#do you ever find yourself falling into old thought patterns and finding that you have no conviction

[pinkcadillaccas]

Anyone else feeling the relentless march of time on this Saturday night

[fear-is-truth]

† 𝑶𝑵𝑳𝒀 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑶𝑵𝑬𝑺 𝑻𝑯𝑨𝑻 𝑾𝑨𝑵𝑻 𝑻𝑶 𝑩𝑬 𝑺𝑨𝑽𝑬𝑫

— charlie mayhew x f!reader. | mdni

tags: mentions of religion・allusions to sex・fem!reader・english is not author’s first language・not proofread

⟡ a/n: i wrote this while i was half asleep so…

you weren’t religious. not really. not in the way others were—those who bowed their heads and whispered their prayers like they meant it, like they believed they could be saved. you came to church every sunday, but it wasn’t to find redemption.

he must have known.

from the first time you stepped through those old, heavy doors, you’d felt his eyes on you. father charlie mayhew was a man with quiet power, a young man with eyes that saw too much, and you—well, you were the girl who was already damned.

“i’m going to hell,” you’d say, as you sat in the confessional, separated from him by a thin grate. “even if i confessed every sin i’ve ever committed, tomorrow would be the same. worse, maybe.”

it never failed to shake him, the conviction in your voice. you could feel it, even when you couldn’t see him—his quiet intake of breath, the pause before he spoke, the way his hands gripped the rosary a little tighter.

“you mustn’t say such things,” he’d murmur in response, his voice layered with something that went deeper than priestly concern. “god’s mercy—”

“doesn’t apply to me,” you’d cut him off, not harshly, but with the ease of someone who’s accepted their fate. you didn’t want mercy. you didn’t want saving.

and that, perhaps, was what drew him to you. slowly, quietly, you became his obsession. the girl who didn’t believe. the girl who begged for damnation, the girl who was convinced she was beyond salvation.

•••

more than often, you found yourself thinking of him when you lay awake at night, staring at the ceiling. body warm and restless under the sheets. fingers brushed your cunt as you moaned out his name like a prayer, and you imagined his hands instead—steady, calloused, but gentle. he’d never touch you. not like that.

but god, you wanted him to.

that thought alone should have filled you with shame, should have made you tremble at the audacity of it. a priest. a man sworn to celibacy, to god. but you weren’t the type to be shamed. you weren’t afraid of hell, after all.

•••

“what if i’m already lost?” you asked him. “what if nothing i do can change where i’m going?”

“no one is beyond saving.”

“but what if they don’t want to be saved?”

there was another long silence. you could hear his breathing, slightly uneven now, and for the first time, you felt like you’d pushed him too far. like you’d finally broken something sacred.

“why are you here?”

“because i wanted to see you.”

another pause. you imagined him on the other side, eyes closed, hands shaking just slightly.

“you’re playing with fire.”

you leaned closer to the divider, breath ghosting over the wooden grate.

“maybe i want to burn.”

the words slipped out before you could stop them, and in the silence that followed, you wondered if he would tell you to leave. if he would end it all right there.

but he didn’t.

“then may god forgive us both.”

it wasn’t a confession. it wasn’t a promise. it was something in between, something that wrapped around your heart and pulled tight, binding you to him.

•••

clothes half-buttoned, your hair a mess from his hands, you sat at the edge of the bench, fixing your skirt. he stood across from you, hastily adjusting his collar, his hands trembling slightly as he fumbled with the white tab at his throat.

“we’re going to hell,” you said softly, pulling your conservative skirt over your hips, the absurdity of the statement falling between you. there was a flicker of something in his eyes—guilt, maybe—but it didn’t stop him from stepping closer, fingers grazing your jawline before he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your skin. slow and sweet, like molasses.

“we already are.”

•••

“you know this can’t continue,” he said one evening as you lay sprawled across the pews, fingers tracing patterns into the wood as he stood above you, his face tight with something between anger and lust. you didn’t look at him, only smiled lazily, hand trailing down the edge of the bench.

“that wasn’t what you were saying ten minutes ago, charlie.”

you watched as he sighed, turning his back to you as he tried to gather himself, but when you stood and stepped up behind him, pressing your lips to the base of his neck, you felt him tremble.

“stop,” his voice lacked conviction.

“do you want me to?” you asked, fingers tugging at the collar he had hastily buttoned only minutes before.

no reply. his resolve slipped away as you kissed along his jaw, hands sliding up the front of his shirt. when he finally turned to face you, his eyes were darker, filled with something you had only seen glimpses of before.

“god help us,” he muttered under his breath as his lips crashed into yours, hands tugging at you with a desperation that had nothing to do with salvation.

•••

the next time, after you had tangled yourselves in the sheets again, you stood in front of the mirror, tying up your hair. the quiet hum of the rotating fan was the only sound that filled the room, broken only by his heavy breathing.

“how long can we keep pretending?” you glanced at him in the reflection, adjusting the collar of your blouse, smoothing down the wrinkles. he stood by the bed, buttoning up his shirt, eyes lingering on you in a way that was both regretful and wistful. you felt his fingers brushed the back of your neck.

“we’ll stop when you do,” but you both knew that wasn’t true.

you turned, meeting his gaze head-on. his lips were parted, collar still askew, and without thinking, you reached up to fix it. as you did, your fingers lingered, brushing against the hollow of his throat, feeling his pulse quicken.

“we’re going to hell,”

he said nothing this time, only kissed you back.

masterlist

 fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[luveline]

kbd —You gather the family consensus on a fifth baby. mom!reader x dad!Steve, 2k

The first baby you and Steve have is a ringer for him. She’s his copy down to the eyelashes, and she has his good heart. She’s a good sister, a beautiful daughter, and she’s a brilliant student. 

But growing up makes you curious.

“Mom, why are you in the bathroom again?” 

You laugh nervously. “What?” you ask, gaze on your hands. 

“You’ve been in here like ten times today! Are you okay?” 

She sound so, so cute when she’s suspicious. Her voice twists up and her concern feels too big. She knows it’s not normal to go to the bathroom this many times and she’s clearly not okay with this new development. 

She knocks the door hard. “Do you need me to get dad?” 

You open the door and pull her in quickly. She giggles, startled to be grabbed and put on the counter, her hair falling into her eyes the same wavy pattern as her dads. He’s got strong genes. Steve stamps the kids as Harrington’s, all except your Beth, who looks just like you. 

“Mom, what the heck is going on?” 

“I’m gonna ask you a huge question and you have to tell me your first answer. Don’t worry about anything else. Be honest, okay?” 

“Okay. You’re making me nervous.” 

You show her your pregnancy test. “You know what this means?” 

She wrinkles her nose. “Did you pee on that?” 

“I did. Babe, do you know what that means, though?” 

“You’re having another baby?” Avery guesses. You go quiet. She beams at you. “Wait! Wait, mom, are you having another baby?” 

“I don’t know yet.” One positive test and six negatives makes you think it was a mistake, but you’ve been pregnant four times before. You’re starting to feel like an expert. “If I did have another baby, what would you think?” 

She tips her head back. You put the test aside and take her smaller hands into yours. She’s so pretty, all your babies are beautiful, and they’re all so special, and maybe you do want another one. Is that crazy? 

You nibble your lip as Avery thinks. 

“Well, we need a bigger house.” 

You nod agreeably. “We do.” 

“I love being a big sister.” 

“You’re the best one there ever was.” 

Avery holds your hands back, still smiling. “Well, mommy, I think it’s good. Then I will have four sisters. That’s even more than Stacey K.” 

You look her dead in the eye, but it’s all love pouring between you both. “So if mommy wants to have another baby, that’s okay? You’d be happy?” 

Avery puckers for a kiss, which you give. You wrap your arms around her and push her head into your neck. “Have another baby if you want, mommy,” she says, laughing, “I love babies. Um, most of the time. More now you got us the sound machine.” 

“Avery… don’t tell anybody, okay? Can we keep this our secret? I don’t know if I’m gonna have another one yet. I need to make sure everyone’s happy first.” 

Avery pats your back. It’s adorable. “Sure, mommy.” 

You ask Beth, next. Stealing her away from her colouring sometime later that day, you pull your second eldest against your chest outside in the back yard and watch the clouds move in the sky as it changes from blue to carnation pink. “Bubby?” 

“Yeah?” Beth asks. 

“Can I ask you a secret question?” 

“Yes.” She looks away from the sky. “Why?” 

“Because I care about what you think, okay?” 

“I know.” 

You ask Beth if another baby would be too many. She says no. She says she needs a brother, maybe twins if you can manage it, but it’s fine if you can’t. You kiss her cheek and spend another ten minutes with her staring up at the changing colours.

The first test being positive rocked your world. You were happy, but shocked to find yourself grinning at the two pink lines, because you thought four was enough. There’s a few years between each of your girls and you’d never expect to be pregnant again so soon after the last —you and Steve had one good night a fortnight ago. Wren’s not even a year old. 

Why do you want another baby so badly? 

You kiss Beth again. You love your kids, and you finally, finally got that promotion at work, and you’d been thinking about moving anyway, because two of the girls are sharing a room. You didn’t bring it up in fear of upsetting your sentimental husband before it was necessary. All your babies grew up here. This is where you and Steve started your life, and it’s never perfect but it’s amazing, and he’ll not want to leave it. 

He would be much happier if you left to make room for another baby, though. 

If you ask Dove what she thinks, she’ll probably say yes and grumble, and then spill the secret, so you don’t ask, but you watch her carefully for a while when Steve demands you and Beth come back inside. 

You let Beth run off and sit down. 

“You’ll catch a bug,” he says, leaning over your seat at the kitchen table to kiss your cheek. “You’re already freezing.” 

“We were watching the sun go down.” 

“Watch from the window.” He squints at you, his arms wrapping around your front. “Something wrong?” 

“No.”

“Okay, liar.” He taps your chin until you lift it and kisses you soundly. “It’s a good thing you’re this beautiful. You wouldn’t get away with your shit if you weren’t.” 

“My shit.” 

He grins into another kiss. “Sorry,” he says, kissing you softly. “I’m kidding, I love you, don’t frown at me.” 

You entrap him for a skewiff hug. He couldn’t be more eager, nosing at your cheek, the baby and Dove giggling at something where they sit at the table eating skinny banana slices. 

“They’re like us,” Steve says, following your gaze, “best friends.” 

You push him away from you gently. “Shush. Don’t you have stuff to do?” 

“I bet you think so. But no, I don’t, I’ve done everything.” 

Four kids is a lot, and somehow you and Steve have gotten really, really good at being their parents. You have four healthy, happy girls, with all the food they could ever eat and more princess dresses than they could ever wear. Now it’s six thirty on a Saturday and all that’s left to do is watch some TV. 

Maybe you’re an idiot to mess this up. 

“I need to pee really badly, so watch the baby.” 

“Jerk,” you say. You do not need to be told to watch your own baby. 

He snickers as he leaves. 

It was the high of the test. That first positive test was just a shock, is all. Your life is perfect now, nothing needs to change, because Steve loves you more and more everyday, and you adore him —you’d do anything for him and your girls. You and Steve would treasure another baby, but some things aren’t meant to be. 

But– but you could have another one. So you’re not pregnant right now, so what? Steve would have another baby with you if you asked. He’d probably spin you around in circles and call you the best, sweetest woman alive. You could spend the next nine months on the couch and he’d still think that way. 

“Baby?” Steve calls. 

“What, dad?” Bethie asks. 

“Not you, baby. Mommy, can you come here?” 

Your system gets another shock. Shit, the bathroom. 

You grab Wren to her horror and Dove’s jealousy and chug her along to the bathroom. You could’ve left her in her high chair, but soft bananas are a scary task for an unsupervised baby who eats mash for every meal.

Steve’s waiting in the doorway. It’s a small bathroom, and you can see as quickly as he can the mess of pregnancy strip tests you left on top of the bathroom trash can. There’s two in his hand. 

“Steve, I was gonna tell you about it,” you say, frowning. 

He frowns back. “Yeah?” he asks. 

“Really. I mean, obviously I would have,” —you tell each other everything— “but I was trying to work out how I feel, and the girls too. Avery always wants more sisters and Beth said she wants a brother and–” You smile. “I know I said we were done having babies for a while, if ever again, I know that was me, but when I thought I was pregnant again I got this rush of happiness going through me like a wave.” You shift Wren and her frowning higher up your chest. She’s appeased by a quick kiss pressed to the top of her head. “I don’t know why but I think I really want another baby.” 

He leans against the doorway, his arms crossing, with a strange expression playing on his mouth. 

“You can probably tell. I took like, twenty tests,” you exaggerate, embarrassed by your impromptu speech. “I kept hoping they’d come up positive. I got one positive first and the rest were negative, so I guess it was just a fluke.” 

“Ohhh,” he says, smiling around it. “Oh, that makes more sense.” 

“What makes sense?” 

“I think they just needed a little more time to cook, honey. They’re all positive.” He isn’t good at hiding how happy he feels. “You really want another one?” 

He’s achingly hopeful. 

You close the gap between you to lean on him and check the tests. “It must be super early,” Steve murmurs. 

“Well, it was only two and a half weeks ago,” you murmur back, seeing the double pink lines for yourself. Both tests are positive. “The ones in there, they’re…” 

“They’re all positive. When was the last time you had your eyes tested?”

“It was dark in there,” you joke, not sure what to say, even as a crest of pure joy begins to rise through your entire body. Your hands hum. 

“You want another baby?” he asks, pulling you tightly against him. “Then let’s have another baby. Let’s do it. You can have everything you want.” 

You stare at him. 

He nods. “We can do it. Let’s have another baby.” 

Heat in your eyes, the barest line of tears in your waterline as you give him a one-armed hug. “You want to?” you ask. 

He breathes out by your ear. “That’s a dumb question. And it’s pretty good luck, right? I mean, we weren’t trying, I didn’t even know you wanted another one, so for it to catch…” He does that groaning pleased thing where he buries his nose against the side of your face. 

“I didn’t know until the test was in my hand.” 

He laughs happily into your skin before he pulls away. He kisses you, he kisses Wren, and he flicks your tummy gently. “Holy shit, that’s a lot of Harringtons.” 

You get another loving kiss for all your efforts. “Steve?” you ask, eyes still closed, his face hovering just an inch away from your own. 

“What, honey?” He says it like light of my life, angel, sweetheart, all the devotion you're used to. 

“We’re probably gonna have to move.” 

“Are you kidding? I already figured it all out. We’re gonna convert the attic.” 

You laugh as he dots a kiss against your cheek. “We are?” 

“I got a quote a couple of months ago, I figured if Beth and Avery got too picky we could give Avery a new room upstairs. But it’ll still work, don’t you think?” 

You finally descend into giggly happy tears and Steve pretends he’s immune, but you hear him sniffing as you stroke Wren's chubby cheek with your finger. “What do you think, sweetheart?” you ask softly. “Do you want a baby sister? How about a brother? What are you thinking?” 

She gurgles her own laugh. “Da,” she says, pointing at Steve like he’s funny. 

“Do I get to decide?” Steve asks her, gasping happily. 

Steve has a lot more to say about it all later that night when the kids are sleeping, baby Wren on his chest, just for an hour before you both sleep too. 

He starts with asking if you’re sure, which you are for now, then the scary stuff, because you got really exhausted last time and it’s not going to be easier. He talks so much and you just lay there, in awe, because he means what he told you. You can have everything you want. Steve’s gonna make sure of it. 

“I’ll get you some prenatals in the morning, okay?” he promises, stroking hearts into Wren’s sleeping back. 

You shift over the pillow to kiss his cheek. “Thanks, H. I love you.” 

“I love you so much I don’t think you get it,” he says, tipping his head your way.

But you do. It’s why five kids feels like a gift, and not a curse. You get how much he loves you. 

[lvnleah]

013. | Welcome home

word count: 2.7k

find the masterlist here!

another cute and emotional one, the next few will be like this :)

one more part left after this, my anon is back on some come and talk to me about anything! 💗

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March 30th 2024 | a few hours old.

The sun had barely risen when you and Leah woke up to the soft cries of your newborn son, Finley. His tiny fists waved in the air as his face scrunched in a way that made your heart swell with love. Leah, already half-awake, gave you a sleepy smile and kissed your forehead before slipping out of bed.

“I’ll get him,” she murmured, moving to the bassinet where Finley was laid beside you. He calmed as she gently picked him up, his cries turning to whimpers as she held him close.

You felt like your heart was going to melt as you watched Leah gently rock Finley around the room, you were sure it was a sight you’d never get used to seeing.

You didn’t think that you could fall in love with Leah anymore than you had but after seeing her with Finley, your love for her had somehow grown even more.

After the nurses had cleaned Finley up, done their checks and helped you feed him for the first time, they had left you and Leah to have some time with your newborn son. While Finley slept cradled up in your arms, you and Leah laid in the bed and couldn’t but just stare at him for hours. You didn’t realise how long you’d been staring at Finley until he’d woken up for his next feed at 3 AM.

Once he was settled again, you and Leah tried to get some sleep but you were both anxious about Finley. It was a new experience for both of you, you had no idea what you were doing and in all honesty you were both just winging it with the guidance of the nurses.

You both managed to fall into a light sleep around half three but now and then you’d find yourself waking up and checking on Finley.

The clock had just struck half-five in the morning

“I think a little man wants a feed again.” Leah said, pressing a kiss to Finley’s forehead. “Do you want your pillow to rest him on?”

You nodded, "Yeah, that would be great," you replied, your voice filled with exhaustion. You reached for the pillow, positioning it carefully to support Finley as Leah handed him over to you.

Finley's tiny mouth opened and closed instinctively, “Wait a minute, Bubba.” You giggled, brushing your hand over his head before helping him latch on.

Leah laid beside you, the both of you took in his perfectness as he fed. After a while, Finley finished feeding and Leah burped him for you before he fell asleep on her chest. You’d both discovered that he liked to lay on her chest when she had just a bra on, one of the nurses explained that it was because newborns loved skin-to-skin.

"He's amazing," Leah whispered, her voice filled with awe. "I can't believe he's finally here."

"Neither can I," you said, resting your head against her shoulder. "I can’t believe how much he looks like you."

Leah chuckled softly, her fingers gently tracing patterns on Finley's back. "You think so? I see so much of you in him too."

That’s what you loved the most about being able to use Leah’s egg and your brother's sperm, Finley was related to both of you and you could pick out different features that belonged to you and Leah.

"He’s perfect," you whispered, reaching out to stroke Finley's tiny hand. His fingers curled around yours instantly. “Absolutely perfect.”

Leah nodded, her eyes never leaving Finley's face. "We did good," she said softly. "We really did."

You leaned over and kissed Leah's cheek, "I love you," you said simply.

She turned to look at you, "I love you too. More than I ever thought possible, thank you for giving me him.”

Eventually, Finley stirred, making a little noise as he wriggled on Leah's chest. She smiled down at him, her fingers brushing over his tiny bit of blonde hair. "Looks like someone’s ready for another nap," she murmured.

You nodded, watching as she gently transferred him back to the bassinet. Finley settled almost immediately, his tiny breaths evening out as he drifted back to sleep.

“Are you hungry, pretty girl?” Leah asked you from the end of the bed. “It’s six o’clock so the canteen is serving breakfast now.”

You nodded, "I would die for some scrambled eggs," you admitted, realising you hadn't had a proper meal in hours.

After you’d given birth, the nurses bought you round some toast and a cup of tea which felt like the best meal ever but you hadn’t eaten since then.

Leah smiled as she kissed your temple, “I’ll run down and grab us something. I won’t be long.”

As she left the room, you glanced back at the bassinet, watching Finley sleep so peacefully. His little legs would kick now and then, you smiled finally being able to see the tiny feet that had been kicking away for the past nine months.

A few minutes later, Leah returned with a tray that had scrambled eggs, toast, fruit, a cup of tea for you and a bottle of orange juice for Leah. The sight of the tray made your mouth water.

"Breakfast is served," she announced, setting the tray on the little table beside the bed. You both sat in the bed and dug in.

Between bites, you talked about the plans for the day. No one had met Finley yet and you were planning on introducing him to them once you got home. A couple hours after Finley was born, she sent a picture of him in her arms to the Arsenal group chat as well as the lionesses one. It was safe to say that everyone was excited to meet Finley whenever they were going to get the chance.

As you finished eating, Finley began to stir again, his little face scrunching up as he prepared to cry. Leah quickly picked him up, soothing him with gentle murmurs.

"Looks like someone's hungry again," she said with a chuckle.

You took another sip of tea and watched them, "He's got quite the appetite.”

Leah nodded, cradling Finley close. "At least he’s not picky like his Mumma yet," she teased, and you both laughed softly.

The morning passed in a blur of feedings, naps, and visits from the nurses. Each moment felt precious, every little sound and movement from Finley was a new thing to cherish.

By the time the clock struck ten, you both felt a bit more human, despite the sleep deprivation. You knew the coming days and weeks would be challenging, but as you looked at Leah and Finley, you felt ready to be in a tiny bubble with them.

Finally, it was time to leave. The nurses helped you gather your things and double-checked Finley’s car seat before you were allowed to depart. You and Leah exchanged nervous glances as you carried Finley out to the car, the reality of having a newborn finally hitting you.

You climbed into the backseat beside Finley’s car seat, determined to keep a close eye on him during the drive.

“Ready to go home?” Leah asks from the front seat as she looks at you through the mirror.

You nodded your head and smiled, “I’m ready.”

Leah drove slowly, hyper-aware of every bump and turn. Finley slept through it all, his tiny chest rising and falling while your hand rested on his stomach. You couldn’t take your eyes off him, you couldn’t believe he was all yours.

When you finally pulled into the parking garage under your apartment building, Leah sighed in relief. “Welcome home, Finley,” she smiled, turning to look at you both.

Leah carefully unbuckled the car seat and carried Finley inside. You tried to offer to carry the bags but Leah was quick to stop you and tell you she’d come down later for them.

You made your way up in the elevator to your apartment, Finley still sound asleep, before making your way inside your apartment for the very first time as a family of three. Leah set Finley’s car seat down on the kitchen side before carefully unstrapping him and cradling him in her arms.

Leah smiled at you, "Why don't we give Finley a tour of his new home?"

You nodded, "Sounds like a plan."

Leah started in the kitchen, rocking Finley gently as his eyes looked up at her. "This is where your Mummy loves to cook. She's a master of it because Mumma can’t cook," she teased, glancing at you with a warm smile. "And this is where we'll prepare all your bottles for now."

You walked over, rubbing Finley's head, his eyes turning to you despite his vision not being the best. "You’re going to love it here, little man. You won’t be a picky eater like Mumma."

Leah then moved to the living room. "This is where we'll have lots of family time. Movie nights, storytime, and right here," she pointed to a cosy corner with a plush armchair, "is where I'll read to you every night."

Finley stirred slightly and made a little cooing noise. You felt your heart swell, picturing the evenings spent with your son.

Next, Leah carried him to the nursery. "And this, Finley, is your room. We spent months getting it ready for you," she whispered, her voice filled with emotion. She pointed to the crib with its soft bedding and the mobile of stars and clouds hanging above it. "You’ll sleep here, surrounded by love."

You ran your fingers over the edge of the crib, remembering all the nights you and Leah had spent setting up the nursery, choosing each item with care. "We can't wait to see you grow up here," you said softly.

Leah gently swayed with Finley, her eyes taking in the room as if for the first time. "And over here," she pointed to a mini Arsenal shirt hanging up, "is a mini version of Mumma’s shirt! One day you’ll get to wear it."

You smiled. "Maybe a Spurs one if Jacob gets the chance," you murmured.

Leah then carried Finley to your bedroom. "And this is where your Mummy and I sleep. You’ll be spending a lot of time here with us, at least for the first few months. Then you can come in here for morning cuddles!”

You moved to the bedside, touching the bassinet that was set up for Finley. "This is where you’ll sleep, right next to us."

Finley stirred again, making a small noise, and Leah looked down at him with a smile. "Looks like someone’s enjoying it," she said softly, kissing his forehead.

You reached out to take Finley in your arms, holding him close. "Welcome home, Finley," you whispered.

Leah wrapped an arm around your waist, resting her head on your shoulder as you both looked down at your son. "This is just the beginning," she murmured. "We have so many memories to make together."

The pair of you settled on the sofa with Finley, you fed him before Leah burped him and handed him back to you for another snuggle. She made you both a quick lunch, a sandwich which was within her cooking skills range.

The afternoon slipped by, and soon there was a knock at the door. Leah handed Finley to you and went to answer it. Moments later, she returned with Amanda, Jacob, and David in tow.

Amanda came over to you. “How are you doing, darling?”

“Sore but I’m good,” you laughed, “I’m just in a little bubble of perfection right now.”

“What about me?” Leah asked, “I’m your daughter, what am chopped liver?”

Amanda playfully waved Leah away, “Oh shush you! I spoke to you earlier, and you’re fine. You might be tired but you’re not the one who’s given birth!”

She handed over a dish covered in foil to Leah. “I bought lasagna for dinner. You two need to eat properly.”

“Thanks, Amanda,” you said as Leah joined you on the sofa, and you watched as Jacob and David approached, their faces lit with excitement.

“Congratulations!” David said, pulling you both into a hug. Jacob was practically bouncing on his toes, his eyes wide with excitement.

You watched as Jacob stared at Finley in your arms, “You okay, Jake?”

“Can I hold him?” Jacob asked, his voice a mix of awe and nerves.

“Of course,” Leah replied as he sat on the sofa before carefully transferring Finley into Jacob’s eager arms. Jacob’s expression softened as he gazed down at his nephew, his eyes glossed over with tears.

“Hey there, little guy,” he whispered. “I’m your Uncle Snake.” He glanced up, catching Leah’s eye with a grin. “We’re going to make sure you’re a Spurs supporter, just like us,” he joked, nudging Leah’s dad who chuckled in response.

You and Leah exchanged a look, her eyes playfully rolling in response. You were wrapped in a moment of pure happiness, surrounded by family.

After Jacob had held Finley, he passed him to Leah’s dad, David.

David took Finley, his face lighting up. “Hello there, little Finley,” he murmured, his voice soft. “You’re going to be so spoiled by your Grandpa.”

Leah wrapped an arm around your shoulders, and you both watched as her dad rocked Finley gently. “He’s already loved so much,” you whispered, leaning into her.

The afternoon was filled with warm chatter and laughter as everyone took turns holding Finley. Amanda had been waiting patiently, her eyes shining with a grandmother's love and excitement. Finally, after David had his turn, he carefully handed Finley over to Amanda.

Finally, it was Amanda’s turn.

“Oh, look at you, precious boy,” Amanda cooed, cradling Finley. Her eyes filled with tears as she gently rocked him. “You’re absolutely perfect.”

You watched Amanda with a soft smile, feeling your heart swell even more. “He loves you already, Amanda,” you said, your voice thick with emotion.

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” she replied. “He’s going to be so spoiled by his Nanny, aren't you Bubba?” She brushed a gentle kiss against Finley’s forehead, causing him to stir slightly but then settle into her arms.

She turned to you and Leah, her expression serious but kind. “You two are going to be amazing parents. And remember, we’re all here to help you every step of the way. You’re not alone.”

You and Leah both nodded. “Thank you, Amanda,” you said, “We appreciate it.”

Leah smiled, “And thanks for the lasagna. We needed a good meal today.”

Amanda chuckled softly, “You were scared you were going to have to cook, weren’t you?”

After a few more moments, Amanda reluctantly handed Finley back to you. “Alright, little one, back to your Mummy now,” she whispered once Finley became restless.

As the afternoon went on, you and Leah shared stories of the birth and the first few hours with Finley. The room was filled with laughter, love, and a lot of fuss over Finley as he was passed from one loving pair of arms to another.

When the sun began to set, Amanda insisted on helping Leah with dinner while you rested on the couch with Finley. Jacob and David tidied up the living room, making sure everything was in its place for your first night home

Leah brought you a plate of lasagna, and you both ate together on the couch, Finley nestled in his Moses basket. “This is perfect,” you said, taking a bite. “I couldn’t ask for more.”

Leah smiled, leaning over to kiss your cheek. “We’re just getting started,” she replied. “There’s so much more to come.”

“Call us if you need anything,” Amanda said as they made their way out.

Leah saw them to the door, locking it behind them before returning to the couch. She sat beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you both looked down at Finley, who was now peacefully asleep.

“We did it,” you whispered, your eyes filled with tears of happiness. “We’re a family.”

Leah nodded. “Yes, we are. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You both sat there for a while, soaking in the quiet and the overwhelming amount of love that filled your home. Eventually, you carried Finley to the bedroom and fed him before laying him gently in his crib next to your bed.

As you crawled into bed that night, Leah pulled you close, her warmth and love surrounding you. “Goodnight, pretty girl,” she whispered.

“Goodnight,” you replied. “Goodnight, Finn.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

liked by bethmead_ and 396,728 others

leahwilliamsonn proudly introducing Finley Jake Williamson, bubba boy was born a few days ago and is absolutely perfect ❤️ proud of my wife x

comments turned off…

[little-fairy-forest]

Stitches of love

-> bakugo x fem! Reader

-> domestic, fluff, romance, she / her

-> reader finds herself going crazy over what to get her mitsuki for motherday, little does she know she had a helping hand all along.

"Katsuki please just give me some ideas what to get her" y/n pleaded as she rests her head in her hands. The list infront of her started back as she scratches out all her ideas so far on what to get her mother in law for her birthday. Jewellery? No she had so much, a holiday? Seems like a large present for your first year as her official daughter in law, home made jam?–

"She'd love anythin' if you gave it to 'er" Katsuki grumbles as he sips his coffee staring at y/n. They both knew he was right, y/n could give mitsuki a lump of dirt and She'd be so greatful you'd swear it was a lump of gold. But if katsuki gave it to her? He'd never hear the end of how thoughtless it was...

"What are you getting her? Surely you've ran out of ideas aswell?" Y/n rubs her face in defeat as she realises she only has 3 days to find a present. The clock is ticking, especially since you have to buy it, wrap it, and pray its good enough.

"Got her and the old man tickets to that candle lit concert in Tokyo, gotta meal for them aswell before the show" katsuki says as it's the most obvious thing ever... because everyone can afford to get expensive tickets to a private showing of the Tokyo orchestra at candlelight. Y/n huffs as she moves herself away from the table, frustrated as her plans were coming to a dead-end. Katsuki shrugs as suggests they can share the present as that wouldn't be a problem, but for y/n , she wanted her own present for her own mother in law.

"Back to the drawing board"

2 days to go

The dim lights of the lamp cascade over y/n as she tries to pull out another knott that's found its way into the ball of yarn.

"Stupid thing, why are the strings so thin–"

"Why are you still awake?" Katsuki emerges from the kitchen, peeping his head into the living room to find his wife tangled in balls of yarn, frustrated at the pattern in front of her. Who know making a blanket was so difficult?

"I can't figure the pattern out, why is knitting so hard katsu! Why do people do this to relax"

"Cuz old hags have all the time in the world to do that stuff, now get your ass to bed"

The small half-arsed square that was meant to be a blanket falls flat into y/ns lap as she realises this was another failed attempt at a present for mitsuki. The blanket would've had to of been perfect, can't give a seamstress a rag and pass it off as a blanket made out of love. What symbol would that give?

"Stupid yarn"

1 day to go

The perfect way to a person's heart is through their stomach, is that how the saying goes? Doesn't matter! Either way you found yourself 3 cakes deep into perfecting this stupid old recipe. katuki claims " the old hags loves "... but why is it so hard to master the recipe?

Many hours into baking whatever is in the oven, because there's no way you can even call the lumpy mess a 'cake'. Katsuki takes over as he cannot let anything to be made in his kitchen be considered inedible. You watched as katsuki whipped around the kitchen, making dinner and cleaning up the mess you made. What are you going to do now? The deadline is near, and you've nothing to bring to the dinner tomorrow for mitsuki?

Great way to impress your mother in law

"Listen, she won't care if you've nothin in your hands sweets, trust" Katsuki says to distract you from your storming thoughts.

"I just don't know what to do babe, I've tried so many ideas. I don't have to give up but what choice do I have–"

"Quit your ramblin and go wash up before dinner," katsuki cuts your rambles with instructions. He knows it's best to distract you if you're having working thoughts.

You make your way to the bathroom to wash up before dinner. Your head is still flooded with last minute ideas of presents to give mistuki.

"Where's all the soap gone? Why doesn't katsuki refill the container when it's empty? Typical" you say, reaching into the press to grab and refill the soap dispenser. You make a quick note of things you need to get in the shops before you go to dinner tomorrow as you're almost out of some essentials.

As you rummage through the bathroom cabinet, your fingers brush against a small, inconspicuous box tucked behind some toiletries. Curiosity piqued, you retrieved it, your heart quickening as you read the label. With a mixture of trepidation and hope, you take a gamble with this last chance of a home made present.

Birthday dinner

Mistuki has been filling yous in on her latest fashion looks she has been in the process of designing since last spring. Masaru has just set down the tea post dinner as you've all settled into the sitting room to unwind after that very tasty dinner katsuki scrubbed up. Who knew your man was so kind?

"Here's your present ma..." katsuki sheeply hands over his gift knowing his mother will make a deal out of the concert he has gotten her tickets for. You watch as mistuki stumbles over with glee as she hugs? Katsuki and thanks him. You haven't seem them hug since you had gotten married!

Masaru thanks katsuki for getting him a ticket also, placing the present aside waiting for the two blonds to settle down.

" it's something small, hope we can all share this special present" you hint towards the box you hand over to mitsuki. Katsuki looks at you knowingly you done fucked up the blanket and the cake, so what did you get her?

Mistuki opens the box to find a tiny baby blanket you had hand knitted from the rags you started with, paired with a tiny test signaling your little life growing within.

Mistuki stumbles over the test, clarifying with you that what she is reading really is coming true!

"YOUR PREGNANT?!"  She gleams as she jumps from her seat shuffling over to hug you. Katsuki looks at you with hope in his eyes, why hadn't you told him?!

"Yes , I hope this trumps katsuki present mistuki" you hug Mistuki back as masaru looks into the box reading the little note beside the blanket

"Cant wait to snuggle you in this blanket made out of love, sweat and tears,

Love, baby bakugo due 2X25"

Yep. You've finally outdone your husband in gift giving.

Now how will you out do Masarus birthday..

What did I just write...

Ew

[judasgot-it]

Hey hey, may I request when s/o takes care of hunting dogs when they have their monthly surgeries?

oh how I love my sweet angels, they do no wrong...

also sorry I cheated, I didn't write Fukuchi or Teruko but that's my fault. yell at me if you want them, I just like writing for my fav sexy men and silly boy!

taking care of the hunting dogs while recovering from their surgeries Jouno, Tachihara, Tecchou

Jouno

______________________________________________________________

"If I ever die, I don't know if I want you to find someone else."

Jouno was lying on the recovery bed, covered in a thin blanket, looking paler than usual. Whenever you saw him, he was cloaked in his uniformed cape, face hidden underneath his cap - it always gave him a sense of illusion and power. But now he was completely bare, with new red surgical scars alongside his muscles and veins.

"If you ever die? You say that like you're immortal."

He turned towards you, his usual false cheeriness now set into a thoughtful frown.

"I could easily be immortal. Then you'll never be able to get rid of me."

He smiled, reaching for you. You leaned over from your chair, meeting him halfway as he held your hand.

Taking your other hand, you brushed the tips of your fingers through his scalp, carefully separating the strands and allowing them to fall against his cheek. His nose twitched at the feeling, which made you smile.

"You're warm."

He grabbed at your sweater, pulling you alongside it. You nearly fell over, catching yourself on the small recovery bed Jouno was laying on.

"Is this sweater mine? I've been looking for it."

He sat up, making space for you on the small bed. You gladly took all the space you could, splaying your legs all over Jouno's lap.

"Do you want it back? It's kind of cold here."

Even with the sweater, you could still feel the cold air blowing in the room, keeping your skin colder than you'd like.

"No, I have a better idea."

Two hands snaked up your waist, pulling the sweater up to your shoulders. You felt your breathing cut off as Jouno forced his head through the back of the fabric, pulling at the already well-worn neckline.

You tried to adjust or move away, but were helpless as Jouno finally forced his way through the sweater - his chest pressed flush against your now exposed back as he pulled the sweater down around the both of you.

His arms pulled you close, tucked inside your little cacoon, his face burying into your neck. His nose was cold, and you could feel that he was purposefully trying to warm himself against you as his fingers traced up against the exposed skin of your belly.

"Are you happy now? You're really cold, you know."

You sat up the best you could in your position, trying to pull down your shirt that had rode up from Jouno's invasion of your warmth. It was no use, as Jouno was practically melted into you.

"I'm warmer now. You have really good blood circulation, it's nice to feel."

He was mumbling into your neck, his breath hot on your skin. You could feel his eyelashes flutter as he spoke, while his fingers drew meaningless patterns against your skin.

One of his hands reached up right towards your heart, his warming fingers pressing right against supple skin.

"Don't tell me I'm making you blush right now, I can feel it with you right underneath me."

He was nearly giggling at his cruel teasing. You groaned, reaching up and lightly tugging at Jouno's hair.

"You're practically crawling into my skin right now, what do you expect?"

You felt his chest huff in amusement, his large hands pressing against your skin. He was really trying to consume your everything, not giving you a moment's peace.

He simply hummed, the vibrations from his body tickling you.

"You know, you kind of look like the girl on the shirt."

He took out his hand and reached to trace the old and faded design, right over your chest. He wasn't going to acknowledge how your breath hitched as his finger traced along the shirt, right over your chest.

"I can barely even see the girl, surprised you know what she looks like after all this time."

Leaning back, you pat his thigh, hidden under the thin and scratchy hospital blanket. Jouno squeezed your waist in return, his thumb massaging your skin.

"I had it before I lost my sight, so to me, it still looks brand new. Don't ruin the lie my brain tells me, I want to believe that it still belongs in a landfill."

"It probably does. It's only good because it's warm and it smells like you, but I wouldn't wear this in public."

Jouno placed his forehead on the back of your neck, feeling for your warmth.

"I haven't washed this sweater in months, hope you know that's the smell you're enjoying."

You gently slapped his thigh, snorting.

"Oh god, you're disgusting Jouno! I thought you were different from other guys."

He hummed, squeezing you tightly. He was taking advantage of his position, holding you next to him in that large, worn, and threadbare sweater. Jouno was never more glad he was left alone for his recovery, since he never wanted to be seen in such an intimate position.

"I'm teasing Y/n. I really should throw this out though, we can afford better."

Tecchou

______________________________________________________________

You were sick of this man already.

"Tecchou. Sit down."

"But I feel fine Y/n. I can get up just fine."

"You just had surgery. No, you can't."

It took your entire body weight to get him back down on the bed, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly. You've tried everything you could to force the man to do his mandatory bed rest, but he was just not having it.

The two of you were having a staring competition at the moment, you trying your damndest not to kill the man underneath you.

"Tecchou."

"Y/n."

"Please. You need to rest, this wasn't like the other surgeries. They literally had to operate with your organs in a bowl, they need some time to readjust."

"I've gotten back up from worse. I'm built differently from other people, I'll be fine after a few warmups."

You couldn't argue with that, technically. He was 'different' and everything but...when you came to help Tecchou recover after his recent surgery, you thought it would be different. You never realized how asinine he was, until now, really.

"Absolutely not. The nurse gave very specific instructions that you were told to follow."

"Those are guidelines. I've never followed them before and came out perfectly fine."

You didn't know if it was Tecchou's blank stare or the fact that he didn't even register how hard you were trying to push him to fully lie down. He still had the strength to hold himself up on his elbows, looking up at you from his dark mop of hair. It was all slightly aggravating, and very frustrating.

"It's not that big of a deal. It's 24 hours of bed rest. You can literally sleep it off."

Tecchou sighed, finally letting you push him down on the bed. His gold eyes looked away for a second, contemplating.

"Can you sleep with me?"

"Sorry, sex also isn't allowed in recovery."

"No I mean - physically sleep. With me. On the bed. What does sex have to do with this?"

You looked down at him. He wasn't joking.

A laugh escaped you.

"What's so funny Y/n?"

His face was serious, with a thoughtful frown and furrowed brows coating his features. It was cute, had it not been for his stubbornness.

"Nothing. Yea, I'll sleep with you. I brought a blanket, actually, so this is perfect."

You went to the bag you packed - it was stuffed to the brim with junk you thought, maybe, you might need for Tecchou's recovery period. It looked more like a diaper bag, but the food was already eaten and now the blanket sure as hell came in handy, didn't it?

"Move, I need room to sleep too."

"Can't you sleep on top of me? You don't weigh anything."

Sighing, you spread the blanket on top of him, climbing on top of the rather small medical bed. You were crouching on top of his thighs waiting for him to move.

"I won't lie down until you scooch. I'm not laying on top of a man who just had a major surgery."

Tecchou put his arms around your waist, his face neutral.

"I like looking at you. I don't mind this."

You groaned. Tecchou snorted, pulling you a little closer.

"I'll move. I don't see the point, but if it really bothers you, I'll move."

He pulled you down, having you lie right next to him. You were pressed against him, your legs still on top of his, your chest pressed against his side. His arms held you close, warm, and pressed firmly against your back.

"You're too stubborn Tecchou. I'm supposed to be taking care of you right now. You don't need to be playing strongman right now, dumbass."

You put a hand on his chest, feeling as he took in a deep, strong breath. His heart was strong, practically beating out of his chest in its rhythmic pattern.

Tecchou didn't respond to what you said, his hands holding you tighter. You reached your hand up, rubbing circles on his exposed clavicle as you simply breathed in his presence.

"I'm your dumbass, right?"

You snorted, craning your neck up to look at him. He was staring at the ceiling tiles, looking for patterns his eyes could trace.

"Yea. That's why I take care of you, even though you don't think you need it."

You leaned up on one of your elbows, your other hand reaching up to gently thumb his cheek. His eyes followed you, his eyelashes fluttering each time your thumb grazed the three dots right underneath his eye. His face was hot, but he was enraptured in watching you as your eyes drank in all of his features.

"You're still a dumbass though."

With the way you said it, it didn't even register as an insult. You spoke those words so softly, leaning close to Tecchou's face, your breath hot against his jaw. He shuddered at the feeling.

One of his hands reached up, gently cupped the back of your head, fingers entangling in your hair, and pulling you down to kiss him. Your teeth knocked against one another, lips caught in the mix before he finally caught your bottom lip. You felt his hot breath breathe against your skin, his fingers curling against your hair strands tighter as he tried to pull you in closer.

You put your hand on his chest, pushing him away enough so you could breathe without tasting him. The air felt colder without him, even if just a little further away.

"Tecchou, you're supposed to be recovering. Sex isn't recovering."

"Nothing was said against kissing. Just be gentle with me and it'll be fine, right?"

The smile Tecchou had on his swollen lips looked too innocent for what the bastard was implying.

You didn't even want to say no to him.

Tachihara

______________________________________________________________

Tachihara felt bad for whoever was going to have to clean the hospital room.

He was looking around, with you laying on his shoulder, laptop haphazardly placed in between the two of your laps - to see the disgusting mess that you two had made of the place.

There was sauce spilled on the mattress, and popcorn kernels on the floor somewhere from where the two of you had thrown it at each other. He hoped the doctor wouldn't know about what he was really eating, since he was sure he would get a mouthful about it later. He hated the slop they tried to feed him at the facility, he truly did.

You, on the other hand, had brought nearly every snack imaginable. His cheeto dusted fingers and Dorito's breath could attest to that fact. The surgery made his legs hurt this time, but for now, his soul was happy as he continued to tear through the bags you had brought.

"Gimmie one."

He looked over to see you looking at him expectantly, you eyes wide and now that he looked closer in the low hospital light, were accompanied by deep bags. You probably hadn't slept since he had gone in for surgery, which was a full 26 hours ago now, and it showed.

Tachihara was surprised you still had any energy, but it might've been from the energy drinks you had brought with you. He wasn't allowed to have any of those, as you were a "responsible nurse" apparently. He didn't believe that, but watching you be so happy to look over him made him happy - as did the puffed Cheetos he was chewing.

"Open your mouth."

He watched as you closed your eyes and lazily opened your mouth, your tongue hanging out of your mouth languidly. He placed a puffed cheeto on your tongue, slowly closing your jaw, trying to avoid getting any cheeto dust on you. He failed, but he enjoyed watching the smile on your face as you chewed happily, going back to the film.

"Wait. You have dust on you."

He reached over, trying to wipe it off. He forgot about the dust on his hands however, which spread it around. You blinked at him, not registering the mistake, until you wiped at your chin, pulling back to see it coated in orange.

You looked back at him, giggling.

"I'm so messy, geez."

You laughed, trying to hide your mouth so you didn't spit out your cheeto. Tachihara watched you, a smile pulling on his own face.

"I think we both need to wash up. We really went ham here."

You sat up, looking up at the mess the two of you had created. Lazily, you laid back down on the squashed pillows that had become your bed.

"Let's do that later."

Your voice was low and tired.

"I'm tired. I think I'm having a caffeine crash finally."

You were interrupted by a yawn, one that ran throughout your entire being as you stretched yourself out on the hospital bed. The laptop was barely caught by Tachihara, who placed it further down by your feet. The movie was now long forgotten, having become of little importance to the two of you - just background noise.

Tachihara merely watched you, groaning as he tried to get comfortable while lying back down, getting close to you. He kept his golden eyes on your figure - you were falling asleep, messy and unkempt, but he still thought you were beautiful. Your breathing was soft, with your chest rising slowly right by his arm.

Most of all he was thankful he didn't have to wake up alone - and now fall asleep alone, in this cold, unwelcoming hospital room. It almost felt like a home, with how messy it was.

"Hey, Y/n?"

You hummed tiredly as a response, tiredly shaking your head to show him that you were listening. Tachihara smiled as he took the back of his hand, tracing your jaw - now extra careful to avoid spreading Cheeto dust on you.

"Thanks for taking care of me. This was nice."

"Yea."

You yawned again, lazily opening your eyes and turning towards him, smiling. They were half-lidded, barely registering what they were seeing.

"Of course. Why wouldn't I? I want to take care of you."

You reached over, curling your dirty fingers into his hospital gown. Tachihara didn't have it in him to feel grossed out. He felt incredibly warm, however, as you pressed your forehead against his, a small smile on your sleeping face.

[pricegouge]

Fatted Rabbit, Part Twelve on AO3

Content

You tell yourself the best plan is no plan. 

Bearshifter!Price x reader | explicit

You tell yourself the best plan is no plan. You don't know how he does it, but Phil's always been able to predict your thought process. In retrospect, you're not sure why you ever thought some idyllic northern getaway could have possibly saved you. Of course he found you there; he knew how much you missed home, knew you weren't quite dumb enough to return.

So, no plan. Except you can't go much more north without a passport, so that's out. You briefly wonder about Canada's asylum policy and then marvel at your ability to laugh at a time like this. Beats crying, you think, as you cry hard enough that signs blur and you miss the last good turnoff toward a western route for hours. On your left, the Flatheads loom high overhead, barren and undeveloped, casting their runoff into the valley through which you drive. You carry on, game driven into the basin.

After nearly nine hours of driving, you make it out of Montana. You don't stop. The road ahead of you seems to trip over itself, fall flat. Your headlights illuminate more than twenty yards ahead of you now as the terrain levels out. You check your rearview every thirty seconds, manage to convince yourself you see a low gleam working its way down the range behind you. You keep an eye out for a road side parking area, eventually make due with an abandoned leveled lot, and sit with a steak knife in hand as you wait for the car far miles behind you to catch up, sobbing in relief when it passes without so much as tapping its brakes. 

You feel maybe a little ridiculous sitting there with your knife, and then realize even the threat of Phil nearby has your thoughts spiraling into old patterns again. The only thing ridiculous about your little steak knife is the fact that you don't know how to use it, and it won't do shit against a man who once stood you against a wall and broke in his new nine iron by driving golf balls at you after your late return from work had 'worried him' so much he'd missed tee time. 

You'd left him a few times in the past - quick excursions he would basically allow before pulling some string you never did find the source of and having you fired. He'd wait you out, come calling with pretty flowers and prettier promises when he knew you were facing eviction just to show his true colors once he had you solidly dependent on him again. Somehow, you didn't think it would go down like that this time. Phil didn't love you, he barely ever even liked you, and now you'd made him miss tee time by months. 

You only realize now, trying to sleep upright in the driver's seat, parked on the side of a road so barren you'd had to DIY a pull off, that you'd basically done half his job for him. For all intents and purposes, you're already dead. No societal standing to be upended once he finally tracked you down. There were no coworkers who would note your absence as uncharacteristic, no PO box that would overflow to the point the clerk would call for a wellness check. Phil had separated you from your loved ones, sure, but you'd kept them away out of fear. 

The only one who would note your absence was John, but you'd made it perfectly clear that was by your own choice after yelling at him like you had. 

John. You want to cry again, don't have the energy. You'd known he'd been keeping tabs on you, somehow, and you'd managed to convince yourself you were being paranoid. Stupid , same as always. You'd been so proud of how far you'd come since leaving Phil but you'd again made the same dumbass mistakes that had landed you with that bastard in the first place; ignoring instincts in favor of a handsome smile. 

Still, he didn't deserve to be left like that, and you'd be lying if you didn't need someone to talk to right now. Your phone sits in the center console, unpowered and unthreatening. 

You decide you're still mad, that you'll call him tomorrow.

Between the self-doubt, your inclined position, and the one eye you keep trained on the wide horizon at all times, it takes you over an hour to fall asleep despite your genuine exhaustion. It's fitful and restless; you get maybe three hours sleep before the sun begins creeping above the flat plains ahead of you to the east. You'd forgone your blinds as a safety measure so there's no escaping the blinding brightness of the horizon and you grumble about how you should have turned your car around so you could have slept in just a bit. Still, getting flash banged by the flatland sunrise is preferable to at least one other wake up call you know you could have gotten. You give yourself another ten minutes or so to wiggle some feeling into your stiff joints and enjoy the sun's warmth on your face. But when the air quality begins to shift from golden warm to still and humid, you climb out of the Jeep to rush through your morning routine. 

It's strange how used you've gotten to baring your ass in public. Back out by Glacier, you'd gotten to the point that it hardly made you squint more than was necessary to check the coast was clear. Here though, in the open fields of Wyoming, with barely any vegetation to hide you and a known predator that scares you far worse than a friendly bear on your tail, you find yourself a little gun shy. Strange, missing being homeless in the woods.

A nagging voice tells you you're missing more about Glacier than just the vegetation, doesn't shut up when you try to slam your door on it. 

***

Another four hours of driving brings you down close to real civilization. You skirt past one city and come upon her sister an hour later. Desperation and exhaustion weigh heavy on you, and you know if you sleep in your car another night you'll be too beat come tomorrow to drive safely. You drum your fingers off the steering wheel as you sit at a red light, weighing your options. It's possible Phil can track your spending. You'd switched your bank when you'd left, of course, but he's mean and scary, and tends to get what he wants. Banks and payroll offices are manned by individual people, after all. It's unlikely, but offers a neat, tidy explanation as to how he found you to begin with. It would be best to empty your account and start a new one, but that can be difficult without an address. Start small. An ATM could at least give you a few day's head start. 

You find one in the lobby of a small pharmacy, stare at it suspiciously through the vestibule glass for a good twenty minutes before deciding on a plan. Withdrawing as much as the ATM allows, you wince at what you see of your remaining balance on the receipt. Yesterday morning the amount had been a comfort, but now that you know Phil is no closer to giving you up than he'd been months ago, you can't help but feel a little helpless about your pitiful savings. 

It's a problem for another day, though. In the meantime, you need a safe place to hang your hat for the night. If Phil is monitoring your account, he'll have seen you stop off in Gillette so you head back the way you came and find a room at the sleaziest motel Buffalo has to offer. The carpets don't even extend under the bed, and you're fairly certain a sex worker is posted up next door, but that's her business; yours is keeping your head down. 

After checking thoroughly for bed bugs, you deem it safe enough to bring in a change of clothes and some essentials. You make yourself the world's plainest quesadilla on your skillet for dinner, and tuck into bed with a happy sigh while the sun's still up.

Still, exhaustion isn't quite enough to keep your brain from running in circles; and after spending the whole weekend tucked tight to John's side, you can't help but choke up a bit, thinking of what you left behind. You know you'd panicked when he first admitted to knowing about Phil. It probably hadn't warranted running the fuck away like you did, but it was too late now. What could you do, go crawling back explaining how you'd assumed him to be a monster based off the smallest of transgressions and would he please take you back? Besides, you had warned him you'd leave if Phil ever showed up again.

You sigh, eye your phone where it sits on the bedside table, still powered off. You've been avoiding it like the plague, knowing full well that every minute that ticks by unanswered only makes it worse. If John's reached out, he'll have assumed something bad has happened based on your silence. You should reassure him, at least tell him you're alive. But you're not sure you'll be able to stand the rejection you'll feel if you power it on and find no missed messages. 

"Christ," you huff, unsure how you're even able to worry about such petty things at a time like this. You turn your phone on out of spite and frown when the amount of missed notifications which pop up nearly brick your phone. You scroll through them quickly, noting your voicemail box is full - mostly John, though a couple from an unknown number catch your eye. You listen to one and get a little teary eyed when you hear Soap's brogue telling you to 'Come back Bonnie, we'll help you.'

Filling up your mailbox hadn't stopped John from calling, it seems, another forty or so missed calls are enough to give you pause. There is such a thing as too concerned, though if you'd known that he'd had an abusive ex who was actively hunting him down and then suddenly he'd disappeared from your life, you suppose you'd be pretty worried too. You briefly scroll through the text messages, only a few words here or there registering. 'Can't smell. Fucking pepper spray,' draws your attention and you frown in confusion. 

"Pepper spray?" you ask yourself, and then jump so bad you nearly throw your phone across the room when it starts ringing. 

"John?"

" Bunny, " he sighs in relief. Or at least you think he does. Hard to tell, with how croaky his voice sounds. "Where are you?"

"Wyoming. Are you okay? You sound like you got throatfucked."

"Am I bloody o -." He huffs, takes a deep breath. "Who cares? Are you okay? Send me your location, I'll come meet you."

"John, that's -."

"Sweetheart, please ," when he begs, his voice goes thin and ragged. He coughs to clear it - wet, hacking, and then groans in pain. 

"John, seriously, are you okay? Are you sick?"

"Did you get my messages?"

"You sent a lot of messages, man. I haven't had a chance to go through them all."

"Oh." He pauses, sniffles, hacks a bit more. "Ran into your ex."

"Phil?" you breathe, eyes darting to the window instinctively, as if even just mentioning his name could summon him. "When did you see Phil?"

"Right as you were pulling out of that cafe."

"You're sure it was him?" Your voice sounds far away, but you can't even concentrate on that when your brain's running in circles trying to figure out why Phil would get so close without accosting you.

"Can't imagine anyone else would want to unload two cans of mace on me."

You blink stupidly at your phone for a minute. On the other end, John just keeps grumbling about his sense of smell. "Seriously, bunny, come ho -."

"He did what!? " you shriek, belatedly.

"It's no matter, sweetheart, but I can't find you now unless you tell me where you are, okay? Please tell me where you are." Something about the way that's phrased should strike you as odd, but you're too busy hyperventilating about the fact that your dogshit life choices have gone and gotten poor John involved. Two cans of mace, what the fuck?

"John, I'm so sorry. I never should have even been there, shit , are you okay? Did you go to the hospital?" There had been witnesses hanging around; you remember how they'd watched you and John warily. Surely they'd have called for help when Phil attacked him and -. "Wait, is Phil still there?"

"No," John growls. There's no other word for it. John's got a deep, scratchy voice as is, but in this state it's down right animalistic. "Bit his ear off and the coward scarpered before authorities arrived."

You blink again. "Huh?"

"Cops were slow getting there. Laswell says they had a busy day with -."

"No, before that. Did you say you bit Phil's ear off? "

"Oh. Yeah. Couldn't exactly fight, blinded and all. Just kinda instinct."

"Okay there, Iron Mike…" there are important follow up questions you should be asking. About PEP and therapy, probably, but all you can think about is John covered in Phil's blood and while it should disturb you, it very much doesn't. 

"Bunny. Focus, sweetheart, please. Where are you?"

"Uh. Buffalo, Wyoming. I'd give you the address of the motel, but I don't think they legally exist anywhere."

John barely hums, unamused. "Can you send me your location, honey?"

You chew your lip, debating. It's one thing to feel like right shit about what happened, another thing to overlook the entire reason you'd been mad at him. "You never explained how you knew about Phil."

John sighs, shuffles around a bit. You think you can hear Simon in the background, but then a door shuts and it's quiet on his end. "Wasn't lying, sweetheart. Graves came into the bar looking for you. Soap ID'd him, didn't think anything of it when he said you'd probably come around later. Well, you didn't, obviously - thankfully -, so Graves apparently hung out for a good few hours, just asking about you and saying some vaguely threatening things to Soap. Simon threw him out, then took his name from Soap and called up Gaz - my old bartender; you haven't met him yet. Together they did some digging and found out all about Phil, and when they brought this all to my attention, I kind of panicked. Tracked you down, scared you. Sorry about -."

"How did you track me down?"

He hesitates. "Only yellow Wrangler in the area."

You huff, frustrated that it's a good answer, and then glance back to the window warily when you realize your car hasn't stopped being conspicuous.

"Bunny, you should be here. We can help you."

You try not to think about how sad he sounds. "You said you did some digging on him?"

"Basic stuff. Residence, employment -."

"He knows someone high up. I think military, but like… way up there. He's slippery. Nothing sticks to him." You're not sure if you're warning John, or yourself. 'Don't get your hopes up,' you want to say. 'There is no "stand your ground" on this.'

"All the more reason you should be here." His voice borders on anger, but for once, you don't even flinch. John is not mad at you.

"What are you gonna do if he turns up again? Bite his other ear off?"

"I'll eat him alive if I ever see him again," John growls, and you gulp, try to remember now is not the time to start wondering if you're maybe into… well, not cannibalism; that brings to mind Anthony Hopkins, fancy wine, and bone china. But you would have paid good money to see John bite Phil's ear off, and you don't know what that says about you. Not trusting your voice, you just share your location with him and smile to yourself when he checks the notification and sighs in relief. "Thank you, bunny."

You hum, settle further into your bed. "I'll start heading back in the morning." You don't mean to sound so sheepish, but it's hard not to be embarrassed by your blind panic when John made it all sound so easy. Sometimes you forget how little experience you have with healthy relationships until you do something as childish as running away to the next state instead of asking a clarifying question.

Blessedly, John doesn't seem to mind too much. "Simon and I'll start heading your way tonight. Keep your phone on for me, okay love?"

The pet name takes you by surprise, makes your voice catch in your throat. "Okay."

He pauses, clearly having noticed. "You alright?"

"Yeah," you croak, very clearly not. "Could you stay on the phone with me while I fall asleep?"

"Oh, sweetheart," he breathes, "of course."

"I'm sorry I thought you were spying on me," you blubber. 

You're not sure if he knows what exactly you're referring to, but he takes it in stride anyway. "Can't blame you for being paranoid considering everything, bunny."

"And I'm sorry you got maced 'cause of me."

"That's not on y -."

"And I'm sorry I didn't even know about it 'cause I was too busy running away like a coward."

John huffs, coughs. "Not cowardice, bunny. I think if I -."

"You make me feel safe, John. I don't know why I didn't stay." You'd be surprised if he understood that one, what with all the broken sobs. Absently, you worry about the income of the girl next door. Loud weeping can't be good for the mood, you'd assume.

"Oh, bunny, you're still safe. You've got yourself a nice den tonight, yeah? With a door and a proper bolt?"

"Yeah," you sniffle, and John hums in approval.

"And I'll stay on the line with you. All night if you want. And tomorrow we should meet up around Billings, it looks like. I'll drive back with you, keep you safe."

You sigh, rational thought creeping in. "You guys don't have to meet me halfway, you know? I can just -."

"We're driving down and that's final. I won't be able to sleep anyway."

"Okay," you mumble, not at all mad about the outcome. The conversation peters a bit and you assume he's trying to let you sleep but your mind is still too busy so you pull up maps to check the route you'll take tomorrow. Billings is much closer to you than half way, but you suppose that makes sense if they start driving tonight.

He's so fucking sweet.

"I miss you," you blurt, close your eyes when you hear how vulnerable it makes you sound.

"Miss you too, sweetheart. I hope you know I'm not letting you sleep outside my bed for at least a month after this." Part of you wants to find fault in his words, fret over the way he presumes to control you.

Mostly, you're too tired.

"And I miss my fucking bear," you pout.

John coughs - or maybe laughs -, clears his throat. "I'm sure your bear misses you too."

You sniffle, listen to John do the same and think about his poor sinuses. You're gonna make him so much fucking tea with honey after all this he's gonna think you're trying to drown him.

"Try to fall asleep for me, love, okay? I'm gonna start getting ready."

"Are you -?"

"I'll stay on the line. Got an earbud in so Simon can mind his own business."

You smirk, sure that if Simon's paying attention at all, it's out of concern more so than jugement. You're not sure how you know this, considering you've only spoken to the silent man a handful of times, but you remember how he calls you 'pet,' how he seemed genuinely happy that his boss was getting laid. "Tell him I said thanks. Oh, who's watching the bar?"

"Senior staff, bunny," John chuckles, "don't worry about it."

"Is Simon mad to be leaving his boyfriend?" you whisper, conspiratorially. 

"Stoic as always, but Soap's right pissed about being left behind," he murmurs back. You hear Simon shout something and John covers his mouth piece to return fire. "Ears like a fucking elephant, that one," he grumbles when he returns. "Alright, bunny, I'm gonna mute myself so you can work on sleeping but I'm still here, okay? Sleep tight, see you soon."

"Okay, John. Drive safe."

"Will do, love," he whispers, and then the line goes quiet. 

Checking the time code, just to be sure, you sigh happily when you see it's still counting. You remember to plug your phone in for once, and snuggle deeper into the scratchy bedding. "I miss your bed," you confide within the silent room, and watch the timer tick on. He's heard you, presumably, but he's got the right idea about you getting some sleep so you content yourself with silence. It would surprise you, how quickly you fall asleep, if you were awake enough to take note of it.

***

You're back in the Jeep, frigid in the drafty cab. You feel around for your blankets, but find yourself tangled in them, difficult to move. 'Must be snowing out, then,' you muse, and open your eyes to find the sky clear and cloudless, crescent moon casting wan light - just enough to see the tops of the pines dipping in and out of view as the wind pushes at them. 

"Fuck," you grumble, jaw heavy with sleep. You feel around for your phone to check the forecast, convinced something isn't right. It eludes your grasp but calls to you with John's voice. 

'-here, bunny,' it says, voice urgent like it has a winter storm warning to issue you.

"'S'a bit late, eh?" you try to quip, but you're still very sleepy and it's very cold, and your lips don't quite move the way they're supposed to. 

You find a warm patch amongst your blankets and drift a bit, time distorting around the edges as it does when you're not fully awake. It feels like hours have passed, but the moon never moves, and your phone is still desperately trying to get your attention. You blink and the bear's outside the window, banging on it with human hands. 

"Hey there, big guy," you mumble. It's a fox when it turns to you, eyes too blue, hair too light, and you squint at it suspiciously as the moonlight shifts into a warmer, incandescent shade.

"'Lo, darling."

"Shit!" You hiss, leaping to your feet. The movement sends your phone flying and you watch in horror as it lands with a small crunch at Phil's feet. The call doesn't end. You hear John's muffled voice from across the room, yelling something that doesn't sound aimed at you. Phil, seated on the only chair around, leans forward just enough to stare apathetically back down at it. He stands, takes a step closer to you, crushes your phone under his boot in the process.

Heart jackrabbiting in your chest, your gaze darts from Phil to the door. You make a run for it without even thinking it through, get clotheslined for your troubles. Phil plants a heavy boot on either side of you and leans down close, puts his mean face right up next to yours. You look at him - really look at him - for the first time in months; maybe years, considering how long you'd been avoiding him. He looks a little gaunt, chiseled down to sharp angles. The top of his ear looks like it was sawed off: gnarled and folded, stringy. It stinks like rot and looks like he may have tried to cauterize it, judging by the waxy quality of the skin that remains.

You used to think he was handsome. 

"Phil," you hedge, but he smiles down at you with no warmth and you shut your mouth just as quickly.

"You know, I've had months to think about it, and I'm still not sure what I want to say to you. Not so sure I want to say anything at all," he drawls. You gulp, afraid to incite him even more. This is new. A quiet Phil was a plotting Phil. You'd expected screaming, physicality, but he's barely even touching you. 

"Phil, please," you whisper. He shoots you a warning glance but you ignore it, croaking past the lump in your throat, "we don't have to do this. We can each just leave. You won, right? You found me, you've made it clear I'm not safe." He leans closer and you flinch, sobbing, "We can just be done." 

"Now, see, if you'd just said that instead of running away and making me look stupid, maybe I'd agree." He's lying - you've tried that -, but mentioning that won't help. "But you didn't do that, did you? You know how it looks to have a fat little bitch like you walk out on a man like me?" 

"You could've told people you'd sent me packing," you counter, and he backhands you for it. You gasp and palm the side of your face, ear ringing. 

"Don't think we're even yet," he grins, angling his bad ear toward you. 

You're not sure where the instinct comes from - or where it was all those years you'd been with Phil either; perhaps lying in wait for when you needed it most -, but the second he exposes his wound to you, you're calculating, grabbing for the shattered remains of your phone and shoving it up against the tender flesh. It stings, cutting into your palm, but that just means there are indeed sharp bits caught between your flesh and his so you press harder, following him when he reels backward and letting the momentum bring you to your feet. You dart over to the dresser, presence of mind enough at least to grab your keys before dashing madly out the door and towards your car. 'Billings,' you think wildly, spamming the unlock button on your fob, 'just have to make it to Billings.'

You can't believe your luck when you reach the Jeep first. You grab for the handle, get the door halfway open, but then your face is thrown into it and you collapse, dazed, half in your car and half out.

Behind you, Phil pants, probably more in pain than exhaustion considering he's always been a quick shit. When you glance over your shoulder, you're pleased to see him bloodied again, but the pleasure's short-lived as the motion makes it feel like your brain is no longer connected to your optic nerves. You slide to your knees on the pavement, head briefly propped in the footwell of your car. There's a voice in your head that's seen one too many movies urging you to move before Phil closes the door on your head, so you keep falling until you're laying flat out on the pavement, stomach churning violently at the sudden movement. 

"Headache, darlin'?" You fight to focus, find Phil glowering despite his chipper voice. You don't answer, kick at him weakly instead. He catches your foot easily, keeps it pinned against the runner of your Wrangler. He laughs darkly. "My, look at you, doll. Got more fight in ya than you did before, I'll give you that. Cleverer, too. Doubling back after Gillette - that your idea, or your man's?"

You're so confused, head filled with cotton balls. Your man? Isn't he your man?

"Might've worked, had you not driven right past me in this fuckin' Jeep," he chuckles. "Bad luck there. What's your man call you? Bunny?"

Right, that's your man. You peer around, looking for him. "John?"

"Think your luck might've run out, rabbit. Back left, yeah?"

You blink, uncomprehending, and then scream in pain when he stomps on your raised ankle hard enough to break it.

Okay I'm not happy about it either, but while hemming and hawing about whether or not I wanted to be a cheesy horror writer and hobble my character, I remembered I literally have a bad luck rabbit tattoo (on the same sleeve as my bear tattoo, no less) and I am nothing if not a cheesy horror trope fan first and foremost.

Next>>

[wnderkoo]

♡ BUILT FOR LOVE - TEASER 2!

It's been years since Jungkook left to pursue his dream of being a volleyball star, and while you couldn't be happier for him, you missed that love in your life. Years after your breakup, just when you finally think you might be okay without him, he comes back. After falling back into old patterns, you realise that Jungkook is a love worth fighting for.

pairing: jungkook x reader genre: second chances au | fluff, angst, smut word count: 18k+ (2.3k for this teaser) tags: volleyball player! jungkook, lovers to strangers to friends to lovers, tba!

read the first teaser here!

teaser 2!

A month goes past of living with Jungkook and in those few odd weeks a genuine friendship had bloomed again between you, and soon enough you're looking forward to coming home and the impromptu movie nights you sometimes have.

You start to notice more and more of his belongings around the apartment, like his toothbrush beside yours in the bathroom, his shoes on top of yours in the pile beside the door, little things that feel so awfully domestic you have to remind yourself not to ruin it by imagining it as something it isn't and never will be.

You don't realise just how used to his presence you are until you come home from a day at the office to an empty apartment, lights off besides the one lamp in the living room hinting at the absence of a certain brown haired man.

His bed is still neatly made, like it was in the morning when you'd woken up to find Jungkook cooking breakfast.

Despite your best efforts to wake up earlier and be a good host and cook breakfast, he always beat you to it, a plate of bacon and eggs always ready for you in the morning.

Toeing off your shoes, you collapsed down onto the couch with an exasperated sigh.

While the last few weeks had been fun and you were glad Jungkook was your friend again, he was just a friend and there was an itch that needed to be scratch and a desire that needed to be satisfied that you couldn't ask of your newly reintroduced friend.

There were times where you'd tried to satiate yourself in the privacy of your bedroom, but it had always felt too dirty to do anything with Jungkook just outside the door.

The thought of being heard was too mortifying for you to get anywhere.

But tonight, in the buzzing atmosphere of a city nightclub, you let your hips sway like no one was watching.

Because tonight, you looked hot.

And tonight, you were going to get laid.

In a maroon red dress that reached your lower thighs, the fabric hugging your curves perfectly, and heels to match, you looked nothing short of ravishing. Your hair was out, flowing over your shoulders in soft curls and making you look angelic under the ambient lights of the club.

"Find anyone yet?"

You turn at the sound of Hari's voice, meeting her kind eyes as she grins at you expectantly.

You'd dragged her out tonight, calling her as soon as you got home and asking if she wanted to have a night out on the town, and ever the party girl, she'd said yes. You made sure to invite Jimin, knowing he'd have your asses if you left him out on a club night, but he had other plans, telling you to have fun without him with a frown and a wink.

"Not yet," you reply, looking out across the club floor.

While you did find eyes on you more than once, entertaining the advances that men made on you throughout the night, you hadn't felt a real spark with anyone and even if you were just looking for a hook up, you had to have at least a little decorum.

It took you a year after things ended with Jungkook to even think about being with anyone else, and even then your relationships never made it past a month or two. There was always something missing, it never seemed to feel 100% right.

So you settled for the temporary high that relationships and hookups gave you, hoping that you'd find that 100% when the stars aligned.

"You'll find someone!" Hari encourages before being whisked away by the guy she'd been gravitating toward the whole night, laughing as the tall blonde led her back out onto the dance floor.

You watch as she disappears into the the crowd and only when she fades against all the other silhouettes do you let your smile drop as you realise you probably weren't going to get laid tonight.

You'd been here for two hours, and there was only so much one could take before their social battery died and all they wanted to do was go home and pass out in the warmth of their blankets.

The two hours of drinks and dancing finally start to affect your depth perception and as you make your way back from the bathroom, the low lighting of the hallway causes you to trip on nothing and stumble forward.

A surprised noise leaves your lips when you crash into a broad chest, your arms come up to stabilise yourself. Whoever's chest you found yourself leaning against was warm and smelled nice. Tropical.

"Yn?"

Your head snaps up, eyes blinking rapidly as they focus on the unexpected face.

"Jungkook?" you ask with a quiet gasp as if your eyes might be playing a trick on you.

"What are you doing here?"

You hadn't seen him at the club at all, though your attention had been focused on what was in front of you, namely the men you were dancing with.

You're too comfortable with the warm weight around your back and the hand holding your arm to steady you, making no move to push him away.

Jungkook just stares down at you for a beat before clearing his throat.

"You called me.." he answers and your brows knit together in confusion.

"What? I never called-"

A rush of heat flames his cheeks as Jungkook watches you reach into the top of your dress, pulling out your phone. Your brows crease as you unlock it, looking at your recent calls and true enough, there was an outgoing call to Jungkook from twenty minutes ago.

"All I could hear was background noise so I wasn't sure if you'd meant to call me.." he says, running  guya hand down the back of his neck awkwardly.

"But I wanted to make sure you were okay."

Ugh. Why did he have to be so considerate?

"From what I heard on the phone, I assumed you were at a club and this is the only one I know you've been to so I thought I'd come here first."

You were way too drunk for this.

Too drunk for his kindness and the onslaught of feelings that it brought.

There were at least ten different clubs in this part of the city alone, what if you hadn't been here? Would he have gone to all of them looking for you?

You didn't want to know the answer to that question, because it would just make you love him even more. And you couldn't love him anymore.

"Are you drunk? Do you want me to take you home?"

A gentle hand brushes the hair out of your face as Jungkook takes in your figure. Flushed cheeks and hazy eyes, clinging onto him like you'd fall if you let go.. you were definitely more than a little tipsy.

You can't stop staring at him, hands clutching the fabric of his shirt where they're pressed against his chest. Your fingers twitch with the need to touch his face, brush over the scar on his left cheek, the only imperfection on his otherwise perfect face.

Sure you were drunk, but you could still appreciate beauty.

"Come on," he smiles, moving your hand to his bicep as he walks you back to the main part of the club.

You cling onto him drowsily, coming down from your high and crashing straight into exhaustion.

"I'll be right back, stay here, alright?"

A gentle thumb caresses your cheek and you lean into the touch before it disappears. You manage to nod and watch as Jungkook disappears into the crowd, finding Hari amongst all the moving bodies.

He stands there awkwardly for a moment, waiting for her to turn her attention from the blonde she's dancing with and notice him.

She does a double take when she sees Jungkook standing in front of her, surprised to see him here of all places. Taking in his appearance, he wasn't exactly dressed for the club scene. Black bomber jacket and cargo pants, he looked like he came straight from an illegal car race.

"I'm taking Yn home!" he shouts over the music, melting Hari's confused expression into one of understanding.

Craning her head over the crowd of people, she sees you leaning against a wall by the entrance staring awkwardly down at your feet.

"Thank you!" she shouts back, sincerity in her voice.

Ever since the breakup, she hadn't exactly been his biggest fan.. but for him to come and take you home- which she knew you hadn't planned- Hari could appreciate that Jungkook still cared about you.

"What about Hari?" you ask as Jungkook appears in front of you again and offers his arm. 

Even drunk you looked out for your friends.

Jungkook assures you that she had told him she was okay to get home when he had asked. Happy with his answer you let him lead you through the entrance and out the doors of the club.

The cold air sobers you just a little and a shiver wracks through you as the breeze carries through the night, brushing against the bare skin of your arms before it winds down the city streets.

Your hand is suddenly cold, missing the contact when Jungkook shrugs out of his jacket before draping it over your shoulders. Warmth blankets around you and his scent fills your senses, somehow comforting and tormenting at the same time.

You mumble out a thank you before Jungkook takes your hand again, leading you the rest of the way to his car.

"Just a bit longer sweetheart," Jungkook murmurs softly.

Kneeling on the floor beside your bed, he removes your heels one by one and caresses your feet, which he knows would be in pain from all the dancing.

It was a miracle that you hadn't fallen asleep in the half hour it took Jungkook to drive from the club back to your apartment, but it was starting to become a challenge to stay awake when you were perched on top of your soft blankets, and the way Jungkook was massaging your feet only pushed you closer to sleep.

You barely register his words before you're being pulled up onto your feet, which are now in socks.

You grumble out a whine, making a move to fall back into bed before Jungkook stops you by sliding his arm around your waist to keep you upright.

"I need to change you, Yn."

You definitely heard that.

You can't find it in you to protest, too tired and desperate to just pass out on your bed.

You were way past feeling embarrassed at the thought of Jungkook seeing you naked, but the idea of it was still mortifying.

You let out a non-commital sound letting him know it was okay, and Jungkook carefully slides the zipper of your dress down. His fingers graze the sides of your thighs as he drags the fabric down, making you inhale sharply. His touch is like electricity on your skin, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

He helps you step out of the dress and your eyes are too close to shut to see where he goes when he steps away.

You suddenly feel awkward standing in nothing but your underwear, swaying the way that drunk people do.

You ease a fraction when you feel his presence in front of you again. Jungkook helps you into a hoodie and sweats, being incredibly patient as you take your time putting your legs into your pants, gripping onto his shoulders tightly.

After removing your makeup and making you drink an entire glass of water, Jungkook tucks you into bed, fluffing your pillows and bringing the covers up to your chin just how you like them.

When he's sure you'll be okay, he reaches for the switch to your lamp but it's your soft voice calling out to him that makes him freeze.

"I miss this."

He stares down at you, almost thinking he imagined the words when he sees your eyes closed, blinking as he waits for you to continue. He laughs quietly to himself when he realises you probably dozed off.

"Miss what?" he asks quietly.

He stares at the soft features of your face as he waits for a reply.

"This. You taking care of me."

The next seconds are quiet enough that the cracking of his heart can be heard over your gentle breathing. Guilt slams into him, every thing that's been hanging over him for months comes down and crushes him under the weight.

He'd thought you'd moved on, you'd made it seem that way. But he should've known from the first night when you couldn't even stand to be in the same room as him before you were running out of the club into the cold.

He'd blamed it on the alcohol and built up emotions, but Jungkook knew now that there was still a million things that needed to be said.

This was the first time you'd ever brought up the past, always avoiding saying anything that would remind you of another time.

A past where you didn't have to walk on eggshells around each other, afraid of doing or saying something that would cross the line between friends and lovers.

A past where you could bring up inside jokes and they'd just be jokes, not a reminder of what used to be and the people you were.

A past where he didn't need to be afraid of loving you.

He hoped you wouldn't remember this in the morning. He'd already done enough, barging in on your life and being selfish enough to stay here. If you realised how vulnerable you'd been by bringing up the past, you'd be wrecked.

And if meant you could have your peace of mind, he'd hurt enough for the both of you.

Leaning down, Jungkook smooths a hand over your hair before placing a kiss on your forehead.

"Goodnight, Yn."

built for love is sooo close to being published! i can't believe it omg im so excited to get this out to you guys, lmk if you want to be added to the taglist!

🏷️: @tarahardcore @kissyfacekoo @hoseokteardrop @jkkkkkay

[escapingrealtiylovinginsanity]

No. 32 "you wanna have sex with me?" for nick torres would be AMAZING xx

Nick Torres: You Wanna Have Sex With Me Prompt 

I had a lot of fun with this. I hope it is what you want and that you enjoyed it! Thanks for the request. 

It had been a high-stress situation. You were a computer geek, not a field agent. Getting shot at was even more terrifying than you could have ever imagined. You were also convinced that Nick Torres was certifiably insane and a complete adrenaline junkie. He had been calm, cool, and collected after tackling you to the ground when the first shot had been fired. He had got you both to a safe location and didn’t seem worried in the slightest. He had called for backup and returned fire. ��

You were trying to keep your cool, but you couldn’t stop your mouth from running. It was an endless stream of thoughts that were falling out of your lips. Nick didn’t seem to be paying you any attention as he took control of the situation. “I thought this would all end in us hooking up and never speaking again not dead from a shootout.”  

Nick fired another shot before what you said registered. He turned to look at you incredulously. "Wait, you wanna have sex with me?” 

“That’s what you're focusing on right now?” You could understand his confusion, you hadn’t exactly shown your interest. You could be on the shyer side and Nick Torres was a fine specimen and unbelievably cocky. You had known plenty of guys like him in high school. Guys like him didn’t have an interest in nerdy girls like you. It made it hard for you to talk to him. It didn’t matter that he had been nothing but nice to you and encouraging you to be open and relaxed with him. You would blame your outburst on your own adrenaline pumping through your veins. 

Nick starts to say something, but you don’t catch what is over a car pulling up and shouting of “NCIS drop your weapons!” 

»»----------► 

You feel relief as you walk back into your office, but there is something else too. You somehow know that something has changed in you. This whole case had been far outside your comfort zone but... it had helped give clarity to why so many people liked fieldwork. A certain something was intoxicating about it. Or perhaps you were already missing the company you had been keeping.  

There is a soft patterned knock on your open door. It is as if your thoughts had summoned him. “So, it didn’t end with death from a shootout.” You feel your cheek warm with embarrassment. 

“I’m sorry, I had complete confidence in you.” His grin gets cocky, clearly enjoying the praise. The man's ego had no end.  

“As good as it is to hear, that’s not why I’m here.” You look at him questioningly. Unsure if you had forgotten to sign something or fill out a report. “I wanted to see how you wanted your fieldwork story to end.” You think he is teasing you about your earlier statement but there is something in his eyes. The tension in the room is thick. You lick your lips and consider what you should say. Maybe it is the leftover adrenaline that has you saying, 

“I already told you how I wanted it to end.” He pulls the door closed and flips the lock. In a blur, you find yourself in a heated kiss. His mouth is hot and demanding. He is in control of like at the shootout. His hands slip under your clothes tearing them off your body. Your eager hands do the same relieving him of his shirt and then working on his belt buckle. He lifts you onto your desk and papers fly as you rock against him, your old desk wobbling on the uneven floor. 

He enters you in a single thrust not waiting for you to adjust to his notable size. You bite into his neck to stop the load moan and he hisses. The sex is much like him; fast, rough, and hot but with control and precision that was unexpected as much as it pleasurable. His thrusts are measured, and his hand mouth explores and conquers your valleys and curves. He pays special attention to your breasts and neck.  

Your hands roam his back and thread through his hair. When he finds a particularly sensitive spot that makes you cry out a little too loud to be safe, he focuses on it. He rolls his hips at a steady and unrelenting pace. It makes you claw at his hips urging him to continue his brutal but toe-curling assault. You can feel your orgasm building up to its bursting point and only have time to stifle your scream into his throat as your release washes through you. Your arms and thighs tighten around him.  

He fucks you through your orgasm one hand on your hip and the other in the hair at the nape of your neck to hold you still. You become boneless and melt into him letting him take what he needs. His pace becomes sloppy, and you suck at his neck as he finally hits his own orgasm filling the condom with his seed. You both hold each other sharing air as you catch your breath. “I like your ending,” He whispers against your lips giving you a last lingering kiss. You feel something drag across the skin on your thigh. “Well almost, anyways.” 

On your thigh, he wrote his phone number in bright red ink.  

[icaruskey]

Part 2 of this from the time loop au

It won't let me reblog and add another read more. Stupid imo.

@pillowspace I'm tempted to write some major hurt next but idk if you would be comfortable being tagged in that.

You're dangling several feet off the ground, rotating very slowly in a circle. Below you, the arcade machines look like multi colored tiles, the carpets erratic 90's pattern (sure this place may be 80's themed, but those patterns scream pre-grunge early 90's) rendered mute by the distance.

What's scarier though is the drop to the next floor down. You got yoinked at the edge of the stairs, so the tips of your shoes poke past the safety bannister. If you fell...

"Brat." Moon's voice crackles on the word. He jerks you higher, into the safety of the rafters as the DJ drags his massive form over the machines, pushing open the bathroom doors with one hand to feel inside. Instinctively, you cover your mouth with your hands, your panicked breathing sounding loud even to you.

Moon shakes you a little and you find yourself staring directly into the red LEDs of his eyes. That smile is ever present, but he looks less a jester and more a predator. A cat, crouched and ready to pounce. You've seen a cat catch a mouse before. You hadn't ever thought what it'd be like to be the mouse.

"Are you going to drop me?" You finally managed to ask, hands still over your mouth. Moon's head rotates, just a little too much for it to look like a human motion.

"No," he finally says, and that's a small relief. "Should put in time out. Naughty naughty brats belong in time out."

"I'm not naughty," you protest. Moon's silence is incriminating. "Okay, it's a little bad to be here after closing but. But..." You hesitate. "I'm trying to help you." It wasn't a lie. It wasn't the whole truth, but it wasn't a lie.

"I don't need help," he snaps back, lifting you higher. Your stomach sinks, and for one second you're convinced he's about to fling you to the ground. Instead, he sets you on one of the rafters, releasing your sweater at last.

You grab at the metal girder, heart thumping hard against your rib cage. "You do though. Don't you want to see the kids again? Like before?"

There's no response, and your fingers are starting to hurt from how hard you're clinging. Below you, the DJ is moving, searching for you. His music is thrumming in time with your heart. Or maybe it's you adjusting to it, trying to find a new rhythm after Moon scared you out of your old one.

"Moon?" You want to reach out, but that meant letting go. Trusting yourself not to fall. Trusting him. Do you trust him?

You wobble a little as you let go, leaning into the empty space. Moon flinches away, a hand raising, but you still brush your fingers over his faceplate. "Moon, I am your friend," you insist. "You have to know that. You have to."

How do you explain that you know him, that you've met him three times already, and you know how to save him. Save Sun.

"You're the assistant," he says, and the growl is back in his voice. "You're my replacement. Not a friend." He pulls away from your hand, and then he's gone, zipping away, towards the atrium. Leaving you stuck in place as the music dies down, your eyes starting to itch.

Several loops later, you won't remember the terror of making your way back down to the arcade, fighting tears so you could see where you're going. The fear will be wiped out by exhaustion and pain, emotional and physical, experienced over and over. But for now, right now, this might be the most painful rejection in your life.

Because it's Moon. And you know him. You know he's not truly malicious, that there's something wrong. And he has to know too. Why else did he save you from the DJ? Why else is he not currently hunting you down as you make it back to the ground and walk on shaky legs to the elevator? He knows you're a friend. He has to.

By the time you make it home, the sun is starting to peak out from the horizon. You pull your curtains in your bedroom, collapsing into bed without taking your shoes off. And finally, you let yourself cry. You cry, burying your face in your pillows, curling up tight. You cry, and you think distantly of fictional characters who get trapped in time loops too. What sort of monster would dream of a world like this? To repeat the same thing over and over, only to fail time and time again. Being the only one who remembered.

You fall asleep slowly, and when you wake, it's well past noon. Your body feels heavy, your eyes crusty. There's the start of a headache, medicine withdrawal. It's been over 24 hours, and your body is warning you. Your ear hurts. You find your hearing aid, dead, buried in the sheets. You put it on the nightstand to charge.

When you check your sweater, you're not surprised to find some of the yarn had been stretched out of place, frayed and torn bits where Moon's fingers dug in. You'd have to fix it before your next shift. The kids loved your sweater, found it as safe and secure as you did.

Your Fazwatch is dead too. On the charger it goes, cell phone next. There's a text, but you don't bother checking it. You know it's work, asking you to come in today. You had, twice before. You slept through it today.

It's after you shower and you're toweling off that you notice the bruise on your shoulder. You touch it and wince, remembering hitting the arcade. You hadn't expected it to still be so tender. Maybe the warm water did something? You look at it better in the mirror, catching sight of your face. You look tired. And paler than normal? You poke at your eyebags, squinting, trying to remember what you looked like before this started happening.

Maybe you shouldn't go in tomorrow.

[baldurs-gape]

Something nice I did for myself? Went to a cat cafe after work and cuddled with them for an hour. There was one named Vinny that just crawled into my lap and wouldn’t leave, asked the staff and he will be available for adoption this fall….so I’m thinking about it.

That is so wonderful! Nonnie, if I could I would give you a gold star for doing something nice for yourself. And Vinny! Firstly, an excellent name for a cat and secondly, I really hope things work out for you both when it's time for him to be adopted. Cats have a knack for choosing their people and knowing who they'll be happiest with. It seems Vinny may have chosen you!

Scars

Truth be told, Astarion wasn't all that clued up on the intricacies of magic and healing potions. Over time he'd picked up dribs and drabs from his victims as they talked about scars they had. The richer the target, the less likely they were to have even the odd pockmark or childhood shenanigans.

Lying naked next to Gale, Astarion couldn't help but trace patterns through the smattering of chest hair. The sensation against his fingertips was soothing but so were the little divots he could feel in the warm skin. Propping his head up, he leaned in to get a better look.

"Did you explode a crystal ball and get caught in the rain of shards?"

Huffing in amusement, Gale reached up to feel the old scars. "Not quite. My mother told me not to play with fire mephits and I didn't listen. Was too scared to show her the damage the sparks did until it was too late." His hand clasped over Astarion's. "Not that it was severe enough for a healing potion or to go see someone. Wouldn't have wasted money on something so frivolous."

"It adds a rugged charm to your looks," Astarion purred and cuddled in.

It wasn't the only scarring Gale's body bore. Aside from the obvious of the orb there were others dotted around. Astarion found himself eager to hear the stories behind them. Taking Gale's hand, be brought it to his lips to kiss his palm. And maybe to trace the circular scar on the skin between thumb and index finger.

"You're curious tonight." Only an indulgent smile accompanied those words and Astarion hummed in quiet agreement. He always wanted to know more, knowledge about people was power but this was one of the few instances where he wanted to know for reasons other than his own safety and protection.

Gale craned his head a little better see Astarion as he spoke, "You're not going to believe this one. Tara bit me."

"She bit you?!"

"Indeed she did. Rightfully so, I was being an insufferable fool." Pulling his hand back, Gale smiled as he looked at his hand. "I chose to let it heal naturally as it were, a reminder that I don't actually always know everything best."

"Wait, you're actually aware of that?"

Hand playfully mussing up Astarion's hair, Gale bit out a giggle "arse" in response. Outrage had Astarion rolling on top of him, doing his best to flatten him into a pancake. It wasn't something he would ever succeed at but that had never stopped him from trying before.

"I've never met anyone who willingly let a wound heal with time. Well, there was the odd buffoon who thought it made them look more hard or something equally asinine. But usually scars meant hardship or lack of resources."

Arms wrapping around Astarion to hold him close, Gale took a moment to breathe and find his words. And relish in having Astarion's weight on him.

"Money was tight for us," he began. "After my father left it got very difficult. I was home from Blackstaff once when my mother needed some help with getting something down from the attic without magic. I think she just wanted me to give her a few minutes of peace and quiet." The aside was met with a snort. "Anyway, long story short, I was young, foolish and overly confident. What should have been a careful trip down the ladder turned into a very very quick one. But it's not a method I'd recommend. My foot got caught between rungs. It wasn't a pretty sight."

Wriggling around, Gale pulled a leg upand pointed to a gnarly scar on his calf. It wasn't one Astarion had really noticed before, usually too preoccupied with the rest of a naked Gale. He reached to touch it, familiarising himself with the feel of it.

"That's where the bone stuck out. Mother had half a bottle of healing potion left which was enough to get the bone set. Unfortunately the rest was left to nature, we couldn't afford a healer or more potions. By the time I was back at Blackstaff it was pretty much healed up. So I have that."

It wasn't exactly elegant as Astarion wormed around to actually kiss the scar. He ended up sitting atop Gale and looking down at him with a fierce expression that refused to soften. "I like it. It makes you different. I only have two scars, as you know." A hand drifted to his neck. "And my nature means I won't realistically be accruing anymore. Not unless someone takes an enchanted blade to me again like Cazador did and carves into me repeatedly."

"Over my dead body."

"I'd rather that didn't happen. But hush. What I'm trying to say is that I quite like it. Quite like you. As you are."

"Yeah?" Gale grinned lopsidedly up at him.

"Yes."

"Good. Beacuse I quite like you too."

[doumadono]

Congratulations on reaching 3k followers! I hope you will reach an even higher number, you really deserve them for your talent and hard work! 💞💞

Before I make the request, I want to say that I really find it comforting that you have time for your hobbies and your medical career. I am in my last year of med school and I took intensive care in consideration. Sometimes I worry that I will have to completely abandon my love for video games and anime, but I found out there is still hope, even though my free time will definetely be more limited fjshshdhs.

I wish you infinite success on your medical path! ⚕️🧠

And for my request, I thought of:

- a Douma with a f!Reader

- sfw headcanons

- prompt no. 32. Sleeping in the same bed for the first time from 002 SFW.

Douma & Reader in the same bed for the first time - headcanons

A/N: I truly appreciate your kind words! Congratulations on being in your last year of med school and pursuing intensive care – that's an incredible accomplishment! Remember, while your free time may become more limited, it's heartening to know that there's always room to enjoy the things you love. Keep nurturing those interests – they can be a valuable source of respite throughout your medical journey. Wishing you all the best in your final year and beyond! 🌟 Once again, thank you so much for this lovely request, as well as for your warm, kind words ♥

MASTERLIST

One evening, you find yourself assisting Douma in preparing for an upcoming meeting with his followers. The tasks keep you busy, and as the night wears on, exhaustion creeps in

After noticing you're growing exhaustion from spending long hours with him, Douma suggests that you rest in his chamber. He assures that it's merely for your well-being, and you hesitantly accept his offer. "You seem exhausted, my dear. Perhaps you should rest for a while."

Douma's chamber is unexpectedly serene, adorned with soft, silk drapes that flutter gently in the breeze coming through opened door leading to the private part of the garden. You're surprised by the calming atmosphere, finding solace in the tranquil surroundings

As you settle into bed, Douma hums a soothing melody, his voice surprisingly melodic. The gentle vibrations of his humming lull the you into a peaceful slumber, chasing away your anxieties and tension

"What's that melody? It's beautiful," you ask

"It's an old tune," he begins, his voice holding a trace of nostalgia. "I don't quite recall where I heard it first, but it always brought me a sense of calm. I thought it might offer you some comfort tonight."

After you settled into bed, Douma's arm slips around your waist, drawing you into a protective embrace. The steady rise and fall of his chest against your back creates a soothing rhythm, lulling you into a peaceful sleep.

Douma's hold is surprisingly gentle yet firm, as if he's determined to shield you from any troubles that might intrude upon the night. His closeness brings a sense of security you've never experienced before

Throughout the night, whenever you stir or whimper in your sleep, Douma's grip tightens ever so slightly, his subconscious way of ensuring your comfort. His touch becomes a silent reassurance that you're not alone

You awaken in the middle of the night, your heart racing from a nightmare. Without a word, Douma's fingers brush against your cheek, his touch cool and soothing as he gently wipes away the remnants of your distress

When you wake up, you find yourself nestled against Douma's chest, his arm still protectively around you

After waking up, he lays with you in his arms. Suddenly he remarks teasingly, "You do realize that sleeping in my chamber grants you no special privileges, right?" Douma's fingers trace soothing patterns along your arm, the gentle touch acting like a balm to any lingering anxieties

"Oh really? I thought it came with a crown and a scepter," you reply, rolling your eyes

After that night, your interactions with Douma become less strained. You find comfort in his presence and gradually begins to open up to him, sharing stories and secrets in the quiet hours of the night

[thottie777]

but not kiss.

c.s

you are best friends with chris and both have feelings for each other, why do these things always take so long?

-

the air was crisp and cold, you could genuinely blow clouds from your mouth from the chill in the room. your feet were layered with two pairs of socks, body dressed in old mismatched pyjamas, and limbs were tangled in between your best friend, chris’.

your head was rested against his beating chest, arms wrapped around his torso as he played with your long, silky hair, wrapping it around his fingers like a fidget toy, gently rubbing your scalp every now and then. your eyes were shut but you were awake, appreciating every delicate touch chris was giving you. the floral patterned duvet lay on top of you both, keeping you both cocooned tight against each other, your right leg propped up against his waist.

you kept finding yourself in this position with him recently, especially because of the autumnal weather, you two would always go back to yours after school, shivering with pink noses, and immediately climb into bed and find each others bodies like matching puzzle pieces.

you knew this meant so much more for you than it did for him, since kindergarten you had this slow developing crush, after you shared forts made out of sheets together as children and told each other about your imaginary friends and favourite colours, in middle school you knew the feelings you had for him were real when he fake proposed to you with a haribo gummy ring.

you were never going to tell him though, because you knew that if he didn’t feel the same it would destroy to you. you told yourself daily, it was better to have a little of him than nothing at all.

he hadn’t spoken for a while, so when he finally did his voice was croaky and deep “come closer, my neck is cold” he murmured, stroking your back lightly to get your attention, you shifted your head upwards and buried it in the crook of his neck, keeping your eyes closed and breathing in the smell of his cologne.

“you smell good” you whispered up into his ear, lips grazing his lobe slightly, then falling back down into the warmth that lay underneath his long, floppy hair. he continued to trace strokes across your back until you both fell asleep, you would’ve slept for hours if your mom hadn’t woken you both up to have dinner.

- chris’ brief pov

as she laid there in your arms, you were begging to every god in the sky that she wouldn’t hear how fast your heart was beating from how close she was to you. you tangled her hair between your fingers, not only because you knew she found the sensation comforting, but because you liked to look at her and imagine what it would be like if she was yours, how you would hold her and touch her, the thoughts were like shadows that followed you everywhere. you couldn’t help but blush every time she smiled at you, laughed at one of your jokes or grazed your skin, which seemed to be constantly.

you felt warm around her, a warmth you’d never felt with anyone else you’d ever met- she was your home, she had been since you were little and you were splashing in puddles with each other on rainy days, you loved how she used to always hysterically laugh anytime you splashed too hard and mud went on your face, you loved her bright yellow wellington boots, you loved how when you both got a little bit older, and you gave her a haribo ring, she didn’t take it off for weeks until it went sludgy and weird on her finger, you loved her.

* 1 year later

12 months had passed and you were finally seniors, you both still hadn’t uttered a single word to each other about your undying feelings you had. you were convinced it was too late anyways, chris had a girlfriend. she was preppy, pretty and perfect, they met whilst he was practicing for lacrosse and she was staring at the team on the bleachers with her friendship group.

you couldn’t even blame him for falling for her, she was naturally tanned with blonde locks that fell to her tiny waist, she was an a* student, super charming and flirtatious, every guy in the school was desperate to have her, she was everything you weren’t and it killed you.

you and chris’ friendship had definitely become slightly more strained since he was in this new relationship, you had never had a boyfriend before and this was his first girlfriend, so this new dynamic was completely untouched territory for you both, it was awkward at times and you couldn’t stand it. you prayed every night to the picture you had of chris and yourself on your bedside table that things would go back to normal, that he would realise he loved you all along and would come knocking at your door with a bouquet in his hands, unfortunately you were an atheist so knew none of these prayers would come to fruition.

the weekend had come and you had been invited to a mutual friends house for a movie night. you knew chris and his girlfriend were going to be there so had to mentally prepare yourself for the pda you’d have to witness, which at school you actively kept yourself away from, skipping lunch and smoking spliffs in the run down toilets just to avoid chris’ new relationship completely. he always wondered where you were but dared not to say anything because he didn’t want his mrs to get suspicious or jealous.

you threw on a pair of baggy blue jeans, ratty black converse and an old hoodie that was sat in the back of your wardrobe, which you only remembered was chris’ that he gave to you years ago as you were in your car on your way to the meet up, you swore under your breath, embarrassed by the piece of memorabilia that was taking up half of your petite frame, knowing that chris would recognise it immediately.

you knocked on the front door and your mutual friend greeted you with a wide smile and open arms, you gave them a tight hug and entered the cozy house, instantly spotting chris and his gf cuddled up on the l shaped sofa, your stomach turned and you were tempted to turn around and walk straight out. before your thoughts could keep running around your head, chris shouted out to you “y/n!!! yes you’re finally here we can start the film now” his pretty face was as happy as ever which made you let out a soft smile, he patted the sofa, gesturing you to come sit beside him, you obeyed and crossed your legs on the sofa so that you were criss cross apple sauce, surrounded by cushions and blankets. his girlfriend hadn’t muttered a word to you. “haha cool jumper” he said, letting out a quiet laugh, “sturniolo 3, best player ever” he continued, smiling at you as his girlfriend sunk her eyes into you, glaring intensely.

the time went by and your heart sank deeper and deeper into your chest as the film went on, to the left of you, chris was stroking his gf’s hair as she laid between his legs, facing the tv. it reminded you of a sensation you remembered all too well, how gentle chris used to be with you and how close you guys were, your body yearned to hold him one more time.

it was almost noticeable how often your eyes were glancing over to chris, if the film wasn’t so intense everyone in the room would be staring at you and laughing over the fact your gaze was glued to chris and the way he was cuddling h/gf/n. there was a sudden jump scare in the movie and she lept up from his lap in fear, turning herself around and nuzzling her head into his neck. she stayed there briefly and you heard her very quietly whisper to him “you smell good” as she grinned at him with her signature smile, he smirked back and brung her face in for a kiss, their lips brushed and found each other as they began a light make out, you couldn’t tear your eyes away.

your lips began to tremble and you felt your eyesight become glazed with water as a single teardrop fell down your cheek, he broke the kiss with her momentarily “oh yeah?” he asked her, in response to her last statement, “yeah” she replied, smirking into the kiss she reconnected, deepening it and wrapping her fingers in the back of his hair. you finally looked away, grabbed your car keys and phone and without saying a word, ran out of the room and left the house, feet going faster than they ever had before.

you were convinced your heart was actually about to shatter into pieces and you had know idea how to sew or glue them back together. the tears began to stream faster and faster, your body was distraught and head felt dizzy from the pain you were being overcome with. you wept and wept as you rushed to your car that was parked at the very end of the street, you were in such a state you hardly even noticed the torrential rain that was pouring down on you.

“y/n!” you heard from the front door of the house, as chris sprinted down to come and talk to you, you ignored him, too humiliated to let him see your puffy, tear stained face and wobbly lips. he continued to sprint over, quickly catching up to you as your legs weren’t long enough to walk any quicker. he pulled your soaked shoulder towards him so that you were facing him, out of breath and panting. his face dropped instantly when he saw the face of the person he cared about most in the world, completely devastated.

you looked up at him, incapable of forming words because your mouth was shaking so much, the rain had made his hair all wet and it was dripping down his forehead. even at this time of distress you couldn’t help but be mesmerised by how beautiful he was.

“w-what’s going on?” he shouted, so that you would hear him over the heavy rainfall, keeping his hand on your shoulder.

you shrugged him away, your emotions were too all over the place to have him touch you in this moment. “n-nothing” you let out, pathetically, tears still running down your cheeks like they were on a track field. you wiped them away, not that it was working at all as they were constantly replacing themselves.

“don’t lie to me y/n, we always promised to never lie to each other” he exclaimed, a soft but panicked look on his face as his worry for you was consuming him.

“i-i can’t look at you” was the only sentence you could manage to string out, you looked down at the concrete, wet hair following your movement.

he furrowed his eyebrows and a puzzled expression grew on his face, “can’t look at me? what are you talking about y/n? come inside i’m begging you”, and he really was begging, he was so panicked, he hadn’t seen you cry this much in years.

you looked up and through broken sobs, murmured “i can’t look at you, with her”.

you couldn’t believe you actually said that, that your brain was letting you say the things you’ve pent up for so, so long.

chris’ frame was sodden from the rain at this point and you were both shivering from the cold, hearts racing, “why? why y/n? w-why not” he replied, breathing heavily and becoming more and more confused.

it was like something took over your body as you then shouted “because!!!”, getting somewhat angry at how oblivious he was acting, you were convinced he surely knew how you felt.

“because what!?” he too was getting frustrated, frustrated by how little he knew what was going on in your head, how you were hardly giving him any hints on why you were so upset.

“don’t make me say it chris, i beg you please don’t make me say it” you cried out, struggling to speak through your painful sobs that were damaging your throat.

“y/n what are you talking about!? what is going on?” he truly was completely oblivious, he had convinced himself his whole life that his feelings were one sided so the idea of them being reciprocated didn’t even spring to his mind in this heated moment.

“fuck chris! for fuck sake i’m obviously in love with you!” you screamed, you went pale and still, both not knowing what to say next.

a million thoughts raced through his mind, his best friend just confessed her undying love for him? he couldn’t even process it, he just stood there, frozen.

“what?” was all he could manage, as his eyes filled up and a tear ran down his cheek. he looked completely defeated and baffled, are you speaking another language, are you drunk? high? he thought to himself.

“i thought you knew!” you wept, hands practically batting away the tears that were flooding you eyes, you repeated yourself instantly “i thought you knew!” you shouted, waiting for him to properly respond to you.

“i didn’t” he whimpered, sobbing “i didn’t know!” he exclaimed, raising his voice with a weak and wobbly disposition.

you both looked up the street immediately as you saw the front door swing open and chris’ gf run out. you panicked and held your car keys tightly in your hand, as she was running over to you both you quickly whispered “i have to go”, and you sped to your car, trying to leave the situation and the heavy rain as soon as you could, “no y/n, please don’t, don’t leave” he shouted out to you, before his gf placed her hands on his shoulders and pulled him back to her.

your hands fumbled to put the key in as you got into the car, you quickly switched on the ignition and looked out of the car window, chris was staring out to you, completely defeated, still crying his eyes out. you pulled away, lips trembling and tears still streaming, keeping your gaze on him in the mirror until he was finally out of sight.

*another year later

it had been 365 days since you and chris had last spoke, you avoided him at all costs at school until you both graduated, completely isolating yourself from everyone and everything.

after that night chris messaged you every day for weeks on end, hoping that you would reply, he kept coming to your house but your mom would constantly say ‘now isn’t a good time’ and not let him in, as you would lay hidden under your sheets, crying your eyes out, for months. after seeing all the messages he was attempting to send you, his girlfriend eventually blocked your number and your socials, her jealous raging at the affection and care he felt for you.

but you both eventually moved on, after school you moved across the country for college and started casually seeing someone, and he stayed in your hometown and made funny videos with his brothers, still dating his first girlfriend.

it was now halloween and you had come back home briefly to visit family, you bumped into an old friend in your local supermarket and they invited you to their annual halloween party that was happening that evening, you couldn’t say no to them, even though you weren’t a party person you thought it was good to get out finally, maybe see some old friends, and get absolutely hammered.

you made your way to their house that evening, dressed in a quick make shift black cat costume, made from your incredibly old mini dress which was now incredibly revealing and sexy as it sat on your more mature, filled out body. you wore that tiny dress, long black leather chunky boots, a black choker and some black cat ears, obvs.

for hours and hours you mingled, chatted and drank, mainly drank. lots and lots of shots, a couple kegs and probably 9 different solo cups. you were feeling fizzy and bubbly and kept giggling and dancing the whole night. that was until you saw chris. you didn’t even know he would be there that night, no one had mentioned it. you stood still in your tracks, looking him up and down as he made heavy eye contact with you, he was wearing a steve harrington costume that suited him perfectly, he looked so good it made you angry.

without wasting another second you span around and quickly walked away, pushing through crowds of people to find a room you could lock yourself in and hide forever. chris followed you, shouting your name, making sure not to lose you in the crowd, you looked over your shoulder and sped up even more, finding a door and opening it as fast as you could, as the door swung your jaw immediately dropped at the sight that was in front of you. chris’ girlfriend was laying on the bed doggystyle with some guy in a superhero costume fucking her as she moaned out his name. you remembered instantly who was following you and looked behind you again, this time seeing chris directly next to you, mouth agape and eyes wide as his heart evidently fell out of place. he looked crushed, tearing his eyes away and sprinting in the opposite direction, physically pushing people out of his way so that he had space to breathe.

this time you were the one following him, shouting his name, feeling so, so sorry for him. “chris! wait up please chris” you shouted out, running up the stairs after him. he grabbed the door handle of a new room and opened it aggressively, hurriedly entering without looking back at you. you were out of breath by the time you got to the bedroom, but when you did, you instantly shut the door.

he was sat on the bed, head in his hands as he leant his arms against his knees, you could hear him crying softly. the poor boy. “chris” you said gently, plopping yourself next to him and placing a hand on his back. “this is what you wanted isn’t it?” he asked, you couldn’t believe he said that, your empathy soon turned to anger as you rose from the bed to stand. “excuse me?” you replied, with an unamused tone.

he drew his face from his hands and stood up. “you heard me, this is what you wanted. i bet you’re loving watching me like this” you were so hurt by his words it felt like he was spitting in your face.

“how dare you.” you replied, looking up at him with deep disappointment in your eyes.

“don’t look at me like that y/n, you can’t confess your love to me and then ghost me completely and now act like a saviour, that’s not fair it’s not” he began to stutter, tears starting to stream harder down his face.

“i did the right thing chris, you didn’t want me what else was i supposed to do?” you replied, gritting your teeth, voice beginning to raise.

“who said i didn’t want you!? you never even asked y/n, you never asked” he began through panted exclamations “i wish you stayed! on the street that night why didn’t you stay?” he cried out “why didn’t you stay!?” he began to shout. you looked at him in complete disbelief, chris had never really shouted at you before, a teardrop fell from your eye as you took in what he was saying.

“i-i should’ve stayed” you replied, guilt consuming you, lips trembling just like they did a year ago.

“god you know y/n, all this time, this year we’ve spent apart i’ve been blaming myself, been telling myself that it’s all my fault that we’re not friends anymore and it has killed me.” he kept heavy eye contact with you, starting to use hand gestures so you knew he was getting real serious. “but no! you’re the one who left me. that night in the rain you left, without giving me even a split second to tell you how much i loved you, how much i yearned for you and dreamt of you. you didn’t stay! i would’ve told you you’re the girl of my dreams, the girl i’ve always wanted to marry” his voice began to break as he continued his poetic rant, you were stood still, dead frozen “the love i have for you is like nothing i’ve felt with anyone else, it absolutely destroys me y/n and it has ever since that stupid fucking gummy ring” you were crying but let out a soft laugh at the mention of the ring. “i’ve been in love with you since the day i met you and i will be until the day i die”.

you were convinced you were about to melt into the ground, your ears couldn’t believe what they were hearing, and instead of letting him continue or responding yourself, you jumped over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck as he lifted your legs up so that he was carrying you and you were straddling him, lips crashing into each other as you kissed him for the first time in your almost 20 years of friendship. you pulled at the back of his hair to tighten the kiss and he held you up by your ass.

he walked you over to the door and pushed your back up against it as he continued the passionate kiss, both of your tongues fighting for dominance, his ultimately winning as he trailed it around your mouth, making you whimper slightly against him. you bit down on his lip and he let out a groan, squeezing on your ass even harder as he pulled you closer towards him.

the fabric on his shirt was starting to rub against your core, making it throb and become needy for some real touch. your horniness took over you mouth as broke away from the kiss and moaned out “i need to feel you”, he laughed and found his way to your lips again, tightening your legs around him and massaging your ass. you pulled away again, with a more demanding tone this time you let out “please chris, give it to me”, he bent his neck to the slightly and put on a puzzled look on his face “give what to you?” he questioned, a sensual smirking growing on his mouth. he began to thrust against you as he held you up against the door, rubbing his now hard cock upwards so the bottom of your cunt could feel it. you let out a pornographic moan from the sensation, “you’re cock chris, you’re cock please ugh fuck please”, he felt himself get more and more turned on by the erotic sounds you were making and walked you over to the bed, dropping you onto the sheets roughly as you lay on your back looking up at him, your mini black dress now riding high by your waist, completely exposing your red lacy thong.

“god you look so fucking good” he whispered, with a raspy low tone, bringing his thumb to your bottom lip and dragging it down, keeping heavy, sensual eye contact with you. “i’ve wanted you begging for my cock since we hit fucking puberty”, you continued to gaze up, totally mesmerised and at a loss for words.

“i’m gonna fuck you nice and slow okay? i wanna watch you as im inside you, i wanna take it all in, properly look at you” you nodded without hesitation as he used both hands to painfully slowly drag your dress up further and further up your frame, now completely revealing your tiny thong that barely covered your pussy. you leant up a tiny bit so that he could strip it off you, it was a dress you had to go braless for so you were now laying in front of him in just your panties, big tits fully on display, choker still wrapped around your neck, as he unzipped your boots and kissed up your legs before standing up again.

“i could easily cum just by looking at you” he murmured through gritted teeth, looking slightly pissed off, which really turned you on. he used his pointer finger and thumb to hold your chin as he stared down at you, taking your body all in, revising every detail of your frame. he stepped back briefly and threw his jacket and shirt off, leaving him in just his baggy jeans and trainers. “come undo my belt for me baby, i want you looking up at me whilst your at eye level with my dick”, you smirked in agreement and shuffled to the edge of the bed, loosening his belt and pulling his pants down as he stepped out of them. you could see his insanely large bulge poke through his boxers and were desperate to feel it deep inside you, you licked your lips and looked up at him as you pulled his boxers down, his large piece springing out and smacking you across the cheek, leaving you embarrassed but aroused.

you took this opportunity to take his cock into your hands and kiss across his tip, licking a long straight line from the base to angrily pink tip that was dripping in pre cum. he winced and let out a soft “fuck” as your mouth continued to make contact with his massive hard on, you kept eye contact and held his piece with one hand, wanking it slightly as your sunk your mouth down onto his cock, gagging as you got to the end of it which left him pleased and smirking. you began bobbing up and down on it, heavily spitting so it would be super sloppy and wet to slide right into you right hole.

you continued for a minute so as a let out a string of moans, whimpers and curses, holding the back of your hair and shoving your face deeper around his dick. just as you felt him begin to twitch he quickly pulled out and held your face again, “im not wasting my cum for your mouth i need it to be deep inside you” he ordered, as he pulled your body up and shoved you down by your shoulders against the sheets and the pillows.

he crawled on top of you and began to slowly trace his fingers against the inside of your thighs, some would call it teasing but you were convinced it was torture as you were so desperate for him to just stretch your hole out already. his fingers then made their way to your soaking wet cunt, pushing your thing to the side, your pussy was already so sensitive just from the arousal you got from the kiss and your mouth around his cock. he laughed at the moisture and began to rub his thumb against your clit, driving you insane, you moaned out and lolled your head back, eyes rolling and mouth agape. he rubbed faster and faster until he felt you clench your thighs and scream his name as you came hard on his hand, he pulled it away and licked off the moisture that dampened any of his fingers, tasting your sweet juices.

“just how i imagined you would taste, you’re fucking delicious y/n” he said, not being able to wipe the seductive smile away from his face. he leant in close, giving you a peck on the lips as he began to line his cock up with your wet, pulsing slit. without warning he rammed it into you, you let out a pornographic scream and repeated his name about 10 times as his whole length entered you. “sooo fucking tight i don’t know how im gonna last” he whispered, kissing down your tits and sucking on them as he began to pump in and out of you.

his mouth didn’t leave your hard nipples as he began to fuck hard into you, still slow just as he warmed but deep and intense. when he wasn’t sucking one tit he was playing with the other, cock filling you up completely as you moaned insanely loudly. once he could tell you could take his full length he picked up the speed, dragging one hand to your throat to replace the purpose of your current choker, holding on to your neck roughly as he railed you, both of you whimpering and groaning at the sensation of the deep penetration.

his teeth began to grit again as he let out an “i love you”, you knew he meant it but the way he was saying it was turning you on more than anything in that moment, you moaned a hmmm in response, too overstimulated to properly reply, but he was not satisfied with that response. “tell your daddy you love him baby, fuck tell me”, grip getting even tighter on your neck as he continued to roughly fuck you, cock ramming against your g-spot again and again and again.

“i love you so much daddy” you whined out, “so fucking much and i love how you’re fucking me”, you cried, eyes genuinely watering from how hard he was going and how good it felt. he quickly pulled out, leaving you disappointed and hungry for his cock, however it was only brief as he lifted your legs up on his shoulders so that he could fuck you even harder, which drove your pussy insane.

it didn’t take long before you were screaming “oh fuck i’m gonna cum chris!” with no consideration to anyone stood anywhere near the door of the room you were getting railed in. “yeah you fucking better baby” he replied, “cum with me”. you moaned out a hmmm as your pussy reached its climax and your were shaking on his cock, seconds before he twitched inside your throbbing cunt and let out a long string of cum inside you. riding it out and pumping a couple more times before he left your hole and slumped down to the bed next to you.

he rolled to his side to look at you, connecting his lips with yours yet again, before quickly pulling away, “no leaving this time y/n”, you laughed and wrapped your fingers in the back of his hair, “i won’t leave baby” you whispered, kissing him all over his pretty, pretty face.

[alexsoenomel]

Enough, Enough Now (Joel Miller x Reader Smut)

Summary: Sad reader is a horny reader basically

Pairing: Sub!Joel x Reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, Sub!Joel (oops), unprotected sex, creampie (double oops)

Word count: 1532

Song: Enough, Enough Now by Bad Omens 

Note: I’ve never read a Sub!Joel fic so....yeah this happened.

Like/ reblog or both if you like it :)  

You tossed and turned as your mind went into an overdrive. Ever since the world had gone to shit your ability to establish a normal sleeping pattern had vanished and became erratic – even 10 years later you still found yourself tossing and turning in wherever you would find to crash for a night. This time was no different and it was in an old abandoned motel. Joel was sleeping right next to you on his side, facing you. You didn’t want to wake him up, but you craved his touch, his ability to calm you down when you would lose yourself in your own mind. Sometimes you would enter a maze and get lost in it. And sometimes it was just stress – stress that was given to you by this brand new world, wrapped with anxiety and occasional panic attacks. Even 10 years later it would still come in waves.

Your eyes started to fill with tears as you covered your mouth with the palm of your hand trying to hold back the cries that desperately wanted to come out. You didn’t understand it. Why? Rationalization was how you would defend from the endless pit of negative thoughts and feelings that came with this brand new life. If you had an explanation why you felt a certain way, you would feel a lot better and it would pass quickly. Pass or repress? The same thing.

Now you didn’t have an explanation. You were mentally stuck in one place making yourself shake and cry for no reason.

Why am I crying?

You were wiping your tears, engulfed in the complete darkness of the room as you felt a hand around your waist pulling you closer. The thing that finally gave you away was the sound of your nose sniffling. Joel knew your relationship with sleep was unstable, especially since he could relate. Sleep wasn’t his best friend either. He knew what not being able to sleep could do to someone – he hadn’t had a decent night of sleep ever since his daughter died.  

"Are you okay?" You heard him whisper. His voice seemed deeper, more rough than usual.

"Not really."

You turned around, wiped your tears and kissed him as hard as you possibly could. He kissed back immediately, cupping your face with his hand as you climbed on top of him, your lips not leaving his. You could still taste the whiskey you two drank a couple of hours ago on his lips. You needed him, all you wanted to do was forget – forget the world you were living in, or rather surviving in.

You broke the kiss as his silhouette was gazing at you, inches away so you could feel his alcoholic breath on your face. He moved your hair behind your left ear as it was falling on his face.

"Baby-"

"Shhh! I don’t wanna think about it. Kiss me!" Before he could say anything you placed a finger on his slightly chapped lips only to move it seconds later to kiss him again. The kisses turned into a full blown make out session, making you hungry for more. Your hands were exploring his body until one settled between his legs, feeling his already hard cock which turned you on even more. You were eager, needy and pathetic. You knew that but didn’t care. You just wanted to feel him and forget, forget your existence. You wanted to be sucked in pleasure by the man you shared everything with.

A moan left your lips as you felt his fingers in your panties, feeling your already wet and pulsating core.

“God, I love that sound!” He whispered as he moved your hair back and buried his lips in the crook of your neck, knowing damn well it will drive you mad. And it did.

He knew your body like his own, knowing which buttons to push, what places to kiss and bite – he knew them all.

Your patience was running low as you took his face, forcing him to look at you. His eyes were like two stars shining in the darkness of the universe, studying each line of your face.

"Will you make me cum, Joel?" You whined in desperation. "I." You positioned yourself on his cock as you slowly started to rub yourself on it. "Really." Each word that left your sinful lips was a thrust.

"Want."

"To."

"Cum."

Joel was slowly losing himself in you. Everything you did he liked, but telling him what to do he liked the most – he would never admit it to himself, hell he would never admit it to you, but sometimes he was exhausted from being in charge. He was tired and you were happy to take over.

"Can you do that, please Joel?" You asked him before kissing and biting his lower lip, making it sore and sensitive. Your words were like poison to him and he couldn’t stop drinking it.  

"Can do that baby… " His whispers became heavier as you kneeled between his legs, took off his boxers and positioned yourself on him. You didn't sit just yet, his tip was touching your entrance making him grow impatient and needy – just the way you liked it. You leaned in and kissed his neck whispering how good he is. His skin reacted to your words with goosebumps – you didn’t even need to touch him to make him whimper and fall apart under you.

"What do you want me to do?" You asked him inches away from his face.

"Sit on me!" He groaned in frustration.

"Beg me! I wanna hear it!" You demanded. The only thing better than Joel's moans was him begging you to satisfy him – which didn’t happen often. You enjoyed seeing him in that state, all hot and bothered being desperate, especially since he had such a strong presence as a person. It turned you on knowing no one can make Joel Miller plead or boss him around, besides you.

"Fuckin’ hell baby! I'm going insane here, do something! Please!"

"Oh really?" You teased with a smirk on your face, while rubbing yourself on his tip a little bit more. God, he was hot. Even though you could barely see him, desperation was written all over his face.

"Ye-yes, please!"

"God, I love when you beg!"

You slowly sat down while your hand was holding his cock, feeling just how big he was. He was stretching you as you moaned, feeling a wave of pleasure going through your whole body. You could never get tired of that.

"Fuck!" He finally got what he wanted.

"Do I feel good?" You asked,  slowly starting to move up and down establishing a pace. "Do you like when I'm riding you?"

"Yes, baby! I do!" He said holding on to your hip bones as your pace became faster. You desperately wanted to cum. You needed it.

"You feel so fuckin’ good! Fuck!"

It was euphoric, intense and you could feel your orgasm approaching.You were too sensitive and horny, so every touch, kiss, thrust would set you on fire. You were slowly starting to lose it. Your nose was pressed against his, occasionally swallowing his moans with each kiss you gave him.  You stayed like that inches away breathing each other, like oxygen wasn’t enough for you to survive.

“Joel.”

You were getting closer to coming undone and completely falling apart. Hearing Joel’s groans and the way he gripped your hip bones – you knew he was close too. You took his thumb and put it in your mouth as you started rubbing myself while riding him. You loved his fingers, they were long and thick…and would give the best orgasms.

"—fuck!" He said before taking out his thumb out of your mouth and kissed you hungrily practically wanting to devour you whole. You felt the pleasure build up in the lower part of your stomach – it was coming.

"I'm close." You managed to say. Your pace was fast and steady. He was hitting just the right spots that way.

“–baby! Fuck I–"

You could feel it. Your whole body shaking, his name never leaving your lips as you balanced yourself on his legs with your hands, back slightly arched. You came all over him.

You didn't want to end there. You wanted him to cum too. You wanted to see it, to hear it – so you didn't stop moving – not until he came too, filling you up. He dug his fingers in your flesh even harder as his orgasm came in intense waves.

When you both came down from your highs a little bit, you collapsed right next to him.

“Oh God I needed that!” You confessed, trying to catch your breath.

You were covered in sweat and in haze but finally out of that endless hole of nothingness your mind liked to take you sometimes.

“Couldn’t sleep again?”

“Yeah!”  You moved a little bit closer to him resting your head next to his shoulder.

You stayed like that in silence before you both drifted back to sleep. No ‘I love you’s were exchanged, no ‘good night’s… Most things were left unsaid between the two of you, but were nonetheless already known.

[sixhours]

Chapter 8 - The Ghosts of Babylon

Series Chapter Index | Read on AO3 | Complete

Rating: Explicit, 18+, here be smut and violence Series tags: Joel Miller x You, Joel Miller x Reader, Joel & Ellie, mostly follows canon, LGBTQ+ characters, y/n is bi/pan, y/n is ~45, violence, pregnancy, abortion, medical trauma, emotional trauma, panic attacks, sex work, suicide, smut, slow burn, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, romance, no use of y/n, reader has longish hair, Joel can lift you, smallish age gap (~11 years), I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

~*~

By Thanksgiving, you and Theresa have amicably parted ways. Occasionally you see her around town with the twenty-something from the dance, and you silently wish them well.

You’ve fed all the information she gave you back to FEDRA in your late-night broadcasts, although there’s been no feedback from your superiors, save for an acknowledgment of receipt. Thoughts of being extracted before winter have gone by the wayside, and when the first snow falls, you decide a few more months with regular access to food isn’t a terrible thing.

You’ve also told FEDRA about Ellie’s origins in Boston, knowing they’ll have access to her records from her time in the military school. They tell you to keep an eye on her but give you no further direction.

And so you find yourself in a holding pattern when the winter solstice arrives, crystal clear and brutally cold. You aren’t sure what to expect from the holiday season in Jackson, but somehow you’re not surprised when a giant spruce tree goes up in the middle of Main Street. There are lights strung around windows, plastic snowmen and reindeer on their lawns, and handmade wreaths on the doors. Some of your neighbors have found old decorations hiding in their basements, attics, and crawl spaces.

If your house has any hidden treasures like these you don’t know about them, because you’re too busy at the clinic. Eric tells you that’s common during the holidays. More merriment means more acts of drunken stupidity means more injuries, so you’re grateful when Maria Miller brings her infant daughter to the clinic for a routine checkup; something that isn’t a sprained ankle or hot oil burn makes for a nice change of pace.

Babies were a rarity for you in the QZ. There should have been no lack of new life with reliable birth control being so scarce, but that wasn’t the case in your experience. You tried not to think too hard about why. In Jackson, you’re treating more pregnancies than ever. Shelter, food, and long, cold winters are the magic formula for baby-making.

Six-month-old Gwen is bright-eyed and solemn; she doesn’t fuss when you lay her on the paper-covered table, prodding gently at her belly, checking her muscle tone, the soft spot at the crown of her head.

“She’s perfect,” you pronounce as Gwen demonstrates her rolling skills by trying to wriggle off the exam table, looking up at you with wide brown eyes. You pick her up, hefting the flour-sack weight of her in your arms, and resist the urge to bury your nose in the girl’s curly hair. “Getting any sleep, mom?”

Maria shakes her head and smiles wanly. “No. She’s teething.”

“Do you have help?”

“Tommy’s great. And we have family…Joel’s good with her. Ellie, too.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, handing the baby back to Maria, trying to keep your voice light. “Glad to hear it.”

“Are you coming to the tree lighting tonight?”

“Mmm, not sure,” you murmur, turning away, jotting down the baby’s measurements in her chart. “I’m kind of a Grinch.”

“Not much for Christmas, huh? We get a lot of new folks like that,” she says, wrestling the baby into a thick winter coat and slipping leather moccasins on her tiny socked feet.

“Uh-huh. Holidays in the QZ weren’t a thing. We might get an extra ration card, but there was never enough food to make a difference,” you say tightly. “Guess I’m just not used to this…abundance.”

Maria nods, swaying gently on her feet to soothe the baby. “And how are you settling in otherwise? I heard Joel was working on your house?”

You have to force yourself to keep working. “Something like that, yeah. We’re–he’s done.”

“Hmm. He’s a bit of a prickly pear, that one.”

He’s a bit of a prick, you mean .

“You don’t say,” you murmur, keeping your tone even. Gwen begins to fuss in earnest, and you silently thank her for the diversion.

Maria gives you a knowing smile. “I know you may not be feeling it, but the tree lighting starts at nine if you change your mind. I think folks are planning live music,” she says, pulling a diaper bag over her shoulder. Then, after a pause: “Anyway, there’s plenty to go around. We’re glad you’re here. ”

~*~

That evening, you step out of the clinic to the sound of music playing down the street. You consider going home, but something urges you in the opposite direction, toward the gathering of people in the square.

The atmosphere reminds you of a county fair, with booths set up around the big tree, trading homemade gifts and food. The smell of frying oil and cinnamon sugar permeates the air. You help yourself to a cup of powdered hot cocoa–a rare delicacy–and walk the perimeter, skirting the crowd.

In the early days, large groups meant more opportunities for infection to spread, and raucous noise was a magnet for trouble. Later, gatherings in the QZ meant riots, protests, and violence. You can’t help it; you imagine the hell just one infected could wreak inside the walls of this community and your chest tightens.

Children chase each other around the tree, dodging oblivious grown-ups, laughing over cups of cocoa. The band–just a couple of singers accompanied by guitars and a drum set–begins a new song, a carol you haven’t heard since you were a child.

You can’t remember the last time you saw this many people in one place at one time when there wasn’t blood on the ground.

There’s a feedback whine from the speakers next to the stage. You hear a faint scream but can’t pinpoint the source. Suddenly the lights are too bright, the music too loud, and you shrink back toward a storefront, keenly aware of the thudding of your heart in your throat.

“Hey.”

His low voice over your shoulder startles you and you jump, spilling hot chocolate on your hand.

“Fuck!”

You look over to see Joel leaning up against the building behind you. You almost backed into him in the grip of your fear.

“What are you doing here?” you snap, grimacing as you inspect your hand, the pinkened skin of a faint burn. The stinging brings you back to the moment; the vise in your chest loosens and you take a deep breath. “This doesn’t seem like your thing.”

“S’not,” he nods toward the crowd. You follow his gaze and see Maria, Tommy…and Ellie. The girl is holding Gwen, bouncing her, spinning them both in circles until the baby cackles.

“Ah, I see.”

“I told her if you’ve seen one big tree you’ve seen ‘em all, but she didn’t buy it,” he says, eyes trained on his daughter. “Too many people for my tastes.”

“On that, we agree,” you mutter.

“Yeah, you had that look about you.”

You arch an eyebrow. “You watching me, Miller?”

“Nah. I just know panic when I see it.”

You duck your head, hoping he doesn’t see the blush in your cheeks. “Sometimes I feel like a war veteran,” you mutter.

“You are,” he says, his voice dropping. “We all are.”

“Joel!” Ellie is running up to him now, Gwen still bouncing in her arms. “Can you take her? Maria’s gonna let me plug in the tree.”

“Where’s Tommy?” he frowns.

“Dunno, I gotta go,” she pushes the baby into his chest and runs off before he can protest.

“Now what am I s’posed do with you?” he murmurs, ducking his head to meet his niece’s eyes. She reaches up and grabs at his nose. He scrunches his face in an exaggerated frown and the baby squeals, pleased.

“So is your, uh, girlfriend here somewhere? Theresa?”

“Hmm? Oh, no. I mean, she might be here. But she’s not my girlfriend.”

“Ellie said she saw you two at the dance a while back–”

“Yeah, that’s…done.”

He nods, distracted by Gwen, trying to keep an eye out for Ellie at the same time. You wonder if he realizes he’s rocking lightly on his feet, swaying the same way Maria had in the clinic a few hours ago, the universal dance of a parent.

A countdown rises from the crowd.

“Five…four…three…two…”

You turn your attention back to the square as the tree is lit. A cheer goes up and the band begins to play. You wait to feel the spark of joy you remember from childhood when there was the promise of magic.

It doesn’t come.

Joel turns Gwen in his arms to face the lights, points, murmurs something you can’t hear. She appears to be more fascinated with pulling at the scruff on his chin.

“It gets easier.” He’s looking at Gwen when he says it, but you know it’s meant for you.

A longing tugs at your heart. You try to imagine a world where you don’t have to fight and lie and fuck to get by, but the lights and music and laughter mere feet away seem so distant. The thought feels impossible, paper thin, too fragile to bear.

“Baby looks good on you, Miller,” you say, clearing your throat.

He shoots you a look over the top of Gwen’s dark, curly head, then nods toward Ellie, who is standing with her aunt and uncle, looking up at the tree in awe. “Got my hands full already.”

“I believe it,” you say. “What’s her story, anyway?”

You feel him withdraw into himself. Even the baby seems to sense it, squirming in his arms. “Who? Ellie?”

“She lived in the Boston QZ?”

He shrugs. “She found me. We…got along. Not much to tell.”

Somehow you know that’s a lie. You know it by the way his eyes are constantly scanning the crowd for any sign of her, the way his shoulders naturally relax when she pops back into view. You imagine this gruff, stony man and the spitfire that he calls his daughter, making their way through the broken world, and you find yourself genuinely curious, without ulterior motive.

The baby begins to fuss, arching her back, flailing her arms, and Joel bounces her uncomfortably. He takes a cautious sniff of Gwen’s diapered bottom, makes a face.

“That’s my cue,” he says. “I don’t do diapers. See ya around, doc.”

~*~

Christmas morning dawns as you trudge home from a late shift, ready to fall into bed and sleep the day away. 

There’s a small box sitting on your porch with a note tacked to the top.

“Don’t get your hopes up. -JM”

You let out a soft breath, filling the air around you with vapor. What a cheerful sentiment. No “Merry Christmas”, no “Happy Holidays”, not even his full name, just this cryptic note and Joel’s initials scrawled in messy capital letters.

You tuck the note in your jacket pocket and open the box. Sitting inside is an orange. It’s tiny–no, it’s puny , probably grown in the community greenhouse, and probably sour as fuck–but it’s not a mealy apple. A truce, perhaps.

You scratch at the rind, lift it to your nose, and inhale the citrusy scent of a real, honest-to-god orange, surprised at the tears welling in your eyes.

[de-fright-ful]

For context, in my previous post, I alluded to the fact that Amity will give buttons from her vast, storied collection to people who mean something to her—not as gifts for gifting sake, exactly—but as an expression of love—to physically represent how much they mean to her, her trust in them, her enjoyment of their companionship, friendship, and simply being in her life.

You see, Amity's culture isn't one where you tell each other 'I love you' openly: to the Saijikari, word is wind. It's poor form, no, it's humiliating for the person you're speaking to and to yourself, to make proclamations without weight when you can communicate such things through less distasteful means. To the Saijikari, you show your care through actions, gifts, and the age-old art of gestures. And, to Amity, even the small buttons are a big gesture in a little package.

The buttons mean a lot to her—they're comforting to her—she collects them after all, and her favourite ones have emotional value beyond their considerable monetary worth. But more than that, it's the thought—finding one that speaks to her and reminds her of her personality, interests, and spirit, that je ne sais quois.

She puts effort behind it, even if it seems off the cuff in the moment—because that button, that one she had in mind, she's been carrying and waiting for a time when it feels natural to pass it over, so the understated meaning is best exemplified.

But with this being said! The buttons she'd give some of Yue's ( @forjustice ) muses and the whys and circumstances for each one!

ASTERIA

THE BUTTON: A tiny thing, barely larger than your pinkie nail, yet it's breathtaking in the way an ancient building surrounded by forest captures your attention. Grasping it, the button threads itself perfectly between two fingers as though inviting you to run your fingers over its polished surface. Doing so and looking at each painted detail, from the gilded gold branches and red paint, it's almost as if you can sense the history that pulses within— of the hours the artisan sat with precision to paint the pattern and the careful consideration weighing both iron and porcelain,

WHY?: It's a reminder—the painted red leaves of a fall canopy—their brief meeting shouldn't be the end, not in the slightest. Parting without resolution and a bittersweet smile that can only hide Amity's disappointment at how short their meeting was. Amity invites them, if they ever have the chance, to follow the northern wind to the Sovereign Domain of the Seasons, give her region and home a chance, and take their challenge—should the day come, Amity will be waiting with the might of Autumn at her back to test Asteria's mettle and savour in the much-awaited rematch.

WALLACE

THE BUTTON: Disk-like and wide, one could only imagine the sort of finery this button was once attached to; it doesn't seem like it could have been clothing, though. It sits in the palm of a hand, and its delicately embossed patterns, rising like wave crests above the cool, smooth porcelain, negate that possibility. It's reminiscent of the Poleis seaside— the distant song of wind chimes and shoes padding down old stone roads, white homes contrasting against a backdrop of endless azure waves, paldean-style tiles, side by side in a line to break the monotony but drawing the eye's attention; no two patterns are the same, each hand-painted and laid— You feel nostalgic for the summer just thinking about it.

WHY?: I wish I had a profound reason for this, but I'm blanking. Amity gifted it to him after they met during a contest; Amity lost, of course. She's not a contest trainer, but 'never leave a stone unturned,' she wanted the experience, and she got it, and it seemed that the kindness she had been shown left an impression. She gave him this button— presumably as thanks, if nothing more. The most profound meaning it seems to hold is its colour and pattern— she certainly hit his fashion dead on the head.

BONUS! For VOLO, specifically based off of that one verse where he scruffs her like a naughty kitten after her body is stolen by Vespodoza to keep Vespodoza pinned down to 'deal with it once and for all' when it emerges, meanwhile she gets adopted emotionally in the chaos because she's just a little guy. But, like, it applies to any Volo!

THE BUTTON: It can be described in one word: worn. Held in a person's palm, the button feels thin and fragile, with little weight to keep it centred. You feel compelled to cup your hands to keep it from blowing away; something tells you if you lost it, you'd never find it again. For the most part, it seems a run-of-the-mill, aged, working man's button— something that has outlived the original clothing it was attached to and been passed down, one jacket or sweater to the next— yet, there's something about it that seems to reject its mundanity. The once vibrant lustre now stands as a muted brass, glimmering pathetically in the light despite itself. Its surface — worn smooth and discoloured from the unforgiving passage of time — belays little of the patterns that once were etched into it. And its face, permanently etched in a soft smile, staring up at the world that has worn it down like a stone shaped by rivers might, and yet, it shows no sadness; it belays no melancholy — only warmth, radiating with each pass of the finger across its surface. It's lived a long life and adorned the clothing of many, yet it holds no regrets for the life placed upon it.

WHY?: It's a grounder— a small token that urges you to pay attention; we are all as small as buttons beneath the eyes of the cosmos, and we can all grasp for something greater— throw ourselves to the mercy of the stars, but we aren't meant for that world, a button to the stars is still a button. This world, ever vast and exciting, is our gift— all the beautiful insignificant problems we face are everything in the face of eternal nothingness. Never forget to look outside yourself and the beauty of the stars to the flawed, imperfect and wonderful world around you. From one storyteller to another, don't let yourself be absorbed by the story.