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lilacgaby · 5 months ago

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02 | serenity

~2.8k

chapter select!

he woke up to nobody in his arms but a pillow.

he should've expected this. it was just a stupid dream, a hallucination caused by that idiot yesterday. he sighed disappointedly, turning over to shut off his clock when--

he saw her, eyebrows furrowed and frustrated, trying to complete the other side of the puzzle.

he let out a sigh of relief that he didn't even know he was holding. she was there, and he still couldn't believe it. still couldn't believe that the fake girl he'd crushed over since he was in middle school was alive and kicking, and that he'd be alive to see it.

"oh, hey katsuki! i finished the other side, i'd tell you to look but i had to take it apart.." she said, still trying to piece things together.

"yeah, uh. hi." he said, voice deep from sleep, until he coughed and spoke normally. "uh.. we gotta take you to my teacher today. he'll be able to tell us whatever the fuck is up with you."

"right, uh.. just quick question first."

"hm?"

"can i borrow your clothes?"

right. he smacked his forehead because of his own idiocy. he forgot to give her clothes to sleep in last night, she had to sleep in her school uniform. and he knew she hated it, she said in volume fourteen that it was uncomfortable for her, and in volume eighteen she slept in it and woke up aching! he was such a fake fan.

"yeah, yeah, of course." he got up and went to his closet. he looked for clothes that'd suit her, though he doubted he'd have anything good enough.

as he dug through his closet, she eyed the box covering a corner of his shelves. all over the shelves were merch of that one guy.. 'all-might' was his name? just who was this guy anyways, he must be pretty self obsessed. he had his own puzzle line, posters, was that a figure? hell, even the box was themed.

she got up to investigate, holding up the figure, still enclosed in a box. as she eyed it over, bakugo almost fainted at the sight of his favorite character holding his favorite hero. he kept digging into his dresser now, thinking about how his fashion designer parents would cringe at the clothes he was going to put on someone as gorgeous as her.

in [name]'s brain she thought about who was the 'all-might' equivalent in her world. imagining a police officer with posters, puzzles, and fans made her cringe externally, so she set the figure back and backed away.

accidentally hitting the box that was covering the corner of the shelves.

as she moved to fix it, she saw a bunch of manga labeled 'serenity' next to the things it was covering.

she took one and opened it to the first page. she saw... pictures of her. of her first day of school, where she ran with bread in her mouth because she was late. of her bowing profusely for being late. of her being sat between shinto and urameshi because the spot next to her friend was taken-

everything was there. she had seen it yesterday, but to see everything canonically arranged felt bizarre. she put down the book and backed away, feeling conflicted, a burning feeling in her chest.

perfectly timed though, because katsuki had managed to pull out his favorite skull t-shirt for her to wear, along with leggings that he had grown out of.

he held them out, "here, we can go shopping or something later, but this is the best i got for now."

"ah.. thank you katsuki." she walked over to the bathroom and changed. the clothes fit her surprisingly well, accentuating her body. it wasn't really her normal style.. but it'd do for now.

while she changed, bakugo called mr. aizawa to make sure he was awake and kicking. at his response, he asked if he could meet with him in an hour, because of an 'emergency.' and aizawa sleepily agreed.

as he waited for her to come out, he felt uncharacteristically antsy, with his leg bouncing up and down.

she came out, dressed in his clothes, and she looked infinitely better than the fan art he'd made of her wearing a similar outfit.

"uh.. you ready to go?"

"hm? yeah."

as they were about to set off, someone barged into his room. kirishima, who wanted to train on a school holiday.

"hey bakubr-- oh.. who is that?" he said, looking over at [name]. his eyebrows raising slightly as he saw she was in bakugo's signature skull t-shirt.

"get out weird hair!"

"okay, okay uh.. i'll leave you two to it."

as the door shut behind him, katsuki slapped his hand over his face in frustration. he eyed [name], who was still just standing about waiting for him, sighed, and got up.

"well, let's fucking go." he said, holding the door open for her as they walked out. on the trip to the elevator and down, his classmates eyed the two of them, with some of them even noting her striking resemblance to the protagonist of 'serenity'.

he dragged her out quickly, slamming the door to the entrance as they walked to the main campus.

"this school is huge! my school is-- well you probably already know." she said, scratching the back of her head.

"yeah uh.. i do. it was a rundown old funeral home?"

"yes, exactly! and then they remodeled it into my school. but they y'know, built over a lot of graves and stuff."

"right, which is why there's an underlying subplot of you investigating the weird ass supernatural horrors of the school."

"subplot?... oh, i guess yeah. but we do it though the occult club just for fun."

"right. and those two idiots of yours are in it too, huh?"

"yup! shinto and urameshi. it's only cause we needed four people for an official club though!"

"mhm." it was so odd having her talk about her life events with him being able to recite each one of them to her. it felt like he was obsessing over her-- which he definitely was not.

he stopped suddenly infront of class two-a, having her bump into him with an 'oof'. after holding the door open for her, he walked inside to see aizawa, grading papers at a desk.

he eyed [name] suspiciously. "bakugo, is this girl the emergency? if so, i'm tempted to expel you for wasting my time."

"pfft. she is the emergency, and you wanna know why? because she's-- she's not real in this world. she's a fucking anime character." bakugo said, shoving the blank manga book in aizawa's face. "this is what was left after she suddenly popped out the pages, some asshole hit the book with a quirk and she appeared right after."

aizawa took the book out his hands and examined it. "language bakugo. ahem, is this true miss..?"

"[name]. and i think it's true. i'm not from a world with um.. superpowers or anything. and i woke up in an alleyway with that strange guy and katsuki." she said, anxiously twiddling her thumbs as she addressed aizawa.

"so, i think that this man likely has a manifestation quirk then." aizawa reasoned. "he has the ability to materialize things that were on paper, giving them life but not being able to control them. it's so powerful, that i'm assuming a days passed, and [name] is still here."

after thinking for a moment, aizawa came up with a temporary plan. "i've never dealt with a quirk of this manner before. but, since [name] is now a victim of it and you're so keen to help, she can stay at the dorms temporarily until we detain the man who is responsible for manifesting her. bakugo, explain what the encounter was exactly."

"well, i went out and bought this manga, 'serenity'. then, after finishing up i took a shortcut through an alley to U-A, but this damn mugger jumped at me, threatens me and sh-- stuff. he rushed at me so i threw my book at him out of reflex, a puff of smoke appeared and there she was."

"do you have anything on the profile of this man? what did he look like?"

"well, uh.. i didn't actually see him. i was busy looking at her."

aizawa deadpanned, and looked over at [name].

"so, did you see what he looked like [name]?"

"hm? oh i did. he was pretty generic looking, besides the scar on his lip. black hair, black eyes, pale skin. "

aizawa nodded, and went back to grading his papers. "i'll bring this up to higher ups later on, we'll be on the lookout for this man. our only way to find out what brought [name] here and how to bring her back is from the quirk user himself. [name], you will act as a U-A student from today on. it's not a big issue if it gets out you're not from this world, just stay out of trouble."

"yes sir, thank you."

"and bakugo, i trust you'll keep her safe?"

"obviously, who do you think i am?"

aizawa sighed, "then hurry up and leave, you made me behind on grading already. go ask principal nezu for a spare girls uniform, and tell him to call me about any questions. dissmissed."

she bowed slightly and bakugo huffed as they walked out the room.

"well, that went nicely, huh?"

"yeah, you got into class two-a without a quirk. color me impressed."

"you need superpowers in this class?"

"duh, it's a hero school. only the best of the best make it here."

"cool, i'm one of the best already!"

"..right." a ghost of a smile overcame his face as he watched her, surprisingly carefree in this stressful situation.

it was fun watching her reactions to things he had grown desensitized to. her eyes almost bulging out her head when she saw principal nezu was almost enough to make him laugh.

almost.

as she grabbed the uniform, thanking nezu profusely for allowing her to stay, she then followed bakugo back to the dorms.

"so like.. are there any other hero schools? i mean id assume there'd be competition."

"yeah, there's other ones. but they're all weak in comparison to U-A's hero course, so i wouldn't even waste my time thinking about it."

"oh? so, is there multiple hero classes?"

"yeah, three years of two classes."

"that's it? man, it must be hard to get in."

"you're smart enough to get into general studies, so if you were from this world, i think you'd be here regardless."

"aw, thank you katsuki."

"yeah, whatever."

as they walked through the entrance of the dorms once again, they were met with the entire classes eyes on them. it was lunchtime, so they often got together to eat and cook altogether. [name] felt awkward under their gazes though.

a guy walked up, his hair blonde with a tiny black streak in his bang, and slung his arm around katsuki's neck.

"who knew kacchan would date a [name] cosplayer? do you have a secret crush on anime girls kaccha--"

"fuck off!"

"no but seriously, she really does look exactly like [name]. down to like-- her moles and stuff. you're a really good cosplayer random girl." a girl with strikingly long ears complimented.

as the class started to crowd the two, most of them seemingly astonished at one: bakugo bringing a girl in the dorm who had also been in his dorm, and two: her resemblance to the most popular anime protagonist out at the time.

bakugo finally had enough, and decided just to say it since he had permission from aizawa.

"okay everyone shut up! this is going to sound fucking insane-, but hear me out. this is the real [name], no bullshit, straight from the manga. they were transported here after i got attacked, she's staying here in the dorms, and she's attending U-A til the heroes get their shit together and arrest the guy who brought her here."

the class collectively eyed her again. her resemblance was insane, way too uncanny to just be coincidence. it'd also explain her random appearance at the dorms, and the fact that he had gotten permission to keep her here meant aizawa knew so.

"really? that's so cool!" a girl with cute rosy cheeks added.

"we should all introduce ourselves, it'd be the polite thing to do!" said a guy with glasses and.. were those engines on his legs?

the class went around introducing themselves one by one, along with their quirks.

this world was beyond odd, there was a guy with like six limbs, a guy with a bird head, and another who straight up had a tail.

she introduced herself as well, just to be polite. "i'm [name], nice to meet you all."

"we already know you! you're so popular yknow?" a girl now known as mina mentioned.

"yeah, you'd have to be living under a rock to not know you. you're everywhere." tsuyu exclaimed.

"ah.. really? that's- interesting." she said, awkwardly smiling.

"so, since you're [name] can you answer a question i had? it's just to solve a debate between me and that idiot over there." jirou said, pointing at denki.

"ah, sure."

"so, when you were talking to shinto in the occult room the day after your finals, was it you who laid the ouija board for him to find, or was it there in the first place?"

[name] looked genuinely confused. "um.. i didn't place any ouija board anywhere."

"told you!" "that was a guided question!"

she eyed the two as they argued over who would win.. a thousand yen she thought?.. she wasn't really even interested in the bet anyways. she felt off after that question. it wasn't like she and shinto would never see eachother again, but she was feeling so homesick. she perked up again, reminding herself to stay optimistic, and that she'd get home soon.

a really pretty girl named momo was the last to come up to her, "hello [name]. i'm a big fan, and i noticed that your clothes isn't very.. well.. suited for you. so,"

momo took her hand gently, laid a black card in it, closed her hands and put it to her chest.

"please use this card to your hearts content. i hope we have the time to go out and chat before you go back to your world."

"this is very generous of you! i don't know if i can accept this-"

"please do! think of it as a gift. a welcoming gift from me."

"i-- okay. thank you momo."

"of course."

everyone had now gone back to what they'd normally do, except bakugo.

"so, you coming or what?" katsuki finally asked her, after he'd gotten her set up in the dorm right next to his.

"going where?"

"shopping, duh."

"with you?"

"my parents are fashion designers and i know all the coolest spots, now are you coming or not?"

she smiled and clasped her hands together. "of course im going."

the walk to the mall was peaceful. katsuki would poke her in the side lightly whenever she'd stare at someone with a strange physical quirk for too long, apparently there was a sort of 'racism' against people with body-modifying quirks in this world, and staring wouldn't be taken well.

he brought her to store after store, her hands and his filling up quickly with bags as they shopped until they dropped, katsuki only encouraging her to spend more because momo 'wouldn't even notice.'

after they had picked out a closet's worth of clothes for [name] to wear, they sat down at a cafe to eat.

bakugo ordered [name]'s favorite food and dessert without her even telling him, as he ate his spicy noodles, she made an offhand comment. "y'know, it's like we're on a date right now."

he almost choked on his noodles as he realized that.

she had him so hopelessly wrapped around her finger without doing anything, it was driving him insane.

when the dessert arrived, [name] took the liberty to smudge frosting from a spare cupcake on katsuki's nose, making her laugh loudly at her own actions.

if it was anyone else he would've blew up but,

he laughed softly too.

he really didn't want this to end.

especially not with knowing the only other way he'd get a date with [name] after she left was through a bishojo (otomes with guy protagonists) game.

but as he saw her laugh as he went back to dot some frosting on her nose as well,

he figured he'd leave those thoughts for later.

prev | next!

#bakugo #bakugo x reader #anime fic #bakugo fluff #bakugo katuski #bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugo x reader #anime #bakugo x you #fluff #reverse isekai #isekai #series #mha x reader #mha bakugou #mha

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rorywritesjunk · 7 months ago

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Currently I'm at 450 followers and so here's a lil something for Buggy x Reader. PG. Short-ish. Fluff and fun. Mild Buggy feeling bad about himself. GN reader! And a little silly and cringey probably near the end but it's Buggy so it's okay.

I love you all. 🧡

"Wait, so you never-"

"No!" A bottle is slammed onto the table, a fist joining it in frustration before the drinker slumped forward, nestling his head into his arms. "Never ever never."

"I mean, that's okay-"

"Is it?" Buggy asked you as he lifted his head up enough to look at you with shining eyes. "'s our first date and-and I just told you my deepest, darkest secret!"

Okay, now the clown was being a little dramatic to the point where you had to pretend to sneeze and cough at the same time to cover up a snort. You didn't think that not having your first kiss was a 'deep, dark secret' as Buggy seemed to think. If anything, you found it kind of amusing and sweet.

"Well, you did drink three bottles before I came to the table, Captain." You reminded him as he sat up to look down the end of the bottle. You stopped him from lifting it over his eye to check, not wanting to risk any of the drink spilling over his face. "I imagine your lips are going to be a little loose for you to spill some secrets."

"Bu-But that one-"

"It's fine. Some people could go their entire life without kissing someone, Captain Buggy." You assured him, pressing down on his arm to get him to lower the bottle. If he was going to share a secret... "I have never been kissed as well."

His eyes widened and his jaw dropped at the confession. "No, you're lying!"

"It's true! I wanted to wait til I found the right set of lips to smooch." You told him with a laugh. "I'm being very selective."

"Why?!" Maybe you'd want to kiss him? Was his makeup fresh or was it smudged? He tried to remember what he ate last and if he brushed his teeth afterwards. How were you supposed to let someone know you wanted to kiss them? Did his sandwich have onions?

You smiled and shrugged. "Just wanted to be, I guess." You took a sip of your own drink. "Why haven't you?"

Buggy fell silent and you wondered if something was wrong. He looked hesitant, gripping the bottle in his hand as he looked between it and you. Well, you asked, should he tell you that he tried all the time to find someone? That he watched Shanks get his first kiss from some pretty brunette when they were 14 and getting supplies, and that he overheard his friend trying to get the brunette to give Buggy one too? He didn't want his first kiss to be out of pity, nor from someone who made a disgusted face in his direction when it was suggested.

Maybe you were pulling his leg. You were gorgeous, friendly, wonderful, and he couldn't quite believe that you never kissed someone.

"Just haven't found the right person as well!" He exclaimed a little too loudly. "Whoever is the first person to kiss Captain Buggy's luscious lips will be known to the history books!"

"Oh?" You smiled. "Who's writing those history books?"

"Me!" Buggy laughed. "Or I'll hire someone to do it because I'll be too busy hunting for treasure! My name is already legendary, after all!"

"Hm." You took another sip. "Can I get my name written down in those history books of yours, Captain Buggy?"

"Wha- why, I mean, I suppose? Why?"

"To be the one to give the famous Captain Buggy his first kiss." You offered casually with a wink. "I gotta get my name in them some how."

That seemed to stun him into a moment of silence before he looked away from you. You finished off your drink, wondering what he was up to, before he spun back around, leaning on the table, and you thought maybe his makeup looked fresh. Did he carry the stuff around with him?

"Well, how about we make history?" He asked with a big grin. "Pucker up."

Oh, well, in that case...

#buggy the clown #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #buggy the clown x you #buggy x you #opla buggy the clown #opla buggy #opla buggy the clown x reader #opla buggy x reader #opla buggy the clown x you #opla buggy x you

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poppitron360 · 2 months ago

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Lost Trio Week- Day 2: “Mortal AU”

@lost-trio-week

Piper:

Jason (5:00pm): My flight just landed.

Piper (5:02pm): welcome to the city!

Jason (5:02pm): Yeah, well, not ready to explore just yet. Gotta sleep off this jetlag first.

Piper (5:04pm): yh ive got stuff 2 do now

Piper (5:04pm): Im free tomorrow if u wanna tour

Jason (5:04pm): Great! Where should we meet?

Piper (5:10pm): i simply must to take you to this local coffee shop i found.

Piper (5:11pm): the barista is so your type

Jason (5:11pm): Colour me intrigued!

Jason (5:12pm): What’s the address?

“Well, if it isn’t one of my favourite regulars,” the barista nodded at Piper, “How ya been, girl?”

“Hey, Leo!” Piper replied. She gestured to Jason as if she was showing off a prize pig. “I brought a friend!” She announced, “This is Jason.”

Jason stepped forwards and scanned the menu on the chalkboard behind the counter.

“Umm… what’s your tea selection?”

Leo tapped the logo on the price sign, “This is a coffee shop, mi amigo.”

“Are you making fun of my dyslexia?” Jason quipped back.

Leo rolled his eyes, and tapped something on the register screen as he talked. “We do, in fact, sell tea,” he relented.

“What kind?”

He paused his tapping and looked up, “Teas have kinds?”

Jason huffed, “If it’s an option, I’d like Earl Grey, milk, two sugars.”

“Earl Grey? That sounds like a Grandpa drink.”

Piper snorted. “I mean, he’s got a point,” she remarked.

“You’re one to talk, you only drink that overpriced Pumpkin Spiced Latte crap,” Jason countered.

“Well excuse me for enjoying a little seasonal treat!”

Leo clicked his fingers, “Preach, sister!”

They high-fived. Jason rolled his eyes, “Can I just get my tea, please?”

“Yo! Julie!” Leo turned to his co-worker behind him, “Do we sell any Grandpa Tea?”

“I don’t f&^%*ng know, Leo!” Julie snapped, “Do your own f*&$%^ng job!”

Leo turned back and shrugged.

“I’ll have a look in the back for you,” he said, his tone a little more forgiving. Piper saw him snapped at by Julie a lot, “But find a place to sit and wait. You’re holding up my line.”

Leo then went back to nonchalantly tapping at his register, and Jason went to find an empty table while Piper ordered.

Piper found Jason sat in a booth by the window, mindlessly scrolling on his phone. They talked for a while when something caught their attention in the corner of the room.

A TV hang from the ceiling a few booths over. It was playing a news story. The reporter was talking over visuals of a man in a pinstriped suit shaking hands with someone important. Jason immediately blushed and hid his face. The headline scrolling across the screen read: “Politician Gary Jupiter caught in another Sex Scandal.”

“Great,” Jason muttered, “Hi, dad.”

Piper gave him a sympathetic look. Her dad was a disgraced Hollywood movie star, and her mom won Miss America three years running, she knew all about famous parents. She knew all about scandals and controversy. Her family was hit with bankruptcy a few years ago and mostly disappeared from the public eye, but she still had to avoid paparazzi wherever she went.

“I just wish he didn’t have to globally embarrass himself this often!” Jason groaned, “Although, what does it matter? I’ve only met the guy once, and to be honest he’d probably fathered about half the American public. Me and Thalia was just the product of another of his affairs.”

“That sucks, man,” she consoled.

Jason was about to say something else, but Piper quickly shushed him when she saw Leo walking over with a hot cup of steaming something in his hand.

“I got your tea for you,” he said.

“HE WENT TO THE STORE AND BOUGHT SOME!” Came a shout from behind the counter.

“Shut up, Julie!”

“I HAD TO COVER HIS SHIFT SO HE OWES ME!”

“I know, Julie!”

Jason took a sip, “This tastes different from store-bought tea. Did you do anything to it?”

Leo blushed, “I added a little bit of cinnamon. Sorry, I should’ve probably checked with you beforehand- allergies and stuff. They talked our ear off about it in staff training last week. I can take it back if you like-“

“No! No! It’s delicious, thank you.”

Piper smiled.

“Oh… okay…”

“HE SAYS HE THINKS YOU’RE CUTE AND HE WANTS YOUR NUMBER!”

Leo’s cheeks turned the colour of beetroot. He cringed, “Thank you, Julie!”

Julie flipped him the bird from across the room.

Leo didn’t make eye contact with Jason. “That’ll be 2.25,” he muttered in a small voice. Then, more confident, “She was only joking by the way. She likes to mess my life up like that. Ignore her.”

“Oh…” Jason said, his tone rather disappointed. Piper raised an eyebrow.

Leo looked like he was about to leave, but Piper saw how Jason was glancing at Leo out of the corner of his eye. She knew she had to intervene- get these two talking.

“So, Leo,” she said, “What made you come to work here?”

“Oh! Um…” Leo turned around, “I’m only working here ‘til I can scrape together enough dough to buy my own machine shop.”

Piper smiled, coyly, “Oh really?”

“Yeah…”

Stretching out her leg, Piper hooked her foot around a chair from a nearby table and dragged it over next to the booth. She gestured at Leo to sit in it, “Tell us more.”

She caught Jason’s eye and winked. Jason blushed.

Leo looked nervously back at the counter, “I’m going on break, now, Julie!”

“Whatever!”

Leo sat down.

“Why a machine shop?” Piper asked.

“Well… I grew up with machines. I used to help my mom down at her warehouse before it burned down.”

“So you’re good with machines?”

“Oh, sister,” Leo leaned back in his chair, confidently, “I’m the best there is.”

Piper glanced at Jason.

“Machines,” she mouthed. She pointed at her bicep, “Big muscles.”

“Shut up!” Jason mouthed back.

They talked for a while. After some time, Jason finished his tea and ordered another.

Leo had brought them four more rounds of drinks before Julie snapped at him to get back to work.

“Welp,” Leo patted the table, “I really gotta go. See ya, Piper. See ya, Earl.”

‘My name is Jason!”

“Nah. Your name’s Earl. Earl Grey,” Leo gave him a mischievous smile, “You know it’s a barista’s job to get your name horrifically wrong. It’s part of my contract.”

He turned to leave, but before he could, Jason called to him.

“Wait-“

“…yeah?”

Jason was blushing profusely now, “Did-Did you want my number?”

Leo grinned, looking way too happy about the prospect, “Okay!”

Jason grabbed a napkin and a pen and scribbled it down. Leo took it and bounded back to the counter, grinning.

Jason turned back to Piper, “Thank fuck- drank too much tea and now I really gotta pee.”

Jason stayed in the city for a few more weeks. He met with Piper almost every day at the coffee shop.

Leo would come and talk when Julie let him. It was obvious that he was smitten with Jason, and Jason liked him back. Piper had to repeatedly resist the urge to yell “ugh, just kiss already!” multiple times a day.

It was the day before Jason had to leave, and Piper was getting impatient. She was about to do something drastic, when…

“Hey, Piper! Sorry, I actually can’t stay very long. I’m just here to meet Leo- we have a date!”

“OH MY GODDD!!’ Piper, squealed, bouncing up and down, “Fucking FINALLY!!”

“I just need to wait for him to finish his shift-“

Just then, Leo came out of the store cupboard, dressed in a white shirt and suspenders. He ran his hands through his hair, nervously, then hung his apron on a hook.

“…Hi,” Jason said, his mouth open.

“Hi,” Leo replied, “You ready to go?”

“Uhh… yeah. What do you wanna do?”

“Hmm…” Leo scratched his chin, “How about… coffee?”

Jason giggled and blushed. Leo offered Jason his arm and led him out the door.

“Don’t fuck it up, Jase!” Piper teased after him.

“I’m a professional!” Jason countered.

Piper (8:01pm): Babe it finally happened.

Piper (8:01pm): Leo and Jason have a date!!!

Shel (8:02pm): OH

Shel (8:02pm): MY

Shel (8:02pm): GOD

Shel (8:03pm): FINALLY!!!

Piper (8:04pm): IKR!!!

Shel (8:05pm): Tell. Me. EVERYTHING.

Piper (8:10pm): still wating on a call from jason 2 know how it went

Piper (8:11pm): will keep you updated

At 9:30 in the evening, Jason called.

“Hey, Jase. How did your date with Leo go?”

Jason smiled, shyly over the video call, “He’s… really smart. And cute. And short. But, like, in a cute way. It’s a shame my flight leaves tomorrow.”

“Did… did you tell him you were leaving?”

Jason looked down, ashamed, “No, I didn’t. I probably should’ve, it’s just… things were going so well and I didn’t wanna ruin it. But I should tell him.”

They talked for a while about how the date went. She could tell that Jason was hiding something. She hoped he was planning some big gesture. Shel would eat that story up.

“It’s getting late, I’m gonna sign off,” Piper said eventually, turning over on her back and hovering her finger over the hang up button.

“Okay.”

“If you want, I can drive you to the airport?”

“No, it’s fine…” Jason had a faraway look on his face, “I have some… errands I need to run. I’ll see you around.”

Piper tried not to show that she was grinning ear-to-ear, “Alright then. Bye.”

She hung up.

Piper (10:34pm): jason’s planning something i can tell.

Shel (10:35pm): THE DATE WENT WELL??

Piper (10:35pm): SO well.

Piper (10:35pm): Idk what he’s gonna do but ill be there at the coffee shop tomorrow.

Piper (10:36pm): I wanna watch how this plays out

Shel (10:38pm): omigod lmk how it goes!!!!

Jason:

Jason watched the image of Piper’s face blink off the screen.

He took a deep breath, then dialled a different number.

It rang eight times, then went to voicemail.

“Hey dad…? I need a favour.”

Jason walked up to the counter the next day.

“Well if it isn’t Earl!”

Jason smiled, “Can I get-“

“Coming right up,” Leo cut him off, “Milk, two sugars. I know the drill.”

He set about making brewing the kettle.

“Can I take it to go this time?” Jason asked.

Leo paused, and looked up from his work, “You’re… not sticking around?”

“No, I’ve got a flight to catch. In about an hour.”

“A… a flight?” There was sadness in his voice. He looked like he was about to say something- but just then, the kettle made a loud ping!

“Tea’s ready.” Leo wouldn’t meet Jason’s eyes as he poured the boiling water into the heat-proof cup and added the sugar and milk.

“Did you add-“

“A bit of cinnamon. Yup.”

“Thanks,” Jason took the tea, and turned to leave, then stopped and doubled back. “Oh, I almost forgot-“ he took a deep breath, and pulled a the stack of cash out of his pocket, “Your tip.”

The giant wad was almost too much to fit into one hand.

“Wh-Wha-“ Leo spluttered. He reached out tentatively, but pulled his hand away.

“Here, take it,” Jason waved the cash at him.

“H-how much is that…?”

“Easily enough to put a down-payment on a machine shop. Take it.”

Leo’s mouth hung open in shock, “I… I can’t accept this. For one thing, it’s definitely against company policy-“

“Fine, then. Don’t accept it as a tip, but an investment.”

“An… investment?”

“Yes. From a future customer at your shop,” Jason shoved the wad at him, “Look, man, I’m holding up the line and my tea’s getting cold. Do you want the money or not?”

Leo grabbed the money with trembling hands. “Is this for real?”

“Yeah.”

“B-but you’re leaving.”

“I’ll come back.”

“A-and the money’s legit? You’re not, like, committing tax fraud just to give it to me?”

“No, I’m committing tax fraud anyway.”

“Oh…”

“That was a joke. I just called in a few favours. No big deal.”

“Oh!” Leo grinned, “So…”

“Yeah…”

“Thank you, Jason.”

“Hey!” Jason beamed at him, “You said my name right!”

“Yeah, that’s because I’m not a barista anymore!” He took off his apron and threw it on the ground, then turned to his co-worker, “Hey Julie! Guess what? I f^%$¡ng quit!”

“What-“

“Addios!”

“But-“

Before Julie could stop him, Leo marched out of the front doors, putting up the finger in her direction as he did so.

“YOU STILL NEED TO PUT IN YOUR TWO WEEK’S NOTICE!!” Julie called, but Leo was out the door.

“What are you doing standing there, doofus?”

Someone had stood up on a table at the back. Jason hadn’t noticed them before. They wore a leopard-print trench-coat and heart-shaped sunglasses, but Jason recognised the voice.

“Piper?? What’re you-“

She shed her elaborate disguise, and stared at him, “You’ve got a flight to catch, right?”

“Yeah, but I-“

“So?! Chase after him!”

“But-“

“Kiss him in the rain!”

Jason glanced out the window, “It’s not raining.”

“Doesn’t matter! Just don’t let him get away!”

Jason looked out at the busy high street. Leo, having doffed his barista’s apron was parading down the sidewalk, his head held high. He looked so cute- so unabashedly himself- that Jason swore in that moment that wasn’t gonna let Leo be the one that got away.

“Jason!! What’re you waiting for?” Piper insisted.

Jason turned to her.

“Piper?”

“Yeah?”

“Hold my tea.”

With that, he was out the door and running. Running down the high street. Running after Leo. Jason hadn’t felt this alive since… since he could remember.

“Leo wait-“ Jason yelled.

The former barista turned in shock to see Jason standing, completely out of breath, in front of him.

“I *wheeze* just wanted to *wheeze* say that *wheeze*-“ he spluttered.

Leo chuckled, “What is it?”

“Hold on… lemme catch my breath…” Jason stood with his hands on his knees and breathing hard, “I just wanted to say that… I’d like to go on another date with you.”

“Yeah that was kind of already implied,” Leo said.

“It… it was?”

“Look you’re leaving town- that’ll complicate things, sure. But we’d already established that you’re coming back. I’ve got your number. You could’ve just called me on the plane if you wanted to keep chatting.”

“…yeah.”

“So… what was this gesture meant to accomplish exactly?”

“That I… I like you, I guess?” Jason said, sheepishly.

Leo laughed, “But I thought we’d already established that, too?”

Jason threw up his hands, “I don’t know! I thought it was romantic. There’s always scenes like these in shitty rom coms on TV. Sue me!”

Leo grinned, “Well, it’s very sweet. But also stupid.”

“Okay, well, I just realised that I never got to say goodbye before I left. Yes- that! Good! I’m going with that.”

“Alright then. Goodbye, Jason. I’ll probably text you in the next half hour.”

“Okay then… bye, I guess.”

Leo walked away.

“Well that was awkward.”

“Gah!” Jason nearly jumped out of his skin. Behind him stood Piper, slurping on an iced latte. She had donned her sunglasses and trench-coat again, and had a big grin on her face. “Geez, I thought you were a professional?”

“That was your idea!”

Piper shrugged, “I’m an agent of chaos. Now you better run or you’re gonna miss your flight. Here’s your tea.”

“More running?” Jason groaned, as he took the cup and sprinted off in the direction of the airport.

— — — — — — — — —

Technically Valgrace and not Lost Trio, but I thought having Piper narrate and orchestrate most of it would even it out.

I’ve never even read a Coffee Shop AU before, let alone written one- could you tell?

Trying to subvert the stupidest romance tropes by just making it as stupidly awkward as possible. This might be unreadably cringe but hey at least I got something out before the deadline!! (And neglected all my irl responsibilities to do so!!)

Still learning how to write mortal AUs- it’s something I find difficult as someone who struggles with existing in real life anyway. I’m loving that this event is taking me out of my comfort zone and getting me to write in a style I wouldn’t usually write in. I can’t wait to see y’all’s responses when I get back from Hiatus.

Btw, Julie is a reference to Julie Powers from the Scott Pilgrim movie/show/graphic novels (played by Aubrey Plaza). There’s actually a lot of subtle references/homages to my favourite things in this fic.

I hope you enjoyed, and I’ll see y’all tomorrow for the next prompt!!

@euryvices-deactivated20241019 @deciduowl @lavenderfairiez @ottpopfic @ginnyluna @groverapologist @echo-stimmingrose @demigod-shenanigans @keefessketchbook @sleepyycapybara @123letsgobestie @kaleidoskuls @fairytalesociology @four-leafed-queer-gal @child-of-helios @green-tea217 @puzzled-pegasus @twomanyfandomshelp @lokiwiiiiiii @yoshuko-ew @frayna-of-the-hollow @via-rant @daonedaonlyskh @hadeslegacyhephgirl @siimplyapril @pjowasmy1stfandom @thetourturedwritersclub @m-for-now

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shunin-gumis · 7 months ago

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Nagi Birthday (2024) SSR Story

Best Wishes Snap

Happy Happy Day! (2nd part)

The bee in Nagi's signature is both because it's one of his favorite emojis, as well as the fact the "Hachi" in Hachinoya can mean bee! The 4-leaf clover is also a significant symbol to Nagi.

Nagi: My cheeks feel warm...

Nagi: The party is long over, yet my heart is still pounding...

Ushio: Hachinoya-san.

Nagi: Ushio? And...

Yukikaze: Are you alright? You've been crying for quite a bit now.

Ushio: Seeing you continue your act even as the tears flowed out from under your zombie mask was pretty entertaining to watch.

Yukikaze: Indeed, Nagi is very talented.

Yukikaze: But you should replenish all those fluids you lost. Here's some decaffeinated rooibos tea and a hand towel.

Nagi: Wow... this is like some top-notch after care you'd receive from from one of those massage places.... Not that I've ever been to one.

Chihiro: Nagipeko~ Were you still crying? And wait, is that large garbage bag you're holding filled to the brim with used tissues??

Nagi: Oh, yeah, Chief prepared it for me.

Ushio: Ugh.... that's way too much snot for me to handle, gross.

Yukikaze: Tears of happiness are a beautiful thing indeed. But of course, tears that come from sadness are beautiful as well.

Ushio: That's not what I was getting at... well, it's fine.

Ushio: Hachinoya-san, mind if I get this over with real quick? If we don't get you to bed soon you might just use up all of Hama House's tissues.

Nagi: ? What is it?

Ushio: Ha.... You really are dense. I'm the one who got selected by the "Random Present System" to give you a present.

Nagi: Wow.... I really did get one....

Ushio: Isn't that obvious? Here, the present I got you is this apron.

Ushio: Your work ends up getting you dirty all the time right? That's why I carefully picked out one that's anti-bacterial. It's water-resistant too.

Ushio: Well, Happy Birthday.... Um, I hope it's a good year ahead for you.

Nagi: Ushio... you took the time to select a gift for someone like me....

Ushio: Ugh! Don't start sobbing on me now, seriously!

Nagi: Nn!!

Chihiro: C'mon, don't cry, it's time to smile, smile~

Nagi: You're right.... Gotta take deep breaths....

Nagi: Thank you for the present Ushio. Thank you for the cake too, it was super tasty. So much so I wish I could cut it into 365 tiny pieces and have them every day of the year.

Ushio: Hmph....

Ushio: Seriously, why am I in charge of baking the cakes? Aren't you guys working a high school student way too hard? I'm super busy y'know?

Nagi: It's not just any cake that everyone wants, it's precisely because it's a cake you made that everyone wants it. Let me know whenever you're busy, if there's anything I can help you with, I'll do it.

Ushio: Huh... No no, there's no need for that.

Nagi: But everyone would be sad if you couldn't bake cakes because you were too busy... Of course, I'd be sad too.

Ushio: Oh fine! I'll make sure I do it!

Nagi: Is that so? I'm relieved then.

Chihiro: Ah! He finally smiled! Snapping that Nagipeko real quick~!

Nagi: Ah.

Chihiro: Happy Nagi day! Yay~

Ushio: Don't upload that on dazzle, got it? I don't want my face on social media.

Ushio: Besides, the birthday boy isn't even in the frame.

Chihiro: It's all good~ We'll just keep snappin' and snappin' till we get it right~! C'mon squeeze in tight~

Nagi: Uh.... it's warm....

Yukikaze: Everyone, come over here, let's take a photo together.

Momiji: Coming~

Nagi: ...

Nagi: A place filled with warmth and kindness.... Just a year ago, I couldn't even imagine I'd have a place where I belong.

Nagi: I want to treasure this happiness that's sure to continue even after my birthday is over.

Part 1

#18tlip #18trip #18trip translation #hachinoya nagi #nagi bday #I love him so much you don't even know #he deserves all the happiness in the world please #baby's first birthday with his new family #ushio kurama #kamina yukikaze #chihiro natsuyaki

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em-writes-stuff-sometimes · 2 years ago

Text

gevivys (beauty) │ Chapter 6: Fury

terms of endearment ‘verse: see my Masterlist for the correct series order!

Chapter 1 │Chapter 2 │Chapter 3 │Chapter 4 │Chapter 5 │Chapter 6 │Chapter 7 │Chapter 8 │Chapter 9 │Chapter 10 (COMPLETE!)

Synopsis: Daemon returns to King's Landing after ten years in exile, intent on rekindling his affair with Rhaenyra. He wasn't expecting you - the revelation changes everything.

Hello, everyone! I know, I know - yeeting these out, aren’t I? A small change of plans, in that this one is the OG Chapter 4 split in half; I’m THIS close to having Chapter 7 done, too, and after that, it’s minor edits to the existing work. I’ve done the major reworking for this instalment, so yaaaaay! Only gotta rephrase/add slight things to upcoming chapters to make it all round out cohesively. As always, thanks to my slap daddy @ewanmitchellcrumbs for reassuring me that this makes sense! YAY!

TRIGGERS: incest, purity culture, violence, age gap, dubious consent.

Luring you in is easier said than done.

He finds you when and where he can, your seemingly untraceable movements easily resolved through quick conversation with Harrold Westerling, the Lord Commander himself. A stolid, serious man, he’d taken little issue to his prince’s request, providing Cole’s whereabouts with an ease that speaks to the white cloak’s acclimatisation to your routine. He does not particularly enjoy searching you out by means of the stormlander knight, but needs must.

Daemon does it all, too. He spends what time he is able in your company, taking care not to press his suit too forcefully and scare you off; he regales you with tales of his nobler deeds and escorts you to meals with your family; he unearths his old stockpiles of accrued riches and selects the few among them he thinks you might like; he plies you with adulation and declares you to be the fairest maiden in all the known world, the envy of every creature fortunate enough to lay eyes upon you. He gives this endeavour all the effort he possesses, more so than any past conquest, for you are infinitely more valuable than some cheap fuck, and he is so sure that you will receive his attentions with a sweet smile and a ready spirit, all too willing to take the hand he is silently offering with every look and every word, urging you to accept him and—

And nothing. It drives him mad. So distracted is he that he begins to draw further and further away from his old associates, declining their entreaties wherever he might. The most recent occasion had left a rather sour taste in his mouth.

“Come on, man! Where is your head tonight?” Dargood asks, leaning across one of his many acquaintances to yell over the din. “You’ve not said a word all evening!”

Daemon lifts the tankard and takes a lengthy draught. “Ah—perhaps you bore me, then.” A wan smile curves as their gathered companions roar with laughter.

Truthfully, he’s been avoiding the lot of them. They desire little else than to drink and fight and fuck. While his taste for such pastimes hasn’t exactly waned, his enthusiasm has taken a great blow. He can only presume it has something to do with you, blasted tempting girl you are. Each time he resigns himself to one of these outings—each time he must playact at interest in the whores Dargood parades before him in yet another reputed establishment—all he sees in his mind’s eye is your face, wounded disappointment clouding your beauty and transforming it into something haunted and sorrowful.

Kettleblack snorts. “Of course he’s bored, what with his Delight waiting for him in the keep! Probably wishing he was back in her right now!”

“Or is it his Delight in that shithole that he’s craving?” Hollard asks. The reminder of the whore—of that embarrassingly public affair in which he’d shouted your name in a fucking brothel, of all places—churns in Daemon’s gut.

He looks suspiciously towards Dargood, who shrugs innocently. Dargood had been the only one to pay attention as the whore had led him away and up the stairs; and, when he’d lurched from that shabby chamber after spilling himself like a green boy, he’d come across the other man loitering in the hall outside, expression alight as though he’d just learned some great secret.

He’d have to impress the importance of silence upon his longtime comrade a little more forcefully, it seems.

“Whatever will he do—two silver-haired lasses ready to spread their legs for him?” One of the men whose name he cannot recall grins, revealing his missing front teeth in all their hideous glory. Eyes glittering meanly, he adds, “Who has the time?”

Daemon dislikes the turn in conversation. “Now, now, lads,” he says with a conceited sneer, though his heart isn’t in it. “It’s poor form to tell tales of the royal bedchamber. Or one’s exploits in them.”

“Lucky bastard!”

He levels a look at this unknown. “I assure you, my mother and father were wed.” The manner in which he emphasises it, with a raise of the brow to accentuate, leaves no man unaware of his intent.

“Oi!” he exclaims, indignant even as the others guffaw. “What exactly are you suggesting?”

“Nothing at all. Only, they say bastards have a certain”—here, Daemon pauses and lets his gaze travel assessingly over his form, settling back with a smirk after completing his observation—“ look about them.”

Uproarious mirth follows his pronouncement, though it did not nearly warrant the volume with which the varied cackles and chortles now ring in his ears.

Hollard slaps his back, guffawing all the while. “Stop terrorising him, my prince! He’s wroth enough as it is, what with you getting to tumble two Valyrian whores!”

“One cost me a single silver.” Daemon waves him off drolly. “You’re welcome to her. The other”—he thinks of Rhaenyra’s penchant for glittering jewels with a snide sort of affection—“well, you cannot afford her.”

“Tell you who I’d like to have a go with, eh,” Kettleblack slurs, having been in his cups for far longer than the gathering had taken place. “Our People’s Princess.” Daemon’s chest tightens at the mention of you. “Reckon she’d be a first-rate fuck, don’t you?”

“Mm.” Dargood smacks his lips after slamming his tankard back on the table, an unreadable stare trained upon his prince. “She’s a shy little thing, isn’t she? Thought the confident ones were your type.”

“If there’s a cunt between its legs, it’s my type.” This ignites a wave of jeers and more than one crass comment about whether or not he’s taken up horse-fucking. “Oh, fuck off!” Kettleblack says irritably. “Not what I meant. Besides, she’s a looker. None of you would refuse, surely! Can you imagine? The sound of her—”

He’s speaking before he even realises. “That’s enough.”

The harshness in his voice spurs them all to an abrupt silence.

Daemon had left not long after, unable to stomach spending longer than he had to their presence. Their ribald banter was by no means the most vulgar it had ever been—in fact, it was positively tame in comparison to some of the sentiments expressed in past encounters—but hearing them discuss you so crudely made him uncomfortably aware of how tasteless many of his own thoughts of you had been.

After this disturbing epiphany, he seeks distraction by throwing himself ever more into the task of winning you over, only to be thwarted at every turn.

His flattery is for naught. Your lips curve up shyly when you look at him, but so too does this occur when any other compliments you. You absorb yourself in his stories, probing where you will and exclaiming in pretty ahs of girlish fascination, but so too does this happen when your half-sister natters on about her own day to your keen ear. You accept his gifts with earnest solemnity, clutching them to you as a child with a prized doll, but so too do you hold tight the flowers young Jacaerys presents to you after a morn spent in the sun.

Ever agreeable, ever kind, ever polite you are to his overtures—but you do not warm to him in the way he expected you to. The way he wishes you would. In truth, he isn’t entirely sure you are even aware of his motives, for you do not regard him with the same hesitance you do the Tyrell lord or Lannister or your idiot brother. Is that a terrible thing? he wonders. It is not as though you particularly like any of them. Nonetheless, he remains, frustratingly, your uncle and nothing more.

This is partly his own fault, he knows. The court had once had its pleasure in the scandal wrought by Daemon’s calculated seduction of Rhaenyra, obvious to all but the king himself—and what had resulted? His banishment, her ruination, his years in exile and her marriage free of passion. No such occurrence is to be the conclusion of this attempt. Thus, he is resigned to stepping out from the shadows, conducting his business in the safe light of day. Never once does he dare to hint at anything less than what is proper in the presence of others—and never once does he dare meet with you alone. There can be no errors this time.

As such, his suit remains overlooked. He can do nothing else but persist, waiting for you to finally realise his intentions.

How tedious it is to lower himself to such a competition with no real opponent! He is the only one worthy of your pedigree, a man of high enough birth that you would not be ridiculed by wedding below your station. A man who could ensure you kept your familiar life in King’s Landing with your family, who could garb you in the finest velvets and silks and jewels this side of the Narrow Sea, who could give you trueborn Targaryen children worthy of your royal womb.

And yet, strangely, wooing you excites him. For all his many pursuits and passions, he had never once played the role of valiant suitor, and the sight of your pleased face as he offers you presents or walks you around your garden in amiable conversation tugs at a long-buried part of his soul. He wants to be your hero, wants you to worship him. In the bedchamber, yes, but also on his arm for all to see, to know that he has won your affections as assuredly as he has won your hand.

It is this that goads him to seek you out today.

You had welcomed his presence in the dank library, the scent of stale leather and rotting parchment permeating the echoing space. It’s fucking cold, too, in a tower so high up in the Red Keep he can swear the air feels thinner. You’d pulled out your winter furs, draping them over your shoulders to stave off the chill, and he’d noted with amusement that you’d done the same to your guard. Ser Crispin is fetchingly shrouded in flaxen hide, complementing his armour rather stunningly. His attempts to get a rise from the man at this had failed, with the cunt obstinately refusing to acknowledge his existence.

“Finnaan anha ezak sewafikh,” you say, grinning at the dubious twist of his lips. He has come to find that, for all your solemnity, it is easy to amuse you. “Go on, kepus—try.”

“Finnaan… anha—ezak swafeek.” He grimaces at the words as they leave his mouth. The flavour feels distinctly wrong.

“Seh—wa—fikh.” You correct him gently, nodding at him to try again.

Your Ser Lysan Marios is in the corner of the room, chin to chest as he snores in the only comfortable chair in the room. He truly is an old man. With dark skin and white hair, Daemon has never seen a person with so many lines on their face, looking more like the craggy hills of his dead bronze bitch’s prized Runestone than actual human flesh. A man of acuity and hilarity, it is no wonder you enjoy his company.

“It is best to let him rest,” you had said as the man’s lids had drooped and his head had lowered forward, slumping in his seat. “He has been unwell lately—I worry for him.”

You had since obliged with his entreaties to teach him some phrases in Dothraki. It is a hard-won process. His jaw and tongue are unused to situating themselves for throaty dialogue, being far too used to the lyrical fullness of his ancestral native speech, but it is entirely worth it to watch your sweet face light up.

“Sewafikh,” he says.

You gasp excitedly, wiggling in your seat. “The whole thing!”

“Finnaan anha ezak sewafikh,” he says, smirking at you when you clap. He can’t help but find you endearing in your joy, eyes shining and smiling bright. “Now, little girl—what have you just made me say?”

“I thought you would find this phrase most useful.” You grin impishly. He narrows his eyes at you.

“And this useful phrase is?” His brow quirks.

You’re already giggling. “You can now ask ‘where can I find the wine?’ should you discover yourself surrounded by a khalasar.”

A startled guffaw bursts from him at your cheek. You are a surprisingly witty little thing, and he has found himself more and more charmed with each hour he spends in your presence. A consummate royal youth, you are exceedingly well-versed in the politics of social niceties, navigating your exchanges so expediently that he has learned he must actively work to keep up.

“Impudent brat.” He chuckles, eyeing you as you catch your breath and making a list of all the parts of you he intends to get his hands on when you are his.

Curls of silver bundled into a braided coiffure, strands threatening to escape—and he finds this more and more apt a metaphor for your character, a timid little bird just waiting to be set forth from its cage. The damnable temptation of your throat thankfully encircled with the abundance of precious stones forming the Valyrian steel necklace he had gifted you some days prior, a welcome respite from being besieged by the involuntary seduction of pale skin. Voluptuous waist and widened hips in perfect shape for his hands to span. Rounded cheeks and pouty pucker and dewy-eyed gaze…

You are a maiden strumpet waiting for her first lesson in the art of carnality. He is determined to be your instructor in this. Your only instructor.

“Here,” Daemon murmurs, withdrawing the reason for his visit from under his chair. He leans forward and places the item upon the desk before you.

You had paid little attention to the wooden case tucked under his right arm as he sauntered in, instead keeping your eyes fixed upon his as you uttered a courteous greeting, mildly perplexed as you always are when he seeks you out. He watches you as you open the chest now and lift out the carving inside, the same size as the little book before you. Your small hands turn the object curiously as you ogle the fine details of the gift, a soft little gasp of wonder escaping bow-lips.

You glance back at him. “Is this Caraxes and Athfiezar?” you ask softly.

He nods.

It had not taken long to realise your partiality lay less along the lines of ostentation and more meaningful simplicity. He’d only need to recall your lacklustre enthusiasm for Jason Lannister’s lion pendant to form such a notion. (Though, it may very well be that the gift had come from Lannister that had inspired such indifference, he thinks amusedly.) He had solicited the services of a common toymaker entirely by accident, having taken notice of the man’s goods during a nightly stroll through the city.

Daemon had been absent-mindedly making his way back from that eve of tension with Dargood and his crooked companions, only to find that his feet had taken him entirely past the route to the keep. Instead, he’d moved north along the kingsroad to Cobbler’s Square, idly observing the shopkeepers flog their wares along the street. One look at the stall upon which were arranged brightly-coloured carvings—an array of lions and horses and dragons, of knights and ladies and kings in an assortment of sizes, shapes and poses—and he had known that the skill of the man would be something you’d enjoy, honest and artful. The peasant had been overawed when met with a request from the Prince of the City, eagerly accepting the task of producing a miniature replica of your dragons.

The man really had spared no detail, he muses as he surveys your inspection of the sculpture. It is truly a fine piece, carefully depicting his crimson mount snarling and wound around the central figure of your own reptilian steed. They are posed as though they are about to take flight. From the whittled minutiae to the meticulously applied paints, it is a worthy representation of the pair. He would have to make further commissions of him.

“It is beautiful, Uncle,” you breathe, running the tips of your fingers over the hewn surface in concealed awe. You are careful not to disturb the layers of colour affixed to the wood. “I love it. But you should not have bought me anything”—you look back up at him with a frown as your hand lightly reaches up to touch his previous gift fastened at your nape—“for you have already given me something very valuable.”

(“I will treasure it,” you had said, stunned wonder muted by the veil of decorum. He has yet to see you without it. He likes to view it as almost a brand marking you as his.)

Cole is glaring at him from the entry to the library. Daemon sneers, lip twitching in smug enjoyment as the man looks away.

“Why ever not? I was thinking of you,” he asks gently, reprovingly. If I push too hard, she will withdraw. “I enjoy giving you things. Allow your old uncle to indulge, sweet girl.”

You smile unbidden, a flush blooming on the tip of your nose.

“You are not old, kepus,” you whisper, refusing to look at him, and a thrill tingles at the top of his spine at your receptiveness.

He is about to respond when there is a knock upon the door. It reverberates through the room, the bare stone floors serving to propel the noise around. Cole opens it to reveal the mousy form of a servant girl, the plain red linen of her dress and the cream caul adorning her head denoting her as one of the royal staff members. She colours as she notices his presence, quickly glancing away.

“Forgive me, princess,” she says, bobbing a curtsey to you and lowering her head, “but the Lord Tyrell is awaiting your presence.”

He seethes internally as you resignedly stow away his gift, giving it a final caress before latching the box closed. Fucking Denys. He’ll be damned if you dare entertain the notion of wedding that flowery cunt, all too eager to bend over for the Hightowers as he is.

“I’ll escort you, niece,” he chooses to say, solicitously stowing the chest under his arm once more as he heads off your weak protestations. He walks around the desk to offer his arm to you.

“I think you’ll find that I will be escorting her, my prince,” Cole says stiffly, striding forward several paces. The knight stops when you turn to face him.

“Actually, Ser Criston—could you ensure that Ser Lysan makes it safely back to his chambers?” You beseech him quietly, and from the look of the man, he has no doubt you are gazing up at him with wide, imploring eyes. It is entirely too winsome an expression on you, and he deliberates whether there is a being alive or otherwise who could resist the power of your pleading. “I would hate to awaken him, and my uncle can surely manage to escort me to my sister’s solar to meet with Lord Denys.”

The fastidious man insisted on meeting you for tea, of all things. Fucking ridiculous. Loath to leave you to contend with the obnoxiousness of his presence alone, Rhaenyra had insisted on playing host to the courting. Needless to say, the food and drink were to be the best part of the event each time he paid a visit to you.

Cole nods yieldingly as you thank him, sighing a defeat as he steps back and allows you to pass with Daemon.

Your hand is firmly wrapped underneath his arm, grip tight. The journey is quiet, and he notes that you have retreated into yourself once more. Though he hates to see you unhappy, he cannot deny how well it bodes for him that you are.

“Chin up, sweetling,” he whispers conspiratorially to you as you approach the Princess of Dragonstone’s solar—the room adjoining the chambers of the royal heir to the right—and stop.

You smile weakly at his attempt to cheer you, though it does not reach your eyes, as he knocks on the door for you. Rhaenyra appears in the opening, her countenance morphing into perplexity at the sight of you and Daemon. It is clear she had been expecting Cole instead.

“Uncle,” she says with a wrinkle of confusion. “I didn’t think—why are you here?”

Her gaze shifts between you and him, noting the grip of your hand upon his arm and the manner in which he is angled toward you.

“Cole’s been tasked with an obligation by our princess,” he replies, and it is a breath of fresh air to be able to look her in the eye and feel nothing but affection and the throb of old guilt and hurt. The desire has finally worn itself out, though the memory of it still lingers. He supposes you may have had something to do with that. “I felt it best to accompany her to your rooms myself.”

Rhaenyra nods, brow raised and mouth pressed in a thin line as she opens the door wide to let you both in. You whisper a small thank-you to him as you slip away from him, politely moving forward for the visitor to make his introductions to you.

Denys Tyrell is surely the most repulsive man to grace Westeros, Daemon thinks disfavourably.

The man stands aimlessly in the centre of the room, appearing to be idly examining the tapestries depicting the Targaryen Conquest adorning the walls. A stout, rotund lad, he is encased in a garish, ill-fitting doublet of pale sky brocade with gold flowers, straining mightily at the buttons. His features are diminutive among ruddy flesh, save for the huge, meticulously groomed moustache decorating his upper lip. The son of the late Lord Matthos, he is probably one of the few suitors close enough in age to you to bond with over the delight of being young.

And yet, he is still not good enough for you.

“Princess.” He bows dramatically, a ridiculous flourish of the hand punctuating the finish.

Daemon has to restrain the urge to scoff at the fawning grandiosity of the gesture. He observes with half-hearted intrigue as the lad’s eyes flick to him and his lip curls in an abortive sneer before quickly returning to you. Another one of his ‘supporters’, he expects.

You politely tip your head and engage in small talk, asking after the quality of his lodgings and the welfare of his family in a manner that suggests you have gotten this routine perfected over the course of these meetings. He wants to roll his eyes as the man brightens, loudly beginning to chatter his poor niece’s ear off.

“Daemon,” Rhaenyra hisses from next to him.

Glancing over at her, he sees she has a forbidding look upon her face as she jerks her head towards the open door. Bemused, he follows her out of the room, casting a brief look back at you as you engage in conversation with your suitor. Flowery cunt.

Rhaenyra shuts the door quietly before rounding on him in the middle of the hallway.

“What in the name of the Seven are you doing, Daemon?” she asks, looking around quickly for any loiterers. The corridor is silent.

“Can I not walk with my own niece now, Rhaenyra? You really must apprise me of the new laws. I wasn’t aware that it was now a crime to chaperone my own blood—”

“Oh, do shut the fuck up.” She scoffs, waving her hand toward the closed door. “Finding her all over the keep? Staring at her constantly? The gifts? The flattery?” She steps forward threateningly, though her womanly disposition and her lack of height serve to diminish the effect. “She has told me all about it—I know what this is.”

He smirks down at her, arms crossing. “And what do you think this is, then?”

Her hand clenches into a fist. He wonders, entertained, if she would dare to hit him. “Do not play the fool, Uncle. It doesn’t suit you. I will not let you spoil my sister the way you did me.”

He scoffs. “As I recall, princess, I took no part in your spoiling.” He is callously satisfied by her spreading flush at the imputation of his words.

Oh, yes. I know about Cole.

He continues, timbre colouring with aggravation. “And I have no intention of ruining her.” Well, not yet—not until the wedding night. “Why does everyone in this fucking city always assume the worst of me?”

“Because that is what you do!”

She has escalated to a near yell now, whipping around in her frustration, the end of her braid lashing across his chest with a thump as she moves away. When she turns around, her eyes are bright with the gradual swell of moisture.

“You pick a target, lay them thick with pretty words and affection, and then cast them away when you have grown bored. You do it with Father, with your lickspittles and your precious City Watch, with your whores and your women… You did it to me, and now you are going after my sister—”

It infuriates him to hear her slander his character so thoroughly, for all that it is true. Perhaps it is this fact that upsets him more.

“Is that jealousy I hear?” he asks cruelly, turning the attack upon her. He presses forward, allowing the fury to infuse his step, his words, his countenance. “Such a bitter shrew you’ve become. It’s no wonder I’ve moved on to more enjoyable pastimes. After all, your sweet sister really is exquisite—she’ll make a fine little bride for me.”

He watches with vicious gratification at the unmitigated outrage that overtakes her.

“How dare you—”

Suddenly, the door opens. Lord Tyrell steps into the doorway, lip curled and cheeks red. “I believe this meeting is at an end, princess.”

The man sneers, shoving past him as he exits. Behind him, Daemon can see your distress clearly. You are still in the middle of the solar, wringing your hands and biting your lip, refusing to look at anything other than the floor before you.

Rhaenyra tries to gather herself in affecting a disposition of regal indifference, though the cracks in her façade are clear to see. “You are leaving so soon, my lord? I am sure my sister would so enjoy—”

“I think I understand what the princess… enjoys.” He scrutinises you, then turns to Daemon and looks him over disdainfully. The insinuation is obvious. It is clear that he and Rhaenyra have been quarrelling louder than intended. “And who she enjoys it with. I’ll suffer no harlot as my wife, royal or otherwise.”

How dare he. How fucking…

It is a flagrant offence to one so pure as you. Of all the women in the city, you deserve such affront least of all.

At the sight of tears welling in your eyes—brows drawn, lilac blurred by the tear-sheen collecting on your lashes, “will I ever see you again?”—the familiar, burning fire of rage overtakes him completely, the dam bursting and breaking as he swings his fist directly into the foppish lord’s face.

“How dare you insult the princess’s honour!”

The bestial part of his nature revels in the satisfaction of feeling the man’s flesh tear under the force of his knuckles as he drags him to the floor, of feeling the grinding frisson of pain in his bones as they collide with the insipid cunt’s nose. The blood spills hot and wet over that ridiculous outfit, over his fists and clothes, spraying over the floor. The lord can only cry out as Daemon rains down punches upon him, seeking to erase the image of the man who’d dared to malign you so. The Rogue Prince thinks he can hear voices, but the sound is muted, muffled, like listening to a scream underwater.

“You stupid piece of shit, how dare you—”

He aims for Denys’s nose, hoping to smash it in entirely, when he is abruptly dragged off the man and forcefully shoved away. He presses forward wildly, attempting to finish his mission, straining against the hold of Breakbones—and by the gods, the Strong boy really lives up to his name, does he not?—until he takes in the sight before him.

He slows as he views the scene. The Tyrell attendants have run in to kneel next to their lord with rags already mopping at the blood oozing from his face, Ser Willas Fell and Ser Rickard Thorne of the Kingsguard stand with hands on pommels, and several servants are looking on with curiosity and fear at the sight before them.

And you. You are enfolded in the arms of Rhaenyra, a look of abject horror on your sweet face. His heart clenches.

—the horror in your expression feels like the edge of a blade carving to his very soul. “But… you promised—”

This is not what he wanted. He has made you fear him, he can see it. He knows you are afraid. How could he? How could he?

“The prince attacked me—this is the gravest of abuses, ser—” cries Lord Denys in response to Ser Rickard’s quiet inquiries, clutching a cloth to his swelling and bloodied eye.

I have to get out of here, he thinks rashly, pulling out of the City Watch commander’s hold and spinning away, stalking out of the hall—

“My prince, you cannot leave while—”

“Daemon, stop—”

“Kepus—”

He runs.

Read on AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/42100623/chapters/121060219

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zarvasace · 22 days ago

Note

Maybe this has already been answered, and I forgot, but in White Walls, aren't some of them young enough they should be in school? Have the older ones tried tutoring them so they don't fall behind?

This is an old ask from when I asked for prompts but hey here it is!! :)

~720 words, no warnings? This is post-White Walls! I don't think they really had the material or motivation to do any tutoring inside—though maybe boredom is motivation enough. But once they're out? Yeah they gotta do something about that.

Hyrule can barely see any blond hair over the stack of books in Four's arms as he returns to the gym. He watches as Four carefully slides the stack onto the stage, then uses one of the folding chairs as a stool to pull himself up, too. With relief, Hyrule pounces on the minor distraction. "What are all of those for?" Four settles with his back against the side of the stage and raises his eyebrows at Hyrule's own tiny stack. "What are all of those for?" he returns.

"There's this thing called a high school diploma…" Hyrule reminds him with a grim laugh. He doesn't disagree that it's probably a good idea for him to get something like that done, but he's a much, much slower reader and learner than Legend, who'd studied for a few weeks and got very good marks on his first try. Now Legend, along with everyone except Four, is on the basketball court below the stage, yelling and running and throwing each other out of the way. Hyrule estimates about three minutes until someone gets hurt, and maybe about ten until he himself finally gives up on this book and goes to join them. "I like reading," Four answers. He picks up the book at the top of the stack, one with a dry title about tractors or something, and flips past the first few pages. "Do you really think you'll get through all of those before we have to leave?" Four's stack is at least ten books high. Hyrule's own has three, and he knows he'll have to take them all back to the house, himself. Four doesn't need to study, is not enrolled in any classes at this high school because he graduated some years ago, and as far as Hyrule knows, Four can't actually take any books from the school library. "Probably not," Four says, already distracted, "but I like having choices." Hyrule hums at that. He rolls from his side to his stomach, wings flaring out behind him. The long coat he prefers to wear in public hides his wings, which helps him stay less conspicuous, but his poor wings are not easily compressed, and his muscles are sore from hiding them so much recently. Stretching out feels nice. He looks back down at his own book, intending to get through at least one more sentence. It's been easier to get through things now that he can choose what to read, albeit from a small selection, but it's still hard. He doesn't really see why he has to read some arbitrary number of books before he can move on. "There he goes," Four mutters. Hyrule looks up just in time to see Wild dive for the orange ball, but Warriors does the same from a different angle. Sky shouts a warning, but it's too late. Wild crashes into Warriors, and they both go down, the sound of at least one head smacking into the floor echoing through the large gym room in a way that never happened in their old carpeted living room.

Hyrule winces. The game comes to a pause, everyone going still as they wait for the fallout. Twilight zips to Sky's side as he wobbles, both of them panting from exertion. Warriors recovers quickly. He rolls over and pushes himself up to check over Wild, who'd landed next to him. "Wild?" Warriors said, moving a hand across Wild's face. Hyrule felt his wings rise in fear when Warriors's fingers press beneath Wild's jaw. Time walks forward, his very footsteps tense. "Sky, call—" Wild sits up suddenly, barely avoiding smacking his head into Warriors again, and he tosses the basketball that's still in his hands—hard. "Ledge!" Legend blinks back to attention and catches the ball, just to turn and toss it through the net at his end of the court. "Nice one." Warriors rolls back onto his elbows, color returning to his face, and Wind starts laughing, bent over to prop himself up on his knees. Four rolls his eyes and goes back to his book. Hyrule can't be expected to focus anymore, so he slips in his bookmark and jumps off the stage. His wings flutter just enough to keep him in the air for a moment too long. "Okay, which team is down a player?"

#my writing #lu #lu hyrule #lu experiments au #linked universe

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mjldx7 · 1 month ago

Text

Fengqing × Epic the Musical???

*PARTIAL SPOILERS FOR TGCF*

Okay so here me out on this AU idea, Feng Xin goes missing after the battle with Jun Wu. Now, this might sound simple but let me just set the scene.

After the Battle against Jun Wu the Heaven Realm is in shambles, this is right after Hua Cheng fades away too. Now Heavenly Officals are going through the rubble and trying to rebuild, you know, the normal things to do when all of Heaven falls. But no one can get in contact with General Nan Yang or find him?

Communication Array? Nope, something is blocking everyone from him. So everyone is busy minus a select few which includes... Mu Qing! (And his Junior Officals) So Mu Qing sends out some of his Junior Officals to go looking for Feng Xin and he goes along as well because, well you know. Gotta look out for that annoying god who you have been with for 800 something years.

Days later, still no sign of Feng Xin. Opp but here is something coming through the communication array? One of Mu Qing's Junior Offical's telling him to come to thier location quick because they found something?

No Mu Qing looking ever calm but actually having an existential crisis rushes over to where his Junior Offical said to go and finds Feng Xin's bloody (Like covered in blood) bow and his stupid hair ribbon! So panic, shock, dismay. Mu Qing tells his Junior Officals to all search the area while grabbing the bow and hair ribbon before searching himself. Whole area and all nearby towns searched and absolutely so signs.

Now, along with all the crisis of the Heaven Realm being rebuilt the Martial God of the Southeast is missing and none of the prayers of his temples are getting answered fast enough due to his few Junior Officals now trying to take over all of them without thier god.

Come months later and while the Heaven Realm is starting to be somewhat rebuilt successfully Ling Wen suddenly contacts Mu Qing through the communication array.

Ling Wen is now telling Mu Qing that since the God of the Southeast is missing and has been unable to fulfill thier duties for too long Mu Qing will have to find a replacement either permanently or until General Nan Yang himself returns.

GREAT TASK TO GIVE TO THE PANICKED GAY LING WEN! GREAT TASK!

So Mu Qing stalling decides in order to hopefully give Feng Xin, his crush- I MEAN FELLOW GOD HE HATES! Some extra time in the hopes he returns. So he sets up challenges with his Junior Officals for followers of General Nan Yang that test thier Knowledge, Wit, Strength, etc. Ending up with five remaining people possibly fit to become the new God of the Southeast.

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

So at this point you might be asking where the hell Feng Xin is? Well after the battle with Jun Wu he exhausted far to much spiritual energy and got injured pretty bad so as such was stuck in a cave for months (bro just don't ask how he got in that situation, I don't even know)

So Feng Xin at some point dragged himself out of his cave still lacking spiritual energy due to some problems with him getting it from his temples or whatever once he got all healed up and found out about the new god stuff and challenges from some passing rumors. So obviously he is like, "OKAY WHAT THE FU-?!?"

So Feng Xin decides to sneak up to these challenge grounds which at some point of sneaking around and looking for Mu Qing or whoever he runs into... drum roll please, Pei Ming!

So Pei Ming hears Feng Xin's story out of what happens and then decides to lend him some spiritual energy. Deciding for the sake of his own amusement telling Feng Xin just to wait a bit before talking to Mu Qing and tells Feng Xin to disguise himself as one of Mu Qing's Junior Officals. (ALL yall Epic fans just wait a moment we bout to get the banger coming up)

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

Now come the final challenge, Mu Qing is sitting in a tent on the challenge grounds which is a open grass plain surrounded by trees, targets, weapons, arrows and other tents for the final challengers, his Saber nearby and Feng Xin's bow hung up against the tent. So now, Pei Ming goes ahead and tells Mu Qing rather crytiptedly that Feng Xin is back but to get through with the final challenge and make it an interesting show in typical Pei Ming Fashion.

So come the final challenge, all the participants are standing on the grass, stretching, getting ready for whatever challenge may come and out comes Mu Qing from his tent. Carrying Feng Xin's bow unstringed, and Feng Xin's same hair ribbon tied around his wrist.

*On comes the music... "The Challenge" from Epic the Musical by Jorge Rivera-Herrans, Anna Lea, and the cast of EPIC: The Musical*

[MU QING]

I'm supposed to choose a new God of the Southeast

I said I would choose as soon as I weave this shroud

They don't know

That every night

I unthread all the work I've done

Cause I'd rather lie

Than allow them to think they've won

Though I never thought I would resort to this

Just know I'll be here

But I don't know how much longer I'll last

Since we saw that storm

And though it was so close to our kingdom

It was far from the norm

Unless

Oh, could it be some kind of sign

That my world is all about to change?

Is it finally time for the challenge I arranged?

Though I never thought that it would come to thisJust know

I'll be here buying you time

[THE PARTICIPANTS]

Time is fleeting, it's running out

Time to be the new God here

[MU QING - To Feng Xin's Communication Array Now Knowing He Can Hear Him]

Oh! Buying you time

[THE PARTICIPANTS]

Time is fleeting, it's running outTime to be the new God here

[MU QING - To the Participants]

Whoever can string my ^husband's^ old bow

And shoot through twelve axes cleanly

Will be the new god, sit down at the throne

And rule with me as a Heavenly Offical

[MU QING - Looking at the badly disguised Feng Xin]

Let the arrow fly

Once you know that your aim is true

Cause I'd rather die than grow old without the best of you

Though I never thought that these would be the lengths we'd go for love I would not have it any other way

And though I never thought that it would end like this

Just know, I'll be here

Waiting, waiting

[MU QING - To Feng Xin's Communication Array Now Knowing He Can Hear Him]

Waiting, waiting

Oh!

(Yes I did write all of this from listening to this one song and getting the Fengqing vibes from it 😌)

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

So all the participants try, blah, blah, blah. None of them are even able to string Feng Xin's bow as it is a spiritual weapon and Mu Qing is well aware of this and by the end while Feng Xin standing off to the side in his disguise is having a gay crisis about Mu Qing referring to him as his husband finally grabbed his bow from the final participant having enough of thier painful to watch attempts and completes the challenge in seconds.

Mu Qing sends off the participants walks up to Feng Xin now rid of his disguise and... *SLAP, TEARS FORMING*, "A-XIN YOU WERE GONE FOR MONTHS WERE THE HELL WERE YOU!? MONTHS AND YOU DIDN'T TRY TO REACH ANYONE! MONTHS AND ALL YOU LEFT FOR ANYONE TO TRY AND FIND YOU WAS YOUR BOW AND STUPID HAIR RIBBON!"

*THE END, IT IS 1:45AM AND I NEED SLEEP AT SOME POINT!*

#fengqing #feng xin #mu qing #epic the musical #the ithaca saga #pei ming #ling wen #tgcf au #fanfic ideas

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giveafike · 2 months ago

Text

Snow Much Fun! -B.T.S

TLDR: snow... in ... Florida...! This is part 5/12 of Azzie's Advent Calendar 2024!

Word count + info: 4k. ON THE DOT! im so proud + including dialogue.

Warnings + Content Ahead: SFW! No warnings : )

Azzie Notes ✚: listen... before you correct me and get all factual w me...be open minded... I KNOW IT DOESN'T SNOW IN FLORIDA...but it has before, so who says it can't happen in your imagination? THIS IS AN AU. LET ME DREAM, BELIEVE IN CHRISTMAS MAGIC. God forbid a girl likes to imagine and have fun. do u hate fun? whimsy? And if you can't get behind this teensy bit of snow then I fear for the next part.... erm anyways enjoy...

————————————————————————

The days blended together in that warm, comforting way only the holidays could bring. You and Ben found yourselves curled up on the couch with his family, the quiet hum of togetherness filling the living room. The TV flickered with a lighthearted comedy, paused mid-opening scene as everyone got settled. The selection wasn’t a Christmas movie, though Lisa had made her thoughts on that very clear earlier.

“Y’all know it’s December, right?” she teased as she settled into her favourite armchair, her hands curled around a mug of something steaming and fragrant. “We’ve got, what, two weeks left to make the most of Christmas movies? And this is what we’re watchin’?”

Bryan chuckled, patting her knee affectionately. “Let ‘em enjoy themselves, Lis. They’ll get to the holiday classics soon enough.”

Lisa let out a mock huff, shifting in her chair to settle in more comfortably. “If I don’t see at least one Santa before the weekend, I’m gonna start taking hostages,” she muttered, though the smile tugging at her lips softened the threat.

Ben chuckled before he nudged you gently before standing. “Hang tight. Gonna grab somethin’, ” he said, pressing a quick kiss to your temple as he walked out of the room.

“Where’s he off to?” Emma asked as she petted Halo while Alex lifted his head up from the phone in his hand, arching a brow as his eyes fell on the paused TV screen.

“Kitchen, I bet,” Bryan said, settling further into his seat. “He’s like a kid. Can’t sit through a movie without snacks.”

Moments later, Ben reappeared in the doorway, a triumphant grin tugging at his lips, and a gingerbread cookie sticking out from between them like a makeshift cigar. His hands were full, one balancing a plate piled high with the rest of the leftover cookies and the other holding a heavy metal water bottle.

“Look what I got,” he mumbled around the cookie, his words muffled but still carrying that signature playful tone as he nodded toward the plate.

Bryan folded his arms, shaking his head with a smile. “You couldn’t wait two seconds to eat one?”

Ben shrugged dramatically, biting the cookie to free his hands before setting the plate down on the coffee table. “Couldn’t let the guy go to waste,” he said, flashing the half-eaten now decapitated gingerbread man with a lopsided smile.

Lisa rolled her eyes, but there was a fondness in her expression. “At least share before you eat them all yourself.”

“They’re for everyone!” Ben promised in a whine, nudging the plate a little closer to the middle of the table. “But y’all gotta admit, they’re best when I bring ‘em.”

“Sure, Ben,” Emma mumbled sarcastically as she pressed play on the movie from the other end of the couch.

Ignoring her, Ben turned to you with a flourish, pulling a throw blanket from the back of the couch. He gave it a playful snap before draping it over both of you, his movements exaggerated for effect.

“There,” he declared, tucking the edges around your legs. “Cozy enough for ya?”

“Very,” you replied, laughing softly as he flopped down beside you, his arm immediately finding its place around your shoulders.

He leaned into your face, close enough that you could smell the faint scent of ginger and sugar on his breath. With a quiet smile, he pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, holding the two of you there for a few seconds, just enough to make your chest tighten pleasantly before pulling back.

“That’s for makin’ these with me,” he murmured, the words low and warm.

Your cheeks heated as you pressed beside him, letting his solid warmth settle against your side. The movie continued on as you all watched, Lisa's earlier mock protests forgotten, but your attention stayed fixed on Ben for a few moments longer. He rested his head in the crook of your neck, his curls tickling your jawline. Without thinking, your fingers slipped into his hair, toying with the soft strands and scratching gently at his scalp, your attention never leaving the screen. The soft, brown spirals swirled around your fingers looping and intertwining, almost as though they were holding onto your fingers each time you went in to massage them. The quiet hum he let out made your stomach flip, his whole body relaxing even more against yours.

“Keep that up and I’m gonna fall asleep,” he murmured, his words barely audible over the dialogue on the screen.

“That a bad thing?” you teased, continuing the slow, soothing motion.

He didn’t reply just hummed again, his breathing slowing as he melted further into your touch. The warmth of the blanket, the faint scent of gingerbread, and the flickering glow of the Christmas tree lights made everything feel impossibly soft and still.

After a while, Ben stirred, sitting up slightly. You thought he might reach for another cookie, but instead, he turned to you. His gaze was gentle as he leaned down, pressing a string of soft kisses to your hairline, trailing down to your temple and cheek.

“Love you,” he murmured, featherlight against your skin.

You turned to meet his eyes, your voice just as soft. “Love you too, Benny.”

His smile was slow and easy as he settled back into the couch, pulling you even closer beneath the blanket. The movie continued, laughter bubbling up occasionally from his family, but the way you held each other made the rest of the world blur into the background. Across from you, Emma was sprawled out with Alex, both of them clearly more interested in whispering to each other than paying attention to the screen.

The living room was warm, lit softly by the glow of the Christmas tree. The angel ornament you and Ben had picked out at the market was hung proudly near the centre, its golden and silver flecks catching the light. It cast delicate patterns on the walls and floor, moving gently as the branches swayed ever so slightly.

Lisa noticed it too, her eyes lingering on the ornament. “That angel looks just beautiful up there,” she said softly, nudging Bryan. “Did you notice it earlier?”

He nodded, smiling. “I did. Real nice pick, y’all.”

“It’s from the market,” Ben said, his voice low and lazy. He didn’t bother lifting his head from where it rested against yours, but there was a quiet pride in his tone. “We thought it fit.”

“It’s perfect,” Lisa agreed, her gaze warm as it swept between you and Ben.

You smiled at her, then tilted your head back to look up at Ben. “Guess we’ve officially contributed to the family tree.”

Ben smirked, his eyes half-lidded with that relaxed ease he only seemed to show when he was home. “Next time, we’ll bring somethin’ even better. Like a big ol' handpainted bauble. That counts, right?”

“Sure,” you replied with a soft laugh, earning a grin from him.

From the other end of the couch, Emma let out a dramatic sigh. “Okay, but why are y’all so cute? It’s nauseating.”

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Em,” Ben shot back, earning a pillow being thrown at Ben by his sister.

“Watch it,” she warned, though her tone was playful.

“Alright, enough,” Bryan interrupted, his voice holding the kind of fond exasperation only a father could pull off. “Y’all are worse than the kids in this movie.”

Emma rolled her eyes but leaned into Alex, clearly content.

For a moment, the room was quiet again, the hum of the movie filling the space. Bryan and Lisa exchanged a look, one of those quiet, knowing glances that seemed to say look at this, this is what we built. You caught it out of the corner of your eye and couldn’t help but smile, feeling a little grateful and honoured to be part of this small, happy scene.

Ben must’ve noticed too, because he gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You good?” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the TV.

“Perfect,” you whispered back, snuggling into him a little more.

And there you stayed, wrapped in warmth and familiarity, the angel casting its soft glow over the room. The movie might not have been a Christmas classic, but the moment was simple, cozy, and filled with quiet love. It felt more festive than anything scripted.

Midway through the movie, Bryan leaned forward in his seat, his brow furrowing as he squinted toward the window. The movement drew everyone’s attention, and Lisa raised an eyebrow.

“Bryan, what’s the matter?” she asked, her voice soft but curious.

“Is it snowin’ outside?” Bryan asked, squinting as if he could see through the blinds.

Emma snorted, her disbelief immediate. “Dad, c’mon. No way. It’s Florida. Snow?”

Alex chimed in, shaking his head. “Yeah, no shot. You’d sooner see gators tugging Santa's sleigh along the street than snow falling here.”

But Ben, with that trademark half-smirk, leaned forward slightly, his arm still slung lazily around you. “It might be,” he drawled, his Gainesville accent thick with teasing scepticism. “Y’know, hasn’t snowed here in years, but it’s cold enough tonight. Could be somethin’ out there.”

His words sparked a ripple of curiosity. Emma groaned dramatically but leaned forward on the couch anyway, craning her neck to peer toward the window. “There better not be snow,” she grumbled, “I’m not built for that.”

You couldn’t help but bite your lip in excitement, feeling that childhood giddiness bubble up inside of you. You try to hide it but glance over too, the soft glow of the tree lights spilling across your face as you shift. From where you sat, you caught the faintest movement outside. A soft, almost magical swirl danced in the light of the streetlamps, the flakes subtle but unmistakable.

“Oh my gosh,” you whispered, your eyes widening. “It really is snowing.”

Emma gasped beside you, her earlier scepticism melting into childlike awe as she broke into a smile. “Wait, what? No way.”

The two of you scrambled to the window, pulling the curtain fully aside to get a better look. Outside, the streetlights illuminated a delicate flurry of snowflakes drifting down onto the quiet street. Across the way, the Christmas lights strung on the neighbouring houses seemed to sparkle even brighter, their colours reflecting off the thin layer of frost dusting the lawns and rooftops.

“Wow, would you look at that,” Lisa murmured, her voice filled with wonder as she stood up and joined you.

“It’s not a blizzard or anything,” Bryan remarked, standing now, hands on his hips. “But I’ll be darned, it’s snow all right.”

Ben chuckled behind you, staying where he was on the couch but watching you from his perch. “Told y’all it might be somethin’. Y’all never listen to me.”

You turned to him, your cheeks still flushed with the excitement of the unexpected sight. “When do we ever listen to you?” you teased, making him laugh.

“Fair point,” he admitted, patting the spot beside him. “But it’s too cold to stand there by the window gawkin’. Get back over here.”

With one last glance outside, you and Emma let the curtain fall back into place and returned to the couch, settling easily against Ben’s side. His arm found its familiar spot around your shoulders, pulling you close as you curled into his warmth as his strong hand rubbed your arm up and down.

“Snow in Florida,” you murmured, more to yourself than anyone. “It feels… kind of magical, right?”

Ben looked down at you, his smirk softening into something sweeter. “Maybe it’s a sign. Christmas miracles and all that,” he said with a wink.

You rolled your eyes but smiled anyway, pressing your cheek against his chest and letting the steady thrum of his heartbeat lull you back into the comfort of the evening. Outside, the snow continued to fall, a rare and fleeting wonder that made the cozy warmth of the house feel all the more special.

The movie carried on, but the mood had shifted just slightly. Lisa leaned closer to Bryan, who had draped an arm around her shoulder. Emma and Alex sat side by side, whispering and laughing, their earlier disbelief gone as they marvelled at the snowfall. For you and Ben, the magic wasn’t just outside in the snow or inside the house. It was in the quiet, unspoken connection between you, a warmth that had nothing to do with the blankets or the tree lights. And for now, that was enough.

As the movie carried on to the last scenes, Ben got up to grab a drink from the kitchen. You were mid-sentence, pointing out a plot hole, when his voice rang out, loud and filled with shock.

“Goddamn, the snow stuck!” he exclaimed, his voice high-pitched and bursting with excitement as he came running back to the living room, almost falling over several times.

“What?” Emma shot up from her spot, nearly knocking over the popcorn bowl. “You’re lying!”

“Nah, I’m dead serious! Y’all gotta see this!” Ben called, his voice laced with genuine wonder.

Emma bolted for the front door, you and Alex following close behind, too frantic to even think of how the potential "in-laws" might view you. Pulling the door wide open, you gasped.

There it was, a light layer of snow blanketing the yard, the driveway, and even the street. It wasn’t much, but in Florida, even a thin coating like this was monumental.

“Dad!” Emma spun around, practically vibrating with excitement. “Can we go outside? Please?”

Ben poked his head around the corner from the kitchen, already grinning. “Yeah, c’mon, let us have a little fun! It’s not like this happens every year.”

Bryan looked up from his reclined position, still sat as he arched a brow. He looked at Lisa who stifled a laugh but nodded to the group of you, smiling.

“Y’all act like you’re kids again. But sure, go ahead. Just, wrap up. I don’t want anyone catchin’ a cold or somethin' worse.”

“Yesss!” Ben and Emma cheered simultaneously, already scrambling for jackets and hats, throwing spare ones at you and Ale.

Lisa sighed, though the smile on her face gave her away. “Alright, alright. But bundle up, all of you! Scarves, gloves, the whole thing!”

The house turned into a flurry of motion as everyone raced to grab layers. You hurried to slip on one of Ben's jackets while Ben tugged a knit cap over his curls, half-singing, “We’re goin’ on an adventure!”

Alex grumbled good-naturedly about the chaos but joined in, pulling on mismatched gloves. Emma was the first out the door, her shoes only half on, as she let out a delighted squeal.

The cold air hit your face the moment you stepped outside, but it was worth it. The snow wasn’t deep, just a soft, powdery layer barely clinging to the ground, but it was enough to transform the neighbourhood into a winter wonderland. The Christmas lights strung across the houses glowed even brighter against the dark sky and white snow, while neighbours had begun to step outside, just as awestruck as you were.

“Y’all look at this!” Ben exclaimed, crouching down to scoop up a handful of snow. He grinned, forming a loose snowball. “This is, like, real snow. Not just that slush stuff.”

You barely had time to admire it before Alex sneaked up behind Emma and sent a snowball flying, hitting her square in the back.

“Alex!” Emma spun around, eyes wide with mock outrage. “Oh, you are so dead!” She retaliated with a snowball of her own, smacking him right on the chest.

Ben laughed, clearly loving the commotion, and quickly joined in. His first target? Emma. The snowball hit her shoulder, sending a puff of white into her hair.

“Seriously?” she cried, but she was already giggling as she crouched down to scoop more snow.

“Nothing personal, Em!” Ben called, grinning like a kid. “Been waitin' to do that.”

“Oh, you think this is funny?” Emma lobbed her snowball in his direction, missing him by inches.

Meanwhile, you tried to keep a low profile, standing off to the side, admiring your footprints in the snow, hoping to avoid the crossfire. But Ben wasn’t about to let that slide.

“No hiding!” he declared, turning his playful grin on you. In one smooth motion, he launched a snowball at your leg.

“Ben!” you yelped, laughing as the cold snow splattered against you.

“That’s what you get for standing still!” he teased, already preparing another.

The battle escalated quickly. Alex doubled down on attacking Emma, who alternated between shrieking and laughing as she hurled snowballs back at him. Ben, meanwhile, seemed intent on taking both you and Emma out at the same time, his snowballs flying fast and wildly.

“You’re the worst!” Emma shrieked after a snowball hit her square on the nose, making her freeze. She stood there for a moment, eyes closed, her mouth slightly open in shock as snow dripped down her face.

Ben doubled over laughing. “Oh man, that was perfect!”

“Not funny.” she shot back, though the corners of her mouth twitched.

Before you could react, one of Ben’s snowballs struck you on the cheek, cold and wet as it splattered across your skin.

You stood there for a second, stunned, your hand flying to your face. “Alright, that’s it.”

Emma’s head whipped toward you, her eyes blazing with determination. “You in?”

“Oh, I’m in,” you replied, already scooping up snow.

The two of you turned your full attention on Ben, who immediately held his hands up in mock surrender. “Wait, wait, wait-!”

“Get him!” Emma yelled, launching a snowball that caught him on the arm.

You followed suit, hitting him square in the chest. Ben tried to dodge, laughing as he scrambled to pack more snowballs.

“No fair!” he called out, ducking behind a tree for cover.

“You started it!” you shouted, hitting the tree trunk just inches from his head.

The battle raged on, snow flying in every direction as you and Emma teamed up against Ben. Alex tried to join forces with him, but Emma caught him with a perfectly aimed throw that made him rethink his allegiance.

Kids from the neighbouring houses stood on their porches, laughing and cheering as the four of you chased each other through the snow. By the time the energy started to wane, your cheeks ached from laughing, your gloves were soaked, and snow clung to your hair and coat.

Panting and grinning, you all collapsed onto the snowy ground, the fight finally giving way to exhaustion. Your breath puffed out in small clouds, and for a moment, all you could hear was the sound of your own laughter mingling with the others.

“Alright, y’all,” Bryan’s voice called from the doorway, carrying that fatherly mix of amusement and authority. “That’s enough before somebody ends up with frostbite or a trip to the ER. And I'm not the one drivin' in this weather.”

None of you made a move to get up. Instead, Emma let out a deep sigh and spread her arms and legs out wide.

“Snow angels it is,” she declared, sweeping them back and forth to carve her shape into the untouched white blanket beneath her.

Ben, not to be outdone, flopped onto his back beside her, his long arms stretching as he exaggerated the motion. “Mine’s gonna look like a Wimbledon champion,” he said with a cocky grin.

“More like a giant goofball,” you teased, lying down on his other side to start your own angel.

Alex joined in without a word, still heaving as his movements were slower but no less deliberate. Soon, the four of you had carved a small lineup of snow angels, their winged silhouettes stretching across the yard.

Emma propped herself up on her elbows, inspecting the work. “We gotta sign ‘em,” she said, using her gloved finger to carve an “E” near the feet of her angel.

“Good idea,” Ben said, carving his “B” with a flourish at the bottom of his. “Now everyone knows who made the best one.”

“Debatable,” you muttered, finishing your own initial with a satisfied nod.

Alex added his “A” silently, glancing up with a small smirk as Emma leaned over to nudge him.

As you all sat up, the sound of laughter caught your attention. The last group of neighbourhood kids was a few yards away, rolling snow into giant mounds to form the base of a snowman while the rest of the street stayed dormant, the night slowly creeping up.

Ben squinted at them, then turned to you, his grin mischievous. “Think we could do better?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you replied, already on your feet.

The four of you got to work, scooping and packing snow as quickly as your soaked, frozen fingers would allow. The snowman started small, a modest figure compared to the heavy one the kids were making. Ben insisted on adding his own flair, giving it a crooked smile made of pine needles and twigs for arms that looked like they were mid-dance.

Emma stepped back to admire the work. “He looks like he’s auditioning for a Christmas musical.”

“Better than a boring ol’ snowman,” Ben said, adding a tiny snowball hat to the top of its head.

You knelt down to smooth out its base, adding a scarf you’d borrowed from Emma’s collection to give it a finishing touch.

The kids nearby noticed your creation and waved, their giggles carrying through the crisp air. One of them called out, “Yours looks funny!”

“You look funny,” Ben shouted back, laughing as he threw his arm over your shoulders.

"No need to be fighting kids, Ben" Emma warned as she stopped herself mid-giggle.

"They started it!" Alex chirped in, whining.

When the snowman was finished, the four of you stood back to admire it, your cheeks rosy from the cold and exertion. The little snowman was lopsided but charming, a perfect reflection of the fun that had gone into making it.

“Alright,” Bryan called again from the porch, shaking his head as he watched you all. “Seriously, now. Get in here before Lisa makes me come out there to drag y’all back myself.”

Ben turned to you with a grin. “Guess we better listen before we end up grounded.”

You laughed, brushing snow off your coat as the group headed back inside. The kids were still laughing, the little snowman standing proudly in the yard as a reminder of your impromptu snow day antics.

You all trudged back into the house, your shoes squeaking against the hardwood floors. Your hair was wet, your noses red from the cold, and your hands wrinkled and stiff. Ben rubbed his hands together, blowing on them dramatically.

“Y’all are somethin’ else,” she said, though her smile betrayed her amusement.

“My fingers are gonna fall off,” Emma complained.

Lisa and Bryan were quick to hand out towels, ushering everyone toward the warmth of the fireplace. Lisa had already turned up the heat, and the fire crackled invitingly as you all crowded around it, towels draped over your shoulders.

“Alright,” Lisa announced, hands on her hips. “Y’all had your fun. Now warm up and get yourselves to bed. It’s late.”

Ben leaned down, brushing a quick kiss against your snow-damp, tinted cheek.

“You fight dirty,” he murmured, the warmth of his voice contrasting with the lingering chill of the snow.

You smirked, nudging him lightly. “Learned it from the best.”

You exchanged a glance with Ben, the two of you grinning despite your exhaustion. It had been a fleeting moment of winter wonder, but it was one you’d never forget. As you curled up in bed later, trying to warm up, you were still laughing about your lopsided snowman, you couldn’t help but think that even the smallest miracles could bring the greatest joy. This was the kind of moment that made the holidays magic not just the cookies or the lights, but the love threaded through it all.

#Azzie's Advent Calendar #azzie asks #ben shelton #benshelton #ben shelton x reader #atp tennis

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1427 · 10 months ago

Text

i love you (always forever) pt. 2

Daryl Dixon x sister!ofc (Ladybug)

Summary: In the winter of ‘95 Daddy died. Leaving Lady to finish up her senior year in high school, and Daryl to brood over when to sell the house. The summer of ‘96 is the first time Lady feels alive. Daryl wants to give her one last summer before she has to grow up for real.

Setting: bumblefuck Georgia, doublewide in the woods, Dixon Property. Late June 1996.

Warnings: INCEST, poorly written SMUT, hardcore mackin’, dry-humping, oral (all around & a lot), size!kink (explicit discussion of how big daryl is compared to Lady), public stuff, fingering.

Word count: 7.2k (ish)

A/n: some things to note; Lady is 18, it’s mentioned in part 1 but I feel like I should still say that she’s not underage. Also, I feel like this has some pacing problems (more notes at the end) ?? Stuff that’s italicized in purple is dialogue being said in the movie they’re watching. Good luck guys

18+ mdni

// Part 1 //

I just keep on having all these strange thoughts.

What kind of thoughts?

Just thoughts.

Funny thoughts about you and me.

Tell me.

I couldn't.

They're just thoughts.

They don't mean anything.

Lady, in the face of picking a movie for such an occasion, had put on Blue Lagoon. It was one of momma’s and it wasn’t like she had such a big selection to choose from, just a bunch of made for TV movies momma had recorded and a few tapes Merle had stolen from the video store.

Lady doesn’t understand subtlety anyway.

You’re always staring at my buppies.

Only because they look so funny.

Lady didn’t necessarily like the movie because it was cousins, just the feeling it gave her. She put it on thinking maybe Daryl might feel it too. The lightning coming from inside to throb at the surface.

She’s surprised she’s still even breathing. Knowing he’s just waiting for her to do something. But he’d said… Lady knows the move she has to make is to kiss him. That’s what he’d meant. That's what people do first, before anything else.

Kiss him? Lady’s frozen; how would she even do that? She doesn’t know. Can’t figure out for the life of her what she’d do with her hands, how does she even get closer? What about her legs? Where is everything supposed to go?!

Lady would do it, she’d be on him already, if she could just figure out how.

“Bubba-“ her voice is soft. Too soft for Daryl to hear it.

Daryl’s nursing his 6th beer. Or maybe 7th. He’s getting pretty lost in all of everything that was happening with Lady. Up in his own head in an effort to definitely and absolutely not think about what was happening now. Whatever move Lady was trying to pull here with him putting on this tape. Of all the ones she could have picked.

Daryl’s gone a million miles away. Thinking about what had happened this morning. Again. Staring at the television unblinking as if it were projecting images of her. Lady and her sweet pink lips asking if she could touch him again. Her ass bouncing under her towel. And the way she didn’t even bat an eye when he came on her face. He feels like he’s fucking dying. His insides all twisted up. Gotta be because he knows it’s wrong. Definitely that and not because he really wants to feel her mouth again. Not because he wants to watch this time, and tell her how good she’s doing. Definitely. Not. That.

Kiss me.

You're all sticky.

So what? Kiss me.

Every time he does stop to feel bad about it he remembers that he didn’t even do anything. Lady did. Lady had asked for a kiss goodnight, and Lady had put her hands and her tongue on his cock while she thought he was sleeping. Daryl figures it’s not his fault he can’t stop thinking about what Lady did. With her soft-as-a-kitten hands and her sweet wet mouth. Fuck.

Completely stuck in this loop, he watches it repeat on the TV screen. Forgetting the reason he’d dissociated in the first place, the thing he was gonna be coming back to? Lady; probably definitely obviously wanting to do it again.

“Hey, Bub -“ Lady tries to get his attention one more time. “Daryl!” she claps her hands together so hard her palms burn.

Daryl blinks back to reality. “Huh?” he says it like a shrug.

The pause between getting his attention and what she was about to say is an eternity.

“Can I kiss you?” Lady, feeling so brave and still so so small against how special she knew this memory would be.

Daryl's heart doesn’t skip a beat, his breath doesn’t get caught in his throat. He looks down at the bottle he’s holding, trying not to smile, and shakes his head at her in amusement. He knows that if anyone else had heard what she was asking to do, if Daddy had heard? She’d be getting the whooping of a lifetime right now. But to Daryl it just sounds like something he knew she was gonna say. At least she didn’t say the word cock again, “Why, though? Why d’ya wanna? M’not even a good kisser, Bug. Can’t teach ya nothin’.”

Lady chews on the side of her lip, her head faced directly toward him while her eyes look anywhere else. Thinking of what to say, how to tell him. The words, her feelings, all jumbled up inside and trying to break out. She wants to be flirty and cute and romantic and have the one answer that would take away all his worries and shame and just be the brother she was used to. The one who aided in every scheme or plot or game she was playing. She pleads with her mouth to be fucking smooth. Be glib or flip or cool or sly or something. It’s not. Instead it vomits all her thoughts like she’d been choking on them.

“I was gonna ask if I could practice kissing on you. Ya know? Because I figured then you mighta felt like maybe you oughta. But then that felt too much like lyin’. Cuz I don’t wanna kiss for practice, Dar. I wanna kiss for real.” She stops to breathe, but there’s no second-guessing. “I just don’t understand what’s the big deal? I know it’s not allowed but I want to.” She finally looks at him, her voice serious, “I just want to and I don't get why you don't want to too.”

They both know she’s not just talking about kissing. “Jus’ not s’possed ta, Lay. ‘m s’possed t’keep ya safe.”

Lady looks at him like he’s lost his fuckin’ mind. Where was she ‘unsafe’? He wasn’t making any sense to her. She stands up and chugs the rest of the now warm drink. “You’re not makin’ any damn sense, Daryl, I am safe.”

Lady’s frustrated but she’s not heartbroken. Leaving the fort/living room to go to the kitchen and get another drink. Muttering to herself the whole way out of the room, “Why the fuck wouldn’t I ‘be safe’? What does that even mean? Stupid dumbass horseshit doesn’t even make any fuckin’ sense. Shit. Ass. Shit!”

Sometimes when Lady got real good and mad she’d turn into a little version of Merle. Same way Daryl did when he was angry. Same way Merle turned into a little version of their daddy. When Lady did it though, it wasn’t scary. Just was funny. Lady, so little and so angry and too damn sweet to actually say anything mean. Just strings of curse words and questions to no one.

She opens the fridge with an exaggerated sigh meant for Daryl to hear. Staring at the two wine coolers left, unsure if she actually wants another one. She thinks about what he’d said again. Keep her safe!? It was starting to sound like a lie. She clacks the underside of her knuckles against the fridge door and lets out another noise. A groan or a warble or shiver with a voice. Daryl isn’t sure what she's going on about but it makes him laugh from the other room.

Lady decides against having another wine cooler. instead fixing to steal Daryl’s joint from his pack of smokes and figure out if he was lying about being ‘cross-faded’ or whatever he’d called it. Maybe if she smoked, just a little, she’d be able to figure out the magic words. Lady steps just outside the front door quietly, hoping Daryl would get zoned out again and not come looking.

💕

Daryl’s still sipping at his beer and waiting for Lady to come back. Trying to find his own set of magic words to answer her question. Knowing without any doubt that he’s fucked, absolutely completely totally fucking fucked, the second he stops being able to come up with any reason at all.

💕

Daryl finds Lady sitting out on the front step. Her knees hugged up to her chest, she’s leaning forward and ripping grass from the ground. He opens his mouth to say something but closes it just as fast. Deciding instead to walk down and post up next to her.

Lady moves to make room for him but doesn’t acknowledge him more than that. Daryl feels around on the ground for the roach he knows he’s going to find because he can smell it. Once he does he brings it up to her face, “Ya smoke this?”

“Aliens. Just missed ‘em,” laughing to herself.

He puts the joint between his lips, smiling and feeling for his lighter somewhere in his pockets, “Yer real funny, bug.” His mind’s somewhere else. Doesn’t care that she didn’t listen and smoked the pot after drinking. She was safe. She was always safe.

Daryl takes a drag just a little too long and coughs out the exhale. Passing the joint to Lady while he’s working through it. She takes it, hitting it gently this time, and manages not to cough at all.

They just sit together for a while, watching the moon come out from its hiding place behind the clouds. Lady feels the shimmering faeries all over her skin, in her stomach. She can see them in the moonlight in her brothers eyes.

Lady’s been looking at him. Can’t seem to stop. Just staring at the small space between his jaw and his ear and the curl of hair that didn’t belong there. “You gonna grow it out now that Daddy’s dead?”

He moves his chin in a nod, just barely, “Think so.”

Her hand flits to the spot, taking the same strands she’d been staring at between her fingertips. It had only been a few months but his hair was longer than she’d ever seen it. Daryl moves his head to look at her. He didn’t mean to move in a way that put her fingers just so gently against his cheek, but it was too late.

They share a look in the same way they’d shared the silence - both of them knowing exactly what the other was thinking. Both of them thinking exactly the same thing. Daryl knows what she meant when she said she wanted to kiss for real. That she just wanted to feel it.

Lady and Daryl both move like they’re going to go for it at the same time. Lady stops. Her heart is in her throat and the faeries are buzzing right out of her body. Had she seen that right? Was he really about to?

Daryl doesn't let her hesitation stop him, leaning over and taking her lips with his own the way she’d wanted the first time she’d asked. A real kiss. Slow and passionate and on purpose. He’s in his right mind but he’s not thinkin’. Just doin’.

Lady eagerly returns every move of his lips with her own. Getting acquainted with the feeling and starting to understand the rhythm of it.

Daryl was lying before when he’d told her he wasn’t any good at kissing. He holds her still by the back of her neck, moving into her deeper. Lady opens her mouth the instant she feels his tongue slip across her lip.

One second they’re kissing under the moon; and it’s taboo and it’s ‘wrong’ but it’s almost innocent. Still so sweet, and filled with uncertainty —-

and then their tongues meet.

And they turn into something else.

Lady moans just at the feeling of his wet something touching her wet something. Daryl’s never heard her make a noise like that before and it ignites a new part of him. He needs to hear it again. To feel it again. Lady’s perfect sweet voice coming apart against him.

They’re immeshed. Their mouths moving against and with eachother, deeper and faster and with more everything. Like they were eating eachother alive. Legs knocking together, Lady’s clawing at his shirt and when Daryl moves his other hand around her waist she moans again, shaking.

He pushes his tongue almost all the way to the back of her throat. Even with them closed, Lady can feel her eyes rolling back into her head. Moaning again into his mouth, but this time it comes from somewhere deeper.

His fingers squeeze into her a little harder before he pulls away again. Just lookin’ at her. Eyes closed and trembling. “C’mon.” He pulls on her hand a little to get her attention, all lost in herself.

Lady knows he wants to get inside and probably back to the a/c but she's afraid once this moments over she’s gonna have to try and convince him for 5 more hours to let her do it again, “I don’t wanna go inside, I wanna stay out here kissin’ you.”

“Can kiss insi’, bug.”

She’s beaming, fished her wish and then won the fuckin’ jackpot. “For real?”

“C’mon.” Daryl gets up with Lady right behind. Before now it had always been the other way around.

💕

The second they get to the living room they melt back together. Not even one step past the sheet Daryl grabs her wrist and pulls her into him again. He doesn’t want to wait for either one of them to get stuck up in their heads again. It was too late anyway.

Doesn’t want to think about Lady. Wants to feel her. Needs to beg that tremble from her vocal chords again.

He pulls her down to the bed and on top of him. Helping her place her legs on either side of his hips. Focusing in on how soft her thighs are underneath his fingertips, he squeezes.

Lady pulls back, looking down at his hands so high up her thighs, his thumb dangerously close to her heat. She's beyond comprehending the things he’s making her body feel. A light almost inaudible gasp escapes her as he squeezes again, but that's not what Daryl wants to hear.

Daryl isn't thinking about the fact that Lady's never done any of this stuff before, he's not even thinking about the fact that it's Lady who's ontop of him. It's Lady that he's touching. Sweet little girl Lady, who'd barely even been kissed before just now. He's staring at the space between her thighs. Her tiny sleep shorts riding up her pussy and he can make out every detail through the thin fabric, lips spread and almost spilling out the sides. Daryl forgets for a second where he is, moving his thumb over just an inch, pressing hard into her clit through her shorts.

Lady let's out a surprised cry, her hips bucking forward into him, her body falling down with two hands flat against his chest. Daryl's cock twitches at the sound and Lady feels it right at her entrance. Her head shoots up and all of a sudden they’re looking each other in the eyes. With all the lights on.

In this moment, there's no hesitation. No question of if they should or shouldn't be doing this. The look shared between them is only comfort. Lady, knowing it’s Daryl, knowing he’d never let her do something the wrong way.

And when Daryl sees that blown out sparkle in Lady’s eye? Knows that look. She wants him. And if Lady wants it? Can't be ugly. Just can't.

It's only two seconds, but it's everything.

Lady's mouth is back on Daryl's like it had never left, her tongue pushing through to his the instant they come together. His hands move to her hips, grinding her down into him. She can feel him, hard like when she had seen it pushing through his boxers. Now hard and pushing up into her. The feeling, the thought, groaning into his mouth at all of it.

He does it again. And again and again. Pulling her and pushing her over his clothed length as she assaults his mouth. Her tongue and lips slowly losing rhythm until she moves herself to suck and bite on his neck instead. The noises coming out of her are the most precious he’s ever heard.

Eventually Lady starts moving her hips on her own, and Daryl can feel the bump of her hard clit as she grinds herself on top of him.

Lady’s got one hand behind his neck and the other gripping at the fabric of his shirt like it's going to save her. She’s humping her brother like sometimes she humps her pillow, hips moving in deliberate circles, so close to an orgasm she can taste it. Soft light mews coming from her lips in breaths. She can't look at him, she wants to forget he's even there. She's embarrassed. But she cums anyway.

Cascading through her limbs before tiding back to make room for the shame. Her hips won't stop shaking and she's afraid to look at him.

Daryl’s high on the whole fucking experience. Watching, feeling, hearing Lady come apart ontop of him.

Daryl's going to hell. Knows it and doesn't care. Something about it being his sister is sending him over the fucking edge. Of course it was gonna. Kissing is one thing. Being used for your cock so your little sister can hump you until she cums is something else.

He pulls her up against his body a few inches. Weaving his fingers through her hair to hold the back of her neck, he kisses her forehead. Smiling deviously against her skin, “Y’wanna make me cum again?”

Daryl had only ever been comfortable talking to one girl like that, and that was a real long time ago. But with Lady he didn't have anything to hide or be worried about. Knows she's gonna say yes, knows she'd get mad if he'd wanted to and hadn’t asked her.

Any embarrassment Lady had been feeling is forgotten like she'd never felt it in the first place. She sits up. Looking down at her fingers as they play with the fabric of his tee-shirt all bunched up against his stomach. “With my mouth?” she asks with a coy smile.

“Only f’ya wanna.”

“Well, is that what you meant?” she looks him in the eye, waiting for an answer.

“Yeah, s’what I meant.” he nods, gliding a hand from one thigh, over her stomach, and then onto the other one. His other hand reaching behind her body to squeeze her ass. Daryl’s not worried about being too forward. Not thinkin’, just doin’.

Lady shivers under his touch, his needful hands feel so much better than the ones she'd imagined. Never thought it would feel so much bigger than skin on skin and different kinds of pressure. To be desired? To be touched simply because he wanted to and couldn't help himself — it radiates into her soul.

“I wanna.” She nods with a whisper, moving off of him to sit and wait.

Daryl gets up and falls back into the couch, beckoning Lady over with a nod of his head. As she crawls towards him Daryl’s working on his belt, his button, his zipper, but he’s just staring at her. God, even his ex-girlfriend never looked that desperate to suck his cock.

Lady was chomping at the fuckin’ bit waiting to taste him again. Sitting between his legs, staring. Waiting. He finally works himself free, and Lady is melting into a puddle of drool. She sits up on her knees to get closer, but Daryl’s stroking himself slowly and she’s never seen something so…

With Daryl leaned back and looking at her like that, doing that. She’s never seen anything so fucking hot. Doesn’t even have another word to describe it. So. Fucking. Hot. So goddamn fucking hot that it rewires her brain chemistry.

Daryl smirks, which to Lady just makes it hotter, he can’t believe she’s watching like this. He can’t believe how much he’s getting off on her watching. Never did this in front of a girl, not even his ex-girlfriend, and they’d done everything.

“S’what? Don’ wanna use tha’ mouth yet?”

She shakes her head quickly, but her eyes are fixed, “I do, I do.” She opens her mouth like she’s gonna keep talking but closes it. Daryl notices the way her eyes go big and seem to sparkle when he gets to the bottom of his stroke. He holds himself around the base and lets the full heavy length of his cock wave back and forth.

Lady’s so turned on that the, “Holy shit,” she’s thinking tumbles out of her mouth and into the air.

Daryl, with his fingers still firmly gripping around the base, directs himself down toward her. His cockhead only centimeters from her open mouth. “A’least spit on it, bug.”

She’s so mesmerized, she doesn’t look up, “For real?”

“For real, gimme a good one like I taught ya.”

She haucks a good one right on the tip, only an inch away from her mouth. He pulls himself up and out of her immediate reach again, using her spit to coat his aching appendage. Daryl wasn’t really jerking off, just showing off for Lady. Honestly? He was torturing himself.

Now, covered in wet saliva, Lady can see every glimmering detail. Every ridge and vein and he’s holding himself tight again, it’s so fucking big. “Is everyones this big?”

Daryl gives an unexpected laugh, “S’not tha’ big, bug.”

She reaches her hand out and wraps her fingers around him, just above his hand. Daryl groans at the feeling of her. She’s trying to figure out if she can close her hand around him, but apparently she can’t, “Look, Dar, my fingers don’t even touch.”

“Fuck,” the word comes out just like the groan. Lady likes hearing Daryl like this. All a mess because of her.

She smiles before biting her lip, “It’s thicker than my wrist, bubba.”

“Is it?” He asks her, with a playful smirk. He only asked to get her to prove it. When she lets go of his erection to hold her wrist next to it for comparison Daryl grabs her grabs her hand. Pulling her arm up by her palm he measures his dick next to the length of her forearm. Jesus fucking goddamn Christ.

Lady, after being thrown off by him grabbing her like that, just gawks. They’re the same fucking size. His cock and her whole fucking forearm. “What the fuck?!”

“‘m big n’all but Lady, yer little.” He lets her have her arm back but she’s still just holding it up next to him trying to figure it out. How was that ever gonna fit inside her?

“It didn’t look that big this morning.”

“Don’ gotta be scared. F’ya wanna stop, we can.”

“No! No,” she puts her hand back around him, “don’t wanna stop.”

Daryl’s hand is right below hers, he starts to move up on himself hoping she’ll follow. She does, placing her pinky over his index finger as they both start to jerk him off together. Lady’s not using nearly enough pressure, so he moves his hand from below hers to around. Squeezing her fingers tighter, moving her hand faster than they’d been.

Daryl starts to finally feel it building, getting closer to an orgasm than he’d been all night. His eyes close for only a few seconds before he hears and feels Lady spit on his cock again.

“Fucking christ, bug.” He says, looking down at her. Sitting up on her knees with her lips spread just waiting for him to put it in her mouth. He guides himself, in her hand, to her outstretched eager tongue.

Lady just watches it get closer until she can devour him. Not like this morning, she laps at him with no abandon. Licking and sucking at his head like she was making out with it. Daryl’s eyes keep closing at the feeling, and he keeps opening them to watch.

Fucking beautiful. Absolutely perfect. She doesn’t know a damn thing about sucking a cock and it shows. Still feels like heaven, still’s gonna make Daryl bust a fat one. Can feel it, he’s just about to, and then Lady takes his whole head in her mouth while looking up at him at the same time.

“Fuck, Lady. M’gonna.”

She knows what he means, but why was he telling her? Was she supposed to stop? She doesn’t, instead she takes him even further into her mouth, eyes flicking back up to his again.

Daryl and Lady are completely locked onto each other as he cums down her throat.

Lady could feel it happening before it happened, his cock getting even harder before it pulsates between her lips.The first shot goes to the back of her throat, making her gag, but she stays put. Taking all of it.

Daryl watches Lady doing her best to swallow it. Coming to terms pretty quickly that he came down his sister's throat. The fact that it was while looking in her fucking eyes is a little harder. He puts himself away before joining her on their bed. Laying her down on his chest while they both stare at the ceiling.

“Didn’t have ta swallow it.” He tells her.

“I wanted to.”

“Did good, bug.”

“I know.”

He laughs, his rumbling chest shaking Lady’s head slightly, “Oh? Y’know? How’s that?” She didn’t do that good.

“Shit, Bug, fuck. Jesus christ ‘m gonna cum.” She makes groans and grunts in between curses.

“Alrigh’, quit it.” He regrets asking.

Lady sits up to rewind the tape and Daryl stands to turn the lights off. Meeting back in bed, Lady curls up into him, and they both finally manage to fall asleep.

💕

For about a week Lady and Daryl do that night on repeat. Drinking a few drinks, smoking a little pot, making out while Lady humps him until she cums, and then Daryl sits on the couch and Lady sucks him off.

She’s gotten better at it. A lot better and real fast. Daryl had to show her a couple things, but he didn’t count it as teaching her. Just showing her how. Doesn’t know why he thinks they’re different, but one felt dirty and the other one didn’t. Didn’t wanna ‘teach’ Lady anything. Just wanted to experience it with her.

Lady didn’t need much showing how anyway. She’d picked up the sucking part, using both hands, her tongue and her lips. She’s started using her cheeks and her throat too.

Today Lady had asked Daryl if she could blow him while they drove around town. He’s got his keys in his hands before she even finishes asking.

💕

Lady’s laying down on her stomach across the bench seat of the truck, feet kicked up in the air, Daryl’s cock lolling out of her mouth as she lays her head on his thigh to look at him.

Daryl glances down for a second to see her hand holding his length flush against his leg, mouth around the head of him, suckling his cock like it’s a lollipop.

At least once a day Daryl’s sure he’s witnessing the hottest thing he’ll ever see in his whole life. He pulls over onto the side of the road. Lady’s been at this for 10 minutes and he could probably last longer but he doesn’t want to.

She doesn’t move while Daryl parks the truck. She’s learned to recognize the look on his face, and how it meant she was doing just exactly the right thing. She’s still laying on his thigh, one hand on his cock to keep it pointing down and into her mouth while she sucks just the tip of him off, swirling her tongue all around.

Daryl throws the truck in park. Looking down, he grabs her head with both hands, pulling her just barely off of his thigh so he can move his hips. With both feet planted to the floor and his back against the seat he starts fucking into the back of her throat. Her cheeks stretching out around the girth of him made all the more explicit by the light of day. She starts making that noise again. Daryl pulls Lady off of him by both sides of her head, a string of saliva still stuck to his dick goes with her, glinting in the sunlight.

At least once a day Daryl’s sure he’s witnessing the hottest thing he’ll ever see in his whole life, “Why d’ya like it like tha’?”

She’s staring at him with wide eyes, her voice small, “Whad’ya mean?” If Lady could have it her way she’d live with his cock in her mouth.

“When ‘m rough. When ‘m doin’ the work.”

“Never liked workin’, Daryl.” She goes to move herself back to him, but he holds her head still.

“Lay, no. Wanna know why.” But Daryl can tell by Ladys expression that she doesn’t even know. “Figure it out.”

He lets go of her gently, allowing her to go back to doing whatever she wanted to be doing with him. Daryl puts the truck back in drive, figures he’d give Lady some more time doing her new favorite thing.

💕

“Y’good, bug?” Daryl leans down over her shoulder to ask. They’re walking the farmers market. Not some nice fancy fruit and veggies stand, the farmers market. Everyone and their momma trying to sell old tape collections and knick-knacks like it’s a permanent yard sale. As Lady was walking in front of him he’d noticed her moving around all funny. Doing an uncomfortable dance to readjust something without anyone noticing.

“Shuddup.” She hisses back at him, an unmistakable blush spreading across her cheeks.

This just spurs him further, he skips a step to be right up against her, “Wha’s goin’ on in yer pants?”

She stops and turns around to face him, their bodies so close but not touching. Lady takes a quick look around, there’s a bunch of people nearby, walking right past them, but no one’s looking at them.

She sighs, reaching down into her shorts before pulling her hand out and putting it in Daryl’s face. So coated in her own slick that it stretches to fill the area between her fingers when she moves them apart. Daryl wonders if he could blow a bubble with it, and then immediately pushes her hand back down and looks around to see if anyone else had watched her do that.

Seeing that no one’s caught them at the very same time he feels it, his own hand, now covered in her.

Daryl had been losing his fucking mind over her. Her down there. Her pretty pussy that he hasn’t gotten to see or taste or feel. Yet. He’s not ever gonna push her to do something, he’s not even gonna ask her. She’s the one that’s gotta ask for it. That’s gotta want it. So it can’t be ugly.

Lady’s looking at him, waiting for some kind of reaction, til Daryl lifts his arm with a smile and a nod. Aggressively and publicly sucking on the side of his hand. The bit between his wrist and his pinky and part of his palm, all coated in sticky perfect sweet Lady. He looks down at her with a grin before walking away, knowing she’d follow.

She’s on his heels, grabbing his wrist as he weaves through the crowd. Lady pulls hard on his arm to get him to stop moving right when they’re in the thick of it. People bumped up on every side, Daryl turns back to face her and Ladys right up against him, hugging him and pulling his hand between them. Pushing him down the front of her pants, she spreads her legs and urges him further by his forearm.

It happens so quickly Daryl can’t even react at first. His hand just pressed against her. Soft, and warm, and so wanting. Her cunt was so wet and running down her legs it knocked the wind out of him. So wet his fingers slip right through her delicate folds and rub right up against her clit and her hole at the same time. Lady reacts with buckled knees, holding on to his arm for stability. Her eyes closed and her body shuddering around his hand.

He pulls back out just as quickly, righting Lady to stand up straight. He doesn't look around to see if anyone's watching, just takes his wet fingers and slowly puts them against and past her parted lips.

Time seems to stand still, eyes locked on each other, Daryl's fingers edging deeper into her mouth. And then someone bumps into Lady, her body rocking forward and into her brother's larger frame. Wrapping his arm around her, he starts pulling her back through the market. Ending up along the fence that bordered some woods. Thick and on a decline, Daryl knows no one will see them back here.

Lady doesn't know the plan, but she's too turned on to care. So burning up that even the tall grass itching at her skin feels like little lightning kisses.

It's not long before Daryl decides they've gone far enough. He pushes Lady up against a tree, just looking down at her while he tries to catch his breath. She’s looking between them, starting to mess with his belt before he stops her with one hand, “Thinkin' ya migh’ lose yer min’ soon if ya don' jus’ ask.”

She lets go of his belt, keeping her hands in his, “...ask what?”

“Fer me ta touch ya, bug. Yer so fuckin’ wet I don' know how yer still walkin’ around.”

She blushes, and tries to get out of his grip on her against the tree. Daryl lightens up a bit but doesn't let her go, “are ya always like tha’?” he asks.

She looks toward his chest instead of up at him, biting the side of her lip while nodding gently, “I mean, yeah….”

“Need ya ta ask, bug.”

“Why?” She finally looks up at him, genuinely confused.

“Cuz. Gotta be you tha’ wants it.”

“You don't want it?”

“‘nough ta ask.” He tries to clarify but she still doesn't completely understand. Daryl shakes his head, “Forget it. Jus’ cuz, Lay. Cuz I said.”

She nods, scanning the ground next to them like it has the words to put together, “I don't know what to ask for, Dar.” She puts her hand against his chest, “I want it all.”

Daryl smiles, can't help it, Lady doesn't even know what to ask for so she sucks his dick in wanton misery for a week and then when she finally does ask it's to go all the way. Lady fucking would.

“Lay, ‘m not fuckin’ ya fer the firs’ time out in the fuckin’ woods behind the market. Jus fuckin’ ask me ta touch ya b’fore I take ya home instead.”

“Touch me.” She says it before he's finished talking.

Daryl's on her in an instant. Overwhelming her mouth with his own, finally letting his hands feel her everywhere.

He starts at her breasts, which he's already touched over her clothes but never underneath, never pinching and rolling her nipple between his two fingers before now. Her gasp ebbs into a moan as he continues to squeeze and prod at her.

Daryl leans back, breaking his assault on her mouth to pull up her shirt and assault her there instead. But once he's got his eyes on her exposed skin he just stops. His hand coming up to grab at her again, cupping the small soft mound of flesh with his whole hand. Watching as his thumb brushes over her nipple, hard and pink and perfect. He traces his fingers down her stomach, rubbing his free hand over his dick.

Daryl's fingers come to rest at the hem of her shorts, looking up at her before pulling the waistband down past her hips, then onto the ground.

Lady just watches, letting her body sway with the pull of her clothing being removed. Steadying herself with her hand on his shoulder to keep from falling over. Daryl feels her hand, and for some reason it makes him want to stay down there. Hadn’t been planning on it, was just gonna touch her with his hands. He figures touching with his tongue is still just touching, and she’d already asked for that.

Besides, Lady puts her mouth on him all the time. Still, Daryl looks at her before he does, leaning in and peering up. Making it obvious what he was silently begging permission for. Lady meets his eyes, responding to his request by stepping one foot out of her shorts and spreading her legs.

His face buries up and into her, licking every spot around her pussy. Her thighs and all the strings of her mess, his tongue taking large swathes up each side of her lips. Lady’s legs are already shaking so much that both her and Daryl realize she’s not going to be able to stay standing on her own.

“S-sorry.” She squeaks.

“S’okay, bug, just don’t know where to put ya.”

On your cock, she thinks. Lady’s brain can only think about his cock. How she knows it’s hard and in his pants and not in her mouth. Sure, Daryl’s mouth on her feels good, but it’s not the same.

“Just want you inside, Dar.” She’d been good at just dealing with the ache, it seemed to ease when he was in her mouth. Even though it wasn’t what her body needed, she guesses it’s close enough.

She's not looking when he invades her hole. One finger, and she’s shaking and shivering and every muscle in her body tenses up.

Daryl goes to pull out and Lady scrambles to hold his hand where it is. He huffs a laugh, “Shit, Lay, was gonna put it back in again.”

She’s not listening, her ears ringing, her vision whitehot and blinding. Daryl pulls out of her only to stand up. Lowering his head down to take her lips. And like it was every time Lady and Daryl kissed, they’re ignited. More than before. Everything seems to escalate their desperate need for each other. Their want, their desire itself, seemed to feed its own flame.

Daryl’s hands are at her naked hips, Lady’s losing herself in his mouth. She hadn’t realized that she’d put her feet together until Daryl’s hand pushes between her thighs and moves her legs apart again. He pushes his finger back into her, breaking their kiss and pulling a moan out with it. He pulls his finger out slowly, not all the way, before pushing back in again, just feeling her warm walls clenching tightly around his finger. He can’t stop himself from adding another. Wants to stuff her full and change her whole fucking life.

She groans and he presses himself against her body, fucking his two fingers into her as deep as he can reach. Daryl makes sure she’s braced tight between himself and the tree, pushing against her hard to keep her still, before he curls his two thick digits inside of her. His fingertips petting the so-soft spongy part of her, they don’t stop even as her back tries to arch her right off the tree and onto the ground.

Daryl peels her from the bark, keeping my her up with his knees bent so she can reach her arms to wrap around his neck and hold on. He keeps moving his fingers hard against her g-spot, that groan coming out between gasps and other moans and yelps and every beautiful sound Lady could make.

Daryl leans Lady back into his arm, still assaulting that spot with his fingers but instead of curling them into her he starts moving his hand back and forth inside her with his shoulder and forearm. Pulling and pushing, the sound of her cunt squelching into the air, the sopping sounds getting audibly wetter.

Lady leans back so far in Daryl’s arm that he decides to just place her onto the ground. Hadn’t wanted to do that, but it’s too late. Lady, on the ground naked from the tits down and looking up at him like she doesn’t even believe what she’s feeling is real. “Please.” She whines, Lady’d never asked like that before.

He wishes he could fuck her in the woods, even if it was gonna be her first time, but he just can’t. “M’gonna, jus’ lemme look atchya.” He’s squatted down next to her, rubbing his rough palm all over her blushing naked skin.

“You can look when we get home for as long as you want, please, Daryl.” There she was saying it again. Begging him. Lady can’t take it, the cool ground feels refreshing against her flushed body, but the heat is coming from inside and Daryl was right. Lady was close to losing her damn mind.

Daryl watches her writhing in front of him for a beat longer than he needs to. Can’t help it, definitely sure this time that this is the hottest thing he'll ever see in his whole life. Lady's bare body all down in the sticks and dirt with her legs spread. Her messy pussy swollen and red and waiting for him.

He puts his hand down on her chest, running his fingers along her skin so lightly. So barely there. Lady trembles, closing her eyes at the feeling, her back arching off the ground, “Please.” She begs again, grabbing onto his arm and trying to push it between her legs.

Daryl shakes her hands off his arm and continues to kneed at her breast. Grabbing hold of it harshly before bringing his mouth down to lick flat long purposeful strokes into her nipple.

Her eyes wide as she raises her head to look down. Her tit in his hand is lewd. The nipple filled out with fat and puffy, she watches until he completely envelopes her between his lips. The wet muscle of his tongue flicking deep into her nerves, her whole body starts spasming underneath of him.

And then it's. Oh, it's everything. Lady is on fire from the inside again, like when she hit Daryl's pot the very first time and she'd turned into a rabid dog. And now she's feral in heat in the woods, her desperate cunt being filled by her brothers thick fingers and she burns. Burns so hot and alive it rips through her body in screams that Daryl's never heard before. Don't think Lady's ever made before.

She's primal. Screaming and moaning and panting and falling apart. Faeries burning alive and singeing every inch of her soul on the way out.

As she's coming down, Daryl easing his fingers out of her, a high pitched whistle cuts through the air.

6’ tall and dirty. Hairy and sweaty. Roughneck. 20 feet away and just staring at them. Daryl moves quick to cover Lady up as she scrambles her top down and back to her shorts by the tree.

“Fuck off.” Daryl calls back flipping him the middle finger, while Lady wrestles her shorts on. The man just watches, doesn't do anything else. Watches as Lady and Darly hurry away and out of the woods.

💕

Lady scoots over on the bench seat as they roll down the road back to their house. She goes to put her hands on his lap but he moves them away.

“What's wrong?”

“Know tha’ guy.”

“So?”

“Wha’ if he knows you?”

“He doesn't.”

Daryl nods, using his free hand to grab a smoke. Lady helps him light it and they drive home in silence. Lady, curled up next to him. Daryl, a million miles away worrying, for the first time, that maybe he shoulda said no. To the drive, to touching her, to what they were doin’. To all of it.

Didn’t think before now how maybe it could hurt Lady. How if anyone found out…

Cursing himself to hell and not back because he doesn’t deserve it. Shouldn’t have taken her out in them woods like that. Not the same as their woods. Those woods don’t know shit about keepin’ secrets.

💕

A/n: I also cringe so hard when “bust a fat one” but it's Daryl and it's 1996 and I just. It just is, okay? It's in the middle of some of his internal shit and IT just IS. (I wanted to delete it so many times but I can't. I've come to terms with it, so should you. pls)

As far as pacing… this type of relationship takes buildup and I couldn’t figure out where to cut down. Like I took out about 1k in the first “scene” and it still feels like it’s dragging to me but I also feel like I’ve read it too many times to know. Also the smut parts… I feel this need to detail and describe and it’s probably overboard but when I’m reading fic I find myself always wanting more of that so idk. Maybe it’s too much? Idk I’m new I’ll figure it out.

Ty for reading 💕💕💕

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon smut #twd daryl #daryl fanfiction #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x oc #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x female reader

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justagalwhowrites · 11 months ago

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Halcyon - Ch. 6: But, Honestly, Something's Gotta Give

You and Joel review each other's lists. A continuation of Halcyon from the prologue through Ch. 5, a modern no outbreak AU TLOU fic found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Semi-graphic description of masturbation. Mention of drug and alcohol addiction. Mention of past drug overdose. Diet culture type language. Modern No Outbreak AU, No use of Y/N, Slow burn, 18+ only, Minors DNI

Length: 10.3K

AO3 | Main Master List | Prologue | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

“Hey you!”

You managed to resist the urge to groan when your sister threw the door open, her hip popped against it and a large glass bottle clutched in the hand she’d put in the air in excitement.

“Please tell me that’s not wine,” you said, trying to see the label on the bottle.

“Oh you’re such a buzzkill,” Anna rolled her eyes and visibly deflated a bit. “And no, of course it’s not wine. It’s sparkling cider, heaven forbid a girl wants to do something different once in a while…”

“Sorry,” you said, hands up in surrender as she stepped aside and let you in. You gave her a quick hug before following her toward the kitchen. “How’ve you been?”

“Drunk off my ass and high all the time,” she made a mocking face over her shoulder at you. “Oh wait, no, that’s just what my sister thinks I’ve been doing…”

“You answered the door with something that looks like a wine bottle in your hand and you’ve been out of rehab for all of two months,” you said, voice sharper than you’d really intended it to be. “Think my question was pretty reasonable.”

“You know, a little trust would be nice,” she said, stopping at the counter and pouring the cider into two waiting wine glasses. “Kinda hard to rebuild my life if fucking no one in it trusts me to do it.”

You sighed

“You’re right,” you said, sitting at the kitchen table. “I’m sorry. I should have given you the benefit of the doubt.”

You held up a box of candy and shook it, the little squares inside rattling in their paper and plastic confines as you did.

“I brought you chocolate,” you smiled at her.

“Buying my love, hm?” She asked, setting a drink in front of you before sitting down at the seat beside you. You just shrugged as she pulled off the lid, wiggling her fingers over the various truffles before selecting one without looking at the map explaining the varieties. “Well, it worked. I forgive you.”

She bit into the candy and made a face, scrunching her nose.

“Ugh,” she said, holding out the remaining half of the truffle, brushing it over your lips. “Coconut. Disgusting.”

“I don’t want your spit candy…” you leaned away from her but her hand shot forward and stuffed the piece in your mouth as you spoke, making you cough for a moment before you gave up and just chewed it. “You’re disgusting.”

“And you’re lame,” she said. “So we’re even.”

“So,” you said, swallowing the candy. “How are you doing? Really?”

She shrugged, her fingers lingering over the box again as she selected her next piece.

“Fine, I guess,” she said. “I have a job interview next week…”

“No shit!” Your eyes went wide, impressed. “That’s amazing, where at?”

“OK, be less excited because otherwise it’s going to be a letdown,” she rolled her eyes a little. “But, believe it or not, it’s an office job. Data entry. It’s going to be total bullshit but it was a foot in the door which, right now? I’ll take.”

“Congratulations!” You smiled, genuinely happy for her. “That’s exciting.”

She shrugged again.

“Only exciting if I get it. And even then… pretty damn lame.”

“A steady paycheck is only lame until you realize how nice it is,” you said. “I think you’ll like a little stability and independence.”

“Yeah,” she sighed. “I think you’re right. It just feels weird to be at this stage right now in my life, you know? I didn’t finish college, I have no job experience. I thought my life was going to just always be my life and now it’s not. I’m basically starting from scratch at 29. Less than scratch, I’m already divorced and have two stints in rehab under my belt.”

You shrugged.

“Scratch isn’t so bad.”

“Ah right, my sister in arms, fellow member of the hot young divorcee club,” she smirked, grabbing another chocolate and popping it in her mouth before nodding slowly. “This one’s better, caramel.”

“Not divorced yet,” you signed, rapping your fingers on the side of your glass. “Gale keeps sending over new terms… I feel like this is never going to end.”

“It can take a while,” she nodded knowingly. “Hell, even when you’re on decent terms it takes a while, take it from someone who knows.”

“Speaking of our exes, how is dear old Joshy?” You asked. Anna rolled her eyes a little but you saw the corners of her lips pull up. “Josharoonie. Joshimiah.”

“Shut up. And he’s fine, last I heard,” she said. “I haven’t seen him in a bit.”

“Really?” You said. “I’m impressed.”

“Not that impressive,” she muttered, taking a sip of her drink.

“Uh huh,” you replied. “Hon, I remember a time that you couldn’t stay away from him for five minutes and I remember him convincing you that oh, no, it’s just a little wine, just a little pot, just a little coke…”

“Yeah, he’s way less hot shit when I’m sober as it happens,” she laughed a little. “God, yeah, I don’t know that I would have made it down the aisle with him if I’d been sober. I was three bottles of wine deep that day…”

“Yeah, I remember,” you laughed a little, too. “That really should have been red flag number one, you had to get hammered to marry the guy. I probably should have tried harder to stop you.”

“Eh,” she shrugged. “Can’t hold it against you. Not like your taste in men was all that great. No offense.”

You just shrugged noncommittally. It was easier than arguing. You weren’t sure why you kept wanting to defend Gale to people. It’s not like he was being especially kind or caring as your marriage dissolved. It wasn’t like he’d been especially kind or caring toward you in a very long time.

But something in you grated at people’s distaste. You were divorcing him, yes, but it’s not like you’d lost all your feeling for the man. You still cared about him. You still loved him. Or you thought you did, anyway. Sometimes, you weren’t sure if it was him you loved or if it was the life you had before that you longed for, the gentle stability of a partner who you knew would put his hand in the small of your back when maneuvering around you in the bathroom in the morning and would program the coffee pot before you went to bed at night. There was a comforting, quiet certainty in knowing the pattern of someone’s scars and where to find them in the dark. You hadn’t had that in a while.

But you hadn’t had any kind of special consideration in even longer, your husband paying you and your wants and needs very little mind as the two of you moved along toward divorce through the final years of your marriage. It was slow at first - curt words and quick frustrations - and then all at once, with raised voices and wounds that cut deeper than you’d realized at the time.

Part of you wondered if Gale would have stayed as he was when you met him if it wasn’t for you. Like maybe you’d driven him to this version of himself, the version that seemed to be vindictive and mean now and had been thoughtless and cold as everything collapsed. Maybe, if you’d been less infuriating or self centered or immature, he’d have remained his brilliant, pensive self. Maybe he’d still have wanted to steal you away into his office to go down on you between classes, your legs spread wide as he pulled your ass to the edge of his desk and plunged his tongue inside of you. Maybe he’d still want to take you to restaurants you didn’t know to eat foods you’d never tried, his hand slipping up your thigh as he fed you your first bite of caviar. Maybe he’d still call you Doll and look at you like you had something worth experiencing somewhere inside you.

Maybe you’d ruined him. Maybe you’d ruined everything.

The oven timer dinged and Anna jumped up, grabbing pot holders and pulling a baking dish out of the oven as you frowned.

“What?” She asked, getting out plates. “I invited you over for lunch, I was obviously going to feed you.”

“OK, yeah, not obvious,” you said. “And I figured that it might mean… I don’t know, sandwiches or something, what is that?”

“Mom’s mac and cheese,” she smiled, proud. You gaped at her for a moment. “What! I was a housewife for years, I did pick up a few skills.”

“You followed Joshamania around on tour for years,” you corrected her. “I don’t think you had the facilities to make Mom’s mac and cheese at your disposal.”

“OK so maybe it’s a new skill,” she said, spooning the food onto plates. “But I’m not totally useless.”

She put the plate in front of you - it was chipped, one of the same ones you’d eaten off of every day as a kid - and sat next to you, tucking her leg below her as she did before the two of you dug into the pasta.

It smelled warm and familiar, a little like your kitchen on Anna’s birthday when you were kids and you took a bite. But you only chewed it for half a second before you dropped the food back on your plate and grabbed the glass of sparkling juice, chugging it as Anna made a disgusted face.

“What did you do to it?” You coughed, trying to get the taste out of your mouth. “That’s the saltiest thing I’ve ever eaten!”

“It said to salt the water!” She coughed, too. “And add salt to taste in the sauce…”

“Did you taste it?” You asked, brows raised. “And how much salt did you put in the water?”

“I don’t know!” She said. “It didn’t say how much to put in. And no, I didn’t taste it, I thought it’d be gross to eat out of the pan I was cooking in…”

“This is what’s gross,” you said before pouring another glass of juice and chugging that, too. “Jesus… that tour bus really didn’t have a kitchen did it?”

“Nope,” she took the bottle and just started drinking straight from it. “But if it did, I’d probably have killed half the band…”

You snorted at that, almost shooting sparkling juice out of your nose when you did. As the two of you regained your composure, you looked at your little sister. It sometimes felt like the two of you had gone down completely opposite paths, everything about you so disparate it was like she was a total stranger to you.

It’s not as though you were related by blood. Your parents had adopted Anna when she was a baby and you were almost three years old, back when their marriage was still functional and bringing another child into it sounded like a good idea instead of total insanity. But you’d have thought growing up together with the same parental neuroses and sharing the same bathroom would have made it so you somewhat resembled each other in the way your lives had turned out.

It hadn’t, though. You were valedictorian of your high school class, went to an ivy league school, got a doctorate and started teaching at your alma mater. You’d married the first real boyfriend you had, the only time you’d ever interacted with a cop was the two times you’d been pulled over for speeding and you could count the number of concerts you’d been to on one hand.

Anna, on the other hand, had finished high school by the skin of her teeth. She’d been in her first semester of community college when your mother died and she dropped out almost immediately, no matter how hard you tried to talk her out of it. She got involved with a protest group for a while before she started following her favorite band on tour. She ended up sleeping with half of them before she wound up married to the guitarist. Your life had been quiet and stable and hers had been free and exciting and yet you’d both wound up back in your home town, divorced and trying to figure out where to go next.

Maybe you were more like her than you realized.

“I think I have the stuff for sandwiches,” she said, shoving back from the table and heading for the fridge. “Because yeah, that’s inedible…”

“Don’t worry about it on my account,” you said, pushing the offending plate away. “I’m going to dinner with Joel in a few hours so…”

“Joel?” She straightened up from behind the fridge door, her eyebrows raised as she watched you. “Wait, like a date?”

“Please,” you scoffed. “It’s Joel. Be real.”

“Right, you’re too straight laced for someone like that,” she rolled her eyes, going back into the fridge.

“No I’m not!”

“Yes, you are,” she said, standing up again and bumping the door closed with her hip. She came back to the table and dropped a Lunchable in front of you. You raised your eyebrows and she glared at you. “Not a fucking word.”

“I didn’t say a thing,” you said, pulling back the plastic wrap lid. “And you know that you couldn’t pay Joel enough to date me…”

She scoffed, opening her own Lunchable.

“I’m not his type!” You protested, resisting the urge to kick her under the table.

“Type schmype,” she waved you off. “Mom always thought you two were going to get married one day…”

“Yeah, because her judgement was always so stellar,” you rolled your eyes, making a little sandwich of meat and cheese and crackers.

“Say what you want about her taste in men but Mom knew you,” Anna said, her tone almost uncomfortably earnest. “You’re so much like her. So, so like her. She knew. And she said it, even after you were engaged to Gale she said it. Because she knew.”

“Well,” you shrugged after a moment. “She got it wrong.”

You ended up staying at Anna’s for a few hours. She told you more about the meetings she was attending, how she liked her sponsor. Things seemed to be going well for her, it was stabilizing. So much better than it had been when you’d decided to come back to Texas a few months earlier. She’d passed out at a party after taking drugs from someone she barely knew. Thankfully, someone she was there with was smart enough to get her to a hospital when she wouldn’t wake up. You’d flown down and sat with her at the hospital, talked to her doctors, helped convince her to go to rehab. For a few torturous hours on the plane ride, you thought you might lose your sister, too. That you’d have no one and you’d be adrift in the world, lost and alone and as empty of meaning as you’d always been afraid you were. You’d decided then that, if Anna lived, you were moving back.

But navigating your relationship with Anna since was a balancing act. Part of you wanted to become her mother, to take care of her and guide her and support her through everything. It seemed safest, making decisions for her since she seemed to be so bad at making them for herself. But you knew that wasn’t tenable, not really. She was fiercely independent, she always had been. She’d rather make all the wrong decisions on her own than have someone make the right ones for her. But being just her sister didn’t feel like enough, not when she was struggling and trying to find her way.

“I hope you and Joel have fun tonight,” she said in a sing song voice as she walked you to the front door.

“You’re obsessed,” you rolled your eyes. “I promise, it’s nothing interesting…”

“You two have been spending a lot of time together for nothing interesting.”

“We’ve always spent a lot of time together,” you said, turning to face her as she stood in the doorway. “He half lived at our house when we were kids if you recall.”

“Yeah, you were in love with him then, too,” she smirked.

“Not even going to dignify that with a response,” you said, not wanting to think about how well your sister seemed to know you. “You know where to find me if you need me, right?”

“Oh gosh,” she huffed dramatically. “Joel’s?”

“Alright, bye!” You waved and Anna cackled.

“Hey,” she called from her door as you went to get to the car. “I’m happy you’re back.”

You smiled a little.

“Believe it or not, I’m happy I’m back too.”

***

“You got everything?” Joel asked, herding Sarah toward the truck.

“Yes Dad,” she rolled her eyes.

“Got your pajamas?”

“Yes.”

“Clothes for tomorrow? Including clean underwear?”

She sighed.��

“Yes, duh.”

“Don’t ‘duh’ me,” he said. “You forget stuff you need all the time and I’m not gonna just be at home waitin’ for you to need something tonight. If you forget it, you’re on your own kid.”

“I have everything.”

“Vanessa’s present?”

“Dad,” she stopped and looked at him. “I’m 11. I’m basically a teenager. I have all my stuff.”

Joel tried really hard to not laugh.

“Alright,” he said. “In the truck, you almost teenager.”

She smiled proudly before obeying.

“Can I put on my playlist?” She asked, leaning between the front seats.

“You have to give me the phone then,” he said. “And you have to sit back and buckle up.”

She pulled up the playlist before dropping the phone in his hand and sitting back.

“You excited for Vanessa’s birthday party?” He asked as he started the playlist. “Seatbelt.”

“Yeah!” She said, obeying and buckling up. “Melanie is gonna be there, too, and she was bringing her karaoke machine. Can I get a karaoke machine?”

“You gonna let me use it?” Joel asked, looking at her in the rear view mirror.

“Only if you sing something besides old man music,” she smirked at him.

“I don’t listen to old man music…”

“You listen to old man music,” she said. “You’re gonna tell Aunt Goldie I say hi, right?”

“I’ll tell her you say hi,” he smiled a little. “Even though I figured we’d pretend the world didn’t revolve around you for one night…”

Sarah scoffed and he could tell she was trying not to smile, too.

“The world revolves around me every night,” she said. “As it should.”

Joel laughed and pulled up in front of Vanessa’s house.

“Alright center of the universe,” he said, pausing the music and handing her the phone. “Go, have fun, be on your best behavior…”

“You too,” she said, getting out of the truck before pausing on her way out the door. “Dad, I think I forgot something…”

Joel sighed.

“What do you need, Baby Girl?”

She just laughed.

“I’m just messing with you. Have fun!”

Sarah jumped out of the truck before he had a chance to respond and ran to the door, her duffle bag bouncing on her arm. He waited until she was safely inside and waved to Vanessa’s mom - whose name he could never fucking remember - before he headed to your place.

He hadn’t just triple checked to make sure that Sarah had everything she needed, he’d also made sure he was ready, too.

Joel wasn’t sure why he was so anxious. It’s not like he didn’t see you all the damn time now. It seemed like if the two of you weren’t hanging out you were texting. Even though it sometimes felt like you were getting reacquainted, it was still like you just knew him, knew him on a level no one else ever had. But this was different. He was deliberately owning up to all the things he wanted to change about himself, all the ways he’d fallen short in his life. It was uniquely vulnerable. He didn’t want to go in unprepared.

So he’d made sure he had the list. And that the list didn’t make him sound like a total fucking idiot. He got his truck washed. He made sure he had a pair of pants that weren’t just blue jeans and a clean shirt with a collar.

He knew that things weren’t going perfectly for you, either. That was the whole point of this entire plan, the two of you figuring out your lives together. But you were still you. He wanted you to know him but he also wanted you to know the best of him. Not the shitty things, not the things he was ashamed of. But… you were still you, the only person he’d want to do something like this with. He’d just have to get past it.

Joel took a deep breath and knocked on your door. You opened it almost immediately, putting in an earring as you did. You were in a dress that looked like it had been made for you, skimming over your body, dipping low enough that he could see the curve of your breasts and, for half a second, Joel’s mind went back to the night before in the pool. You’d been so close then. He could feel all of you against him, all your softness and all your warmth - even if your hands were cold. There was a moment he lived in for longer than he wanted to admit, one where it felt like it would have been OK to kiss you, to hold your body tightly to him, to pull you inside and peel off your swimsuit so he could run his hands over the goosebump prickled flesh below. He’d come to that thought, alone in his bed once he was sure Sarah was asleep and he wouldn’t be interrupted. He’d come so hard he had to muffle his moans and he stayed there, cock in his hand as he stared up at the ceiling, as he tried to shove the thought of you away. You didn’t want that, you’d made that much perfectly clear more than a decade before. This wasn’t going to take him anywhere good.

And now you were standing there, in a dress that couldn’t make you look more appealing if it was designed by temptation itself.

God fucking dammit.

“Jesus, Goldie,” he said after he collected himself as much as he could. “Feelin’ a little underdressed here.”

“Shit,” your eyebrows drew together and you looked down at yourself. “I don’t have much that’s dressy, this was from this cocktail event the university wanted to trot me out like some show pony for last fall… I can see what else I have if you’re OK to wait for a minute….”

You turned to go back inside but Joel caught your wrist and you frowned.

“You look great,” he said. “Besides, I know how long ‘a minute’ is in woman getting ready time…”

“Oh fuck off.”

“…and I’m starving. Let’s go.”

You gave him an exasperated look before shrugging into a trench coat and grabbing your bag and gold notebook from the table just inside the door.

“You look good, too, by the way,” you said once the two of you were in his truck and he was heading for the restaurant you’d picked the other day. Joel scoffed. “Hey! I mean it, you do. Should wear something besides jeans and t-shirts or flannels now and then, you clean up well.”

“Next time we hang out, I’ll rent a tux,” he smirked a little and glanced at you, just catching a glimpse of your eye roll as he did. “Polish up my shoes, whole nine…”

“Should just buy the tux,” you replied. “Seems like a smart investment for a man of your profession and lifestyle…”

“Oh, sure.”

“Got all those galas to go to…”

“Uh huh.”

“Awards shows…”

“Naturally.”

“Black tie weddings.”

“You gonna get some nice formal gowns?” He teased back. “Come with me to all these hoity-toity outings?”

You laughed.

“Sure, Joel. I’ll be your back up date to any and all formal events.”

The restaurant you wanted to try was definitely nicer than anything Joel had gone to in a while but it’d been easy for you to talk him into it. He remembered you being more excited about food when you were kids, how you’d watch his mom in the kitchen sometimes when you stayed for dinner or how you’d reach over and steal fries off his tray at the burger place down the street from your apartment when you were so hungry that your own fries weren’t going to cut it. Now, though, it seemed like anytime he wasn’t deciding what you were eating you ate the kind of shit that you scrunched your nose up at in high school. People and tastes could change, of course. He wasn’t stupid. But it didn’t feel like you. It felt like some holdover from that jackass you’d spent the last decade with.

So as soon as you texted him the menu and just said “They have Osso buco!” he was in. He didn’t know what the fuck Osso buco was, he was just excited to see you excited about something that made you happy when he knew you before.

The hostess sat the two of you in a quiet corner, giving you a knowing look, and Joel more watched you pore over the menu than read his own, an intense and serious look on your face as you went through it line by line.

“If I got a bottle of wine, would you have at least a glass?” You looked up at him through your eyelashes from across the table.

“Anything for you, baby,” he teased.

“I hate you.”

Joel scoffed.

“No you don’t. And yes, I’ll drink your alcoholic juice.”

“Good,” you said, looking back down at the menu. “Because the one I really want isn’t available by the glass and I don’t need that much wine…”

“Look at you, all fancy and shit,” he said. “Ordering your wine by the bottle…”

“Almost like we’re grownups,” you said absently. “What are you getting?”

“Why, so you can steal some?” He asked, brows raised.

You looked at him, face serious.

“Yes. Duh.”

Joel sighed.

“You’re the worst person. And I’m getting the spaghetti. Don’t bother calling me lame, I know I’m lame.”

“Well, as long as you’re aware,” you said, looking back at the menu.

“What are you getting, Miss ‘I order whole bottles of wine’ level of adult? That one thing you were excited about? The Oss… whatever the fuck?”

“Osso buco,” you smiled across the table at him. “And probably that…. But it’s probably more than I really need and…”

“Goldie,” Joel cut you off, tone serious enough that you actually, fully lifted your gaze from the menu in front of you. “Don’t let that asshole ruin this. Get the… whatever it is.”

You smiled a little.

“Osso buco it is.”

Once the food was ordered and the wine was poured, Joel put his list next to him on the table and you did, too, your ever present gold notebook sitting in front of you.

“So,” he said, hoping he didn’t sound as awkward as he felt. “How do you want to do this?”

“You first?” You asked, wincing a little.

He nodded and looked over the list one last time before turning it around and putting it in the middle of the table. You leaned over - don’t look down your dress, don’t look down your dress, don’t look down your dress - and started reading.

“It’s not in any real order,” Joel said, cupping the back of his neck. “Just… wrote shit as I thought of it.”

You nodded slowly.

“Throw Sarah a pool party,” you said.

“Yeah,” he laughed a little. “She’s been sayin’ the last few years that she wants a pool party for her birthday but… I’ve just been too swamped to make it happen. Always end up taking her and her friends somewhere like Putt Putt Golf or something, somewhere I don’t have to plan shit, I can just show up. She always has fun but I know she’d like the pool party. I just need to make sure my shit is together enough to do it.”

“Play music again,” you moved on to the next item and you frowned, looking up at him. “You stopped?”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Well, no. I didn’t stop playing at home but… Before Sarah was born, there were a few local places I played at sometimes. Back then, it was because I hoped I’d meet some record label asshole who’d sign me. But I miss it. It was fun, playin’ for people. Would like to do that again.”

You nodded, going back to the list.

“Start your own contracting company,” you smiled at that. “Business owner Joel Miller…”

“Future business owner,” he corrected you. “Don’t own shit yet. Not sure I know how to own shit.”

“You’re smart,” you said. “And I’m pretty sure by our powers combined, we can at least Google a lot of this stuff.”

“Probably should have done what you told me,” he said. “Gotten my damn associates…”

“I am right about most things,” you said. There was no smugness in your voice, almost the opposite. Like you were sorry you’d been right about this thing in particular.

“Just didn’t see the point then,” he sighed. “Hindsight is 20/20, I guess.”

“It tends to be that way,” you conceded before looking back down at the paper. “Design one big project… is that a work one?”

“Yeah,” he smiled a little sheepishly. “Figured… I dunno, it’ll take a bit to get my own business going, you know? Gonna keep working for the company I work for now for a bit yet. Should try and make it something I like while I’m there.”

You smiled at him in that way you had, the way that started small but spread fast. It reminded him of the way light started to poke through curtains in the morning, slipping in through a crack, illuminating the things directly around it before they were thrown open entirely and the sun broke through everything, spilling onto every surface, drowning out the darkness quick and sure.

“Good,” you said, still smiling in that wide, open way. “You should like your job, you’re there too much to not like it.”

You went back to the list and Joel took a sip of wine.

“Find a stable relationship,” you said, a little quieter.

The server returned, putting your plates in front of the two of you and you cleared your throat, setting the paper to the side and smiling kindly as the waiter asked if there was anything else the two of you needed before excusing himself.

“OK,” Joel said, looking at your food from across the table. “I see why you were excited now, that looks fuckin’ delicious.”

He reached over and stabbed his fork into the meat on your plate as you gaped at him, appalled. He ate the bite he’d taken, chewing thoughtfully.

“Yup,” he said. “Fuckin’ delicious.”

“You’re such a dick!” You reached over and stabbed your fork into his pasta.

“Hey!”

You ignored him, twirling your fork haphazardly as you tried not to lean into the food in front of you before taking it back across the table. You ate the spaghetti and nodded to yourself as you did.

“Definitely scratch pasta,” you said. “Have to come back here and get some of my own. Or just steal more of yours…”

“If you want pasta, order pasta,” he said.

“If you want Osso buco, order Osso buco,” you replied, fork up and ready to stab his hand if it creeped across the table.”

“Maybe I will, now that I know what it is,” he teased, digging into his own plate this time.

“So,” you said after the two of you had the time to have a few bites of food. “Stable relationship, huh?”

“Yup,” he nodded, taking a sip of wine. “Not sure I even want to own up to the last time I had one of those…”

“When was the last time?” You frowned, picking up your wine glass.

“Can’t judge me.”

“Too late,” you smirked a little. He glared at you and you laughed. “Come on, Joel. It’s me. I always judge you all the time.”

He rolled his eyes and then sighed.

“It’s… been a while,” he said eventually. “But… Haven’t been on more than three dates with anyone since Sarah was about four.”

Your eyes went wide.

“I said you can’t judge me!”

“I’m not judging!” You said quickly. “Just… shocked is all. You always had a tendency to go through them fast but I always kind of figured you’d outgrown that over the years.”

“Well, less fast now and more that women in their 20s don’t really want to play stepmom,” he said wryly. “Never got as far as introducing any of ‘em to Sarah, haven’t bothered really looking since I’ve been in my 30s. But… I dunno. It’d be nice, I think. Have someone to come home to, that sort of thing.”

You nodded slowly.

“What?” He asked after you were quiet for what seemed like too long.

“Can I ask what happened with Sarah’s mom?” You asked, fork hovering over your plate. “I don’t want to dredge anything up but…”

Joel shrugged.

“Not much to dredge up,” he said. “We… well, we were… casual. Real casual. She got pregnant, I tried to do the right thing but she wasn’t really interested in that…”

You frowned.

“Right thing?”

“Suggested we go down to the courthouse,” he twisted the slender stem of wine glass in his thick fingers. “Make it legal. Since we were bringin’ a kid into the world seemed like the least we could do but… anyway. She said no but that she’d try dating me. We didn’t have much in common, didn’t get along all that well for longer than a few hours. Her shootin’ me down was probably one of the best things to happen to me, really. Especially when it came to untangling the legalities of it all when she took off.”

You winced.

“I’m really sorry, Joel,” you said softly. “That… that’s shitty. It really, really is.”

He shrugged.

“I got Sarah,” he said. “Do it all again in a heartbeat for that kid.”

You smiled at that, a smaller, softer smile, one that felt like it was just for him.

“It all worked out the way it was supposed to,” you said. “None of it was a mistake, it was just… Sarah, being inevitable.”

He laughed once at that, smiling a little. He liked thinking of it that way, his life putting itself in just the right order that his daughter could exist. Now, he just needed to put it in the right order that he felt like he was doing something with the rest of it.

“Alright,” he said. “Enough about my shit, let’s see yours.”

You handed him his list back and opened your notebook, holding it to your chest for a moment.

“Remember the lack of judgement I gave you,” you cautioned. “I expect the same back.”

“So plenty of judgement,” he smirked a little. “Got it.

You glared.

“Gimme the list, Goldie.”

You sighed and handed it over.

Joel took half a second to appreciate the fact that he was holding your notebook again. For something that was always with you, it was something he rarely touched and never opened himself. You’d shown him one or two things inside it before but you’d never just surrendered it to him like this. He had to fight the urge to flip to the start of it and read everything he could, try to swallow up every thought you’d had that you thought was important enough to put down on paper.

Instead, he just cleared his throat and started at the top of your list.

“Finalize divorce,” he said, eyes tracing over your letters. “That’s a good one. Where you at in that whole process?”

“I have no idea,” you sighed. “Every time I think we’re close the agreement gets tossed out and we start back over. I swear he’s just trying to piss me off sometimes…”

“Probably is,” Joel said. “He’s a jackass.”

“So you keep saying,” you half smiled at him.

“My only issue with this one is that it’s not something you can really control,” he said, looking over the table to you. “I don’t want you beating yourself up or taking less than you deserve because you’re trying to tick a box…”

“I won’t,” you said. “Don’t worry.”

“Better not,” he said, looking back down at the paper. “Finish book, alright. That one you can control…”

“Kind of control,” you corrected him, a crooked smile on your face. “Sometimes, the words just won’t come and there’s not much you can do about it.”

“Still,” he said. “Got more control over that than anything with fuckin’ Brad…” You shook your head a little, exasperated, but were still smiling. “Have any idea about what you want this one to be about?”

“Not really,” you sighed. “I’ve started a few things but I keep scrapping it. So many outlines for no goddamn reason…”

“You’ll get there.”

“Maybe,” you poked at the meat on your plate. “Or maybe I told the only story I have that’s worth telling. Maybe I’m all used up.”

“You’re not,” he said gently. You nodded a little but kept looking at your plate. “Hey. Goldie. Look at me.” You sighed and obeyed, meeting his eyes, your face frustrated but your gaze sad. “You’re not. You’re…. You’re fuckin’ amazing, you’re gonna make something great. You are.”

You smiled tightly and, for a moment, looking at you was too intimate to do in public. He looked back down at the page.

“Be there for Anna,” he said. “What, like you aren’t now?”

“I still haven’t figured out how to do it right,” you replied. “I just… I need to find the right balance. And I need to make sure I keep up with her, I can’t just… I’m worried she’s going to land herself back in the hospital and I’m her big sister. I need to make sure she doesn’t.”

He just nodded, jaw tight, moving on to the next item.

“Go on a date,” he said, a twinge in his gut that he didn’t want to acknowledge. “Alright, that’s not bad…”

“Yeah, I think I’ll need your help with that,” you said and his head shot up, meeting your eyes across the table.

“What… how?”

“Oh, don’t panic,” you waved him off. “Not expecting you to do it. But I’ve never used a dating app or anything like that, I have no idea how to meet someone now. I imagine you’re an expert…”

“Gee, thanks.”

“What! It’s a good skill to have,” you said. “One that I am painfully lacking. I’ll take all the help I can get.”

He sighed. Because of course this would mean finding you a date. Jesus.

“Yeah, I’ll help,” he said. “Make sure you’re not attracting any weirdos…”

“Not sure that you’re the best help for that part,” you teased. He rolled his eyes. “But… thank you.”

“Yup.”

He went back to the paper.

“Get a cat. Really?”

“Yeah,” you laughed a little. “I’m kind of tired of how empty my house feels but I’m not up for taking care of a dog. And cats are cute.”

“Promise you’re not just gonna turn into a cat lady?” He teased, looking back to you. “Get yourself a dozen of ‘em, use them as an excuse to never put yourself out there.”

“That’s between me and my cats, isn’t it?” You teased back. “Don’t get mad because you’re at risk of being replaced by a fluffy thing who sometimes scratches the shit out of my furniture.”

“Bold of you to assume I wouldn’t scratch the shit out of your furniture,” he said wryly and you snorted. He went back to the list, taking a sip of wine and almost choked on it. He wasn’t sure how he’d missed the last item on the list until now, written in red ink instead of black and circled.

“What?” You asked. He glanced up at you before looking back at the paper.

“Well…” he cleared his throat. “Last one’s… interestin’.”

“Oh,” you laughed. “Yeah… right…”

He put the notebook in the middle of the table and tried to regain his composure for a moment.

“Surprised it’s a priority for you…”

“Well I don’t know about priority,” you laughed. “But, honestly, something’s gotta give…”

“Well,” Joel cleared his throat again. “Have you fucked anyone since Brad?”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t answer.

“Goldie.”

“Joel.”

“C’mon.”

“No, alright?” You snapped. “I haven’t.”

“And you two separated when?”

You scrunched your nose.

“Come on,” he said. “When’d you break up…”

“A year ago last month,” you muttered, not looking at him.

“Goldie!”

“What!”

He lowered his voice and leaned conspiratorially across the table towards you.

“You haven’t had sex in a year?” He hissed. “That’s… how…”

“Hey,” you replied, pointing at him accusingly from across the table. “That is not what I said.”

Joel frowned, his eyebrows knitting together as he watched you.

“What do you mean that’s not…” his eyes went wide as you avoided his gaze. “Goldie.”

“Shut up.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Didn’t I just tell you to shut up?” You snapped. “Come on.”

“So when was the last time you fucked your soon to be ex-husband while you were in the process of divorcing him?” He asked, looking around as though someone would overhear and make problems.

“Well now I really don’t want to say…”

“Goldie.”

“Please don’t make me say it.”

“I’m not dropping this,” he said. “When was the last time?”

“The night before I left Rhode Island, OK?” You hissed, voice low.

“Goldie!”

“Look, it was just like… I don’t know, a goodbye fuck, OK?” You sat back in your seat and adjusted your skirt, looking anywhere but directly at him. “It’s not like I have a bunch of people waiting in the wings, I wasn’t sure when I’d have the chance again, it seemed appropriate…”

“Definitely wasn’t that…”

“Never should have mentioned this…”

“Gonna move ‘get laid’ to the top of the fuckin’ list now,” Joel muttered. “Jesus Christ…”

“It’s not that easy, alright?” You said, actually looking at him now. “I’ve basically been with just one person my whole life…”

“Oh, wow.”

“What?”

“One person?” Joel said, brows raised. “Really?”

You leveled him with a look.

“Joel.”

“I am right here.”

“You know what I mean,” you snapped. “Come on, don’t…”

“Don’t what?” He asked. “Want a little explanation when you say I never happened?”

“That’s not what I said!”

“It’s not?” He said. “Because that’s sure what it sounded like…”

“Jesus Christ,” you groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Fine, OK? I’ve been with two people my whole life since you apparently want to make sure the notches on my bedpost are the right damn number…”

“So that’s what we were?” He asked, his blood getting hot. “Just a bedpost notch?”

“Don’t do this,” you said. “I’m not relitigating prom night with you…”

“Is it relitigating if we never fucking talked about it to begin with?” He asked. “Because I think that’s just litigating it…”

“Can I get you folks anything else tonight?” The server appeared beside your table, smiling kindly.

“Just the bill,” you said quickly. “Separate, put the wine on mine, please.”

He left and Joel waited until he was out of earshot to continue.

“Why?” He asked. “Why don’t you want to talk about this?”

“Because it was a decade and a half ago, Joel!” You snapped. “We’re in our 30s now! We were 18 years old then, we were kids, what do you want me to say?”

“That it wasn’t nothing!” He snapped. “Because Jesus Christ, if you ended our friendship over nothing, I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do with that…”

“No rush on this,” the server smiled and left the check in the middle of the table.

You pulled your wallet from your bag and Joel got his out of his back pocket and the two of you put cards into the book before the server quickly came back to collect it. You took a deep breath and looked at Joel.

“I didn’t end our friendship, Joel,” you said. “I did what I needed to do and I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Fine.”

“Thanks, y’all, for coming out tonight,” the server dropped the cards and the slips back off at the table. “Hope you both have a great rest of your evening and we’ll see you next time.”

You gave him a tight smile and signed your slip as Joel did the same with his before smacking his pen down with too much force on the table. The two of you got up wordlessly and headed for the truck.

This wasn’t the road he’d meant to go down. He hadn’t meant to bring it up at all but you’d caught him off guard. The thought that prom night hadn’t been anything to you wasn’t something he’d ever considered. He’d always assumed it had been a big deal because of how you reacted. It had been a big deal for him. It had been a big deal before you took off across the country. After that - after it had made him lose you - it was everything. It was everything he’d ever wanted, it was the stupidest thing he’d ever done. It was proof that what he felt for you wasn’t some childish, one-sided crush and it was evidence that all you’d ever be was a girl he’d loved once. The one thing it had certainly never been was nothing.

You sat, arms crossed over your stomach, staring out the window in silence as Joel drove you home, a knot of fear settling in his gut. What if this was it again? What if you just left again? He’d just gotten you back, life felt more whole than it had in years, what if you just moved on?

He pulled into your driveway and put the truck in park before he sighed, looking over at you.

“Want to come in?” You asked quietly. “I got a bottle of tequila that looks fancy as fuck as a gift. We can get hammered.”

The knot in his stomach eased ever so slightly.

“Yeah, alright.”

He followed you inside and you got the bottle from the kitchen, pressing it into Joel’s hand. He went to sit on your couch but you walked past it and he frowned.

“Don’t feel like sitting there in this stupid dress,” you said, lifting one stiletto clad foot and taking it by the heel, pulling it off. “I’ll be back in a minute…”

“Can I come?” Joel asked before he thought better of it. He didn’t like the idea of you being more than just a few feet away in that moment. Like if you were somehow out of his sight, you’d vanish and it’d be a decade before he had a chance to have you back in his life again.

You just looked at him for a moment before you shrugged.

“If you really want,” you did the same thing with the other shoe and Joel trailed behind you to your bedroom.

“Just stay out there,” you called from inside your closet.

“What, don’t want me checkin’ you out?” He said in a teasing voice even though that thought made his stomach clench.

“Joel,” you sounded exasperated.

“Sorry.”

He’d been over to your house plenty but had never been in your room before. It looked like you, though. So like what your room had been like in high school, just more refined. Like you’d grown into your taste in the past few years. The stack of books on your nightstand was orderly instead of total chaos and there was a charging stand there instead of a tangle of chords. Instead of movie posters held up with tape and thumb tacks, there were framed vintage-style prints lining the walls. Your dresser was less cluttered and more curated with little things that clearly mattered to you: a ticket stub and book mark in a matted frame, a wedding picture, a little glazed clay vase that looked handmade.

He went to your dresser slowly, as though what was there might bite him if he moved to suddenly. The wedding picture practically stared him down, the glare of it harsh, like a too bright spotlight being pointed directly at his eyes.

He picked up the frame delicately, the frame enameled silver. You were beautiful, in a gauzy white dress that hugged your body and a veil in your hair, a hand on Brad’s chest as you looked into his eyes. He was beaming, looking like someone who’d just gotten exactly what he wanted. But your smile was more subdued. Joel wasn’t sure if it was just peaceful or if you weren’t as happy as he’d always thought women were when they got married.

But the longer he looked at the picture, the less the woman in it looked like you. The dress didn’t look like something you’d really pick. Your nails were done in a way he’d never seen you wear them. Your makeup, too, looked off. Like someone had dressed you up as a character, as though you’d been cast in the role as bride and showed up to play your part and nothing more.

“I should probably get rid of that,” you said, making Joel jump. Your arms were crossed tightly over your chest. You were in leggings and a burnt orange Longhorns sweatshirt now that was several sizes too big for you, sleeves pushed almost to your elbows and sliding down. “Just can’t bring myself to.”

Joel nodded slowly, setting it down.

“Looked beautiful,” he said. You scoffed. “What? You did.”

“Thanks,” you said, going and pulling back the blanket on your bed. Joel paused before he went around to the other side of it, tequila bottle still dangling from one hand. He stood there for a moment, half reaching for the bedspread, half watching you for permission. You stretched over and pulled the blanket back. “Shoes off, don’t be gross.”

“I’m not a fuckin’ animal,” he rolled his eyes before he sat on the edge of the bed, kicking his shoes off without bothering to untie them and climbing in beside you. He leaned against the headboard and you did, too, a good two feet between your bodies in the king sized bed. “That why you keep it?”

You frowned.

“Keep what?”

“The picture,” he nodded to it. “Because you looked pretty?”

You laughed a little.

“No,” you said. “Not that. Just… feels very final, getting rid of the last wedding picture. Once that’s gone, it’s like it never happened at all. There’s nothing tangible left of the last ten years of my life, it’s all just smoke.”

Joel nodded slowly and opened the tequila bottle before passing it to you. You took it, your fingers brushing his, and took a drink, face scrunched in a wince when you handed the bottle back. He laughed.

“That good, huh?”

“No, it’s good,” you coughed a little. “I just should have also grabbed… I don’t fucking know, lime and salt or something.”

He took a drink himself, appreciating the small sting as it went down. It was smooth, definitely better than anything he’d buy himself, but he needed at least a little burn in that moment.

“You’re just a baby,” he said, looking at the bottle. “Don’t need a damn thing with this stuff…”

“Alright, macho man,” you snatched the bottle from him and he laughed before you tipped it back for longer than you had before. He watched you swallow twice before lowering it with a cough. “There,” you managed eventually. “Who’s the baby now?”

“Still you,” he clapped you on the shoulder and you fixed him with a glare but handed him the bottle, anyway.

“Gee thanks.”

“Anytime.”

He took another sip and looked around your room a bit more, gaze pausing on one of the vintage style posters. He frowned for a second, trying to place why it felt familiar when he was too far away to read the movie title before he laughed.

“What?”

“Is that some fancy style Curtis and Viper poster?” He looked at you and you smiled. He passed you the bottle. “Where’d you even find that shit? There’s no way they made something that classy for fuckin’ Curtis and Viper…”

“Etsy is a beautiful thing,” you said. “I can show you if you want.”

“So you’re gonna stick around long enough to show me, then?” He asked, regretting it almost as soon as it was out of his mouth, especially once the small hurt was there on your face. “Shit… I…”

“I wasn’t planning to take off across the country anytime too soon, Joel,” you said cooly.

“I know,” he said. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t… Just… It scares me. I like having you here. You belong here. Don’t want to lose you again, I just got you back.”

“I don’t want to lose you again either,” you said quietly, looking down at the tequila bottle instead of at Joel.

“I’m not the one who left, Goldie.”

You were silent but you nodded.

“You never even told me why,” he said quietly. “I didn’t know what happened… still don’t…”

“I don’t really feel like digging up ancient history,” you said, your thumb tracing over the curve of the bottle before looking up at him. “I mean, is that really what you want to do? You really want to go through all of that?”

He sighed.

“I don’t fuckin’ know.”

“I know what I want,” you said.

He could feel your eyes on him. He met them.

“What?”

“I want you in my life,” you said quietly. “I don’t want to go back to missing you all the time. I want my best friend back.”

He sighed.

“I want that, too.”

You smiled a little and scooted closer, leaning over until your head was on his shoulder. He could smell your shampoo, the slightly floral tang of your perfume, the scent of your skin nestled below it all.

“How about we never fight again,” you said.

Joel could hear the smile in your voice. He laughed once.

“Sure thing, Goldie,” he said. “We’ll never fight again.”

“Good,” you said and he felt your cheek move as your smile grew. You held the tequila out to him. “You’re slacking off, by the way.”

“Well shit,” he said. “Lemme catch up.”

The two of you drank more than you should have, devolving into slurred speech and shrieking laughs before you passed out, tucked against Joel. He turned out the light and adjusted delicately until he was lying down and your head was on his chest, curled up against his side. His arm curved around your shoulders until his fingers traced over your jaw, your cheek, your hairline.

“You’re warm,” you mumbled against him. “Best pillow…”

He smiled and nuzzled into your hair, his lips brushing your forehead.

“Sure am,” he whispered.

“Glad you’re here,” you slurred, words closer to mush than anything else. “Missed you.”

He took a deep breath and tried not to get too attached to the way your body felt on his.

“Glad I’m here too, Goldie. Missed you, too.”

Providence, Rhode Island

Early August, 2008

Joel had never been on a college campus like this.

Of course, he’d only ever been on one and UT barely counted, the campus was just part of Austin. He had no idea where to start looking for you at some place like this.

Some asshole dude with too much gel in his hair gave Joel a look as he tossed his duffle bag on one arm and left the bus stop. His mouth got dry. He didn’t belong here, that much was fucking obvious, and everyone could fucking tell.

He just walked for a few minutes, working his way deeper into the ivy-covered cluster of buildings. There weren’t many people around but he supposed that made sense, fall semester hadn’t started yet. He’d finally managed to get Anna to tell him where the fuck you’d gone and why. Some summer program, an invitation-only intensive for creative writing students.

“It was so weird,” Anna said when he finally convinced her to get a cup of coffee with him. “She got the invitation in like… April and talked about it with Mom and she decided she didn’t want to go. It started before school was out here - I guess college semesters are shorter or something - and she didn’t want to miss prom and graduation. And then a few days after prom she came home from school, locked herself in her room for a bit and then told mom she was leaving Friday for the program. She already had it all worked out, it was nuts…”

You’d never mentioned it to him. Not the invitation, not deciding not to go, not changing your mind, none of it. It didn’t make any fucking sense to him. Why wouldn’t you have told him? Why would you have just left? Especially after prom…

He finally stumbled upon someone who didn’t look like a rich asshole who pointed him in the direction of the English department, but she cautioned him after he thanked her and turned to leave.

“There’s basically no one there at this hour,” she warned. “You might run into Professor Newton - he runs the writing program - but they usually have all left for dinner. My boyfriend’s in the program, they like to give them plenty of writing time in the evenings…”

“Right,” Joel nodded. He hadn’t come up with a plan of anywhere to stay tonight if he couldn’t find you but he had enough money that he could get a cheap motel room for a night or two. He’d figure it out. “Thanks.”

He jogged to where the girl had pointed him and found the sign for the English department building, some rich asshole’s name on it, and took the steps to the front door two at a time, catching it just as someone else left for the day.

The building was quiet, just like the girl had warned him it would be and he worked his way through the labyrinth of lecture halls until he found the faculty office list. Dr. Gale Newton, professor of creative writing, third floor, office 315.

He ran up the stairs and took a second to catch his breath before opening the doors to the hall.

Immediately, he was met by the sound of your laugh. It hit him hard, for a moment. It had been months since he’d heard your voice, longer than he’d ever wanted to go but you were here now, so close that he could hear your happiness again.

He followed it, a siren call, to the end of the hall, office 315. The door was cracked, just enough that he could hear you and just see inside.

“I’m being serious!” Your laugh was still on your voice but it was quieter now. You were standing in front of the desk, your back to Joel. “You really think it’s good?”

“Oh Doll,” a man said, coming around the desk. He stepped in front of you and reached out, cupping the back of your neck and tilting your head to bring you into alignment with him. “I think you’ve made tremendous strides since coming here. You’ve learned so much.”

He kissed you then, pulling you against his front, his other hand going to your lower back as you moaned into his mouth. Your arms went around his neck, your body curving and arching into his touch. The man adjusted you until your legs were against his desk and he pulled back from you.

“Gale,” you breathed, all desperate and needy.

“Let’s see what else you’ve learned,” he said, helping you onto the desk.

Joel felt like he was going to be sick.

It was as though he was outside of his own body, moving without intending to. He was to the end of the hall, down the stairs and out onto the grass before he really knew what was happening. The air outside felt thick and he was having a hard time getting enough of it. His head spun. You’d taken off across the country, cut him off entirely, and found someone else. Your fucking professor. You hadn’t even talked to him, hadn’t even hesitated…

He doubled over and threw up in the bushes, all the shitty bus station food he’d eaten over the last few hours coming back. You were gone, you were really, actually gone.

Joel wiped his mouth on the back of his wrist and walked, numb, back to the bus stop. He stood there, staring into space, when the girl he’d spoken to before came up alongside him.

“Hey,” she smiled up at him. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

He looked at her and, for half a second, thought about seeing if she would bring him back to her dorm, see if she’d let him make her come until she was screaming his name and he could erase the sound of you moaning another man’s name from his head.

But she said she had a boyfriend.

Though he supposed it didn’t really matter. It could be anyone. Just something to get that sound out of his fucking head.

She frowned, watching him.

“You OK? Did you find it?”

“Yeah,” he said eventually. “Yeah, I found it.”

Next Chapter

A/N: They were so close to actually talking it out but our good friends, youthful indiscretion and denial, are going to have them dodge that conversation a little while longer yet.

But!

They have their plan in place! Sarah's still a gem! Anna's now fully in the mix! Just have to see what happens next!

Thanks so much for being here. I'm so sorry the wait has been so long between chapters. I keep thinking life is going to slow down and then it just doesn't. I appreciate you spending your time with these characters and this story! Your kind comments truly mean the world.

❤️

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #halcyon

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