Do you get hate on fics?
*knocks on wood SO hard* I have yet to get a negative comment on anything and I feel so lucky for that because I just know how dicouraging it would be. That said, it does make me wonder if I play it too safe sometimes, and so i'm considering pushing myself a bit more out of my comfort zone in the future.
9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?
I do, though usually as a small part to a larger fic. I have yet to write smut for the sake of itself. (though I do worship those authors that do. You are all wonderful and i'm not worthy!!) I'm still very self conscious of my spicy scenes, but i've been working hard at it and i'd like to think i've improved quite a bit since my first time.
10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?
I do! My fic - Steve Harrington: Vampire Hunter is the love child of Steddie and the long running Anita Blake vampire hunter novel series. It has been so much fun to write and I love every comment i get from a reader who has never even heard of Anita Blake but loved the fic anyway! From the moment I imagined Steve as Anita and Eddie as Jean-Claude, i just knew i had to do somethign with it. It's been an absolute blast and i can't believe it's almost complete.
11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?
Not that I know of!
12. Have you ever had a fic translated?
No - but that would be amazing!
13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?
I havn't, but would definetely be open to the idea with the right person. (assuming i had the time to commit to it) I am doing the reverse big bang, which is not cowriting of course but is a collaboration and i'm super excited for it.
14. What’s your all time favorite ship?
Steddie got me into this whole fandom/fanfic mess and they are without a doubt my favorite but i'll read just about any ST pairing if it's written well.
15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?
I plan to finish every project i've started, even those i'm not yet posting. For my own sanity i don't think I could leave anything unfinished (no judgement whatsoever to anyone who had left a fic unfinished though, this shit (and life) is hard sometimes!)
16. What are your writing strengths?
I don't know really, um, I think I do pretty good dialog? I know that's the part of writing I tend to enjoy the most, and the part i usually write first for any scene. I can hear my characters voices very clearly in my head so conversation comes easily and naturally most of the time.
17. What are your writing weaknesses?
Getting too caught up in the little details (and stressing about them) and letting it slow me down
18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?
I havn't done it myself but i do love it in other fics ❤
19. First fandom you wrote for?
Stranger Things/Steddie! I'm a fanfic late bloomer and only started reading it a year ago, and writing it 9 months ago.
20. Favorite fic you’ve written?
You can't make me choose! I love all my children equally!
Ok, fine. I'll say - Life is a Game (and True Love is a Trophy) is my current favorite because it is probably the most insane and creative project i've undertaken so far. It was a long time coming too. I had the idea for it way back in March, but I doubted my ability to take it on for a long time and only starting writing and posting it in july. It still feels intimidating to think about, but I love the way I've twisted canon to fit my weird idea.
No pressure tags! @penny00dreadful @thisapplepielife @manda-panda-monium @steddiecameraroll @chaosgremlinmunson @spoookysix @steventhusiast
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