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cherrysweets-world · 19 hours ago

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Eyes of the Gods VI

series masterlist - part five

Pairing: Caracalla x fem!Reader x Geta

Summary: Your relationship with the Emperors develops further and you are forced to trust them.

Warnings: 18+, minors dni, dub-con, mentions of past domestic violence, toxic/unhealthy relationships, controlling behavior, possessive behavior, unedited

Word Count: 3.1k

It was not until the doors closed behind you that you fully understood the gravity of the situation. Caracalla stood in the centre of the main room, chest heaving, fists clenched. Streaks of blood still decorated his hands and lower arms.

It was like that first night in some ways. Only Caracalla had been mostly afraid that night; now, he was angry.

"Emperor," you tried, "shall I go fetch Dondus-"

"No!" he cried, throwing his arms out. They collided with a vase and it shattered onto the marble floor. You stifled a whimper and straightened your spine. Another glass followed in quick succession and you could only watch as he became a whirlwind of flying ornaments and red hair.

"Even Dondus cannot help me," he bemoaned, finally sinking to the floor amongst the porcelain. "No against the liars and traitors that have infiltrated this hellish place. They would see me killed."

He was speaking so rapidly that spittle was flying from his red lips. He raked a hand through his curls and dragged it down his face, smearing a mixture of blood and tears.

You did not feel fully confident in your own words. Not when he was so worked up. Thinking quickly, you opened the door again and requested a warm bowl of water, some ointment and a cloth.

You flinched at the ferocity in Caracalla's eyes when you turned back around, bowl in hand. The room was dark, lit only by flickering candlelight in the section you were currently in. He looked tortured, furious, but you swallowed down your apprehension and cautiously approached him.

"Were you going to leave just then?" he said, unblinking.

You set the bowl on a table. "Of course not. I wanted to get some things so I could attend to you, Caracalla."

It had been a gamble using his name, despite the fact that he was the one who had told you to. Fortunately it had the desired effect and his shoulders slumped a little, his eyes flickering.

"You're standing on porcelain," you held out your hands, "come, I do not wish to see your injured."

He grasped your hands with a surprisingly strong grip and allowed himself to be pulled from the mess. You went to turn around and ask the guards to send someone to clean it but he held you tight and shook his head, lip curling.

"Alright," you agreed, "but we must be careful. Where are the matches?"

Caracalla held still as you ventured deeper into his chambers. Like Geta's, they were larger than anything you could have even imagined. It took several moments to get the place fully lit.

Caracalla's rooms were a sad reflection of his own mind. Books spilled across the floor, bedding that had clearly been made and then torn up. His desk was cluttered with papers and ink spills. There were many, many candles. Most of them had been entirely burned down. You wondered how many nights he had spent here, alone, working himself into a frenzy.

Once you were ready, you went back to him and collected your supplies. He followed you without you having to say anything. You lead him to the bed and gestured for him to sit down, pulling over a small chair and balancing the steaming bowl on top of it.

"Do you mind if I check your feet?" you asked.

Caracalla shook his head. You unlaced his sandals and peered at the bottom of his feet. Apart from a few scratches on the side, he was uninjured.

You dipped your cloth into the water and pressed it onto the scratches to make sure they weren't more serious than they appeared. Afterwards you dabbed them with ointment to speed up the healing process.

What kind of treatment would the concubine Caracalla had set upon receive? If you did not continuously remind yourself of the people who were hurt as a result of the emperors you feared you would feel too much sympathy for them. Already you felt more than expected.

"Can I see your hands?"

Obediently he held them out. Dabbing the cloth into the water, you began the slow process of cleaning up his hands. The blood was mostly not his own but there was a rather deep cut on his pointer finger.

The water became murky as you cleaned him, knees pressed into the floor at his feet. The blood turned dark in the water and you could smell iron. You did not pause in your work.

When you were done, Caracalla leaned forward, breath dusting across your cheeks. When he was so close you could see the scars on his cheeks, white makeup hastily applied over them. There were streaks in the makeup from his tears. It was difficult not to see him for the human he was when he was up close.

"And you? Are you hurt?" he questioned.

"I am fine," you tried to smile, sensing a change in the air.

When you got to your feet, Caracalla's hands shot out to grasp your waist. They were hot through the fabric of your stola and you stilled.

"I think," he breathed heavily, "that I should check."

His eyes turned dark with desire and you swayed under the intensity of it. The mood had changed so fast that your head was spinning atop your shoulders.

Your skin prickled with gooseflesh as Caracalla's thumbs swiped across the fabric at your waist. He was unashamed; eyes roaming your face and jumping lower and lower with every second. Your own hands were resting on his forearms as though you might dare to stop him.

"Is that a command?" you asked.

Caracalla smiled, gold tooth winking in the light. "I do not think I have to command you."

Shame coursed through you. You should have felt disgust or reluctance. Instead you were overwhelmed by the ball of want that was tightening your stomach.

You were a woman with needs, desires. The attractiveness of the emperors had never been up for debate. Any interest had been previously squashed by horror but that was not the primary emotion you felt when you looked at Caracalla.

You had been around them so often that you guard had lowered without your permission. Perhaps you were a traitor - not to Caracalla, but to yourself.

"I thought I dreamed you," Caracalla continued, hands rising, "and I thought I was dreaming still when I saw the way you looked at me."

"With kindness? With care?" you tried.

"Those things too," he admitted, "but more. What was it you said before? I think I do not have to take. I think you want to give."

It was not true. You tried to take a step back but Caracalla followed you, backing you against the wall. His eyes were greedily drinking in every expression you made, fixated on your face.

"It's okay," he soothed, nosing at your jawline. "I'll take care of you, too."

His hand secured itself at the back of your neck and you sucked in a breath. Caracalla looked at you one last time before closing the distance and kissing you.

His lips were rough from where he'd bitten them. The pressure varied from intense to lighter, searching for your reciprocation. You could not help it. Your instinct and had always been to calm him and you felt yourself lean in, opening your mouth so he could explore.

His hands were working steadily at your stola, yanking the shoulders down until they tore and exposed your breasts. At that he leant back, taking in the sight of you.

"I have thought of this a thousand times," he muttered, shaky hands coming up to cup your chest and urge a gasp from your lips.

Caracalla leaned down and you watched as his mouth closed around the tip of your breast. You tried to turn your head and bring your palm up to cover your mouth but he yanked your hand away and directed it to his head.

His curls were soft beneath your fingers and you could not help but squeeze. The sensation drove a moan from Caracalla and his teeth grazed your nipple, creating the pain you had always expected to experience with him. His hands travelled from your back to your ass, urging you to hike your leg higher around his hips.

In that position his desire was unavoidable. You could feel the hard line of him pressing against you through your clothes and your knees almost buckled. Caracalla used his body to pin you against the wall. You felt like a pinned butterfly, almost entirely on display.

Whatever spell you were under broke when you registered the sound of the door opening and closing. You writhed away from Caracalla, snatching your stola from where it had pooled at your waist and pulling it up to your neck.

Caracalla was torn between hurt and sexual frustration. He palmed at his erection through his clothes and frowned, holding out his hand as though you were going to run right back to him.

Geta appeared and you wanted to melt from shame. Your hands twisted in your clothes at the speechless expression on his face. You could only imagine what he thought he was going to walk in to after he had seen all the broken glass and factored in Caracalla's rage at the gathering. It would not have been the first time a slave or servant had died at the hands of the emperors.

"You always ruin things," Caracalla sneered, shoving half heartedly at his brother.

Geta still said nothing, his eyes darting from his brother to you. Last night he had been so sure that you had tried to escape, only to find you in the arms of his brother. It was likely you appeared as confused as you felt.

Caracalla called your name and tried again, "Come back to me."

"I-I-," you attempted to speak but your throat was crushed under the weight of your embarrassment.

Without thinking, you slipped past them both and ran for the doors. You must have caught them by surprise because you managed to escape, the soles of your feet stinging from the glass you'd ran through. The sandals had not protected you the way they had Caracalla but you did not stop.

If the Praetorians were surprised at your state of undress and obvious distress, they did not say. You heard raised voices behind you but continued to run. Hot tears of humiliation lapped at your cheeks and you could not wipe them away. Your hands were the only thing holding up your clothing.

There was little point to running. You had nowhere to go. The only place that even felt remotely safe was your little room. You slowed down as you approached, finally lifting your torn stola to swipe at the tears as you began to calm down. You just needed a moment to yourself, a moment to think. The only person you could rely upon was yourself but you were becoming unpredictable.

Your steps faltered. The door to your room was hanging open, swaying lightly in some phantom wind. A big section of the wood had been broken away as though someone had been trying to get inside.

Had successfully gotten inside, you corrected yourself. You stood in the doorway to your room, jaw hanging open. Considering you had almost nothing to your name, whoever had broken in had done a great job of turning the place upside down.

A blanket of silence had enveloped the place. You felt as though the gods were holding their breath, anticipating your reaction.

The bedside table was smashed. Sections of the wooden bed frame had also been torn at and your clothing had been ripped to shreds so thin that it took you a second to recognize them. Straw had been pulled from the mattress and decorated almost every inch of the floor.

There was an unfamiliar scent in the air; the scent of the intruder. Your nose wrinkled and your stomach roiled. You felt violated.

It took you a moment to spot your carving amongst the straw. You gasped, bending down to pick it up.

"No, no, no," you cries became increasingly louder. "No!"

The piece you had picked up was only a part of the carving. The wolf's head was cracked in your hand and as you scanned the floor you realized you were probably lucky to have even found this piece.

What was happening? You could not comprehend what would provoke someone to do this. A memory arose of a similar scene; you, your mother. Your father yelling as he destroyed your small home in a similar fashion. The wolf had survived then. Not this time.

It took you a moment to register the voices behind you.

"What is this?" Geta's eyes scanned the room. "Did you do this?"

"No," you said, numb. You twisted the broken head in your fingers, splinters embedding themselves in your skin.

Geta strode over to you and peered over your shoulder. When he saw what you were holding he swore. You heard him fumbling about behind you and jolted when he reappeared holding a scrap of your clothing.

"Give that to me," he ordered. He used the clothing to safely wrap the remainder of your childhood and then pressed it back into your hand. "Praetorians!"

Caracalla had followed closely behind his brother and seemed equally as stunned at the state of your room. He stepped carefully around chunks of wood until he was able to slide his hands into your armpits and hoist you to your feet.

"Stay close," he warned, eerily lucid.

"What?" you stammered. "I - I do not understand. Why would someone - "

"The why is irrelevant!" Geta yelled. He was talking to a group of Praetorians just outside your room. "The how is crucial. How did someone manage to come this close to the quarters of the emperors, destroy a room, and slip out unnoticed?"

You thought of your own brief exploration of the gardens the night before. It had been hardly ten minutes before Geta had appeared. You had thought it was perhaps easier to sneak out than in - now you thought differently.

"Brother, take her to your rooms." Geta commanded. "Follow them closely!"

You were too shaken to argue and Caracalla's grip on you was iron tight. Your hands trembled at your neck where they were still holding up your stola, broken wolf pressed between your palms. Six Praetorians accompanied you the short distance back to Caracalla's rooms and you could hear Geta screaming the entire time.

"I do not care if you have to interrogate every single person in this palace, I want the culprit found by morning!"

You shivered. You would not want to be on the receiving end of that. You waited for the pity to rise at the thought of someone being tortured for what they had done to your room. Then you felt the broken shards of wood pressing into your palm and they helped you swallow any empathy you might have felt.

The walk to Caracalla's room felt like a mere blink. Lights flickered on all around the palace as everyone was awoken by Geta's yelling. You wondered what your friends down in the kitchen would think of it all.

Caracalla helped you into his bed and you went without protest. He had stripped you down to nothing and for a moment you thought he might try to start up what you were doing earlier. Instead he wrapped you in white linen, tucking it tightly around you. He did not try to take your wolf.

Once he was dressed in a similar fashion, he slid right in beside you. The bed was jarringly comfortable. You used the pillows to prop yourself up and did not move away when Caracalla pressed himself tightly to your side.

The pair of you sat in silence for several minutes as you attempted to process what had happened in the last few hours.

"I don’t understand," you finally said. "Why would someone do that?"

"To hurt you," he answered, tracing patterns on your bare arms. "Perhaps they would have done worse if they had come across you."

You did not miss the pointed tone in his voice. It had been foolish to flee his rooms the way you had. And what if he had not dragged you from the entertainment hall earlier? What if you had been in your room when the culprit had gone there?

For once you felt as though you understood Caracalla's paranoia. How could you get over someone wanting to cause you harm? And, even worse, you would have to walk around without knowing who it was. They could attack you at any moment.

As if reading your thoughts, Caracalla said, "Do not worry. We shall catch the vermin and have them hung."

The words had no effect on you. Partially because you did not see how they would be able to catch the person who did this. Partially because the idea of having them hung appealed to you in ways that should have made you sick but did not.

Kill or be killed, you thought.

Geta entered Caracalla's rooms almost an hour later. Both of you were still awake.

"What happened?" you asked, desperate for information.

Geta paused at the foot of Caracalla's bed, eyeing the pair of you with a funny look on his face. He smoothed it out before replying, "The Praetorians are combing over the place as we speak. I have ten stationed outside the door right now."

You slumped. Whoever had done it had yet to be uncovered.

"They will be found," Geta spat. "That was not the first incident we have had to deal with here and it shall serve as a lesson to others."

Something about the way he spoke made you look at him closely. His hair was in disarray and his eyes were watery. The fact that you had been in danger tonight meant that they also had been in danger. Geta was furious but you could see the underlying stress.

"Are you staying here as well?" the question slipped out before you could think about it.

Geta's lips trembled. "It would be safest. For you."

Wordless, you peeled back the covers on your left side. The most dangerous people in your world were somehow the ones currently making you feel safest. It evoked emotions that you did not care to think about; you were too exhausted and angry to see beyond the present moment.

Caracalla wrapped himself around you as though he thought you might try to escape. Geta joined the pair of you in bed after he had put out all the candles, leaving only the moon to illuminate the bed and surrounding furniture.

You pushed the remains of your wolf under the pillow, let your eyes close and tried not to think too hard about the possessive hand Geta placed on your stomach.

Author’s Note - Reader's world is growing smaller. Please, please let me know what you think! Asks, comments, likes and reblogs are hugely motivating and rewarding for me🥹

Taglist - @only4thefics @doodle-with-rhy @lover-rep-fanfic @claraisme23 @sashaphantomhive @multifandombtch @t6gse370

@merrymunsons @europixie @prestinalove @malfoycassimalfoy

@jovial-cowboy @akamitrani @bocreep @justasmallbean @moompie @duckyhowls @justlibra @mama-frog @fionaapplelover2010

@verypoetrytraveler @darleniweenie

@feral-postings @honey-eyed-munson @an34l

#eyes of the gods #emperor caracalla x reader #emperor geta x reader #fred hechinger #emperor caracalla #joseph quinn #emperor geta #caracalla x reader x geta #dividers by enchanthing

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lightseoul · 13 hours ago

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a/n. currently watching single's inferno s4 and this is how it's going. inspired by that exchange between dong ho and a rin. specifically, dong ho's smile during. what the hell am i talking about. (0.9k)

“you really didn’t have to drive me all the way here, you know.”

you plop down on the spot right next to bakugou, who wordlessly takes the mug of tea you’re offering with a half-hearted glare.

“then decline the next time,” is his snarky retort.

you playfully roll your eyes, burrowing further into the plush cushion of your sofa beneath you, hands cupping your own beverage. “you say that as if you’ll let me commute this late.”

a tsk. “it’s called having a heart of gold, you idiot.”

you hum noncommittally, gaze fixed on the tv in front of you. “camie sure does think you have one, huh?”

when he doesn’t say anything for a beat, you chance a peek at the man, and sure enough, he’s looking at you like you just shat yourself. “hah?”

“camie?” you repeat, hoping the creeping embarrassment isn’t showing on your face. “the girl who—”

“i know who she is,” he spews defensively, before raising an eyebrow. “what about her?”

“you seem to go way back, based on how she regarded you tonight,” you quickly explain.

he stares at you for a second, as if trying to figure out why the hell you’re talking about utsushimi camie of all people, ultimately settling with a lazy shrug. “i guess? we ran into each other a few times back in ua.”

and when you don’t immediately respond: “why?”

“nothing,” you supply, before: “i mean, i could tell she’s generally a bubbly and outgoing person just from dinner, but the way she behaved around you was…how should i say—different, i guess?”

the pro-hero lets out a grunt, which is bakugou katsuki for keep going.

so you do. “for one, she seemed eager to sit beside you, even though yoarashi-san was the one to arrange the hangout, and i think you mentioned in passing once that she thinks shouto’s attractive.”

unsurprisingly, that grants you a side-eye. you backtrack.

“not that a girl wanting to sit beside you is unfathomable, but—”

“the fuck are you getting at, dumbass?”

you huff. “i’ll get there if you just let me talk!”

he shoots you another glare, before tossing you a curt nod. “fine.”

you fight back the urge to punch his arm. “as i was saying,” you enunciate, “there was something…remarkable about how she was acting.”

“how so?”

you ponder for a moment, not minding how the question just now was too sarcastic for your taste. “well, i didn’t really see her arrive because i was at the restroom, but she seemed to deflate when i came back and took my seat beside you. almost as if she was eyeing the spot.”

“you’re fucking imagining things.”

“okay, gaslighter. anyway, it wasn’t just that. her mood went back up a notch when you introduced me—so reluctantly it was embarrassing, by the way—as your best friend.”

he scoffs. “you’re the one who tagged along.”

“shouto invited me, you dickhead.” you frown, “when he called you this afternoon and i said hi, remember? he said you could bring me with you.”

“he was just being polite, that pretty boy.”

“and you’re being a fucking downer,” you quip, before crossing your arms in front of your chest like a petulant child. “i don’t know what camie sees in you.”

“hah?”

“see?” you exclaim, flinging your arms in frustration, “you’re not getting it because you’re not letting me finish. i have no idea how you didn’t notice, but her body was facing you the entire evening! she kept redirecting the conversation to you, too, asking you all sorts of questions.”

you’re not looking at him anymore, eyes darting all over the place as you continue. “and her giggles, man, you weren’t even being funny, but she was laughing like you had keke palmer’s humor, or something.”

“i don’t know if you’re feigning ignorance or just flat-out oblivious, which i doubt you are, but seriously, man,” you rasp, “i can’t believe i’m the one who has to do this, but open your eyes. the girl likes you. and—are you smiling?”

you cut yourself off, the jarring sight of bakugou grinning at you erasing every viable thought in your brain.

if you didn’t know any better, you’d think the guy is fucking amused.

you scowl at him. “the fuck are you smiling about?”

“nothin’,” he claims, although his lips are still pulled taut to the sides.

you shoot him a deadpan look, which causes him to let out a soft chuckle.

he shakes his head, shifting in his seat. “it’s just—i don’t know…”

“don’t know what?” you ask, brows furrowed.

“don’t know how you picked up on all this shit.”

your response is instantaneous. “it’s called having eyes, you idiot.”

if he’s even marginally annoyed at your semi-quoting him, he doesn’t let it show. instead, you can only watch in bewilderment as a faint tinge of pink starts to color his cheeks.

“yeah, well, i didn’t even notice any of that.”

“how?”

a glower.

“because i was just looking at you, dipshit.”

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat with you. have a nice day!

tagging. @bunnysaursushii @yawnzzzzzzzz @cholios @kashee-h @iluv-ace @lotuslovers @elarakive @sugurusmoon @napbatata @k0z3me @h0ngh0ngh0ng @honeyoru @yoongiwithglasses @hellokitty-doll @lilsebnem @tetsuukuroo @crangrapel0ver @syrhra @qyuin

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mahlikes · 3 days ago

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#call me a crowley stan but it's not fair to him to say that he doesn't care about anything but himself and aziraphale. he cares so much. #he didn't have to help job's kids. he didn't have to help elspeth. but he did #even though hell punished him for it when he got caught in edinburgh #he went back up and continued to do things his own way #but he also asked aziraphale for insurance. that's how crowley operates #push and push and push until you cross the line #and then run like hell to try to get out of the fire

i've mentioned this before and it's a Hot Take maybe but. i don't think it's fair at all to characterize crowley's "you and me, what do you say?" speech from s2 as being equivalent to "fuck the earth run away with me to the stars right now" a la season 1

i guess i can see why it might come off that way, with gabriel and beelzebub having just left and crowley drawing the comparison to them, but a lot of people have sort of extrapolated from that this dichotomy where suddenly aziraphale is the one who cares about saving the world and crowley only cares about himself and aziraphale. and while i think crowley certainly prioritizes their mutual safety and is more likely to get spooked when faced with threats from heaven (i wonder why) crowley also loves earth?? he talks about it all the time.

the last time there was an apocalypse, crowley was the one who proposed saving the world, and he had to talk aziraphale into it. and like...he was planning breakfast at the ritz, wasn't he? he didn't want to leave. obviously "you can't leave this bookshop" meant "you can't leave me," but it also LITTLE bit meant the bookshop, and earth.

the circumstances of s1 were very different than the end of s2. crowley only wanted to run in s1 when 1) the end was about 4 hours away, 2) from his POV he and aziraphale had no idea where the antichrist was, so they wouldn't be able to stop anything even if they did stay to die with the humans, 3) aziraphale was about to Talk To Heaven the same way crowley tried to before the Fall, 4) demons were actively pursuing him for purposes of torture and annihilation. and in the end, he STILL stayed.

idk. if we're going to give aziraphale the benefit of the doubt for the Many Things he said in that convo, then i think we can afford to give crowley the benefit of the doubt that "we need to get away from them" and "go off together" might mean something more along the lines of "please don't go back to heaven, stay with me, it can be the two of us against them all." THAT was what crowley's emotional arc this season was leading to, with the flashbacks and his big revelation in ep 5, the same way aziraphale's was leading to leaving. every single one of the flashbacks had crowley choosing to help someone else at great personal risk--why would that lead to the conclusion that he actually wants to leave without trying to help? (of course, he did want to abandon gabriel. but I don't think that was even a little bit irrational after aziraphale's failed execution. walking away from the heavenly host who has done nothing but hurt both of them is not the same as walking away from earth. it's still a problem--ignoring heaven and hell will not, ultimately, fix anything--but again, it's not the same as abandoning humanity on a whim.)

TL;DR I don't think it's a fair reading to say that crowley's proposed solution to The Heaven And Hell Problem is "fuck humanity, let's give up." i think he was proposing working together against heaven and hell with the option of an exit strategy if everything went wrong, which is what he ALWAYS tries to do. (see: arrangement + holy water.) his need for an escape route and his tendency to prepare for the worst is something that is definitely hindering him in, for example, his relationship with aziraphale, but it also makes sense. because, you know. the last time he tried doing anything about heaven he got his wings lit on fire. so.

#Good Omens 2 #Good Omens #Good Omens meta #ineffable husbands meta #Crowley meta #tags #lenaellsi

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nevereclipse · 3 days ago

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father figure

Pairing: Platonic!Tim Bradford x femme!rookie!reader

Requested Y/N: no this came from my own brain !!

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Use of y/n, yelling (standard TO Bradford style), domestic violence from a police perspective, light verbal sexual harrassment, mentioned vomitting, mentioned anxiety/nervousness, panic attacks, referenced/discussed past child abuse (emotional, with vague mentions of physical). Tim being a big ole softie (eventually).

Words: 5k+

Summary: How you went from being Tim Bradfords boot, to his unofficial kid.

this one got away from me a lot and has not been proofread!😭 enjoy! feedback is fuel.

----

“Officer Y/l/n, you’re assigned to Sergeant Bradford.” Sergeant Grey was standing at the front of roll call, having just asked you to introduce yourself to your new coworkers. It was your first day as a rookie at Mid-Wilshire, and your stomach was alive with nerves.

“Yes, sir.” You responded, sitting back in your chair.

“Alright everyone, you’re dismissed,” Grey continued, “Stay safe out there.”

Immediately, Sergeant Bradford was out of his seat and walking towards you, his face stony. You’d been warned about him by a… Officer Chen? You couldn’t really remember her name. Still, she’d warned you about his ‘Tim Tests’ and gruff demeanour. It wasn’t helping your nerves.

“Boot! Let’s go.” Bradford snapped, gesturing you over with a flick of two fingers. You smoothed your uniform and walked over. You forced a smile onto your face, wanting to make a good impression.

“Sir, I’m-,” you started.

“Save it, boot.” Sergeant Bradford cut you off. “You will address me as only Bradford, Sergeant Bradford or Sir. Is that understood?”

You nodded, the nerves settling comfortably in your stomach. Bradford was clearly not planning to calm your worries. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Go grab the warbags and meet me at the shop.” Bradford nodded his head vaguely in the direction of the supply room, and you hurried off to prepare the war bags. The last thing you needed was to make a bad impression on someone who was already making you nervous.

---

Tim watched you hurriedly walk to the war room to set up. As he watched you go, Angela Lopez approached.

“So, what do you think of the new blood?” Lopez asked, gesturing (albeit unnecessarily) behind you.

“Too soon to say.” Tim replied, crossing his arms as he turned to Angela.

“Come on, Bradford, you always know right away.” Angela pushed, nudging Tim’s side.

Tim couldn’t deny that. He had a knack for knowing whether someone would be a good fit for policework – it was why he was an excellent TO.

Still, he paused, considering. “She’s… eager.” He hedged. It was true, to a degree. You did seem eager. But he could tell there was something more bubbling under the surface.

“Uh huh.” Lopez grinned, “Don’t be a total dick today, yeah?”

Tim glanced over his shoulder just as you walked out of the storeroom carrying the war bags. “No promises.”

---

Office Chen had been right. Sergeant Bradford was extremely intimidating. You’d graduated third at the Academy, and you knew you were good (well, competent at least), but some part of you was still constantly second guessing. Maybe it was Bradford’s height and build, or his permanently pissed off energy but an hour into your shift and you were scared. Not of him (not really), but of what’d happen when you inevitably screwed up. You’d tried to chat initially, but it hadn’t gone down well.

“So. Why do you want to be a cop?” Bradford asked as he pulled off West Olympic.

After an hour of near-silence, since Bradford had firmly proclaimed that the shop was a personal-life-free zone, the question surprised you. “Is that a trick question?”

“No. If I’m going to train you, I need to know why you’re in this car.” Bradford didn’t even look at you as he drove, instead scanning the streets around you.

You looked out your window for a moment. It wasn’t exactly an easy question to answer. Not without revealing way more about yourself then you wanted to on your first shift. Then you wanted too ever, really. “Um.” You swallowed. “I know it’s… basic, but I want to help people.” You hedged. “People who don’t have anyone else to-.”

The shop screeched to a halt, and you were suddenly cut off by Bradford yelling: “I’VE BEEN SHOT! WHERE ARE YOU, BOOT?”

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuck- you didn’t know. “Um…” You looked around, trying desperately to find a street sign, or some clue as to where you were. After a few more seconds, you heard Bradford scoff.

“Now I’m dead. It’s your fault.” He didn’t even look mad. Just completed blank. That was almost more nerve racking.

“I-I’m sorry, sir,” You started, hating the way your voice shook.

“Not good enough, Boot!” Tim’s voice was loud and sharp, cutting through the silence of the shop. “Apologies don’t save lives, rookie. Get out.”

Your stomach dropped. “What?”

“I said get out and walk, boot. You can get back in when you know where you are.”

In that moment, you knew you’d ruined it. This had been your chance to be a cop, and less than two hours in, you’d already fucked it up. You got out of the shop, walking along side it. Hoping Bradford didn’t notice how your legs had shaken as you left. You wouldn’t let yourself be upset by this. Bradford was just doing his job, you were perfectly safe. From him, anyway.

Still, when you finally got back in the shop, you didn’t talk again. All your focus went towards scanning your surroundings.

---

Your legs had shaken when you got out of the car. It was subtle, but Tim had noticed it. Unbidden, a touch of guilt settled in his stomach. He honestly hadn’t meant to frighten you. It was just a Tim Test – he didn’t need (nor want) you to be scared. It was hardly conducive to training a good rookie.

What bothered him most, though, is your complete silence the rest of the day. You’d been annoying chatty the first twenty odd minutes of your shift (until Tim had, in traditional Bradford fashion, banned any sort of personal talk), but since getting back in the car, you’d stuck strictly to ‘yes, sir’s and ‘no, sir’s. It had been… unnerving.

Tim didn’t like changing his training style. After all, after half a dozen rookies, he liked to think that he’d perfected his TO methods. Everyone knew that he was an exceptional training officer. The only people he ever made exceptions for were veterans like him. But the thought of scaring you every time he yelled made his stomach drop in an unpleasant way. You’d been so eager when you’d first gotten in the shop – nervous, sure, but eager. And you were so, so young. You reminded him of himself in a way.

In the way you’d immediately changed he’d yelled, which even Tim could admit would’ve been… slightly scary. And that change had implications, ones Tim didn’t like. He especially didn’t like the implication of what that made him to you. A threat. So he’d never mention it, but he did quietly resolve to adjust – adjust, not change – the way he made sure you learnt what you needed too.

---

A few weeks into your training and Sergeant Bradford had significantly lowered on your rating of ‘scary people I know.’ While he was still harsh, and quick to criticise, he’d never shown you that cold, disappointment-infused yelling that he had on your first shift. It’d made it a lot easier for you to get comfortable around him, and you’d almost immediately started breaking the ‘no personal talk in the shop’ rule.

“Anyway, then she said that I was the one who needed to check my attitude. I mean can you believe that? Me? Having an attitude?” You said, watching your surroundings (you hadn’t forgotten your first Tim Test) as you rambled about some woman you’d run into grocery shopping.

At your comment, Bradford simply side-eyed you. He did that a lot, you were realising.

“Rude. That’s rude.” You said in response to the side eye. “It gets worse, though. She had the audacity-.”

Bradford held up a hand, cutting you off. “Boot.”

You turned, “Yes, sir?”

“Stop. Talking.”

You shut your mouth, but that was mostly to hold back a slight laugh. Bradfords hands were wrapped around the steering wheel, but they weren’t white like they were when you really needed to shut up. (You’d always been observant.)

“But this is the best part of the story.” You pressed.

“Boot, I swear to god-.” Before Bradford could issue whatever threat, he planned too, someone’s voice crackled over the radio.

“7-Adam-100, we have a domestic call at 4195 Clover Drive. Neighbours reported shouting.”

Tim’s face hardened. He glanced briefly at you, and you knew, even without a mirror, that your face had paled a shade. You’d been lucky so far to not have to deal with any DV calls. Guess that luck was over.

“7-Adam-100, show us responding, Code 6.”

Tim floored the breaks a little harder than he objectively needed too.

You could hear the yelling as soon as you pulled into Clover Drive. It was distinctly male, the words harsh and clear, and coming from a house halfway down the street.

It was an effort to clear your head.

“What’s the procedure for a domestic call, boot?” Asked Bradford as you switched off your sirens and approached the house.

You swallowed, “Um. Get inside the house to assess any damage. Separate the assumed predominant aggressor from the presumed victim or any children if possible. If there doesn’t appear to be violence, there isn’t much we can do, though.”

Bradford nodded tightly. “Good. I’ll take lead on this one.”

“Yes, sir.”

You knocked on the front door as Bradford called out, alerting the occupants to the polices presence. The yelling stopped immediately.

“Is there a problem, Officer?” Asked a man, probably in his forties. You and Bradford pushed your way into the house as you spoke with him. There was water spilt across the countertop, and a girl in her early teens standing in the kitchen. Her face was tear-streaked, but she appeared unharmed.

“We got reports of yelling from this area, sir.” Came Bradford’s voice from behind you. Your head was starting to spin as memories flooded back to you: late nights, angry words, the occasional smashed plate. Or worse.

You didn’t hear what the man (you assumed he was the girl father) said in response. The teen was watching you and Tim with wide eyes, shaking her head. She rubbed her wrist absentmindedly, and if you weren’t so stuck in your own head, you would’ve thought to ask to see if she was injured. You turned to her father and vaguely registered that he was wearing a wife beater under his button up. Ironic.

“Let’s go, boot.” Bradford snapped, beckoning you over. His jaw was set, and he obviously didn’t believe whatever the man had said. Your head felt like it was underwater as you walked out of the house, and your stomach turned. Memories flooded your head.

Bradford was grumbling under his breath, something about hating the laws around DV in California, when he noticed you stumble towards the bushes outlining the road.

“You good, boot?” He asked, frowning something.

You nodded frantically, “Mmhm… fine, si-.” The ‘sir’ was cut off by the sound of you throwing up in the bushes. You hadn’t eaten since breakfast, so nothing really came out, but still you dry heaved, clutching your stomach.

“Shit, Y/l/n, are you okay?” Instantly, Tim was at your side, one hand on your back. You nodded vaguely, gesturing for a drink of water. He almost ran to get it. When you could finally breathe, and had swallowed nearly half a litre of water, he asked,

“Jesus, boot, what the hell was that?”

“I’m fine.” You insisted, not wanting to get into some conversation about your past: Bradford wasn’t the understanding type. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Like hell it’s not.” Bradford snapped, guiding you back to the shop. His words were harsh, but his touch gentle. A strange combination, but one that left you feeling comforted. “Listen, boot, if you’ve got something that’s going to make you react to scenes like that, I need to know. Now.”

You shook your head frantically, refusing to open up. As much as you were starting to trust Bradford, you weren’t ready to give him that information. Not when he was the age he was, the build he was, holding so much authority over you

“It’s fine, sir. I swear. It won’t happen again.” You repeated, and you meant it. It wouldn’t happen again.

Tim surveyed you for a moment, watching the guarded expression in your eyes. It was one he recognised, having seen it in his reflection countless times after teachers asked about a suspicious bruise. It was for that reason he relented, though he fully intended to bring it up again. “Fine. But if have something you need to tell me… you can, kid.”

“Yes, sir.”

---

More time passed, and even though you still refused to open about your childhood to Tim (how do you even have that conversation?), you were starting to rely on him.

It was inevitable, you supposed. Unrequited, but inevitable. After all, he was in his mid-forties, an authority figure, admittedly a bit of a dick, but you were gradually (ever so gradually) starting to see a slightly gentler side of him. So of course you looked up to him. You had daddy issues, okay?

It wasn’t a crush. You knew that for sure. You’d half expected it to be, but it wasn’t. Instead, it was a healthy dose of admiration, paired with a slightly-less-healthy dose of please god be proud of me. But that was fine. It was entirely reasonable given he was your TO. You hoped.

---

“You’re under arrest for attempted grand theft auto and possession of illicit substances,” you said, hooking handcuffs around some criminal’s wrists. He’d been a pain in the ass to catch, and you could already feel a bruise blooming across your jaw from his escape attempts. Bradford had, predictably, been unhelpful in the arrest, instead opting to analyse your fighting technique as you’d taken the crook down. He’d even cracked a rare ‘good job’ smile as you’d put the cuffs on.

You pushed the perp against your shop, already halfway through the Miranda Rights: “You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand these rights?”

The thief mumbled slightly, and you nodded to Tim to take him off your hands. The second your hands were off him, however, he started complaining. Loudly.

“Aw, come on man. If you’re gonna arrest me, at least let the lady cop throw me ‘round.” He said, looking over his shoulder to grin at you. You scrunched your nose. It wasn’t the first time a suspect had hit on you, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

“Nothin’? Dude, you gotta… I ain’t going to jail without gettin’ to feel some sweet lady cop ti-! Ow! The hell was that for?”

Tim scowled, hitting the suspect over the back of the head a second time for good measure (or something). “Get your eyes off Officer Y/l/n. You’re not fit to look at her.” He shoved the perp into your shop, rougher than was strictly necessary, and you couldn’t help the slight smile that crept onto your face.

“Really?” You asked, slipping into the shop’s passenger seat.

“What? You got a problem, boot?” Tim said, his voice flat. You just chuckled and shook your head.

“No problem, sir.”

---

The silence in the shop was unbearable. It was almost lunch, and you’d scarcely said a word all day. You were preoccupied replaying your conversation with your parents from the night before over and over in your head, trying to figure out how them coming over for dinner had dissolved into fighting so quickly.

“You good, boot?” Tim asked after a particularly long stretch of quiet. “Usually I can’t get you to shut up, but you’ve barely said a word today.”

You nodded quickly, forcing yourself to focus. “I’m fine, sir. Sorry. Just tired. Besides, not personal talk in the shop, right?”

“When have you ever followed that rule? You sure you’re good, boot? Because if something’s going on that’ll affect your performance, I need to know.”

“Nothing’s going on. Sir.” You knew the words sounded thin, but what were you going to do? Complain about your parents?

Tim glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. “Uh-huh. In that case, what colour was the Lexus we just passed?”

Shit. You hadn’t been paying attention to your surroundings, too lost in your own thoughts. “Uh… silver?”

Another side eye, this one harsher than the last. “There was no Lexus. It was a Camry. And for the record, boot, it was blue.”

“I…” You didn’t really have a defence.

“Seriously, kid. What is going on?”

“Nothing.” You said, and you had to admit, you sounded like a kid. “I just. Had my parents over last night, and it didn’t… go great.”

Instantly, Tim was on edge. He wasn’t proud of the reaction, of the way his stomach instinctively dropped. He knew, he knew, that his version of ‘it didn’t go great’ with family wasn’t the same as most people’s. But this was you. You who’d thrown up at your first DV call, even without any violence. You who’d completely shut down after being yelled at.

Which is why he couldn’t help the immediate questions if: “Are you hurt?”

You tensed. Why would he ask that? “No,” you replied, “I’m not hurt.” It was true, technically. You hadn’t been hit since you were fifteen. And even then, it’d been rare.

Tim’s eyes flicked over you, trying to find a lie. “What happened?” He asked, and his voice had a weird gentleness that made you feel... strange.

You swallowed. Shrugged. “My parents came over for dinner. I did something, I don’t really know what, ‘n pissed my father off.” Your explanation was purposeful vague, but you could help but add: “He broke my favourite mug, which really pissed me off. It’s my apartment, you know? He’s not supposed to be able to break my shit anymore.” A long pause, your father’s furious insults running through your head. “He didn’t like it when I told him that.”

Tim nodded slightly, knowing exactly what you were suggesting. “He insult you?”

“Nothing I haven’t heard before.” Despite your cool delivery, the words stung. You looked away, out the window, feeling tears prick at your eyes. You didn’t like talking about this, especially not with Tim. Just because you viewed him as... something, didn’t mean he thought of you ask anything more than a rookie he had to train. A burden.

“I’m sorry, kid.” Tim said, assessing you carefully. “I know what that feels like.”

“You do?” You looked at Tim, curious, and instantly regretted it. The tears welling in your eyes were all too obvious now.

“Yeah. My dad was like that too. I got slapped around my fair share.” Tim’s words were clipped. He clearly also wasn’t fond of talking about his childhood.

“Oh.” What else could you say?

“Listen, boot. I know it’s rough. And you don’t deserve it. But you’re not whatever he says you are, okay?”

You sniffled, hastily wiping your eyes. “Yeah. I know.”

Tim nodded tersely. “Good.” There was a small moment, where Tim placed a hand on your shoulder, and you felt like things might actually be okay. Like you might actually have someone. Then, “Come on, boot. We’ve got six hours of shift left. You gonna focus now?”

---

Tim kept an eye on you the rest of the day. He’d known there was a bit of him in you, but the parallels between your childhoods made his heart crack.

He could see the countless untold stories behind your eyes, ones he’d undoubtedly heard before. And the way you’d tensed when he asked if you were hurt... you hadn’t been hit last night, but you had been before.

He really had tried to not get attached.

And look. He knew you looked up to him. He’d seen the way you preened at praise, the shaky look over to him after making a decision, waiting for his nod of approval, regardless of how confident you were in the decision. He’d tried not to encourage it – limiting praise, refusing to approve your decisions unless you did first. It wasn’t good for a rookie to get that attached to their TO, not when they were only partners for a year. It was especially not good for them to view them as some sort of parental figure. More importantly, Tim Bradford didn’t get attached to his boots.

But goddammit it. The look in your eyes when he’d told you about his dad? It made him abandon all the principles he thought he held so strongly. He’d always wanted a kid, after all.

---

“Does anyone know what day it is today?” Sergeant Grey asked from the front of the roll call room.

You groaned internally. Of course he had to announce it to the whole it room.

A few rows behind you, Officer Chen perked up, grinning, you were sure, at Bradford.

“The day Officer Y/l/n takes her six month exam.” She said.

Cheers and whistles filled the room and you almost buried your head in your hands.

“Boot!” Tim called out. You turned to look at him. “I’ll take it as a personal insult if you don’t get more than a 93 on this exam.”

Great. Like you weren’t stressed enough about the exam already. “Yes, sir.”

As Grey tried to calm the room down, you swallowed, focusing on calming your breathing. You knew what you were doing. You just had to not disappoint Tim. Not forget everything. Not be a total fucking failure.

No pressure, right?

---

Three days later, and you were back in roll call. Grey had written three numbers on the white board. An 84. A 91. And a 95. Your stomach dropped at the sight of the 91 and the 84. Of course you’d failed. Of course. Why hadn’t you worked harder? You’d been a straight A student in high school, and university, why was this different?

“Can anyone guess which of these belongs to Officer Y/l/n?” Grey asked the room. Various answers were shouted out, most leaning towards the 95, until Grey cut them off and said: “The 91. Good work, Officer.”

You could only nod, your head already pounding. You’d failed. Not really, not truly, but enough. And Tim. What would he do?

You didn’t notice everyone leave the room. Didn’t notice Tim approach you, not until he was practically having to shout in your face.

“Boot? Boot! Y/l/n!” The sound of your name, paired with Tim waving a hand in your face, snapped you back to reality.

“Yes, sir?” Your voice had an almost unnoticeable tension to it. A shake. Please, please don’t be mad.

“Let’s go, boot. Why aren’t you getting the war bags?” Tim asked, completely ignoring your test results.

Completely ignoring your test results? What? Why wasn’t he yelling, reaming you out for disappointing him? He’d been very clear with his expectations and he’d never been one to let you down gently if you did something wrong.

“Sir?” You asked, confused.

“What is it, boot?” Tim asked, exasperated. You should’ve been on the road by now. Wait, where you okay...? Your eyes were wide. Almost afraid.

“Why aren’t you mad?”

“What? Why would I be mad-..? Oh.” Tim looked down at you, his face softening as he recalled what he’d said before your test. What you’d told him about your past. “About your test? No, kid, I’m not mad. I was screwing with you when I said you needed to get a 93. A 91 is an excellent result, boot “

“Oh.” You said quietly, looking away sheepishly. Of course he wasn’t mad. This was Tim.

Tim looked at you like you were an idiot, but somehow, you didn’t feel stupid or insulted. “Yeah, oh. You’re not a disappointment, kid. Not to me. Now hurry up and get the war bags sorted.” Tim clapped you on the shoulder as he sent you on your way, and you couldn’t help but think that this was what a father was supposed to be like.

---

“Red or black?” You asked Tim during one shift a month or so later. It was a random question, but you wanted his opinion.

Tim glanced at you. “As concepts, or…?”

“As dress colours.” You elaborated, before hesitantly adding, “I have a date.”

The shop skidded to a stop. “Woah, woah. You have a date? When? With who?” Tim was turning instantly, all his attention on you.

You bit back a laugh. “Tonight. With a boy. Jacob. And I don’t know what to wear.”

Tim frowned. “Where did you meet this ‘Jacob?’” He couldn’t help the protective instinct. The last time one of his rookies went on a date, she got kidnapped. And you weren’t Lucy (he wasn’t in love with you) but he did… care.

“At a bookshop. Calm your farm, Bradford. It’s one date. You really pulling the protective dad card right now?” You smirked, watching the slight red colour Tim’s face.

“I- no. I’m not pulling a card, boot. I’m just… curious.” Tim spluttered, not wanting to admit that he was definitely acting like a protective dad.

“Uh huh. He’s a good guy, Sarge. He’s funny, and sweet, and I actually like him.” You said, as if the concept of actually liking a guy was foreign. It had admittedly been a while since you went on a date. “So, red or black?” You repeated, crossing your arms. Your cheeks were the tiniest bit pink.

Tim glared from the corner of his eye. “Black.”

“Thank you.”

In signature Bradford fashion, Tim huffed and simply said, “For the record, I still don’t like this whole ‘date’ thing, boot.”

---

The date was a success. So much of a success, in fact, that three dates later, Jacob came to pick you up after work the next day. It was adorable, and he showed up with fresh flowers and a planned date, and it would’ve been perfect, if you hadn’t been leaving the station with Officer Bradford.

The same Bradford who’d been demanding more information about “this Jacob person” ever since you’d first mentioned a date.

So, while you were excited about the date, you weren’t thrilled at seeing Jacob stand in front of you, levelled by one of Tim’s many practiced glares.

“Who are you?” Tim asked, crossing his arms. He knew exactly who he was.

“I’m Jacob…?” Your boyfriend said hesitantly, trying to figure out why the man in front of him was staring at him so intimidatingly.

You winced and jumped in quickly. “Jake, this is Tim. My TO?”

Recognition clicked quickly in Jacob’s eyes. He instantly stuck out a hand to Tim, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Uh huh.” Tim raked his eyes over Jacobs outstretched hand, but didn’t shake it. “You got a last name, Jacob?”

“Anderson.” Jacob supplied immediately, lips twitching faintly in amusement.

“What do you do, Anderson? If you say screenwriter, you’re going in a cell.”

Jacob chuckled. “I’m a teacher, sir.” Tim didn’t look impressed, but he didn’t look totally disgusted either. Which, to you, was a win.

“Is this the part where you tell me not to hurt Y/n?” Jacob asked with a barely contained grin.

Tim glowered. “Yes. In fact, consider this your one and only warning. Hurt her, and I’ll find a way to make you spend the rest of your life in a cell.” Tim crossed his arms over his chest, and God you were glad he’d never given you that look before.

Pitying your partner, you jumped in and placed yourself between the two most important men in your life. “Oookay, Bradford, chill. We’re going to go now. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay, sir?”

“Uh-huh. See you tomorrow, Boot.” Tim’s words came out tense, and he didn’t take his eyes off you until you were well out of the carpark.

---

The day had arrived. You’d officially been a police officer for an entire year. You weren’t a rookie anymore.

It was everything you’d dreamed of it being.

“Finally, congratulations to Officer Y/l/n for completing the FTO program and surviving her rookie year. Welcome, officially, to the team, Y/l/n.” Grey walked over to you, shaking your hand proudly. “Good work, kid.”

“Thank you, sir.” You beamed, returning the handshake. Grey dismissed the rest of roll call, and you walked out of the room. You could barely make it a few steps without someone grabbing you, hugging you or congratulating you in some way. You’d never been happier.

You reached the edge of the room and were met with Sergeant Bradford, a rare smile on his face.

“Congratulations, Y/l/n.” He said, reaching out a hand.

“Don’t even try.” You said, knocking his hand out of the way and pulling him into a hug. It was unprofessional, you knew, but you couldn’t help it. Aside from your boyfriend, Tim had managed to become one of the most important people in your life over the past year.

Tim froze for a moment, but gently returned the hug, patting your back a couple times. You thought you heard Harper snicker from across the room. You definitely heard Lucy say the word ‘Dadford.’ She wasn’t… entirely wrong. You had found a father in Tim. Maybe one day he’d even admit it – in actual words, not just actions. You still laughed every time you thought about his interrogation of Jacob when they’d first met.

You pulled back and only then did you shake Tim’s hand. “Thank you, sir. For everything.”

Tim nodded, the smile lines by his eyes crinkling. “You’re welcome… Y/n. I’m proud of you, kid.”

You smiled softly and forced yourself to only say, “Have a good shift… Tim,” before hurrying away. But as you got into your shop (your shop, for the first time), you didn’t stop a few happy tears from falling.

---

You were nervous. It was your second time riding with Tim since graduating the FTO program and you were nervous. It had nothing to do with riding with Tim, however, and everything to do with what you were going to ask him.

“Tim?” You asked, hesitant.

“Yeah, Y/l/n?”

“I have to tell you something.” You fiddled with your left hand nervously, already missing the weight on your finger.

Instantly, Tim was softening and frowning, “Are you okay, kid?”

“Yes! Yeah, I’m okay.” This time you actually meant it. “I have news, though.”

“Oh?” Tim turned to you for a second, before looking back at the road. “What is it?”

You swallowed, and then, “Jacob asked me to marry him. I said yes.”

Tim had finally come around to Jacob a few months ago. Little did you know, but Jacob had actually asked Tim’s permission before proposing. You’d told him once about how you wished you had a father that you still spoke to, just for that reason. Jacob had known Tim was the next best thing.

Tim smiled widely, “Congratulations, Y/n. I’ll be expecting an invite to the wedding.”

“Actually, I wanted to ask you about that.” This was where the nervousness was coming in. You were pretty sure the butterflies in your stomach had reached your lungs too.

“What is it?” Tim tilted his head slightly.

“Will you walk me down the aisle?” Tim froze, shocked. You quickly rambled on, as you so often did when nervous, “You don’t have to, I just-.. I don’t talk to my bio dad, and you’re the closest thing I have to a father, and it would mean a lot to me, and-.”

“Relax, Y/l/n,” Tim cut you off with a smile. “I would be honoured to walk you down the aisle.”

The smile on your face then was the third biggest you’d ever smiled. The first had been when you’d graduated the FTO program, and the second when Jacob had proposed. But this… this was an entirely different feeling. This was the feeling of your whole life, finally working out. You had a career, a fiancé, and now, a father. A real one, who never insulted you or made you feel worthless.

What more could you ask for?

fin

!! DO NOT REPUBLISH OR FEED TO AI !!

#never rambles #tim bradford #the rookie #rookieposting #tim bradford x reader #lucy chen #angela lopez #nyla harper #wade gray #tim bradford x daughter!reader #platonic tim bradford x reader #never writes

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dwobbitfromtheshire · 3 days ago

Text

They had won, Eddie had lived, and Max didn't succumb to Vecna's wrath. Thanks to Robin, Steve, and Nancy, Henry Creel had perished in the Upside Down. Convincing the town of Eddie's innocence was a lot harder than clearing him of all charges, so the Munsons had stayed in Indianapolis until their new house was ready and until things settled down in Hawkins. A couple of months passed, and the Munsons were ready to move in. Dustin was allowed to help as long as Claudia went with him. Claudia had been a bit overprotective since Jason's goons had threatened Dustin. He didn't mind. It was the perfect opportunity for his mother to finally meet Wayne and Eddie. Dustin burst through the front door of their new house.

"Dusty! You should have knocked! You never knock!" Claudia scolded.

Eddie popped up from behind a box with a manic grin.

"Henderson!" Eddie exclaimed and tried to jump over a box, but he tripped, falling on his face. "Goddamnit!"

Dustin laughed and helped Eddie up off the floor before pulling him into a hug.

"I'm so sorry about my son," Claudia said to Wayne, who came out of the kitchen.

"I'm used to it. Eddie doesn't know how to knock either," Wayne said.

"Dude, your house is amazing," Dustin said.

"Way better than the trailer," Eddie said. "Wayne has his own room!"

"I brought muffins," Claudia said, holding out the basket. "It was between this or the houseplant, but I figured growing the houseplant would have taken longer, and it wouldn't have tasted as good."

"I suppose it wouldn't have," Wayne said in amusement. "Kitchen's this way."

Claudia followed Wayne into the kitchen. It was an open concept so you could see the kitchen from the living room. Claudia looked around the room, smiling as she tried not to stare at Wayne Munson and his pretty blue eyes. He was trying not to look at her either.

"It's a nice kitchen," Claudia said.

"Thank you, and thank you for the muffins. We really appreciate you coming to help us unload, Mrs. Henderson," Wayne said.

"Please, call me Claudia," she said, blushing.

"And you can - you can call me, uh - shit. Wayne, you can call me Wayne. Oh, I tend to lose my marbles around a pretty woman," Wayne blushed.

Claudia's face turned red as she giggled and touched his arm.

"Uh. . .what's happening? Is your uncle flirting with my mother?" Dustin asked, hitting Eddie's arm. "Eddie, your uncle is hitting on my mother."

"Yes, Henderson, I have eyes and ears," Eddie rolled his eyes.

"Eddie, do you know what this means?" Dustin asked.

"That I'm not blind and deaf," Eddie said.

"No, it means that if this works out," Dustin whispered. "We'll be family. . .officially!"

"Holy shit," Eddie whispered with wide eyes.

"Oh," Claudia said flustered as she continued to touch Wayne's arm. "Do you work out?"

"Oh, come on, mom, you can do better than that," Dustin muttered.

"Well, no, not really," Wayne said.

"Well, your arm feels very strong," Claudia giggled.

"Oh, well, thank you," Wayne said blushing.

"Ha," Eddie laughed quietly. "He's falling for it."

"You know, I don't know much about baking, but these are definitely the best muffins in the world," Wayne said as he ate one.

"I'm glad you like my muffin," Claudia said.

Eddie and Dustin gagged as Wayne nearly choked on said muffin.

"Your mother definitely knew what she was doing when she said that," Eddie said.

"She did not," Dustin hissed.

Claudia patted Wayne's back and got him some milk to wash it down.

"You boys want a muffin?" Claudia asked.

"Okay, so maybe she didn't," Eddie frowned and laughed at his uncle's red face. "Wayne's mind definitely went there. . .No, thank you, Mrs. H!"

"I'm never eating a muffin again," Dustin said.

"Those muffins definitely belong to Wayne now," Eddie whispered to Dustin and then cackled.

"So, are we getting to work, or are we building a fort out of these boxes?" Dustin asked, and Eddie grinned.

"You know, Wayne, if you did want to learn how to bake, I would be glad to show you how," Claudia said.

"Well, that sounds great. . .I'd return the favor if you don't know anything about gardening," Wayne said.

"I know absolutely nothing," Claudia smiled.

While Wayne and Claudia were busy flirting with each other, Eddie and Dustin got busy goofing off. Eventually, though, the Hendersons remembered the reason they were there and got to work. Over the next few weeks, the Hendersons continued to help the Munsons settle in, with Claudia and Wayne calling each other every chance they got.

"They're on the phone again!" Dustin whispered into his walkie.

"Yeah, I know this, Henderson. Did you forget I live with the man?" Eddie asked.

"They're making progress!" Dustin grinned.

"Not enough. Why doesn't he just ask her out already?" Eddie complained.

"I could ask you the same thing about a certain someone," Dustin said.

"I wish I never told you!" Eddie hissed. "Say nothing. . .they could be listening."

"I wasn't going to say anything," Dustin rolled his eyes.

"And you know why I'm so nervous," Eddie sighed. "This is a lot more complicated."

"I wish it wasn't," Dustin frowned.

"Yeah," Eddie sighed and then changed his tone. "I got that new comic book!"

"No!" Dustin exclaimed gleefully.

"I'll come over. . .or rather we'll both come over to show you the comic book. I think my uncle's been looking for an excuse to see your mother," Eddie said.

The radio crackled, and Steve's voice came through.

"Hold on. . .why didn't you tell me that Claudia and Wayne are interested in each other?" Steve asked.

"Because, Steven, you don't have to know everything," Eddie said affectionately.

"Have you been listening, Steve?" Dustin asked.

"There's nothing on television," Steve said. "I'm bored, and I'm home alone."

There was another crackle on the other end of the walkie, and what sounded like a crash.

"Eddie?" Dustin asked, but he got no response. "Yeah. I think he really had to piss."

"So, tell me about this girl that Eddie likes," Steve said bitterly.

"Oh! Would you look at that?! My mom's calling me! Gotta go!" Dustin yelled. "Over!"

A week later, Eddie and Dustin were spying from behind a wall into Dustin's kitchen. Claudia was giggling as she was showing Wayne how to bake. Well, it was more like they were trying to see who could put more flour on each other's faces.

"They're so fucking adorable," Eddie whispered.

"I'm going to get my Polaroid," Dustin said.

Dustin quickly hurried to his room, grabbed the camera, and rushed back to Eddie, who was now holding Tews in his arms. He took a picture of Claudia putting flour on Wayne's nose. The sound of the camera startled Tews, and Eddie shrieked as the cat flipped out in his arms. He scratched Eddie and jumped down before running into the living room.

"Boys, what's going on in there?" Wayne asked.

"Nothing!" They yelled.

Dustin grabbed the photo and scrambled with Eddie to sit down on the couch. They held the comic book open upside down just as Wayne and Claudia entered the living room. Dustin and Eddie smiled innocently at them.

"Eddie, your cheek is bleeding, son," Wayne said.

"It does that," Eddie said, shrugging.

"Right," Wayne said and raised an eyebrow at the comic book.

"You better not be doing any experiments, Dusty," Claudia said. "Not tonight."

"I would never interrupt your evening with Wayne, mom," Dustin grinned.

"I swear, Uncle Wayne, we're being good," Eddie said.

It wasn't until a whole month later, right when Eddie and Dustin had started talking about pulling a parent trap, that their parents announced they were going on a date. Wayne insisted on dropping Eddie off at the Hendersons when he went to pick up Claudia for their date.

"We both still feel a little iffy about leaving you alone," Wayne sighed. "Not that we don't trust you or anything. . .well, you know how it is."

"Can you blame us?" Claudia asked as they stood in the living room, looking at the boys.

"Not at all, Mrs. H," Eddie said and kissed her cheek. "Have fun, you two, and be safe. By safe, I mean - ,"

"Eddie," Wayne gently scolded.

"What? You know how to bake now. . .you might end up putting a bun in that oven," Eddie grinned.

"Hush, you," Claudia giggled and slapped his chest. "Your uncle and I talked about it. . .we'd decided we would be more comfortable if you boys had a sitter."

"You just said you trusted us!" Dustin exclaimed.

"I am a big boy, Uncle Wayne!" Eddie shrieked. "I do not need a sitter! Him, on the other hand!"

"Hey!"

"You'll thank us later," Wayne said in amusement.

"I will not!" Eddie yelled.

They walked out the door, and Eddie slammed the door behind them with a pout. Eddie leaned against the door and crossed his arms. He smiled softly, shaking his head.

"What?" Dustin asked.

"It's nice having two parents and a little brother," Eddie said. "If they make us get bunk beds, I call top."

"Settle down, it's only their first date and by the time - Oh, shit, the babysitter is here!" Dustin yelled, his face pressed to the window.

Eddie shoved Dustin aside with his elbow and ignored Dustin's cry of protest.

"Those motherfuckers really - ,"

"It's Steve!" Dustin exclaimed.

"Okay. . .I changed my mind, I definitely need a babysitter, and I want that one. That one right there," Eddie said, his face pressed to the glass as well as his finger.

"Please, Eddie, act a little more desperate," Dustin said sarcastically.

"I take it back. I hate having a little brother," Eddie said.

They watched as Steve talked with Wayne and Claudia just as they were about to leave. The three of them were laughing about something Wayne and Claudia had said.

"What did they say?!" Dustin asked.

Steve hugged Claudia and shook Wayne's hand. Wayne opened the car door for Claudia and got into the truck. Steve waved them off and turned to face the house. He looked in their direction in confusion and then waved his hand at them.

"Can he see us?!" Eddie yelped.

"Yes, Eddie, because it's a window, not a two-way mirror," Dustin said. "Wow, I know love can make you stupid sometimes, but I didn't think it would make you this stupid."

"Ha! Ha! HA! You're so funny, butthead," Eddie said. "NOT!"

Eddie jumped away from the window as though he had been burned. He started fixing his hair and smelling his breath.

"Oh my god, this is hilarious," Dustin grinned.

"How's my hair?" Eddie asked.

"Awful," Dustin giggled and Eddie flipped him off.

"I should have picked a better outfit - wait, I don't care what I'm wearing. . .unless. . .does Steve care what I'm wearing?" Eddie asked himself.

The sounds of footsteps come closer to the door. Eddie squeaked and ran off towards the bathroom.

"Why are you being so weird?!" Dustin asked as he followed him and spoke through the door. "You've been around Steve before. . .unless, are you planning on telling him?!"

"Yes!" Eddie yelled. "Shut up, let me think! I didn't plan on it being tonight!"

They heard the front door opening and closing.

"Hello?!" Steve called out. "Aw, hey, Tews, at least somebody wanted to come see me."

Suddenly, the door burst open, and Eddie came stumbling out. He gently pushed past Dustin and fell into the living room. Eddie got up and straightened his clothes.

"Hey, Steve," Eddie said casually.

"Hey, Eddie," Steve said smiling, his hazel eyes twinkling in amusement. "What were you guys up to?"

"Uh, I was showing him something," Dustin said quickly.

"In the bathroom?" Steve asked.

"Uh. . .I had a rash. . .on my butt!" Dustin yelled out quickly.

"And why didn't you show it to your mother before she left?" Steve asked.

"I'm an expert on rashes!" Eddie yelled out without thinking about it.

"Isn't Claudia a nurse?" He asked.

"You know what, Steve?" Dustin asked, his hands on his hips. "That is an excellent point. . .something that I did not think about."

"Okay, your mother and uncle told me not to let you guys have sugar, did you already have some?" Steve asked.

"Hey, how about we watch a movie?" Dustin suggested.

"Yeah, okay," Steve said, shrugging.

Dustin put in a videotape and scurried off to make popcorn, turning the lights off on the way out. He came back in a few minutes later with sodas for them and a bowl of popcorn. He hurried back into the kitchen to get his own snack, telling them to start without him. He had seen it before. Eddie and Steve sat on the couch with Tews still on Steve’s lap.

"So, they really didn't ask you to babysit us, did they?" Eddie asked.

"What?! No. . .is that what they said?" Steve asked and Eddie nodded. "That's hilarious."

"I was nervous. . .earlier," Eddie said. "I've been trying to figure how to tell my crush that I like them but I didn't know how."

"Oh. . .well, they'd be crazy not to like you," Steve said.

"Hm. . .tell that to the rest of Hawkins who still think I'm a murderer," Eddie said.

"Oh, I constantly tell them that they're crazy," Steve said seriously.

Eddie blushed and turned back to the movie. They fell into a comfortable silence. Eddie yawned and stretched his arms behind Steve’s head. He placed his arm cautiously around Steve’s shoulders. Steve looked at Eddie, his eyes widened in realization. Steve pointed to himself with a questioning look.

"Yeah, big boy, I was talking about you," Eddie smirked.

Steve blushed. He snuggled into Eddie's hold, scooting down to rest his head on his shoulder. Eddie rested his cheek against the top of Steve’s head, and they watched the rest of the movie wrapped up in each other's arms. When they finished the movie, they realized something was missing.

"Dustin never came back from the kitchen," Steve said.

"Yeah, you're right," Eddie frowned.

They walked into the kitchen and found Dustin fast asleep at the table. His hat was crooked, his mouth open as he drooled on his hand. The popcorn bowl was empty, and there was a magazine open in front of him. Eddie and Steve smiled at each other softly.

"He's such a butthead," Steve said affectionately.

"You gotta love him, though," Eddie said, flashing his dimples.

"We should put him to bed," Steve said.

Steve and Eddie tried everything to wake that boy up, but he was out like a light. They got him partially awake, though. It was enough to pull him out of the chair and push him towards his room. Steve cleaned his mouth and hands first before pushing him into the bed. Eddie took off his hat shoes so Steve could tuck him into bed. Tews meowed and hopped onto the bed, snuggling up next to Dustin. Eddie stood with his hands on his hips, exhaling loudly.

"Let's give it five or ten years before you try getting me pregnant, honey," Eddie said and patted Steve’s shoulder. "I'm already exhausted."

"Eddie, we can't - ,"

"You have your fantasy, and I have mine," Eddie said. "And I can say that now. . .so let's just imagine this: the baby was put down, and now Daddies can have their free time to make out on the couch."

"Hm, I like that," Steve grinned.

Eddie guided him into the living room and pushed him onto the couch. He crawled on top of Steve, his nose brushing up against Steve’s nose. Steve pulled back a little bit, blushing.

"What?" Eddie asked.

"I was super jealous as hell by the way when I thought you had a crush on someone else," Steve replied.

"I know, that's why I decided to tell you. You were super obvious, even to me, babe," Eddie cackled.

"Asshole," Steve laughed.

Eddie crashed his lips to Steve's. He wrapped his arms around Eddie, pulling him completely on top of him as he eagerly returned the kiss. They hadn't been kissing for very long when they heard the sound of a truck pulling up. Steve and Eddie broke apart quickly. There were doors opening, and then they heard the sound of Claudia Henderson's loud laughter. Steve and Eddie grinned before going to the window. Claudia was pushing Wayne up against the truck, and then she was kissing him.

"Looks like they had the same idea," Eddie grinned.

"It's sweet. I'm glad they found each other," Steve said.

Eddie looked at Steve, his heart beating rapidly at the sight of him.

"Yeah. . .we all do," Eddie said.

They sat back quickly down on the couch as Claudia and Wayne started walking up to the door. Just as they were about to come in, Eddie realized that Claudia and Wayne had definitely worked together to set them up. Eddie let out a bark of laughter. They fucking won.

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lilimaginebean · 2 days ago

Text

five days - 五日

synopsis: in which Kaiser fell in love with his tattoo artist or in which Kaiser had five appointments to convince you to have a date with him.

note: i needed to rewrite this part three times, since it didn’t convinced me.

prev | next

🥀 Day 1

"Are you sure you can do this? You seem pretty young to be doing tattoos," you gave Kaiser the deadliest look, making him giggle like a teenage girl trying to attract the attention of the person who likes her.

You decided to continue with all the preparations, ignoring this pertinent question. Kaiser was a bitch, from now on you would have to ask him more formally, or he would find a way to give it back to you.

"For your information, I'm only a year older. However, I'm old enough for you to show me some respect, spoilt brat," you said in a funny tone.

"Whatever you want, Liebling," he replied, staring at you, hypnotised by the way you worked on his tattoo with such grace and precision.

That famous Monday at 4PM, Kaiser, being the good German that he was, arrived at the studio five minutes early. His excuse was that he had a lot to do and the sooner you could do it the better, his truth was that he wanted to see you again as soon as possible.

Kaiser wasn't the type to think about relationships, he always had better things to worry about. But now that he was considered a German wunderkind, he lived a quiet life, waiting for a good offer from a famous and prestigious club. He would wake up, take a shower, look in the mirror and go to training. Then he would have a meal, time to relax and personal training.

He practically had a life now that he couldn't have dreamed of a few years ago, and even though he wasn't on the best of terms with his teammates, they could still make small talk. Being the teenagers they were, the subject of romantic relationships always came up, and as always, Kaiser just kept quiet, having little experience in that area. Good for him, he never worried about it, he knew he would know when the time came.

But he never expected it to happened when he walked into the tattoo studio which was the closest to his apartment. When he saw you, he didn’t find you relevant at all. However, the way you looked at him and answered him in such a witty tone made him realise that you could be his potential partner.

He had just 5 appointments to see if you could be someone he could see his future with, or if it was just something he made up in his head. The requirements were: pretty, smart and someone who could love him.

Kaiser stared at you, the way you frowned and the way you stuck out your tongue to concentrate. You were pretty, not in the way that makes people turn around the first time they see you. You were pretty in a way that the more he saw you, the more he was captivated. So yes, he was sure you had ticked the first box. Now he had to tick the other two boxes.

"Have you ever read Freud?" Kaiser asked directly, without beating around the bush. You stared at him, blinked twice in surprise at the question.

"Mhm... kinda, I guess you are a Freud fan," you said indifferently and went on with your work.

"Oh, not a fan of Freud because you're not smart enough to read him, Liebling?" he said, trying to embarrass you. You chuckled in reply.

"You wish, it's just not my type of writer. I'm more into depressed writers," you confessed, staring at him for his reaction, "What can I say? I am a masochist"

Kaiser leaned closer.

"Well, I highly recommend you read more about Freud, he is the father of psychoanalysis," he said, still staring at you. You looked at him for a moment before continuing with the tattoo.

“I know, I read Freud’s book The interpretation of dreams. However, I don’t know, he doesn’t convinced me as a writer” you admitted while shrugging your shoulders “But hey, at least he always kept things psych-edelic” you laughed at your own pun

Kaiser skipped a heartbeat. Did you just make such a bad pun? He was disgusted by such a lame joke, but he was even more disgusted that he laughed with you.

"Okay, we just finished the first session. Opinions?" you said as you started to tidy up and get everything ready for the next client.

Kaiser just stared at his hand, satisfied with how everything was going. Not just with the tattoo, but with you.

"Pretty great, but I might have a couple of suggestions," Kaiser said, just to have a bit of fun with you.

“Shoot” you arched an eyebrow, curious

He stood up and looked at you, sure of one thing.

“You should totally go out with me”

#blue lock #bllk #bllk imagines #bllk x you #bllk x reader #michael kaiser #michael kaiser x reader #michael kaiser x you #michael kaiser x y/n #bluelock

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jazziejax · 2 days ago

Text

𝐀 𝐍𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐫𝐲

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Dev-Em x Black!OC

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - 𝐔𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐡 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐜��𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐮𝐩𝐬, 𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - flirting, mentions of sex, unknown world confusion, slight jealousy, and I tried to make this a slow burn but I might be a little fast with the way I’m going, idk

𝐉𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 - I know it’s been a minute, I KNOW YOU WANT A BAD BOYS UPDATE, but I’m collecting more so I can release two at a time. Plus, I’m lowkey in a Snowfall moment right now and trying my best in to write for Franklin Saint/Damson Idris because once I’m in the mindset of the drug game, it’s hard to get out of. (I’m so dramatic 🙄) Imagine Leroy and Giorgio who you want, i had Danny Glover and Joey Bada$$ in mind. UNEDITED, sorry for any spelling errors and grimmer issues, I don’t like re-reading my own work :(

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 8,096+

“So, we need to get some sort of story in order before we see Uncle Leroy.” She said, her flyaways blowing within the wind.

The golden sunlight of Louisiana filtered through the dense canopy of oak trees draped in Spanish moss, casting dappled shadows on the winding dirt road. Magnolia had one hand on the steering wheel of her old pickup truck, the other tapping nervously on the door of the open window. The ride was silent the majority of the time it took them to get to Leroy’s. Dev’s eyes were trained out of the window, jumping between all of the different things he could as they went from the scarce homes of the countryside to the French-style city. He would see the occasional stray dog that ran with some others as they raced for scraps or a stork rise for the waters and fly off.

Magnolia would glance over now and then, watch as Dev leaned forward slightly, his piercing eyes scanning everything outside with the intensity of someone cataloging the world for the first time. She assumed speaking would snap him out of his thoughts, but his gaze was focused intensely out of the window.

“You don’t blink much, do you?” Magnolia asked, squinting over at him out of the corner of her eye.

Dev turned his gaze to her at that, his expression calm but curious. “Blinking is inefficient when observing. I might miss something important.” She stated.

“You sound like some sort is soldier.” She said, letting out a small chortle. She glanced over at him to see his eyes flicker away from her, his jaw flexing quickly as he trained his eyes out of the car again. She could see that her statement hit a nerve, so she just awkwardly cleared her throat. “Well, now that I have your attention.” She began as her fingers flexed on the wheel. “When we get to Uncle Leroy’s, just let me do all the talking, okay? He’s old and suspicious of everything so there will be a lot of questions and I don’t want his mumbo jumbo to confuse you.” Her words only caused Dev to furrow his brows slightly, glancing over at her.

“Mumbo Jumbo?” He questioned. Magnolia just blinked at him. “Right.” She said. “Uh, forget that. Let’s just get our story straight, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Um….”She trailed off as she thought, tapping her fingers against the door her arm rested on. “You’re a friend from college!” She stated, glancing over at him with a nervous smile. “We can say you’re in the military and you just got back from deployment and needed a place to stay.” She said with a grin.

“Why would I choose to stay with you?” Dev asked, blinking over at her. Her grin faltered slightly as she glanced from the road and over to him. “Because we’re college friends?” She asked herself more than she answered him, thinking over the logic of their plan.

“Why wouldn’t I stay with family?” Dev continued.

“They’re dead,” Magnolia stated simply with a shrug, not taking her eyes off the road as her grin appeared again since she came up with another take that seemed to fit their plan. “See, it checks out now.” She stated, not charging the way Dev’s eyes seemed to dim. His jaw tightened as he focused his eyes down at his hands, which were clenched together in his lap as he tried to keep his composure. “That won’t be too hard for me to adjust to.” He stated plainly. Magnolia glanced over at him due to his deep tone, deeper than usual. It was filled with dread and anger, although it was masked to seem like average indifference.

She blinked once she registered his words, her gaze returning back to the road. She internally cursed herself out for being so forward. She felt her heart clench as she thought it over again and again in her mind. He was so lost, in a strange world with no family. Everything was unfamiliar to him and he could barely remember how he ended up here. He was helpless. And she wasn’t making it any better.

“Well, let’s just scrap that all then.” She stated softly. “It wouldn’t make much sense for you to be in the U.S. military anyways with your accent and all.” She said, turning her head to look out of her driver-side window as she cringed again as words kept slipping out of her mouth. She didn’t mean to keep bringing up how different he was and his home but she couldn’t help it. They are coming up with his background story after all, so they don’t have to explain that he fell from the sky in some unknown object.

“We’ll just say that you’re an exchange student, in a way but still a college friend.” She began again. “You’re here to gain the full American experience, the one you didn’t really get in university since you were always on campus, and I’m your host.“ She looked over at him for any sign that she probably said something wrong again, only to be met with a simple nod from him. She subconsciously copied his actions before turning back to the road, engaging them in another moment of silence.

Magnolia wanted nothing more than to apologize. She felt that she always seemed to say the wrong things to him. She didn’t really know how to house anyone despite being the southern belle people assume she is because she bakes pastries at her friend’s cafe. So add not only a stranger but an alien, a hot alien that crashed into her backyard….She felt that she was owed the right to be a little confused and on edge.

She also couldn’t describe this strong pull she felt towards him. She felt this urge to care for him and be there to get him to open up some. Dev gave off this strong and intimidating aura, but she could see right through it with every little move he made. Granted, maybe everything she was thinking and feeling was the after-effects of the crash. It’s not every day something like that happens and it’s probably some reverse Stockholm syndrome. And it also could do with the fact that she was a decent human being and would always help another in need if she could But she hasn’t felt this sort of pull to anything or anyone besides Mufasa when she found him in the rain outside of work three years ago.

This entire situation was doing nothing for her lack of social cues and anxiety.

They rode the rest of the way to Uncle Leroy’s clinic in silence. Dev continued to observe everything around him, taking in all details he noted as worthy while Magnolia raced in what she would say next and whether or not it would lead to thoughts she didn’t want him to have.

Once they pulled into the parking lot of the clinic which was surrounded by other businesses, Magnolia stopped the car. “Follow me.” She said as she gathered her bag and then hopped out of the dark, unknowingly slamming the large metal behind her. Dev followed with no question, almost taking himself out as he tried to hurry after her and forgot he still had his seatbelt on. Magnolia turned around when she heard a soft strangled noise, but only saw Dev exit the car and quickly close the door behind him before fixing his clothes. She just simply shook her head, thinking it was nothing.

The bell above the door chimed as the pair walked in, Magnolia in front of him. He followed her to a small counter where he could see a woman sitting behind a computer, typing away. “Hey, Jess.” She looked up at the sound of the bell, offering a small smile to the familiar face of Magnolia, but doing a double take at the unfamiliar man behind her.

“Hey, Magnolia.” The woman said as she ceased her typing and once between the two. “What’s up with you today? You don’t have an appointment.”

“Oh, I know,” Magnolia stated nonchalantly. “I just need a walk-in for my—.” She paused mid-sentence as she glanced over her shoulder, expecting to find Dev in one of the available lobby seats, but was met with the sight of the man’s broad chest directly behind her. Her eyes quickly bounced up, catching his eyes when he looked down at her. “My friend. He’s new to…well, the country.” She added as she looked back over at the woman behind the desk, letting out a small laugh at the end. Dev looked back at the woman as well, giving her a polite smile. “Hello.” He said.

And it was as if the sound of his voice ignited something within the woman, causing her to let out a giggle as she looked at him. “Hi.” She grinned, not taking her eyes off of him. Dev blinked at her, his smile only faltering slightly at the woman’s odd behavior. Magnolia's brows twitched, looking at the woman who was no longer paying her any attention and cutting her eyes to the tall man next to her who seemed to be a little uncomfortable.

After flicking her questioning gaze between the two for only a few seconds longer, she cleared her throat. “Jess?” She said.

“Yeah?” Jess responded her eyes only momentarily leaving Dev’s figure to look over at Magnolia as she bit at her lip, trying to keep her grin at bay.

“We’re gonna go to my uncle's office, Kay?” She said, not even trying to set up a walk-in appointment anymore. She was going to lie and say the man knew she would be here but there was no point in any of that since the receptionist seemed more than occupied just staring at the man next to her.

“Yeah, sure.” Jess sighed, still looking at the man next to her. Magnolia blinked, trying to keep her words at bay as a sour feeling spread through her chest. She just gave the woman a sarcastic smile, not that she could even see it, before reaching back and grabbing ahold of Deb’s hand to pull him away.

Dev didn’t protest the feeling of the woman’s grip on him, only glancing down at the contact and up at the back of her head as she pulled him through the foggy glass door to their left. It was silent as she dragged him down the hall, passing rooms with doors open as waiting patients sat for a doctor and some closed as they convoluted over their meeting. Dev could feel the annoyance radiating off of her Magnolia as she led him through the hall of the small clinic. He couldn’t tell what had her angry, but by the way, she gripped his hand and the small frown he saw before she turned her back to him, she was a little ticked off.

She composed herself when they got to a wooden door near the end of one of the halls she led them through. The name ‘Dr.Jenkins’ was written on the foggy glass panel in gold ink and fancy writing. Dev watched as Magnolia took in a deep breath and then let it out, her eyes closed as she tried to gain a sense of herself back.

She then turned and looked up at him, trying not to jump back at the sight of his bright eyes already on her. “You ready?” She asked, her voice as soft as ever.

“Yes,” Dev said, giving her a single nod. Magnolia nodded herself before opening the door, not even caring to knock.

Her smile was large as she stepped into the room, Dev’s hands still in hers. “Hey, Uncle Leroy.” She said to the man behind the desk, who looked up at the sound of his door opening. The man had small, rectangular glasses sitting on the edge of his nose, looking over from the papers on his desk and over the frames to see them.

His face automatically broke out into a grin at the sight of the woman. “Hey, my little moon pie.” He said, his voice light and smooth with a scruffy undertone. He stood from the seat of his leather chair, and that’s when Magnolia finally let go of Dev’s hand, moving to meet the man halfway, around the large dark wooden desk, in a hug. Dev watched as she smiled largely as she wrapped her arms around the man, trying not to pay attention to the cold feeling that washed over him once her hand left his.

They rocked back and forth for a few seconds, savoring the embrace. They then pulled away from the hug with a breath, the older man looking down at the girl. “It’s been months.” The man began, a fond look on his face as she looked down at her. Magnolia let out a small sigh, looking aura from the man’s gaze. “The only time I hear from you is when I see you at church or work. We barely talk anymore.”

“I know, Lee, I know,” Magnolia said. “I’ve just been busy since..everything.” She said, sparing Dev a quick glance out of the corner of her eye when she paused. Dev caught on to what she was saying, but oddly enough he had a feeling she wasn’t alluding to him when she mentioned everything.

Her eyes cut to him and the man before her looked his way. The brown-skinned man's eyes scanned Dev up and down skeptically before his eyes drifted back to Magnolia only briefly. Magnolia avoided his eye, her lips pursed into an awkward smile as she gazed at Dev.

“Ah, so this is what’s kept you busy.” The man stated, before stepping around the woman. Magnolia gaped in shock at his words, tilting her head as she tried to decipher what he meant by that. Before she could question him, Leroy spoke back up, now standing before Dev. His shoulders were squared as he looked up at the taller man. Dev kept his ground, although he did shirk himself in slightly due to the man’s smaller but as well as intimidating stature. The younger man studied the older man before him, taking in his salt and pepper goatee that matched his small fro.

“And you must be?” Leroy said before holding out his hand. Dev placed his hand into his, each of their grips firm on the other. “I am Dev-Em, sir.” He answered. Magnolia silently winded when he said his name but quickly fixed it when Leroy furrowed his brows and glanced over at her. “Dev-Em?” He repeated back to the man, his tone giving way to his confusion.

“Deven!” Magnolia yelped, causing both men to look over at her. “Deven, you have to say your full name, silly.” She quickly added, letting out a nervous laugh as she eased her way over to stand back next to the new man in her life. Her smile was strained on her face and she hoped the facade wasn’t obvious as she placed her hand on Dev’s bicep. “Sorry about him, he’s getting used to the whole Southern Hospitality thing.” She said to Leroy as she glanced between him and the man she stood next to. Dev was confused by the ordeal taking place before him but just went with whatever the short woman next to him said. That is what she said in the car on the way over and he was following her orders.

“His name is Deven Embrose. He’s from the United Kingdom. It’s, like, a lil nickname thing they do over there.” She finished, her hand still connected to Dev’s skin, to which she gave a small pat.

Leroy nodded, placing his hands in his pockets as he gave the tall man another once over. “So I heard.” He said, giving a lowly gesture to his mouth as she referred to the other man’s accent. “I’ve met a few men from across the pond in my day.” He nodded. Magnolia let out another bout of anxious laughter, unknowingly leaning into Dev’s side more. Neither of them seemed to pay attention to the touch she was applying, but Leroy did glance between them suspiciously.

“Anyways!” Magnolia was quick to inject before more questions about Dev’s past could be asked. “I’m here because he needs a check-up.”

“A check-up?” The older man asked. “Why? What happened?” He questioned.

“Oh, nothing much.” Magnolia shrugged. “There was just…a tumble that..occurred.” She explained as nonchalantly as she could, making up a lie on the spot. Leroy furrowed his brows again, his eye dating between the close pair. His suspicions were loud and clear within his gaze, especially in the way he eyed the random man who was with someone he considered a daughter.

“A tumble?” He echoed.

“Yup,” Magnolia said. “It happened when we were moving his things in. He fell down the stairs with a large box in his hands.”

“Fell down the stairs?” Leroy questioned in shock, his eyes moving across the young man before him to gauge any serious wounds on him at such a serious incident. Magnolia was quick to interject his scurrying mind. “Not down all of the stairs! It was just a small tumble down, like, the bottom five. Right, Dev?”

“Yes.” The man replied with a firm nod.

It was silent for a moment, the younger duo standing close as they waited for the older man to speak.

Leroy just nodded, completely unsure and a little stunned by whatever was going in before him. He just subtly shook his head as he blinked. “Okay, well why don’t we just go to one of the available rooms and get this checkup started.” He said with a small grin. Magnolia nodded as she moved out of the way for Leroy to walk through and led them to the room.

Once he was out, Dev looked down at the woman who made her way out of the door before him.

“You’re..bad at this.” He murmured. Magnolia shot a look at him over her shoulder, taken back by his audacity. “What?” She said but didn’t have any time to respond before she stopped outside of the room Leroy did.

He clicked the lights on and gestured them into the space. “Have a seat.” He said as he moved over to the counters that held tons of average-grade medical equipment. The sound of rubber stretching echoed within the small room as Dev sat on the leather seat of the operation chair. The chair was pretty large but the big man that sat in it made it seem like it was made for his form. Magnolia stood near the chair, her stature putting her at the perfect height so that she didn’t have to crane her head to see Dev’s face clearly.

Her lips were pursed as Leroy turned around with gloves now on his hands and his stethoscope out of his white coat.

“Okay, now why don’t you just take a deep breath in for me.” He said as he stepped over, placing the bell of the tool on Dev’s chest. Dev did as he said, his chest lifting outwards. “Now, release.” Dev followed his instructions, breathing out. Leroy just let out a small hum before taking the tool out of his ear and hanging it on his neck. He then took out a pen-like flashlight from his coat pocket and clicked it on.

Magnolia stood off to the side, watching the whole produce as Leroy foaled the small light into Dev’s eyes, who flowed a little upon impact but did as the man instructed about where to look. Leroy stood with another hum, pocketing the pen. “Everything looks fine to me. I’d just need to run a few more tests before you can head out. Let me alert one of my nurses.” He said before stepping out briefly.

He came back only seconds later. “So, Deven.” He began in a questioning tone as he began to switch out his gloves. His cadence caused Magnolia to throw her back as she released a silent groan, her movement catching Dev’s attention. He furrowed his brows at her as he watched her go back to normal when Leroy turned back around. “What do you do?” He asked.

“Military, sir.” He stated, his eyes briefly jumping to the woman next to him, making sure he remembered their small conversation from the car. Magnolia’s brows twitched as she tried to keep them from peaking since she wasn’t all too sure if they had scrapped the whole military story in the car or not. She could’ve sworn they decided not to go with that idea. And while she was having a mini internal freakout, Leroy just nodded. “What branch?”

“The Navy.” Magnolia was quick to add since she was certain most of this wasn’t covered in their small conversation from the car ride over. “Marines, more specifically.” She nodded.

“But why are you here? In America?” The old man continued to question, not paying much mind to her interjection this time.

“I got injured.” Dev was quick to respond, taking the woman who had eased her way next to him aback. “It wasn’t severe but it caused a lot of physiological trauma so I retired. I also wanted a change of scenery and Magnolia offered to house an old friend.” He explained. Leroy’s stare was stagnant, never wavering from the man as he listened to his story. Magnolia was still quite shocked. Not only at his quick thinking but also the way her stomach fluttered at hearing the sound of her mane on his lips for the first time.

“Okay,” Leroy said. The pair just blinked at him.

“Okay?” Magnolia replied, her tone slightly questioning. “That’s it?” She asked. Leroy just nodded. “Yeah. I’ve known you a long time, so I know how careful you are. Plus, you’re a grown woman. I’m not gonna ask too many questions.” He stated. Magnolia just nodded, and she honestly didn't think she had it in her to be shocked by anything anymore. If anything, the last 24 hours have proved anything is possible.

“But I still do have to run these tests.” He said as he glanced down at his watch, just time for a nurse to push in the machine that would check his vitals and blood pressure.

It didn’t take them long before they were out of the door.

“That was stressful.” Magnolia sighed, her shoulder slightly slumped as she walked before Dev as the pair made their way back to the lobby, Leroy absent since he had an actual patients waiting on him. “I’m stressed. I need something sweet.” She groaned. She then glanced back over at the tall man behind her. “You want something sweet. Ya’ like ice cream? I could go for some ice cream.” She rambled as she opened the door that looked like the one they walked into earlier, however, this door led them out on the opposite side of where they walked into, to the right of the receptionist's desk.

“I do not know what that is,” Dev stated. Magnolia paused and turned to him, just staring at him as she tried to gauge any sight of a lie within his gaze. Seeing the plain look the man was giving her, just staring into her eyes with no questions asked, she then broke out into a grin. “Oh, Dev, sweetie, I have so much to show you.” She said, her soft southern drawl almost luring him into a trance as she placed her hand on his arm, subconsciously rubbing her thumb against his skin.

It was however broken by the sound of someone speaking.

“Hey.”

The pair both looked over at the sound of Jess’s voice, the woman’s eyes trained solely on the man in front of her. She stood from her chair, showing her dark purple scrubs as she leaned forward to the tall counter and pushed over a small card. “It’s for you.” She said, a sultry grin on her face as she didn’t hide the way she eyed the man before her. Dev’s brows spiked a little in interest, the man reaching over and picking up the small piece of paper to see it held an odd series of numbers.

Magnolia tried her best to hide the frown that began at her brows as she watched, her eyes jumping between the ever-stoic Dev and the thirsty receptionist, Jess. She didn’t know why, but she got this sour tang in the back of her throat at the sight of Jess’s obvious flirting. Whether it was the way she didn’t care to even ask more about Dev before throwing herself at him or the fact that she was doing this all on the clock, hell, even the possibility that she and Dev could be together. She couldn’t care less about the specifics when this woman was obviously throwing herself at him right in front of her.

Dev blinked at the small card before looking back up at her. “Thanks.” He said, no smile, not even a nod. He just held the white card stock up in acknowledgment. Magnolia softly scoffed before quickly turning on her heels and strutting out of the clinic, her bunch of curly hair swinging on the top of her head. Dev was quick to follow her, not even sparing the woman behind him a glance as she tried to keep up with the only thing he knew in his new life.

The bell above the door chimed as they exited the clinic, entering the blazing sun shining down on them even from under the awning. Dev could feel a source of every course through his veins as he stood in the light but didn’t have time to focus on it before he felt the small card be ripped from his hands. He watched as Magnolia ripped the paper into pieces and then pocketed the scraps. She then pulled her keys from her purse, all in silence as Dev simply watched her.

Due to the pause in the atmosphere, she looked up once she held her keys to her truck to see the man staring at her. “What? I don’t litter.” She said before turning from him and walking over to her truck.

Dev followed behind her as usual, getting inside the odd contraption as he did before. “What was that she’d given me?” He asked as he copied the way to put on the seatbelt from watching her, glancing back now and then to see if it was correct.

“Her phone number.” She replied.

“What’s that?”

“It’s the way we communicate here without being face to face. We write letters as well but that takes too long. But then again, we also have electronic letters such as emails and text, so, I don’t know.” She shrugged, her tone flat as she started the car and began to pull out. Dev nodded, taking in what she said at face value since she didn't seem too in the mood to offer more context. Something both of them didn't bother to question.

“Why did she give me her number? Aren’t you her friend?”

Magnolia scoffed, glancing over at him. “Hell no, I’m just nice to her because it’s the right thing to do. She’s just doing her job and she works for my uncle.” She shrugged again. “And she gave you her number because she don’t want nothing but to get in the drawls.” She scoffed again, her tone bridging in pissed as she gripped the steering wheel.

“What?” Dev asked full-on confusion written across his face as he looked at her, not even focused on his task of gaining information by observing his surroundings. Magnolia paused, glancing over at him to see the look he was giving her. “She wanted nothing more than to just sleep with you, Dev.” She said bluntly. “That’s why she gave you her number. So you could call, talk, flirt a little, go out, and then hook up.” She explained as if it was obvious. Dev understood most of what she was saying, but he was still sort of lost on some parts.

“Hook up? What is that, how do you hook up?” He questioned.

“Sex.” She stated. “Hooking up is sex. Mating. The act most things do to reproduce offspring.” For some reason, she had no trouble explaining such things to him. Even though it was sort of awkward because she never really had to have “The Talk”™️ ever in her life, especially with a grown man, and with the way he was staring at her so intensely. But it seemed to just flow out. This conversation would probably be their easiest because every culture and race had to have sex…right? That’s how they had to reproduce?

“Ahh.” Dev nodded once he understood what it all meant. He then frowned, as if thinking over it all now. “She wanted to mate with me? We wouldn’t even be compatible. Her genetic makeup doesn’t offer anything to mine.” He said. Magnolia squinted her eyes in thought, blinking as she registered the way he stated that in her mind. She opened her mouth to respond but came out saying nothing.

“Hey, the check-up wasn’t so bad, was it?” She chimed in after a moment of silence. Dev glanced back over at her, giving a silent nod before realizing she probably couldn’t see him. “It went well. Odd, but well.” He said. “You’re terrible at lying on the spot, though.” He added.

Magnolia opened her mouth to say something snarky at his comment, but could only let out a small sigh. “Yeah, I know. I get nervous when being put on the spot.”

“Your uncle is an interesting character.”

“Yeah, he gets that a lot. I say he’s a little nosy but he likes to call it cautious. My grandma used to blame his age but he’s been like that my whole life and I’m almost thirty.” She told, a fond grin making its way into her face as memories began to flash in her mind. Memories filled with the family she used to have and the good times she always thought of before closing her eyes at night for a good night's rest.

Dev could sense the newfound softness in her voice at the mention of her grandmother. He stared at her, watching the subtle smile grace her lips as she zoned off within the hum of the road. He wanted to question more about what seemed to be the connection between the old man and her but could tell it was a sensitive subject by every mention of her. That and whatever that small conversation between her and Leroy was before his presence was made known.

“So, you wanna try some ice cream or what?” She suddenly asked, glancing over at him. Dev simply nodded, causing her to grin as she drove to the perfect spot.

────୨ৎ────

Before he could even get to observe his surroundings, they out of the car and walking into another establishment that had a lot of windows. The bell above the door chimed again, causing him to look up. “Another bell. Why the bell?” He asked, following closely behind the woman as his senses became invaded with a plethora of smells and sounds. He blinked frantically with a small frown, trying to clear his mind of the loud noise that surrounded him.

“It alerts the staff that new customers have arrived.” He heard Magnolia’s voice speak over the chaos, and it was as if that was all he needed to snap back in. Honing in on the sound of her voice caused the other sounds around him to come to a halt, to the point where he didn’t even hear them anymore. “It gets annoying but diners tend to keep that traditional vibe for some reason.” She finished with a shrug. She gave the person behind the counter a large smile with a wave before moving her way through the diner.

The pair passed countless booths that held a variety of people, from kids who were full of sugar and agitating their parents to groups of teens who gossiped around the small devices in their hands. Dev looked around at it all while it seemed that Magnolia led them somewhere she wanted to go since some of the tables they passed were empty.

He stopped, watching her drop herself into a booth by the window, scooting in the middle of the seat. Dev followed suit, watching as she pulled the large menus from the little folder stand next to her and handed him one.

He copied her actions, looking at the variety of names in the list before him. Some held small pictures of the food next to its name, but majority of the list he had no idea what was. Except water and he wasn’t quite sure why that was on the menu since it held no price next to it.

“I have no idea what any of this is.” He spoke as he placed the menu down on the table with a little force, sort of fed up with being utterly confused by most of everything around him. Magnolia hummed, placing her menu down as well with a nod. “I figured. Are you hungry?” She asked.

“No.” He shook his head innocently, staring at her. “I ate quite a bit this morning.” Magnolia let out a small chuckle at his words. “Boy, don’t I know it. I’m gonna have to go grocery shopping this week. I mean, I know I cooked it all but usually I have leftovers.” She said. Dev looked down, his eyes darting to his hands on the table. He couldn’t help but feel a little bad at that. That he was invading her space.

Magnolia’s smile faded slightly. She reached her arm across the table, placing her smaller hand atop his large ones. “Hey,” She said in a soft tone. She tilted her head down just as he looked up at her call, connecting his bright-colored eyes with hers. “I’m just pokin’ fun.” She stated with a mere grin. “I’m happy to have you in my home. I know have someone who can respond to the nonsense that I say.” She chided, causing him to let out a small chortle.

“You do talk a lot.” He stated nonchalantly. Magnolia blinked at his words. “Okay, ouch.” She said, but her smile was still there to let her know she wasn’t actually hurt by his words. Their small bonding moment was then interrupted by the sound of a voice coming up to them.

“Who comes to work on their day off?” The smooth voice of a familiar man spoke up, causing the pair to look over. A large smile instantly broke out into Magnolia’s features while she looked up at the man who made his way over to them, her hand unknowingly sifting away from Dev’s, that cold feeling enveloping him again just as it did at Leroy’s clinic.

“Someone who loves their job,” Magnolia said, looking up at him as he stopped in front of their table. The man rolled his eyes at her, pulling a notepad out of his coat jacket. “Yeah, whatever, kiss-ass. You just got a raise out of me. You’re not getting another this soon.” He said as he flipped the pad and pen in his hands.

“Oh, you’ll know when I’m kissing ass, G.” She said, causing them both to let out a small laugh. The man’s gaze then drifted to Dev, who eyed the obviously familiar pair with a subtly arched brow. The stranger held out his hand, his gold watch peaking from underneath the expensive brown suit he had on, the man standing out against the rest of the diner. “Giorgio Clarance, nice to meet you.” He introduced himself.

Dev placed his hand into his, both of their grips firm as they stared at one another. “Deven Embrose.” He said, speaking the name Magnolia made up earlier. It felt weird coming off of his tongue, unnatural. He just hoped Giorgio couldn’t tell.

The overdressed man hummed at his words. “Around the way type of guy, I see.” He said with a nod. “Cool.” He stated simply, giving the man a plain once over before directing his attention back to Magnolia. Dev furrowed his brows at the man’s dismissal of him, one that was a little hostile with the look he was just given. He tried not to read much into it, but he couldn’t help but question if he felt that Giorgio was throwing at him.

“He’s my boss,” Magnolia spoke up, seeing the questioning look on Dev’s face, thinking that’s what he was questioning. “He owns this place.”

“And others,” Giorgio added with a smirk.

“And others,” Magnolia repeated in a stupid tone, playfully rolling her eyes at him. Dev's eyes jumped between them. He nodded at what Magnolia told him “I’m a chef. Well, a baker.” She stated. Dev's eyes gleamed at that, and he was about to say something to her about her occupation before Giorgio cut in.

“A Chef.” He retorted firmly, looking down at her with a small frown. “What did I tell you about cutting yourself short? You are a chef.” He said, and Magnolia softly rolled her eyes at him again, looking down at her hands, though she couldn’t hide the soft smile on her face at his words.

“All I know how to really do is bake.” She said softly, looking up at Dev as if she was answering him. He could only offer her a polite smile back before her eyes drifted away and toward the man who stood next to them.

“You make amazing pastries for two a five start restaurants.” At this point, he had leaned down, slightly holding his weight on the table with his hands so he could be closer to Magnolia. Magnolia looked him in the eye, her face as neutral as it could be due to his praise. As if this proximity for them was normal as if they did this all the time and were fine. Dev, on the other hand, was not fine. He raised his hands from the table, leaning his back against the cushion leather seat of the booth. His brows twitched into a frown, staring the at side of the man’s head as his view of Magnolia was almost blocked. Almost.

“In the diner, you may be the baker, but at Augusto’s Chevalier, you’re a chef.” He explained, never once taking his eyes off the woman next to him. “You think they differentiate all that back there in that kitchen?” Magnolia squinted her eyes at him with a slight tilt of her head.

“They literally do?…in every kitchen.” She said, understanding the point her good friend was trying to make but also not seeing how a restaurant business mogul didn’t know such a thing.

“Yeah, whatever.” He said with a shrug as he waved her off playfully.

She rolled her eyes at him again. “Are you gonna take our order or not Mr. Hotshot?” She asked with a playful smirk, looking at the man decked in a nice suit and gold jewelry whose face stood only a few feet away from hers. She caught sight of Dev’s bright eyes next to his briefly, staring at her intensely. She felt a chill run down her spine at the gaze, but her eyes never directly met his.

“No, actually. I just came to speak.” He said to her with a small smile. He then turned his head, giving the man next to them a sideways glance and another once-over. He let out a dry chortle that was barely audible before rising from his relaxed position to stand fully. “This is just for show.” He said, gesturing to the pen and paper he’d gathered from his large blazer.

“Good, because we’re not even ready to order,” Magnolia said. Giorgio just hummed with a nod, giving her face one last good look. “It was nice seeing you, Magnolia.” He practically purred, his eyes trained on her face. Magnolia nodded at his words. “It was nice seeing you again too, G.” She said, giving him a soft smile. Giorgio couldn’t help but smile at the name, his perfect teeth showing as he looked at her, gleaming in contrast to his chocolate skin. He blinked before his gaze drifted to the other man at the booth. He nodded his head down at Dev before walking away from them, passing by Magnolia.

Dev sat there, watching the man leave their table. He didn’t even offer a nod back to Giorgio. He just stayed in place, a stone-cold look on his face, even when Giorgio glanced back at Magnolia with a smirk, said woman eyeing the menu. His eyes drifted to Dev’s, his grin turning more sinister before leaving his eyesight.

“Not gonna lie, I could go for a butter pecan.” He was snapped out of his trance at the sound of the woman mumbling to herself. “I’m definitely getting up there because I used to hate that shit.” She let out a small chortle of herself. Dev’s gaze moved across her form, not speaking as he continued to think about the interaction between Giorgio and Magnolia. “I never had pistachio, maybe I should try that.” She said, continuing her search, unbeknownst of the watching eyes she had on her.

She then looked up, slightly shaken to see the man’s gaze on her already but didn’t speak on it. “I’m gonna start you off simple with a waffle cone and some chocolate ice cream. I know vanilla is more basic, but I said simple, not plain.” She stated, waving her finger about as she explained the rundown to him, her abundance of jewelry clinging about. “But don’t get me wrong, I love a good vanilla. Especially a homemade one? Tuh! Word around town is your girls makes the best.”

“I think Giorgio wants to hook up with you.”

Magnolia’s head jerked back at Dev’s statement as her smile dropped. “What?” Her face contorted between confusion and disgust but also a little bit of intrigue as she tried to gather what Dev saw. “No, I’m positive he does not.” She said, letting out a nervous laugh at what her newfound friend said.

“He was acting a little like Jess.” Dev continued, not taking his eyes away from the woman in front of him. “Just a little different.”

“That’s just how we interact here.” She said softly, sitting forward more in her seat to lean closer to him as she began to explain. “He’s technically my boss and I’m his worker. In today’s time, to create a more healthy work environment, bosses tend to be friendly to their staff so what they’re doing isn’t considered slave labor.” She said letting out a small chuckle. “That and so their bond is somewhat like a work family and that there’s a trust put into everything said company produces.” She explained. She then worked her head, looking him in the eye. “We’re just friends.” She said softly. “Barely even that, we’ve never even gone out for a beverage.”

“He looks at you a lot,” Dev continued to comment, his face still the same even though this warm feeling spread through him at the way she was gazing at him over the table. He had subconsciously leaned forward in his seat and against the table, the pair sitting closer to one another.

“That’s what we do here. Eye contact is expected in most settings.” She said, her eyes stuck on his. They were practically whispering now, faces sort of close as they leaned across the table. “I mean, look at us now. I look at you, you look at me.”

“That is because we are having a conversation.”

“Were me and Giorgio not having a conversation?”

“Yes, but even when you weren’t looking at him, he was looking at you. Everywhere.”

“You look at me all the time.” Magnolia was quick to add to their small and somewhat silent argument, ignoring the last part about Giorgio’s eyes drifting over her figure when she wasn’t looking.

“I am observing because I am new here. What’s his excuse?” Dev added with a small tilt of his head. Magnolia let up a quick gasp at his words, looking him up and down. “Oh, you’re a little sassy when you want to be.” She said with a playful grin. Dev’s face stayed stoic, causing her to let out a small laugh. “Dev, relax and pick out an ice cream door before it gets dark out.” She said, jerking her head out of the window at the cloud-covered sun. “I hate driving in the dark.” She said softly before going back to her menu.

Dev blinked at her before looking down at his menu in front of him, both still leaned forward on the table as they observed what they were going to have.

His mind was clouded, full of questions and thoughts regarding not only the ones Ms out of his new life, it whatever was going on between Giorgio and Magnolia. Dev was no stranger to emotions, as oddly as he acted about them. He’d never really felt such staring emotions about anyone, not even his intended, but he’s seen those who have. And he could see that there were feelings between the two, even if it was one-sided. And something was telling him that Giorgio was the one that fancied her more, which caused this acidic feeling to enter the back of his throat and made his face want to contort into a scowl.

Giorgio rubbed him the wrong way and it’s not just because he’s into Magnolia. Although, Dev wasn’t quite sure why that last part bothered him more.

Magnolia on the other hand was simply a little confused. This had been the first time anyone had ever told her such a thing about her and Giorgio. Although they weren’t friends who went out anywhere, they’ve been around and conversed with others, and nothing of the sort has ever come up. She didn’t know what Dev saw, or if she could even trust his judgment since he was new to earth and e everything.

What bothered her most was that she wasn’t sure if she disliked the thought of Giorgio liking her. It was her boss after all and that wouldn’t be good for business, so she was more than likely never going to outside anything, but she couldn’t deny that he was an attractive man. A wealthy attractive man with a Brooklyn accent that dressed well. To Magnolia, he was a city boy through and through, and that intrigued her southern little behind. He was no blue-collar man, but she wasn’t picky and didn’t necessarily have a type. She was just used to one thing. All that to say is it were true, she wouldn’t mind hopping on the ride.

She was snapped out of her thoughts by Dev’s speaking.

“I don’t want to hook up with Jess either.” He said, causing her to look and connect their eyes. “Ever.” He finished. Magnolia blinked in confusion before simply nodding. “Okay.” She said before looking back down at her menu. Dev frowned, looking at the top of her head.

“And you don’t want to hook up with Giorgio, right?” He questioned. Magnolia let out a small laugh before looking back up at him. “No, I do not, Dev.” She said softly, looking into his eyes, which were now a soft green. Even though she sort of contradicted her previous thoughts, she was telling the truth, she didn’t necessarily want to hook up with him. Dev’s eyes jumped between hers, trying to see if he could almost sense a lie from her. He then blinked with a nod. “Good.” He said, looking at her intensely before going back to his menu. Magnolia frowned in confusion at him in what he meant by that but was cut off by Dev speaking again.

“When do we get this ice cream? Where is it coming from?” He asked, looking over his shoulder as he observed the thing in the diner. Magnolia pursed her lips, watching him.

“There's so much you have to learn, honeybun, so when we get home, we’re watching movies.” She said. “There’s only so much I can do for you, sweet pea.” She said as she shook her head with a sad smile.

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sweetly-yours-and-mine · 17 hours ago

Text

The Band Played On

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Word Count: 8.5k

Summary: You'd never met someone who loved the way Joel Miller did.

Warnings: talk of death of a spouse and child, age gap (less than ten years), brief suicidal thoughts, mentions of depression, yEaRnInG, author is very sensitive pls be nice, i was listening to the song of the same name by Guy Lombardo,

A/N: She's back baby! This one has been in the works for over a year (eep), and is basically just a love letter to @mirrormauve and I'm so glad she's back now and I've finally finished it. Becs, I love you with all my heart <3.

I don't own photos, dividers, or characters.

You’d never met someone who loved the way Joel Miller did.

His severe, violent dedication to it, bits of soul laid down on the ground as offerings to the gods. Cracking open his chest, tearing off each rib and handing it over, not to say here is my heart but to say, here is the thing that protects my heart, it reminds me of you.

You thought this love was only talked about, only dreamt up.

But then you’d been on a walk, in the early spring with the Earth vibrating with promise and you’d seen Joel, the worn, well-loved brown of his leather jacket, greying, long strands of his hair brushing against its collar, and you’d seen Joel, beside a tree, wrapping rope around its broken limp, saying soft things under his breath. You’ll be alright, yeah. That’s okay, I’ll be back soon, his voice heavy and measured with his drawl, warm. His fingers drifting over new buds, still tightly curled like a clenched fist, and cooing out his pride like a lullaby.

Joel loved fiercely, savage and primal. There was nothing beautiful about the way he did it, but it was simple, it was honest and true and gentle. It was his work-roughened hands catching against fabric, his prickly stubble against his niece’s soft skin, the smell of whiskey on his breath and leather on his skin.

His love wasn’t that of the ocean to the shore, the sun to the moon, the moon to the ocean. A tiring push and pull, illusive and fickle.

He loved the way the soil loved the roots, giving over chunks of himself for nourishment and food.

He loved the way the roots loved the soil, wooden fingers clutching tight against dirt and turning it dewy and tender with love. Constant, reliable, never changing. A tried and true dance that would continue to the end of time.

He drew you to him unknowingly. Unravelled your affection for him like a ball of yarn, stringing it around everywhere he went, lighting up street corners and houses the way lamplighters used to do each evening in a world before you, Joel, and the slow thing he was knitting inside of you, row after patient row.

Your eyes followed him like a magnet to the North, unknowingly, intrinsically, like breathing, drinking water. You found grooves and corners in Joel Miller that you revelled in, that you painted up inside your mind and took home with you to hang on your empty walls.

The way he holds his spoon, wipes his mouth. The gnarled knots of his fingers’ joints. The rose-like curling of the skin around his eyes and mouth when he laughs, the way he touches and does so deliberately with intent and purpose.

You walk by his house in the evenings, catching the glint of his eyes from the yellow porch light as he strums his guitar, the one he pieced together the way he did that tree. Ellie running home at all hours of the day, the trust held between them branching out towards Jackson like coconut, the aroma subtle, blink and you’ll miss it. But it hangs in the air like humidity, like frost on window panes or the fog of your breath against glass during the harsh Wyoming winters.

You crave more, you’re starving for it. You want Joel’s love, and you want it because you’re selfish, because you don’t like the empty half of your bed, and you think he’d look nice in it, his golden skin and grey hair against floral sheets. You long more than anything to be part of the souls he holds up to the light and plops into his pocket like a marble collection.

Whenever you are where Joel is, you look at him, fleeting glances in his direction like a heartbeat, over and over, rhythmic and regular. You’re eager to see more of him, to see him when he doesn’t know you’re watching so you can trace the curve of his neck with your eyes and pretend it’s your hands instead, to feel the soft hairs that grow there like peach fuzz.

Joel loves in spades, in heaping bucketfuls of it. It strains throughout Jackson like a liquid heavier than water, curling around each corner in a warm embrace. You can’t go anywhere without being faced by it, the door hinge he’d fixed, the chairs he’d stacked, the floors he’d swept. The love he’s spread around soaking into your shoes and through your socks, drifting up towards your ankles and making your bones ache.

It’s hard to deal with it. Its constant, uncompromising presence. The true reality of the man that he was, is.

It’s even harder to deal with your craving for it, the way your skin sings for it, the way your lungs chase each trace of it they find in the air.

Maria finds you one day in the gardens, asks, gently hesitant, for you to come over for dinner. You wonder if it was out of concern or pity for the life you lead alone, the simple, yet tried and true routine you occupy your days with.

Worse than that, you begin to fear that she’s picked up on the fascination you’ve grown for her brother-in-law and the way his worn belt sits on his hips.

And so to not aggravate it anymore, you agree to spend an evening close to Joel.

Not alone with him, Tommy and Maria are at the table as well, Ellie coming and going, breaking conversation into brittle pieces of Sohan, but still you’re close and he gives you a brief taste of what sharing love with him could look like.

His voice is rumbly and deep, river-like as it streams and trips over smooth rocks. The whiskey has loosened him up a bit, the straight, hard edges of his body softening over with comfort, the weight of survival lifted off of him.

He’s pretty. You want him to reach inside of you and grab your heart, start pumping it for you and press his mouth against yours so you can share air together.

It’s hard to focus around him, your eyes not wanting to work in tandem whenever they look in his direction, as if protecting you from what might happen if you manage to see him clearly, his peppering of a beard and moustache, the engravings of smile lines on his face.

To abate the beating inside your chest, you get up for some water, go to refill Maria’s glass while you’re at it. Out of fear of the emotions he’s drawing out of you and your chest.

You want to calm down, be normal about him and this growing obsession inside of you for an older man. Yet your body and mind refuse to do so vehemently, almost to seek vengeance on you for wanting to quell it, pour water over the burning fire.

As you stand at the counter, waiting for the water to boil and tracing the top button of your jeans round and round with the pad of your finger, you hear Joel and his lopsided walk follow you, his left foot dragging more than his right.

“Hey.”

The word falls at the end of itself, stretches against the ground. You follow the trails it leaves in the air, like citrus oil that sparks out of a freshly-peeled orange, bursting out like dust motes in a vibrant sunbeam.

“Hi,” you turn around, smile at him as best as you can through the tangling of your lungs and stomach.

Joel looks over his shoulder, back at Tommy and Maria, at Ellie, nudged into her uncle’s side, then he turns to you, “Nice evening.”

You agree with him, though to yourself you think it’s only because of him, because of the cloud that hangs humid about him, makes the edges of his body go soft and blurry, grainy like all photos are, incapable of catching the true essence of what made them photo-worthy.

He comes and leans against the counter beside you, hands folded on top of each other. A lock of his hair falls into his forehead and you think if he’d let it, you’d brush it away and go straight to the graveyard so you could die happy, dragging your stone along with you like a blanket.

It takes everything inside of you to not inch closer to him.

Despite the community and support that surrounds you everyday, you’re still lonely, still aching for something else. Something to come home to. To be something for someone to come home to.

You have faint visions of Joel in the doorway of your house, revel in the way he’d drape his jacket over the couch. You want to see him basked in the glow of an early morning, to see his sleep-rumpled shirt and press your face into it and take in greedy lungfuls of his smell.

Ellie’s laugh rings out around the room. You think of the future she was going to have and the one she will have now, and you’re glad that she’s in Jackson away from the dark holes that are the QZs.

You gaze up at Joel, at the cords rising in his neck like bread dough. Some depraved sprout shoots up inside you and longs to trace your nose against them and their engravings on his skin. You force yourself to look away, down at the glass of water in your hand.

You ache to move your feet forward and away from him, for the betterment of the both of you and the cage you keep around your chest, the key of which you want to press into Joel’s hands.

“You should come by more often.”

He talks to you the same way he talked to the sapling. You wonder if he would rope you up the same way if you broke your arm too, in the same way. It sows dreams inside of you and you rub them away a couple seconds later, thinking of Maria’s sudden invitation asking you over tonight.

“Thanks,” you murmur it. You’re not going to give him a rebuttal about being a bother so you won’t fall into the push and pull dance with him.

To your surprise, he straightens up, ducks his head until you look up at him. “M’serious, honey. Really,” you see his hand reach forward before it falls back to place. It flinches and fidgets before it returns to normal. Here all the hair on his skin is grey. “We’ll do this more.” The condition has dropped from his voice.

Despite your suspicions and reluctance, a bruised, battered thing weeps out inside of you, stops you from turning down his offer again, after he’s pressed it with you. It sits smooth and heavy in the palm of your hand, you run your thumb over it, pretend to mull it over.

“Well, how about it? Me ‘n Ellie do board games a night each week, you should come,” There’s a swing to his voice, a soft gravel in it. If you could bask in it you’d never leave.

He chuckles at your lack of response, “Now don’t you be tellin’ me you don’t like to play at cards.”

Finally, you collect yourself enough to shake your head, laugh a little though it’s hard when your lungs are turning themselves inside out at the thought that Joel Miller has invited you to spend more time with him, that he’s deemed you worthy of it.

Tonight, you play Dutch Blitz. They’re not real Dutch Blitz cards, but with the mixing of yours and his decks, the picture cards tossed aside, there’s enough to play with.

Joel brings you hot water with some whiskey slipped in, his hand resting deliberately on top of yours when he gives it to you. He sits opposite you, Ellie at the head, his owl mug beside him, close enough that you long to trace with your fingers, follow the curves and valleys of it, and wonder if you can get it to talk to you the same way Joel talks to trees, close enough that you can see the splattering of spots ceramics often have.

When he takes a drink, you have to look away from him and the wave-like motion of his throat for fear of doing something stupid and falling in love.

He’s terrible at the game.

After the first couple of rounds, he’d said it was because he didn’t have his glasses and went into the living room to rummage around for them. You could hear his voice sometimes, filtering in back to his kitchen. Not there, some rustling, a drawer being closed, no, I’m sure I ain’t left’em here. His voice is grumbly with aggravation and it makes you and Ellie giggle.

It had been a long time since you’d laughed like that. Light and childish. The boulder of your personhood lifted off.

When he does find them, he places them on the edge of his nose, but they don’t help him at all. With the sudden addition of a third player, the flick and slam of cards on the table, quickly adding up to a cap, it’s hard for him to focus. Ellie says that though he never does win, he doesn’t lose so abysmally either when she plays him one-on-one.

He murmurs to himself when he’s playing, like the gentle hum of a honeybee and it distracts you as well, giving Ellie yet another set of wins under her belt.

“Face it, Joel,” she’s grinning now, shuffling up her hand of cards. “You’re fucking horrible at this.”

He huffs, “You’re not giving me a fair fightin’ chance, that’s what.” The slope of his neck is just the right angle. He gathers his cards up, does an expert riffle shuffle. “And what’s more I ain’t playin’ no more. Go grab somethin’ else.”

You’re surprised at how easily Ellie gives into him now, teasing only slightly before she goes away, back to the closet where Joel stores the board games he’s managed to piece together over the years. Monopoly, The Game of Life, Scrabble. There are Jenga blocks as well, ones he’s made himself, and that he’s sanded away at patiently, night after night on his porch.

It’s your favourite game to play with him, Jenga. It’s tense, but quiet and calm. It gives you time to study his face intently, shade in the scar on his nose and the subtle way he favours the right edge of his mouth to his left when he’s talking. You like it even more because it means you can touch things his hands have touched, the ones he’s worked at patiently, each one a labour of love.

Even kids come over to his house now, particularly during the summer, and play in his backyard with his Jenga blocks, Joel’s place an extension of the worlds they play in, the juniper trees at the edge perfect for games of hide-and-seek and tag.

“She’s right,” he sighs, takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes. “I am horrible at this.”

With his glasses in his hand he gestures to the cards. The action pulls at your liver, you may as well have drunk a whole bottle of whiskey.

“Nonsense,” there’s a strange tendril of confidence wrapping around your throat, drawing out words before you knew what they were. “It’s a hard game. Fast-paced.”

He laughs to himself, softly. It sounds like molasses, deep and rich and velvety. “That’s just a fancy way of calling me old, darlin’.”

“I don’t mind,” the words surprise you, the emotion and conviction behind them and you drop them as soon as you can.

“You don’t mind what?”

Looking down at your hands, “That you’re old.” You don’t like how you’re bringing attention to it and meekly, you string behind it, “If it matters any.”

Silence hangs around you, presses hard against your chest and breaks a rib.

“Thanks, sweetheart. It matters much…more’n you could know.”

A being lies behind his words, unknown and ominous. You don’t want to touch it, break the beehive and let the honey pour onto the grass, the bees angry and furious ready to sting.

You offer instead to wash the dishes to be able to touch his special mug, finally trace the curve of the owl’s body, embroidered into baked clay. You wonder where Joel found this mug. If it came with the house, how it morphed into his favourite one, if it was a certain thing, from first sight, or if it was a slow and steady climb.

Ellie comes back a few moments later, the Jenga blocks in her hands. You feel his eyes against your back and you hold your hands under the hot water until they’re irritated and sensitive.

Joel shows up at your door unannounced. In his hands is a bowl of strawberries, his fingers stained red from picking up, that soft gentle smile on his face.

“Howdy,” He invites himself in, says the words for you and hands over the bowl. “For you.”

You think about jam and honey, imagine the feel of granulated sugar clicking under your teeth.

It’s the late afternoon, a lazy sun stretching into your open window, highlighting dust motes in the air in a stream of light. You place the strawberries on the table, Joel takes one and pops it in his mouth, the hinge of his jaw moving up and down as he chews.

Laughing, he tells you quietly, “They’re supposed to be for you, I had a stomachful pickin’em.”

Something twists and knots inside of you at the thought of Joel in the gardens, bending down beside the strawberry plants, choosing fruit for you and bringing it to your door. You wonder if he talked to them the way he seems to do anything, whether or not it can respond to him.

“They’re good,” he pushes them towards you. “Have some.”

The berries are a ruby red, vibrant with survival. They press against you as you roll their tiny bodies between your fingers, your nail catching on the seeds pressed into the skins. Biting down into one, you find it intimate to know that you and Joel are tasting the same flavour, tart and sweet, that he has a belly filled with this, that he’d filled his belly behind the soft of his waistline because he was picking you a gift.

It’s hard to tear your eyes from him, from where he’s looking at you. The sun kisses his shoulder, curls up and around his ear. The strange need you have for him grows and reaches its peak, overwhelming you. You wonder what the soft behind his ear will feel like if you took his with your teeth and soothed the bite over with your tongue, what his hair will smell like.

You want to ask him, demand him, to kiss you. To press you against the strawberries and not let you go until you’re covered in red juice.

“Thank you for these,” you say instead, get up to put on some hot water.

“‘Course, honey.”

You think that Joel may consider you a friend. His friend.

You like the possession that lies inside the words. The heady things they imply, how they hold your heart in a clenched fist and promise to never let go.

The other night, he’d invited you over for dinner. Just you. Had been clear about it as well. Ellie’s at Dina’s, Tommy and Maria have date night together. Like he could read your mind and knew the riptides you were apt to fall into if you weren’t careful.

He’d talked to you, low and soft like he always does. Whiskey had been poured into your coffee and the sunset had lit up the sky in much the same manner as his voice, muted and tender, the air tinted golden like saffron.

You think that that was the night you realised you couldn’t run from it anymore, had fallen, arms extended but helpless in catching you, towards him and how the sole of his left shoe is smoother than his right.

The strawberries spark conversation in him about the upcoming harvest, and he analyses the weather with severity, concerned about the apples and squashes if it were to stay the way it was. You pour two cups of hot water, wishing you could give him something he likes more than that, whiskey or wine, and think of what you could trade to get a bottle for your kitchen.

“...don’t know how we’ll make it through the winter at this rate.”

Steam curls up from your cup, the heat of the summer day already fading with the sunlight.

“We’ll make it, one way or the other,” you say. His worries are endearing, parts and pieces of him that you think he’ll never learn to let go of, not even if there was fresh fruit on the table, hot water in the pipes.

Joel from before.

He fascinates you, in every form you think of him.

With your words, you see something in his eyes, something young and untamed. You think he’s going to press it with you, show you why the amount of rain and sun the settlement’s been getting will be its exact downfall. But it dies down, calms back into the soft burnt toffee you know them to be, and the ever-present smiling not-smile returns to his face.

Finally, he nods his head towards the strawberries and winks at you. You start eating them again, trying to paint up images of him in the gardens, of the strawberries looking even smaller beside his hands. His voice, mellowed and soft, Yeah, yeah, you’re good, that’s alright now, okay?

Joel’s hand brushes against yours as you reach in for another one, lighting a match against your skin, flames bursting up and down your body. He doesn’t seem to give it much mind, his unshakable calm draped against him like always.

With a chuckle, he looks down at the one in his hand, “My mama used to make these inta jams.” He eats it, eyes fluttering shut at the taste. Your body pulls at itself and you take one for yourself as well, flavour oozing out into your mouth, tasting like love because you’re sharing it with him.

“Loved’em with a fresh biscuit,” pausing, he breaks out of his memories to look at you. “You ever had jam ‘n biscuits?”

“Sure, sometimes.”

He tilts his head, “Homemade ones?” You shake your head and he waves you off in response, “Oh, then you hadn’t had jam ‘n biscuits. Lemme tell ya, my mama made’em mean. Nothin’ like a hot jar of strawberry jam.”

Eyes going a little misty he keeps on, “Now, Tommy?” he laughs soft and low, mainly to himself, shakes his head some more. “Tommy he’d scarf’em down the moment they were outta the oven, boy’s got no patience. Couldn’t even wait to take out the jam and then he’d-” the words had been pouring out of his mouth like honey, soothing to your ears but he cuts them off abruptly, “-Ah, would you look at that. I’m borin’ yer head off.”

It sounds like he is getting ready to leave, his eyes flicking around, on the table, back to you, to the strawberries. You rush forward without thinking about it to get him to stay, “No, no. I-I like talking with you…s’nice.” You finish with a helpless little shrug.

You don’t know where this sudden confidence has come from and you’re scared you’ve gripped too tight on the bar of soap and Joel will slip out of your grasp and into the sink, that you have to scramble to take it back. To your surprise, you haven’t.

The discomfort starts to fade away from Joel’s face and you fear what’s going to be put in its place and how similar it might be to what you hold in the farthest corner of your heart, closely guarded away from him. He melts down back into his seat, eats a strawberry.

If you look closely, the greyer hairs in his moustache are stained red.

“Well, there ya have it,” he chuckles, deep and warm. “The story of my mama’s biscuits.”

“Lovely.”

It stands in front of you, a bunny rabbit of a story, her nose twitching, ears flicking back and forth and incredibly small. You remember the first baby rabbit you ever saw, when you were sixteen over thirty years ago. You hadn’t thought something could be so tiny and also be able to move. It had scampered away the moment it caught sight of you, the bushes bristling into silence in its wake, but behind it one of your lungs and one of your kidneys followed dutifully, leaving you alive but just barely.

Right now, you cup Joel’s story in your palm, tuck it away in some safe pocket and delight each time you brush against it, a knotted ball of heat and innocence.

Gaze still fixed on the button-like eyes in front of you, you get surprised when he moves to sit in the chair at your side. His shoulders are broad and mighty still, and you have to look just slightly up to be able to see him fully.

You see him struggle with his words. Maybe he always does, and you’ve never been this close enough to see it, thoughts breaking on the shore of his mouth, the twitch around his nose, the ever changing colour of his eyes not even quivering still for a moment.

“You’re-” he clears his throat, it rumbles gently like an earthquake from your feet to your head, shaking your heart in the middle, reminding you of the ache inside it. “You’ve been lonely here…in Jackson.”

There’s not much to say, and you shrug, “I’m alive.”

“Not what I said.”

It stings through you, sharp with truth and a keen observation. You’d thought you’d manage to hide it well, that people had bigger problems than to worry about you, and the emotions running in you that you’ve forgotten what they are and how they’re supposed to feel like. You don’t know what to say, looking down at your hands, starting digging into your cuticles for something to do with them.

He hums softly, and on instinct you turn your gaze to him, watching his front profile bent forward. “These years…they’ve been hard,” he almost hears your thoughts. “On us all.”

You think of your husband. The one who’d married you young, though you’d felt like you were anything but at the time, and cradled your heart gently and coaxed you out of moods as if it was the only thing he was made for and wanted to do. He doesn’t come to your mind often anymore, having lost him several years before the world blew up. Together, you’d lived a quiet life. Defined by soothing, soft sunlight and lazy afternoons.

Truly, you’ve felt lonely your whole life. It didn’t really start twenty years ago, or two years ago when you arrived in Jackson. Had been a quiet and almost ignored child. There’s not much you remember from your childhood, but the knoll of a memory rings true every time. Standing in line for a whole afternoon, a worksheet grasped in your sweaty palms, feeling that soon, soon, you’d be rewarded for listening, for being quiet.

How interminable that afternoon had seemed to you, long and drawn out, testing your patience at each turn, and how you’d risen up to each defiantly, child-like sense of justice still strong and unfailable.

You learnt your lesson too late, when your soul and essence had already hardened into unchangeable patterns. So, you got used to getting hurt, tears springing at your eyes and burning through your lungs.

“Believe it or not, I wasn’t always like this.” The corners of Joel’s eyes crinkle, fold up into themselves like fabric. He chuckles softly and you feel your face press into a smile. “I was real angry…and mean. People wouldn’t come within a square mile of me if they could help it.”

His eyes glisten when he hears you laugh, and he holds up his hands, “I ain’t lyin’, I swear. Ask anyone you want, I was the town grump, yellin’ at kids to get off my lawn.” The words make you laugh even more, hiding it behind your hand and maybe the energy sparks in the air, because Joel starts to laugh too. A deep, gentle, belly laugh that seems to have come from another world. Of soft grey hair and tender eyes. It’s hard to imagine Joel as mean, a grump.

The perpetuity of time weighs down on you heavily. How separated you feel from yourself at sixteen, twenty, thirty. The decades rolling past you like boulders. It scares you that you and Joel remember a world, a life, that doesn’t exist anymore and soon the two of you will be gone, the memories falling off into the air like they’ve done for generation upon generation.

You wonder how so little time, in the grand scheme of things, can feel so long and tiresome. How you’re not even fifty yet and still, the thought of having to fall asleep and wake up the next day to do it all again exhausts you to the point of tears. The thought of having to do this for one more day even seems impossible, leave alone for years.

When you were younger, and you’d first started feeling like this, you’d thought it would pass when you got married, when you got older. When the world fell apart you’d thought you would snap out of it, yet it never happened. The only time you’d felt happy waking up was from nightmares, panting and struggling to orient yourself.

It had been better since you arrived at Jackson, found some semblance of routine and stability that you’d craved since you were a child.

Joel sighs, drawing you out of your thoughts, and focusing you in again to see him rub at his beard, the movement tugging at the insides of you. “Don’t know why I’m telling you this really,” he lets out a quiet breath, and it washes over you, ocean-like. “I-I…” He swallows thickly, and you’re alarmed to see him gather himself as if to move to go. “Been botherin’ you really-”

You cut him off by saying his name. It tolls inside you, flashes of hospitals and the dark green carpet of the funeral home coming to the forefront of your mind.

You think about your husband's eyes, the soft slope of them, so similar and yet so different to Joel’s. You wonder if Joel would have liked him, if in another world the two of them would drink beer together and play poker, while you complained about them to friends you’ve never truly, properly had.

The image is domestic, tugs at you and you know soon you’re going to cry if you’re not careful. You start talking, how the two of you had met, the sudden and then slow fall.

The ache in you grows and grows, till it’s fit to burst. Talking about him to Joel feels like emptying out an abscess, makes you feel both guilty and relieved.

He talks in turn. Of a daughter. The pulsing, too-hot blood covering his forearms and screaming until he’d lost his voice and spat red for a week later. Hot, bright flashes of anger that never truly went away.

You wonder if that’s what had drawn you to Joel in the first place, that gaping, weeping hole inside of him that reflected so tenderly back into your stomach. He laughs a couple of times, telling you about Ellie. Then he cries and despite everything, you envy him for how he does it so rightfully, well-timed.

You can’t remember a time you’d talked so much. The sun sets over his back, beside his ear.

There’s a fatigue in your bone marrow, a deep, strong ache that ripples through your back and muscles. Joel looks a different person to you know, the ghost of a girl standing behind him, her hand placed on his forearm, gentle features in her face ringing true to her father’s and that of a woman you don’t know. You’re seized with the urge to turn back time, to see if you would have found Joel in the old world just like you have this one. If you would have liked his daughter, found companionship in her the way you do with all women.

Joel smiles at you, eyes glistening, murmuring something about the time. The day comes back to you at once, and you feel you’ve taken a breath after hours of holding it in. You wonder at the way Joel’s drawn all this out of you, patient and with no rush at all. How he’d deemed you worthy of time and attention.

You walk with him to your front door, feeling as if it was years since he’d shown up at it, bowl in hand.

“Hey, honey?” The back of Joel’s shirt is wrinkled from the way he was sitting at your table. He turns back to you, the sun fully set now.

You have a strange need to offer to walk him home. Then you hope he’d offer to walk you home and you’d do the same and then you could spend the rest of your life walking with him home.

“Yeah?”

The pull he has terrifies you. There’s a subconscious ache in your muscles to be closer to him, to right what seems to have been wronged.

He does it for you, takes a step away from the door and barely a few breaths of space between you. From here, you can see the sunspots in his beard, flecked onto tanned and weathered skin and you think about a time when Joel was so young he didn’t have a beard.

“There’s a-uh…ah, ” he goes gravelly and clears his throat, running a hand up and down his beard comfortingly. Something inside him renews and the insecurity falls away, it’s fascinating and addicting to watch. You’re sure there isn’t a more interesting person on the Earth. “You wanna come with me? To the dance next week?”

You swallow and it does nothing to help the feeling inside you that you’re being torn into two. “Oh, Joel I…” you fumble for an excuse out of all the well-used and well-rehearsed ones you have. “I-uh…I’m not much of a dancer.”

“Hell,” he laughs, and his eyes go to the size of slivered almonds. “Neither am I. But they play some fancy records. I go for the music.”

“What kind?”

You’re not going to go, you’re certain of this, already feeling like you’ve imposed far too much on him, but this is another part of Joel, the music he listens to each week at the community dance. There’s no harm in taking it for yourself.

“Real old stuff,” his eyes twinkle. “You think me old? Wait ‘til ya hear it, it’s stuff my grandparents listened to growin’ up.” A beat, something drops in his tone, “M’serious.” He sounds nervous even, “I want you to go with me.”

You don’t know how to tell Joel this is the first time someone’s asked you out in a long, long, while. If ever. Your husband was the only man who ever loved you and he’d always been there. Had proposed to you in the low light of his kitchen, matter-of-fact sort of, I suppose we should get married.

You don’t know how much of your story Joel’s gratuitously, much to the contradiction of your character, filled in. You want to have led the life he’s envisioned for you, so kindly and tenderly, eating strawberries at your kitchen table, rather than the cold, lonely one you’ve led instead.

Through the sudden twisting and turning inside you, a cold pang stops it at your foolishness to assume that this is what you’d thought it was. That you’d taken the opaque words and read through them, leading yourself astray and susceptible to getting hurt.

“Darlin’? Makes me real nervous when you take so long to answer questions like this,” he coos softly, you think again of the way he talks to everything, as if he can see through it to the marrow and essence, trace it with his finger. You see his hand twitch and this time he does touch you, holding onto your forearm, a soft fire burning on your skin. “What’s wrong, hm?”

“I don’t know how to dance, Joel,” you say finally. You feel and see yourself leaning close to his touch, the warmth of his body spilling into your own, but you’re helpless to stop it. You want to feel his chest on your bare back, the prickle of his beard against your skin, roughened palms against your stomach. So much roughness pressing on you with love.

He lets out a tender breath, as if to say, that’s all? “Well, I’ll teach ya if ya want. And if not, we’ll have a drink and listen to some Guy Lombardo, alright?”

You know you should protest again, keep pushing it with him until he drops the act, keeps this where it ought to remain. But your yearning for him is overwhelming and tiring to fight against, “Alright.”

“Alright?” His thumb brushes back and forth against your skin. You look up at him and you fear that now there’s no hiding from him anymore, behind quiet and excuses. You feel his eyes hit the back of your lungs. “Alright, honey,” he smiles at you, his skin folding up like intricate origami, stealing your breath away at seeing it up so close.

“I’ll see you soon, then,” he murmurs. Then he’s leaning down towards you to kiss your cheek. A rough brush of slightly chapped lips before he’s straightened up and the door clicking shut behind him, a trail of blood following him from where your chest is, gaping empty, your heart trudging along unknowingly behind him and his broad shoulders like slug.

For two years you fought against it, pushing it aside as it continued to grow like an untamed weed, growing a strong, unbreakable net of roots only for you to lose all of it in close to five minutes, to show you how fragile and fallible you were when it came to Joel Miller.

The community centre in Jackson is one of the only buildings left nearly intact. The floors were still original wood, and creaked and groaned with each step. With the fall of summer, the harvest close to over, the nights were coming earlier, quicker, and colder. As you walk towards the building, the lights glow from the windows flickering some strange sense of nostalgia in you, twinging at a corner you’d thought was long gone inside your heart.

Joel is standing at the entryway, hair brushed back in a way that, in the fickle light, almost makes him unrecognizable. You’ve never seen him like this, not just his hair, but his appearance. Your heart stutters when it sees itself reflected, nervous and trembling in Joel’s face. The thought of him making himself all pretty-like for you in the glow of his bathroom makes you feel faint, makes you feel young in a way you don’t ever remember feeling. That maybe, the thought of you has him nervous and stumbling and anxious, how you so often feel around him.

“Hey, honey.”

You stammer a little smile, say you hope you hadn’t kept him too long. A record scratch comes from inside and the soft drone of trumpets and crooning filters out to the two of you like fairy dust.

Putting his hand on the small of your back, Joel leads you inside.

True to his word, he doesn’t do any dancing. You’re not sure if you can handle such close proximity to him, feeling the gentle wash of his breath, to breathe him in so deeply the push outwards strains your lungs without the promise of being able to do it again whenever you want to.

He gets you two a drink and sways with you, arm around your shoulders, talking in soothing tones that rival the one he uses with his niece. When he pretends to not notice you looking, you gaze at him, his profile glowing in the lights of the hall, the wrinkles in his face like those of a tree trunk.

You’d been nervous to be seen out like this with Joel, worried to hear rumours fly and nervous that your reaction to them would give away inner corners of your heart that you don’t even dare graze in the safety of the early morning darkness, alone, in your own bed and house. Even more, you didn’t want him hearing them, the malicious tongues of Jackson picking you apart any more than they already had had.

Yet to your surprise, people only smile at you, ask you to join them at the Tipsy Bison, Joel agreeing readily for you as you struggle to find the words.

You and Joel, it seems, are no great news.

You wonder how much time has been wasted just because of your broken mind, thoughts from your childhood running through it constantly chiming truth-like when they were only supposed to light laughing matters now.

The weight of Joel’s hand grows suddenly, and it drops onto your chest. The subtle, comforting smell of wood turns stifling, dust floating up and stinging your eyes. With a quiet word, you slip out from under Joel’s arm as he’s talking to Tommy, head back outside and start taking greedy gulps of air.

The normalcy of it, the quiet indifference and accepting looks around you had taken you aghast. At how quickly you’d lost the rules you’d set in place for when you were around Joel. At how quickly you’d managed to fool yourself into thinking that you could do this, be normal and sound, at how you’d tricked Joel into thinking the same and now it felt that everything was suspended in the balance.

The whole unworthiness of it. How you’d managed to outsmart the world time and time again into staying alive for whole decades after you’d thought you would, and how you couldn’t do the same for your husband, a man so worthy of life compared to you. How he’d worked at you patiently, tenderly. Made you believe, for brief, fleeting moments that maybe you were wrong, that you can think wrong thoughts and yet there was nothing wrong with that, and that nobody had been tricked and everyone was deserving.

And how quickly that had all been torn away from you in a torturous six months.

Some days, you feel you’ve gotten better, the tug of black tar lighter, only to drown even worse the next.

He’d been the only person ever to convince you otherwise. And he’d been wrong.

Until now.

The back porch creaks softly under Joel’s shoes, and by now you’ve given up wondering why you can recognize the way the world around him reacts to his presence. You turn to face him, to see the angel-like glow around his silhouette for the half-instant it’s there.

You look down quickly at your feet, hoping it hides the sudden heat rising to your face and calms it down.

In so many ways, you feel older than you are, ready to lay down in the ground and surrender to the dirt and grass, and in others you still feel like a child, helpless and naive. Joel shouldn’t be finding you out here, staring into the night for answers you know won’t be there.

“There ya are,” you’ve never heard his voice this way before, the many nuances and inflections that you’ve studied like a religion.

Your shame is so great you can’t even bring yourself to apologize, an annoying habit your mother always lashed out at you for, your apparent insolence and indifference.

There’s the same shuffling step of his, the left favoured over the right. There’s a loud round of laughter from inside and you flinch at it as Joel comes to stand beside you.

“Needed some air?”

If you could, you would crawl into his chest, burrow down there so he’d lull you to sleep with the rumble of his voice. Though he’s only inches from you, he feels much farther away.

You nod quietly and you wonder how you can tell Joel that the outbreak hadn’t made you like this, that Jackson had brought it out of you again after years of a toughened, fraud outside you’d held to yourself protectively like a blanket. That there wasn’t anything more to peel away, and you couldn’t be fixed with rope or soft words like the plants he loves and the wood he whittles away into gifts.

“Joel…” you lick your lips, bite down on the inside of your cheek until you bleed. His name feels right, shaped out of your voice, and you marvel at how well-trained your mind is, after almost fifty years of feeding you lies and your fighting right back against it, to find the cracks in your armour and press and press until it gives out. “I’m sorry.”

Words so familiar to you they should be written on your gravestone.

He tsks, waving at the air dismissively, “Now, stop with all that.” It’s the harshest he’s ever spoken to you yet it’s still quiet and kind. He comes to face you, the light inside falling on his face and into the deep groves of it.

Despite yourself, you gaze into his eyes, to peer at the earnestness in them, dreadfully familiar.

“I’m sorry.” A frozen clock, stuck on the same time, the seconds hand beating and beating and going nowhere, as the world around it covers itself in dust and death.

Pulvis es et in pulverem reverteris.

He smiles, eyes still feather-soft and honey-sweet. A strand of hair comes loose, falling into his face and you see the Joel you’ve come to love, despite any and all precautions.

You say his name quietly, “He was the only one who…” It’s hard to describe what your husband had done for you, even if you hadn’t felt so stunted with words since you started learning them. His earnest and pure love that had flowed through him for you and the whole world while he was alive, how you’d thwarted it away, the black, rotten core inside of you screaming out, and how, wave after wave, he’d returned to you.

“And you think there’s only one person for you in this world?” There’s nothing patronizing in his voice, which makes it all the worse for you. You wish it had been that simple, that you had seen yourself worthy of only your husband’s love, had seen something in his relentless pursuit of giving it over to you with no hope of return. How it had been only stronger on the days it had been hard to eat, and sleep, and wake up.

Your voice breaks, “I wasn’t even supposed to get the one.”

“Oh, honey,” he coos. The heel of his palm is rough as it brushes against your jaw. Coaxing, he tilts your head up to face his. The second time only you’ve been so close to him and it seems your body still hasn’t gotten used to it.

The darkness of the night is enshrouding, humidity pressing against your lungs. Joel’s jacket is on top of your shoulders, his presence drowning out the darkness, leaving sunlight and trees instead. You feel his roots claw down into your chest, latch onto your liver and heart.

“You know…” he swallows and you’re too close to the motion because you’re dangerously close to your knees giving out underneath you. “I’ve seen the way you look at me.”

It’s not judgmental, Joel could never be that. But you shrink inside nonetheless, embarrassed and feeling smaller than ever.

Ghosts swarm around the two of you, stirring the air and making a soft breeze and goosebumps rise against your skin.

You go to look away but he wills it not and what is the turning of the Earth if not for the wants of Joel Miller?

“Real flattered, if I could say so. Didn’t think-” he clears his throat and this time he looks away, shy and young, a bird hiding its beak in its wing. “Didn’t think you’d fancy an old man like me.”

The truth behind his words amazes you, how it’s something he seems to have considered time and time again relentlessly, from all angles, and still decided it to be his reality.

“How-how…could I not?”

There’s the deep, soothing rumble of his laugh again. It rings clear with tradition and home, and baked clay and spotted ceramic owls. “You’re a bit hard to read sometimes, honey.”

Inside of you, your veins seize up, heart quivering at his words. He smiles down at you in that gentle, Joel way of his, quieting your thoughts. The soft drone of music drifts out from the open window, the slow murmur of a content crowd of happy people.

His arm wraps around your waist, testing, eyes flitting back and forth on you. With each pass of his gaze, you feel the soft patter-like feet of butterflies resting against your cheeks, wings flapping slowly, measured as if to show your heart how to beat again, properly.

Daringly, you inch closer to him. His nose comes down to meet yours.

“Hey, darlin’...honey?”

He’s whispering and he’s never whispered with you before.

His breath is warm against your face, if you could, you would tuck your head under his shirt and never come up again.

“Can I kiss ya? Would ya let me?”

It’s hard to think that this is where you’ve ended up with Joel, from the first time you saw him those handful of years ago, where he’d been standing off to the side talking with someone, standing over a pile of wood, until now. His weight leaned on one leg, hip popped out making you lose your breath at the sight of it.

Like a blossoming tea he’s unfurled for you. Had stretched and arched in hot water, catching your eye for it never to be let go of again.

He traces your hairline with his finger, murmurs your name. “Can I?” His eyes are only on your mouth now, sometimes coming up to blink and meet yours.

Joel seems close to as nervous as you, seems as if he sees you to be precious the same way you do him. It’s equally surprising and comforting, gives you the final push forward, your foot slipping against a grainy edge and plummeting you towards the bottom, wind beating against your ears.

“Yeah.” You sound strong, certain. The sturdy trunk of an oak tree. Even more daring, you press your palm against his tummy, a few fingers under the edge of his ribs, enjoying the give of his flesh as you lean up into him even more.

His voice rumbles against your lips, the whispering lost to the wind now, “Ain’t you the sweetest thing.”

Thanks so much for reading, hopefully I haven't lost my edge after a year off. If you liked this please consider leaving me some feedback, I obsess over it constantly!

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cherryblossms · 3 days ago

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it only made sense, to garam at least, that he'd worry about disturbing anybody's peace. he was my boyfriend and i had to worry about annoying him. the words garam thought but didn't dare actually verbalizing. he'd already eluded to axel enough, he didn't want to directly speak of him and risk ruining the air between himself and angel right now. he was also afraid of angel possibly being hurt by the fact that garam was thinking about his ex in a moment like this. "just tell me if whatever i'm doing bothers you." at least if he found out early on, he'd know how not to behave going forward. "and i mean anything. if i snore too much when i'm asleep or if i chew too loud, talk too loud, or breathe too loud." the last one was a habit he only found himself doing when his focus was intense while gaming, something he had to break himself out of since it was commented on a lot pretty early on in his career. but outside of his fanbase, nobody else had found the sound of his breathing to be bothersome. it took him a moment to gather the courage to drop his hands from his face and, when he did, his cheeks were so red. he was beyond just embarrassed, especially after angel continued to question him. everything after good boy essentially went in one ear and out the other without his brain having the chance to process what was said to him. he was only pulled back to reality once the other tugged at his earlobe, a soft moan leaving his lips snaping his attention. then most of angel's words began to register, his brows beginning to furrow as he instantly moved his hands to his lap to provide himself what little coverage his hands could give. "you can't say things like that to me." he whispered, shaking his head. it just wasn't fair, anybody could get garam to do whatever they wanted with the smallest amount of appraisal. even if it wasn't necessarily in a sexual or physical context. his gaze dropped down to his own lap, brows furrowing even more as he grew frustrated with himself for getting turned on by those words; good boy. he really did want to eat breakfast with angel, he wanted to go out shopping together and just spend the day with him. but his body wanted something more than that, more than what was already given to him. garam looked back to up angel, doing all that he could not to look as desperate as felt he was to be touched by the man again. "i don't want you to think i'm some sex addict or anything like that, because i'm-i'm not." but how could anybody believe that when angel had gotten him hard, in some sense, three times now in less than a twenty four hour timeframe. maybe it was because it'd been such a long time since he felt excited for something as simple as physical touch, knowing that there was true emotion behind angel's words and his actions weren't driven by the desire to come by any means. "you've always been so careful with me, you've always gone out of your way to care for me. how am i not supposed to be turned on by you? emotionally—" he felt guilty, knowing that others could see that garam used angel emotionally before he had the chance to realize it, himself, "i'm so sorry for having done this to you. i mean, i'm sure you've had lovers in the mean time but waiting and watching the things i've done, how i've behaved, who i associated with... i'm not a good boy, i shouldn't be rewarded when i've been so bad." he slowly moved his hands away from his lap, letting them fall from his thighs to rest on top of the mattress on each side of his calves; his fingers grasping at the material below them. "we should eat," he blurted out, thinking if he changed the subject quick enough, angel wouldn't have a chance to process what he'd said and respond. "you're hungry and i'm hungry. and-and there's a lot i have to buy and i don't want to be out too late... you know, just in case." the last thing he wanted was to risk running into axel and have their day together ruined.

Hearing Garam ask him to join the hunt for warmer socks was enough to put him at ease. What Angel didn’t expect was the man’s full confession. He sat there quite with a blank stare. But because he wasn’t listening but more from shock. All of this was going on in his mind? Angel thought himself unable to fathom how Garam even functioned with all of that going on. However, he stayed completely silent until he seemed the man ran out of breath from his gasping. Angel’s eyes softened as he leaned forward and kissed the other man’s hands. “I’m sorry I wasn’t clear about my feelings. Each word followed with a soft kiss to Garam’s hands. “Since when do you care about annoying me? Garam you are my best friend first before anything else. That will never change.” Angel smiled as he moved closer looking at the way the man was sitting. Angel always found him cutest like this. So flustered and unsure, “I don’t regret what we did Garam. Not right now. I’m still working through some things. Some days I’m okay and some days it hard to get out of bed. But what I want you to focus on is how I feel about you. That is what I was trying to say earlier.” He continued wanting to cover everything Garam said. Angel wanted to show him he was listening and took all his words seriously. “Well baby, you made a rule and I made a rule. We have plenty of time to work up to that. What a beautiful mess you would make. Don’t be scared I’ll never do anything you are not comfortable with. And I’ll never do anything I don’t want to do. I appreciate you being worried for me but I’m a big boy. I’ll speak up for myself” Angel cooed putting his face inches from Haram’s hands, “please look at me baby, I want to see your handsome face” he whispered kissing his hands once more. Angel smirked as he leaned closer to the other man’s ear, “So you thought about me? What exactly did you picture Garam? You don’t think I want more of you? Hearing you moan for me, like the good boy you are?” He was having too much fun with this. How could he not get turned on by the way Garam was talking. However, he pulled back when the man invited him once again out with him shopping, “Tour deer really caught me by surprise. Just warn me next time they are freezing. But I would love to help you shop for anything you need. It’s still early we can cuddle some more…or you know I could go another round?” He grinned as he playfully bit the man’s ear lobe before pulling away. “After I can cook for us and we head out shopping. How does that sound?”

#threads #thread: garam #thread: garam & angel #ang3lmoans

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babydollslibrary · 2 days ago

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PARIS — NICO HISCHIER

published: March 19th, 2023

summary: in which y/n is so in love with Nico, that she doesn’t care about any of the gossip her friends tell her about her exes.

specific lyrics: “your ex-friend's sister met someone at a club and he kissed her. turns out it was that guy you hooked up with ages ago; some wannabe z-lister. and all the outfits were terrible. 2003 unbearable. did you see the photos? no, i didn't, but thanks, though.” and “i’m so in love that i might stop breathing.” and “privacy sign on the door, and on my page, and on the whole world. romance is not dead if you keep it just yours.” and “i wanna brainwash you, into loving me forever. i wanna transport you, to somewhere the culture's clever. confess my truth, in swooping, sloping, cursive letters.”

GIF by mattymartin

“did you hear that John got engaged?”

i peek up from my spot on the floor, glancing over to Ella who sits in the armchair across the room. Tara and Naomi are sat together on the couch, wide eyes and excited smiles.

“no.” i shake my head, my lips flattening in a straight line as i continue flipping through the magazine in my hands.

“yeah, he got engaged last week. but the kicker?” Naomi speaks this time, pausing for dramatic effect. “Ella heard from Carrie, who heard from the fiancée’s sister, that the girl is two months pregnant. it’s a shotgun wedding.”

“and she’s forty-one compared to his twenty-eight!” Tara pipes up. i glance up again, offering a furrowed brow and an uninterested nod. why were they telling me these things?

“cool. i mean, we’re adults, age doesn’t really matter anymore.” i shrug, and now it’s their turn to look at me like i’m crazy. our exes are usually our favorite topic for gossip, but that was before i met Nico eight months ago. now it’s typically been gossip about their exes. “besides, maybe they are getting married because she’s pregnant, but they could end up being really in love.”

“but- this is juicy?” Naomi says, her face scrunched in confusion. Ella and Tara nod along with her, clearly confused by my disinterest. i shrug once more, my focus falling back down to the magazine that rests in my lap now.

“John just isn’t part of my life anymore. i don’t really care what happens with him. i wish him the best in his marriage and fatherhood, though.”

“the best?” Ella balks, jaw hung open in surprise. “the man who cheated on you with three other women? you wish him the best?”

“i’m over it. did it hurt at the time? yeah. but, i’m happy now. if he hadn’t cheated on me, i wouldn’t’ve found my way to Nico, so it worked out in my favor.” i confess my feelings, and the girls all share a look, raising their brows in suspicion.

“that’s actually really mature of you, y/n/n. i’m proud of you.” Tara tells me, the other two nodding in agreement.

“what can i say? Nico’s been good for me.” i laugh, and they all giggle before returning to their own magazines.

“does it ever bother you that we’re not public?” Nico’s voice breaks me out of my trance. my hands, which were previously rubbing cleanser on my cheeks in circles, freeze and i look at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. he stands in the doorway, frowning down at his phone, leaning against the frame.

“no, why?” i ask. “does it bother you?”

“well, no. it was my idea.” he sighs, slipping his phone on the counter and making his way over to me, entangling his arms around my waist as i continue washing my face. “but, i don’t know. i just saw Shara’s post with Darya and i wondered if maybe it upsets you. i know girls like to be posted and admired, and i feel bad that i don’t do that.”

i finish washing the cleanser off my face, patting dry with a towel, before i twist around in his arms. placing my hands on his bare chest, i give him a soft smile.

“Neeks, i don’t need to be posted in order to feel admired. you make me feel that way every day just from your simple actions. i mean, just yesterday, you went for a run and came back with a bouquet of flowers. last week, you surprised me with a movie night and homemade pizza, when you could’ve very well spent that night sleeping early considering you were leaving the next day for a quick roadie.”

“but-” i press a finger against his lips, signaling for him to be quiet.

“i don’t need to be posted because i like our privacy. besides, the important people know. our friends, our family, they’re the only people we care about knowing, the entire world doesn’t have to know in order for our relationship to be real. if anything, i think it’s kept the romance alive because we’re living in the moment. we’re not taking our phones out to get pictures of our special moments; it’s just us enjoying our time together. i love you, and i know you love me. i don’t need us to be public in order to feel loved by you, because you make sure i’m aware of it every day.”

“ich liebe dich von ganzem Herzen.” he slots his lips between mine, soft and sweet, tasting like his mint toothpaste. we part, and i smile up at him.

“i only caught that first part, but i love you too. so much.” i step out of his grasp to walk back into his bedroom, glancing behind me to see him following me. slipping into bed, he copies me, turning his bedside light off and slinging an arm around my waist, pulling me into him so that we press against each other. my eyes fall closed, and i’m on the verge of sleep when i hear him mumble.

“ich möchte dich eines Tages heiraten.”

i’m spread across the couch at Naomi’s house this time, Ella sitting with my feet in her lap, Tara in one armchair, and Naomi in another.

Ella paints my toenails as Naomi and Tara gossip back and forth and i lay with my eyes closed, just listening.

“y/n.” i pry open my eyes to look over at Tara, humming inquisitively. “did you hear?”

“hear what?” i ask.

“your ex-friend, Gianna? her sister, Izzy, met someone at a club and he kissed her.” she tells me. my brows form a ‘v’ as i nod in understanding.

“okay?”

“turns out it was that guy you hooked up with ages ago; some wannabe z-lister.” Naomi chimes in. “remember him?”

“umm, vaguely, i think. Jake something or other. right?” i peek down at Ella, who stopped doing my toes in order to listen more intently.

“mhm!” Naomi hums before huffing out a harsh laugh. “and all the outfits were terrible.”

“like, 2003 unbearable.” Tara laughs. “did you see the photos?”

“no, i didn't, but thanks, though.” i tell her, shaking my head.

“do you wanna see them?” Naomi asks, tapping on her phone a couple times before i offering it to me.

“no, thanks.” i scrunch up my nose, shrugging.

“oh. okay…”

“i do!” Ella exclaims, swapping the nail polish in her hand for Naomi’s phone. “oh god!”

“it’s horrible! right?” Tara laughs, but i just frown, sitting up on the couch. “he’s wearing a camo thermal shirt under a polo! like dude!”

“guys, that’s mean.” i scold.

“it’s not mean, it’s the truth. if you saw the pictures, you would understand.” Ella giggles, offering me the phone once more. i push it away, shaking my head.

“i don’t care about what happens between Jake or Izzy.” i tell them. Ella shrugs, handing the phone back to Naomi and going back to painting my nails.

“you seriously don’t care?” Tara asks and i shake my head.

“not really. i’m at a good point in my life, Nico makes me really happy. i don’t care what my exes or almost exes are up to.” i admit. “i don’t mind all the other gossiping we do, i love gossip, but i really don’t care for hearing about my exes. it doesn’t affect me in any way, so why do i need to know about it? if they’re happy, then good for them.”

“who are you and what have you done with y/n?” Ella jokes, making us all giggle.

“i really love Nico. he makes me happy, which in turn, makes me content with what happened in the past. i don’t need to hear about the bad karma that’s hitting my exes, because i just don’t care about them anymore.” a soft smile spreads across my face at the thought of my boyfriend.

“i love Nico for you. this relationship is so healthy and i can tell how good he is for you.” Naomi tells me, her voice gentle and happy, a grin on her lips.

i stare down at the piece of card stock in my hands, tracing my cursive with my eyes.

‘kick ass tonight, captain!

p.s. i wanna love you forever

lovingly yours, y/n’

smiling in content, i tuck the note into one of Nico’s skates in his duffle bag for him to find later. a tradition i’ve come to look forward to, it started about two months into our relationship, when i slipped a note into the tupperware holding his pregame snack. when he got home after their win that night, he told me he looked at it during both intermissions. that was the night we said ‘i love you’ for the first time. so now before every home game, i write him a note and stick it somewhere in his things, in order for him to find it before the game, to give him a boost of confidence.

“darling, have you seen my keys?” Nico’s voice carries in from the living room, and i swipe his keys off the counter before padding to the entryway of the living room to find him digging in between the couch cushions.

“right here, love.” i smile, watching his head snap up and his sight lock on the car keys dangling from my fingers. he lets out a sigh of relief, making his way over to me.

“what would i do without you?” the question is rhetorical, but i can’t help but jokingly answer.

“walk.” i shrug. chuckling, he nabs the keys out of my hand whilst simultaneously planting a gentle kiss to my forehead.

“will you be here when i get back?” he asks, raising a hand to gingerly cup my jaw. i nuzzle deeper into his touch, nodding.

“of course.” i tell him before joking again- “i don’t have ESPN+, so i have to use yours on your tv to watch the game.”

he chuckles again, leaning down to press a quick but sweet kiss to my lips before bidding me goodbye. i wish him a good luck, watching as he leaves for his game.

“where’d it go?” i wonder aloud, scouring the bathroom countertop for my chapstick. Nico always puts it back after he borrows it, knowing it’s part of my nightly routine, but he must’ve forgotten today.

leaving the bathroom, i go back to his bedroom, scanning the top of his dresser for the lip product but coming up empty handed. i let out a deep sigh, moving on to his nightstand. not spotting it on the top, i open the drawer. but my brows furrow when i get the drawer ajar, only to find it empty other than a stack of cardstock. pulling one out, i flip it over in my hands, my eyes softening when i read the words swooped across the paper.

i pull out the stack, shuffling through them. my eyes prick with tears at the realization. my notes. i never knew what he did with them after the games, but i guess i assumed he just threw them away. but i was wrong, because they’re all here. all accounted for, dating back to the very first one. kept safe in his bedside drawer. tears slide down my cheeks, my heart pounding in my chest at the sweet gesture.

i place them all back in the drawer, swiping at my face to dry it, and giving up on my chapstick.

laid in bed, a book is gripped in my hands as i await Nico’s return after his big win. i perk up at the sound of the front door opening and shutting, placing my bookmark in and closing my book as Nico opens the bedroom door.

“hi, superstar!” i cheer, dropping my book onto the nightstand. a bashful grin spreads across his face as he drops his bag on the floor by the end of the bed. i shuffle on the bed, sitting up on my knees, facing the edge of the mattress. “two goals and an assist, and first star of the night. i’m so proud of you!”

“thank you, love.” he steps in front of me, wrapping his arms around my waist, pulling me flush against him, chest to chest. “did you see what i did after them?”

heat rises to my face as i think back to what he did after both goals. the gesture that he told me long ago meant he was dedicating those goals to me; a quick tap to his lips.

“i did. thank you, baby.” wrapping my arms around his neck, i crane my own, settling a gentle kiss onto his lips. parting, he lays his forehead on mine.

“i want to love you forever.” he tells me, making me giggle.

“using my own words on me?” i question, switching to bury my head in his neck. his hand rubs up and down my back as we hug in silence for a moment.

“i think that may have been my favorite note so far.” he admits, whispering in my ear.

“yeah?” i pull back to look at his big brown eyes, my favorite color for the past eight months. he hums an agreement.

“i’m so in love with you. sometimes, it feels like i might stop breathing.”

“you are the best thing that’s ever happened in my life.” i confess. “i love you. so much.”

“is it too early to ask you to marry me?” he questions. a joke, i assume, and i let out an airy laugh.

“maybe a little bit.” i tell him. “but how about we compromise?”

“and just how do we compromise?” he asks.

“how would you feel about me moving in with you?” a wide grins spread across his face at my words, happily nodding.

“i would love that.”

#nico hischier imagine #nico hischier #nico hischier blurb #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier fic #nj devils #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl blurb

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noirflame · 2 days ago

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Threefold Bliss

It was a typical night out for Nayeon, a member of the popular K-pop group Twice. She had just finished a long day of rehearsals and was looking forward to letting loose and having some fun. As she walked into the dimly lit bar, she immediately spotted Sana, another member of Twice, sitting at the bar with a guy Nayeon had never seen before.

"Sana!" Nayeon exclaimed, walking over to her friend and giving her a hug. "Who's this?" she asked, gesturing to the guy sitting next to Sana.

"Oh, this is Y/N," Sana said, introducing her boyfriend to Nayeon. "We've been dating for a few months now."

Nayeon smiled and shook Y/N's hand, noticing how handsome and charming he was. "Nice to meet you," she said.

The three of them chatted and drank for a while, the conversation flowing easily and the drinks loosening them up. As the night went on, the topic of conversation turned to more adult themes, including sex.

Nayeon felt a familiar heat rising in her cheeks as she listened to Sana and Y/N talk about their own experiences and desires. She had always been a bit more reserved when it came to talking about sex, but something about the atmosphere of the bar and the company she was in made her feel more bold and daring. Nayeon took a deep breath and decided to join in on the conversation. "I don't have as much experience as you guys," she admitted, "but I do enjoy certain… activities."

Sana and Y/N looked at her with interest, and Nayeon could feel her heart racing as she continued. "I love it when a guy takes charge and is confident in the bedroom. And I have a bit of a wild side - I love trying new things and pushing boundaries."

Sana laughed and nodded in agreement. "That's one of the things I love about Y/N," she said, wrapping her arm around his waist. "He's always up for anything and he knows how to make me feel good."

Y/N smiled and looked at Nayeon. "I can tell you're the same way," he said. "I'd love to get to know you better, Nayeon."

Nayeon felt a thrill run through her at his words. She had always found Y/N attractive, but she had never considered the possibility of hooking up with him. Now, however, she couldn't deny the spark of attraction that had ignited between them.

As the night went on, the three of them continued to drink and talk, the conversation becoming more and more flirtatious. Nayeon couldn't help but notice the way Y/N's eyes kept straying to her, and she felt a growing desire to see where things could go between them.

Finally, after what felt like hours, the bar was closing and they had to decide what to do next. Nayeon looked at Sana and Y/N, both of whom seemed to be feeling the same way she was. "Do you guys want to come back to my place?" she asked, trying to keep her voice casual.

Sana and Y/N exchanged a glance and then nodded. "Sure," Sana said, grinning. "Let's go."

As they stumbled out of the bar and into a taxi, Nayeon couldn't help but feel excited for what the night had in store. She had always been a bit of a wild child, and she was looking forward to letting loose with Sana and Y/N.

When they arrived at her apartment, Nayeon led the way to her bedroom, her heart pounding with anticipation. She turned to face Sana and Y/N, feeling a rush of desire as she looked at the two of them.

"I want you both," she said, her voice husky with desire. "I want to see what it's like to be with two people who are as adventurous as I am."

Sana didn't hesitate; she leaned in and captured Nayeon's lips in a passionate kiss. Their tongues tangled, swirling around each other as they explored each other's mouths. The taste of their lips was sweet and salty, mixed with the lingering flavor of the bar.

Down below, Y/N's cock throbbed with excitement. He watched with awe as Sana's tongue danced across Nayeon's neck, leaving a trail of wetness behind. Her lips found Nayeon's armpit, and she teased it with kisses and licks before moving lower still. His hips bucked forward as he saw her head disappear between Nayeon's legs.

He leaned in, his lips meeting Sana's neck. He licked and kissed his way down, mirroring her actions on Nayeon's body. He could hear Nayeon's moans growing louder, more insistent as they pleasured her together.

Suddenly, Sana pulled back, her eyes filled with lust. She turned to Y/N, her mouth glistening with Nayeon's arousal. "Taste us," she whispered, pressing her lips to his.

Y/N groaned as their tongues met, the taste of both women driving him wild. He could feel his cock straining against his pants, desperate for release.

"Fuck," he muttered, breaking away from their kiss. "I need to be inside one of you."

Nayeon looked up at him, her eyes heavy-lidded with desire. "Come here," she said, guiding him to her. "Let me take care of that for you."

Nayeon reached out, her fingers trembling slightly as she gripped Y/N's erection. She had never seen anything so large before, and it made her heart race with excitement. She knew that Sana had experience with men, so she asked her friend for help.

"Sana, can you help me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "I've never done this before."

Sana nodded, her eyes filled with understanding. She took Nayeon's hand in hers, guiding it towards Y/N's cock. "This is going to feel good," she said reassuringly. "Just take it slow."

Nayeon nodded, her grip tightening around Y/N's shaft. She looked up at him, her eyes wide with fear and fascination. His cock was so hard and thick, it seemed impossible that she could fit it into her mouth. But she was determined to try.

Together, they worked him with their hands, their fingers intertwining as they stroked him. Nayeon could feel the veins pulsing beneath her touch, and it made her crave more. She leaned down, her tongue flicking out to taste the tip of his cock.

Y/N groaned, his hips thrusting forward as she took him into her mouth. He was so large that she could only take a few inches at a time, but she was eager to please him nonetheless.

"Like this," Sana whispered, her own hand joining Nayeon's on Y/N's shaft. Together, they worked him in tandem, their hands and mouths moving in perfect sY/Nc.

As they worked, spit began to drip from the tip of Y/N's cock, falling onto Nayeon's tongue. She swallowed eagerly, savoring the salty taste. It wasn't long before she grew more confident, taking more of him into her mouth. Her throat stretched to accommodate his girth, and she began to bob her head up and down, sliding him in and out of her warm, wet mouth.

Sana moved lower, kissing and licking at the base of Y/N's shaft. Her tongue traced the puckered hole of his ass, causing him to shudder. He had never been touched there before, and he found himself enjoying the sensation.

"Oh fuck," he moaned, his hips bucking against them. "That feels amazing."

Nayeon looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with pleasure. She wanted nothing more than to feel him fill her mouth, to taste every inch of him. She sucked harder, taking him deeper, her nose brushing against his pubic hair.

Sana pressed a finger against his opening, rubbing it slowly. "You want me to try?" she asked, looking up at him.

"Yes," he gasped. "Please."

She hesitated for a moment, but then she leaned forward, her tongue flicking against his entrance. She was cautious at first, but soon found herself licking and sucking on his asshole, sending waves of pleasure through his body.

The combination of Nayeon's mouth and Sana's tongue was too much for Y/N to bear.

Y/N's body tensed, his hips jerking forward as he came hard in Nayeon's throat. She gagged, choking on his hot seed, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she swallowed it all, eager to taste every drop.

When he finally finished, Nayeon pulled back, gasping for breath. Sana was there in an instant, pressing her lips to Nayeon's, trying to catch any lingering traces of Y/N's cum.

Their tongues tangled together, sharing the salty taste of Y/N's release. Sana moaned into Nayeon's mouth, her own arousal growing with each passing second.

Y/N watched them, his cock already hardening again at the sight of their passion. He knew that this night was far from over, and he couldn't wait to see what other adventures awaited them.

Nayeon couldn't get enough of the taste of Y/N's cum, and she was eager to taste more. She turned her attention to Sana, pushing her friend onto her back and spreading her legs wide.

"Please," Nayeon begged, her eyes locked onto Sana's pussy. "Don't make me wait anymore."

Sana grinned, her fingers tangling in Nayeon's hair as she guided her head between her legs. "I won't," she promised. "Now show me what you can do."

Nayeon didn't need to be told twice. She dove in, her tongue lapping at Sana's wet folds. She could taste her friend's arousal, sweet and musky, and it made her hungry for more. She licked and sucked, her tongue finding Sana's clit and flicking against it.

"Oh god, Nayeon,"

Sana moaned, her body arching off the bed as Nayeon's tongue danced over her most sensitive spots. "Oh yes," she whispered, her hands gripping the sheets. "That feels so good."

She reached down, grasping a breast and offering it to Y/N. "Here," she said, pulling the nipple into his mouth. "Suck on it."

He eagerly obliged, taking her nipple between his teeth and sucking hard. At the same time, he reached down to play with her other breast, pinching and rolling her nipple. He was glad for the distraction; if he focused too much on Sana's pussy, he wouldn't last long.

Nayeon kept licking and sucking, her tongue working relentlessly.

As Nayeon continued her ministrations, Sana's grip on her hair tightened. She pulled Naeon's head closer, forcing her to take more of her in. "You're such a slut, Naeon," she hissed, her voice low and sultry.

Nayeon's tongue faltered, but only for a moment. She looked up at Sana, her eyes flashing with anger. "At least I'm not a dirty bitch like you," she retorted, her voice dripping with venom.

Y/N was surprised by Nayeon's outburst, but he didn't stop what he was doing. Sana's nipples were still between his lips, and he was determined to keep them there. He could feel Sana's breasts rising and falling with each breath, and he was entranced by their softness and shape

Sana's moans grew louder as Nayeon's tongue worked its magic. "Oh god, Naeon," she gasped, her body writhing with pleasure. "You're making me come so hard."

She reached down, her hand grasping Y/N's hair just like she had done to Nayeon. "Daddy," she moaned, her voice taking on a new, softer tone. "I want you to fuck her from behind."

Y/N looked up, his eyes meeting Sana's. He could see the lust in her gaze, and it made his cock twitch with excitement. "Whatever you want, baby," he said, his voice husky.

He pushed Nayeon onto her hands and knees, positioning himself behind her. He could see her pussy glistening with arousal, and he knew that she was ready for him.

Nayeon felt Y/N's cock push against her entrance, and she couldn't help but moan. She was already wet and ready, her pussy clenching around the tip of his shaft. "Please," she begged, her voice husky with desire. "Fuck me like a horny slut."

Y/N grinned, his hips flexing as he drove into her. Nayeon's body was surprisingly tight, but he was determined to make her take every inch of him. He fucked her hard, her ass slapping against his thighs as he pistoned in and out of her.

Sana watched, her eyes shining with excitement. She knew that Y/N loved rough sex, and she was happy to let him have his way with Nayeon.

As Y/N pounded into Nayeon, Sana reached out, her hand cupping one of Nayeon's breasts. She squeezed the soft flesh, her thumb flicking over the nipple. Nayeon moaned, her back arching as pleasure shot through her.

Sana's own hand slipped between her legs, her fingers rubbing at her clit. She watched, her eyes glued to the sight of Y/N fucking Nayeon, as she brought herself closer to climax.

"Oh yes," Sana purred, her voice dripping with approval. "Fuck her hard, Daddy. Make that slut scream."

Nayeon looked up, her eyes flashing with anger at the degrading words. But her body betrayed her, responding eagerly to Y/N's relentless thrusts. She cried out, her pussy clenching around him as he pushed her closer to the edge. "Yes!" she gasped, her hips bucking back against him. "Harder! Fuck me harder!"

Y/N gave Nayeon's ass a hard smack, leaving a red mark. He reached up, grabbing a fistful of her hair and yanking her head back, exposing her neck. "You like being a slut, don't you?" he growled, his thrusts getting harder and faster.

Nayeon whimpered, his cock hitting her g-spot with every thrust. He leaned forward, biting down on her shoulder. The pain mixed with pleasure, driving her closer to orgasm. "Yes," she moaned, her body quivering. "I love it."

Sana came as well, her fingers furiously rubbing her swollen clit. She moaned loudly, the sound echoing through the room. "Oh god, Nayeon," she breathed, her body trembling with ecstasy. "

Nayeon reached up, cupping Sana's breasts. They were heavy and full, perfect targets for her splayed fingers. She pinched and rolled the nipples, eliciting moans from both Sana and Y/N.

She leaned forward, her lips brushing against Sana's folds. Her saliva was cool and refreshing, helping to coat the girl's pussy. She licked slowly, teasing Sana's clit with her tongue.

Soon enough, Sana was moaning again, her hips picking up speed. She rode him fast and hard, their bodies slapping together in a wet, lewd symphony. Y/N could feel his own climax building, but he wanted to savor this moment, to watch Sana cum all over his cock

With a loud cry, Sana arched her back and came, her pussy clamping down on Y/N's cock. Her juices spilled over them both, making their skin glisten.

Nayeon took advantage of her distraction, leaning forward and engulfing Sana's clit in his mouth. He sucked greedily, feeling her pussy quiver around his tongue.

Their moans filled the room as they came together, their bodies writhing in unison. Y/N could feel his seed rising, ready to spill. He kept going until he felt Sana's orgasm subside, then pulled away, staring down at her.

"Are you ready for me, my sweet little slut?" he asked, giving her a wink.

Sana smiled, her breath ragged. "I've never been more ready."

Y/N thrust upward, filling Sana with his hot, thick seed. As he emptied himself into her, he leaned down, aiming his cock at Nayeon's face. He shot another thick stream, covering her cheek and chin with his cum.

He panted heavily, finally spent. His cock twitched inside Sana, still sensitive despite having just cum. He sat up, looking down at the two girls, both of them covered in sweat and cum.

"That was amazing," he said, grinning widely. "Now clean each other up, and we can relax."

Nayeon smirked, reaching for a napkin to wipe the cum from her face. "No need," she said, licking her lips. "We can leave it there as a reminder of how much we enjoyed ourselves."

The three of them snuggled together, enjoying the afterglow of their intense lovemaking session. The room was filled with the sound of their contented sighs and soft whispers.

Y/N ran his fingers through Nayeon's hair, gently untangling the strands. She hummed softly, her eyes fluttering closed as she leaned into his touch. Sana rested her head on his chest, her arm draped over him possessively.

They lay like that for some time, simply enjoying each other's company. Eventually, one by one, they drifted off to sleep, their dreams filled with memories of the night's activities.

As the sun rose, casting its golden light over the sleeping trio, Y/N smiled, knowing that this was just the beginning of many nights of pleasure to come.

#sanayeon #sana #nayeon #minatozaki sana #im nayeon #twice sana #twice nayeon #sana smut #nayeon smut #twice smut #sana x reader #twice x reader #twice imagines #sana imagines #nayeon imagines #nayeon x reader

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madthetruemad · 5 hours ago

Text

There is No Law that Emperors Must be Fair

Emperor ! Jing Yuan x Princess ! Reader

Chapter 17 | Sunday's Confession

You are set to marry the Emperor, Jing Yuan. In order to break the engagement, you stage an accident and fake having amnesia. But now, your own cruel, cold, and distant fiancé, who seemed to not want anything to do with you, is now acting all lovey dovey!

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It was long into the night after you had spoken with Gepard. Your list of allies seemed to grow at such a lightning quick speed. Though, so far, there was one ally you hadn’t gotten.

“Sunday… why do you want me to befriend Blade? And why are you interested in the keys? I mean, you didn’t even show any interest in them until Gepard came here with the one my father had.”

Sunday hummed to himself as he materialized next to you. His head sharing the same pillow that you were lying on, you both just staring up at the ceiling together.

“Blade will be a big help to you…”

You frowned as you sat up, “will he be a help to me or to you?”

Sunday sat up as well, eyes flickering in the lamp light, “what are you trying to say?”

“What you did back there, what was it?”

He cocked his head to the side furthering your frustration towards him ever so slightly, “when you said not to forget who your enemy was you tried to do something. It was like when we first met… like I was in some heavy fog with no way out. Like you were trying to cloud my mind.”

Sunday smiled at your words as he fully turned towards you, “like this?”

There it was again, a dull throb in your mind and what felt like a heavy blanket trying to cover something. His words sounded weird to you too, it was like-

You shook your head, your eyes narrowed, “you can control people.”

Sunday leaned back against your headboard, “controlling people is such a nasty way to put it, y/n.”

“But that’s what you’re doing!”

You got out of the bed then and tried to put some distance between yourself and him, but when you looked back at the bed he was gone. It wasn’t until you felt a hand on your shoulder that you jumped and spun around looking at Sunday who had that damned amused grin on his face.

“Why Sunday? Before I help you anymore, you need to tell me everything.”

Without missing a beat, Sunday went to go sit on the chair that by your table in the room, his legs crossed and one of his elbows rested on the tabletop.

“Blade, more or less, did something he shouldn’t have by tampering with the flesh of an abundance emanator. I’m sure you know what emanator’s are, right?”

You nodded and he continued, “his body will be used to revive me because his little abundance curse is the only thing that will withstand the ritual.”

“And the keys.”

“Needed to unlock the gate that I’m currently locked behind.”

“And why was it that my father had one of the keys and Jing Yuan the other?”

“Before the emperor went ahead with his little conquering spree, there was a time that the each land respected each other as allies. Your grandfather was good friends with the Emperor.”

“I thought you were helping me simply because you wanted to, at least, that’s what you made it sound like before…”

Sunday rested his chin in the palm of his hand, “and you believed it, didn’t you?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, “why were you locked away?”

“The Emperor and I… had a disagreement.”

You quirked an eyebrow which was when Sunday finally looked away from you, “I want to bring my sister back is all. In my old country, she was killed by … an unexplainable monstrosity. I want to bring her back, but only aeons had control of death and feats such as reviving a human. So I tried to cut corners. I kidnapped an emperor’s bride to be and used her as a sacrifice only for it to fail and the princess dying in my arms. The Emperor in his rage killed me but not before I managed to gain a few abilities of an aeon. Before sealing me away he had me reset her body for things to begin anew again, but with my new powers I didn’t know how to control them and ended up sending her into the future instead.”

Sunday finally looked back at you, “and oh how that emperor tore the world apart to find her again, but in doing so I guess he also became mad like his teacher and friends before him.”

“Became mad?”

“You know what mara is? The disease that strikes the long living species? Well, he did start showing signs of it, but it’s not too bad right now… though, he does kill a few people here and there.”

“Does the Emperor even remember the princess he’s looking for?”

“No, he’s forgotten her face a long time ago. No thanks to the mara, of course. If he did remember, then I’m sure he … wouldn’t have killed you.”

You furrowed your brow, “what do you mean by that?”

He didn’t answer though as someone hastily knocked on your door distracting you, and when you went to look at where Sunday was… he was gone making you roll your eyes.

Well whatever, I got some new info on Jing Yuan and Sunday. Apparently they hate each other, Sunday killed Jing Yuan’s fiancé, Jing Yuan killed and sealed Sunday away but he managed to make Sunday with his new aeon ascension abilities to bring back his dead girlfriend, but said girlfriend was sent to the future due to Sunday not having full control which then lead Jing Yuan to look for her, but over time he was struck with mara…

And now I’m his fiancé… wait, if I find the princess he’s looking for, then I may be able to get out this marriage!

You smiled at your revelation as there was another knock on your door.

“I’m coming! Just a moment please!”

Grabbing your blanket from your bed, you wrapped it around yourself. It was still pretty late into the night so you wondered who it could be.

“Hopefully not Jing Yuan,” you muttered to yourself.

Grabbing the handle, you twisted it and opened the door.

“Princess! I’m sorry for disturbing you at this time, but I just had to see you!”

You blinked and took a step back. Before you was a woman slightly taller than you, she had long white ears, beautiful silver hair with blue highlights, and a charming smile on her face. And her eyes, unlike most you have seen around here, were filled with an unparalleled kindness.

“I’m General Feixiao, I hope Gepard has already filled you in on everything?”

@danae-misfortune @frogsasfrogs @openthenyoor01 @zuhaine @ughlostmyotherac @joyfulnightprincess @thechibifoxcub @ceaether @satanisasofties @thetwinkims @yanrandom @honeybunbunn @superdonkeypatroleggs @ohmyfinggod @baboon-milk333 @zareri @kclremin @rains-mae @yccoffeesimp @bloomiesty @moon-taffy @superdark-soul @pinkismyfavcolor @isa-l0v3r @its-astrotea-love @reapersan @junephantom21 @erisfayred @greyrain23 @justadekusimp @uzxotic @alisstaa @avalordream @unlivingdisaster @pix-stuff @sleepyxion14 @pillows-blankets @anicega @junni-berry @niaainthere @sorachitsuki @dyingsweetmackerel @rosariymchapter @immahuman @fluffy-koalala @momoniq @orphiclueur @insightedly

#There is No Law that Emperors Must be Fair #hsr #honkai star rail #jing yuan #jing yuan x you #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x y/n #emperor jing yuan x reader #emperor jing yuan #emperor jing yuan x princess reader

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stealingyourbones · 9 hours ago

Note

Hi! So I’m doing a little research project and I wanted to ask you since I consider you a big voice in the dpxdc fandom what originally drew you to the dpxdc crossover? What aspects of it do you love, don’t love? What has been your experience in the fandom? Please let me know, thank you!!

!! Bet!

I was originally drawn to dpxdc because I saw a few fics while searching for Batfamily fics on ao3. My brain is a tad muddy why I went to tumblr.

While scrolling on tumblr I saw that folks had easy ~300 notes for posting things and I was bored one day and decided I’d take a swing at things and essentially tap into the fanfic market (sue me I was currently in a marketing class and that’s how my brain was wired at the time). I knew an ok amount about DC and wanted to write about DC characters that weren’t in crossover fanfics I’ve seen. That’s why I was drawn to the fandom, I watched Danny Phantom as a teenager and was really into DC and the nostalgia plus my current hyperfixation lead to my first post about Danny meeting John Constantine. It made 500 notes within two days and so I thought I’d continue with my writing and after repeated positive reception, here I am now.

My experience in the fandom has been nothing but warm and welcoming. When I started I was near instantly getting reception and acknowledgement (again, right place right time and right ideas). The only negative reception I’ve ever gotten is DC or DP folks who got mad about tagging (THEY ARE RIGHT TAG YOUR SHIT PROPERLY). People in this fandom are unique because it’s an incredibly versatile fandom with so many characters to pick and choose from that (after a point) requires canon material to understand but it isn’t necessary. This has cultivated an incredibly diverse group of folks with different varying levels of knowledge on canon and fanon that has created the perfect breeding ground for incredibly varying AUs and Headcanons.

Aspects of the fandom I love is definitely the creativity and community. Since my platform is built as a idea haven for folks to create new ideas and to slowly increase the amount of DC characters in fanfics commonly seen in DPXDC, my main interactions are with people bouncing ideas back and forth. I build the foundation and scaffolding and the community finishes the building. The insane creativity in the fandom is incredible, the willingness to learn and fanart is gorgeous, and the people are so so nice and from that community there are folks I have made lifelong friends with.

Dislikes are very personally charged, I must clarify they aren’t a “hate” but just a general dislike. These are probably gonna be long because I feel I have to back myself up on these claims. Since the fandom is a mainly fanon focused community the lack of characters that aren’t in mainline comics don’t get spotlight. Characters like Animal Man in particular I feel would be an absolutely incredible addition to the DPxDC hero roster but since he’s a C list superhero (he’s literally in a team called The Forgotten Heroes) and it’s a lot to ask people to read comics when there’s such a financial and motivational barrier in the way for most. The general fact that comics are an expensive hobby to have or most can’t afford the digital DC Infinite comic subscription or don’t know where to start reading is a huge roadblock for fandom creativity that isn’t a fault of their own and it’s a bummer.

Another is the echoness of fanon, some mainstay AU’s I feel create walls that block creativity. Ghost King AUs are great but a non OP Danny or just regular superhero Danny could be another route that leads to more in depth character writing as OP AUs can cause the character in question to gain a more 2D personality as all weakness is removed leaving them just an unstoppable being with no flaws.

Another dislike is just how relationship focused the fandom is. I acknowledge that this is partly my fault as for a long time my thought process for prompts was “lets take two characters and then write a scenario that could be ship worthy” and the amount of adoption prompts I’ve written but I feel like the writing could thrive if the main relationships weren’t always romantic, paternal, or brotherly. Mentor, friend, cousin, mentee, kismesis, friendly rivalry, and other relationships of the sort being the focus could open up new and interesting stories that aren’t commonly seen in the fandom and I feel we all could benefit from it.

#bones speaks #thanks for the wonderful questions this was great!!

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ladykailitha · 8 hours ago

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Share With Me One Love, One Lifetime Part 2

Whoohoo! The second chapter is here!!! Again I don't know how long it's going to be as it as already topped out at 10k, which is where I thought it was going to be. But I am nearing the end, so maybe another couple of chapters, which would make it about half the length of the other two.

In this we have the bottle scene and Dustin finds out about Steve and Eddie.

Part 1

When Keith relieved Steve and Robin, Max and Dustin followed them out to Steve’s car and they all piled in.

“I have to stop at the store to pick up some things for him,” Steve said, pulling out of the parking lot. “He pretty much had to book it with only the clothes on his back.”

“Oh shit,” Max said, “I didn’t even think about where he would get food and shit from!”

Steve just rolled his eyes.

They parked at Melvand’s and Steve hurried inside, the three of them following close behind. He grabbed a cart and sent Dustin for hygiene stuff and Max for drinks. He grabbed all of Eddie’s favorites and booked it to the check-out lane.

As they were walking to the car, Max cocked her head to the side. “How did you know what Eddie’s favorite food and drinks were?”

“Yeah,” Dustin said, crossing his arms. “And how did you know what deodorant he uses was?”

Steve turned around slowly, his eyes wide and a grimace on his face. “We’re friends?”

“That doesn’t account for everything you bought, Steve,” Dustin huffed. “I wouldn’t be able tell you what Lucas’s favorite cereal is.”

“It’s Froot Loops,” Max said dryly. She stopped dead in her tracks. “Shit. That’s why.”

Dustin turned to her with a frown and then back to Robin and Steve who were practically begging Max to shut up. Then his own eyes went wide. “Oh!”

Steve buried his head in his hands and moaned. His life was over. He was sure of it.

“You’re dating Eddie?” Dustin asked cocking his head to the side. “Wait is that why you wouldn’t date Robin? Because you were already with someone?”

Robin grinned. “Yup! Though to be fair I only know because truth serum sucks, but yeah totes not his type.”

“So you’re type is awesome,” he continued with a grin, “just in a ‘not girls’ kind of way.”

“Thank you for not ragging on my taste, I guess,” Steve said raising his head. He turned to Max and tilted his head. “I thought you figured it out ages ago, if I’m honest. So I’m a little surprised you didn’t know.”

Max shrugged her shoulders. “I figured it was none of my business. Friends, close friends, fuck buddies, boyfriends. Didn’t matter to me. There were guys like that out in Cali. Just always hanging out and close and shit.”

Steve and Robin shared a glance and then Robin said with a grimace, “You do realize that they were probably gay and couldn’t be open about it, right?”

“Oh.”

Steve put rubbed his face and then sighed. “Look, Eddie’s waiting for us and I’d rather not keep him waiting.”

“Oh!” Dustin said, jumping as though he had been stung. “Right! Eddie! God. Where is my head today?”

They all piled into the car and Steve started driving. They got about halfway to Lover’s Lake when he looked into the rearview mirror at Max and Dustin. “You understand, you can’t tell anyone about me and Eddie, right?”

Max and Dustin shared a glance. “Of course.”

In hindsight, poking Eddie with the oar when he so keyed up wasn’t the brightest idea he ever had. As evidenced by the broken bottle at his throat. He tossed the oar to the side and gently touched Eddie’s elbow.

“Hey, Eds,” Steve purred. “It’s okay. It’s just me. Dustin’s here. Robin and Max too. But I need you to put down the bottle.”

Eddie’s hands shook as his stared at Steve as if he was seeing monsters. Steve’s other hand came up and stroked the skin above Eddie’s belt.

“Come on, rockstar,” he murmured. “Can you let me go? You can still have the bottle, babe. I promise.”

“Eddie, it’s just Steve,” Dustin pleaded from behind him.

Eddie looked back at him and then to Steve before his eyes cleared and recognition hit. The bottle fell from numb fingers and he collapsed into Steve’s arms.

“There you are,” Steve murmured. “I’ve got you now. I’ve got you, baby.” He started pressing kisses to parts of Eddie’s face. His nose, his cheek, his forehead, his lips, his temple and his jaw. All the while his hands where rubbing his sides, muttering soothing words. Just comforting him the best that he could.

“I’m sorry Stevie,” Eddie whimpered. “I couldn’t trust my own eyes. Not after what happened. I was so scared.”

“Tell us about it,” Steve said softly. “Come on, let’s sit you down.”

Steve moved them over to a nearby milk crate and sat Eddie down. Eddie immediately curled in on himself as Steve stroked his back.

Eddie then began his tale. Of how he was looking for the drug Chrissy was asking for because he never kept the heavier stuff on him in case he got pulled over by the cops. But when he found it and came back out to her, she couldn’t move. She was stuck staring ahead and then the worst thing happened. Chrissy rose into the air and her limbs twisted and snapped as her eyes bled, all Exorcist style.

“Shit,” Dustin said, eyes wide. “That’s new. That’s not something that has ever happened before.”

Max and Robin agreed. “I’ve only been around since the second go round,” Max said, “but that shit’s crazy.”

“I’m not gonna lie, man,” Dustin huffed. “This is some real cult of Vecna shit.”

That startled a laugh out of Eddie and even Steve smiled.

“Got have it named after some D&D monster,” Steve said shaking his head fondly. “It’s tradition.”

“In all fairness to the first one,” Dustin said with a wince, “Will’s disappearance seemed to mirror his defeat to the demogorgon in our game. It was before we knew what the freaky ass thing looked like.”

Eddie tilted his head to the side and then nodded. “Fair.”

“Do you think you’ll be safe here?” Steve asked. “I don’t want to leave you here if you think other people will find you.”

Eddie looked around at everything they brought him and then nodded again. “I know where the hide-a-key is.”

“I also brought you some of your books and D&D stuff that you left at my house,” Steve said with a half shrug, “so you don’t get bored and accidentally do something stupid.”

“Hey!” Dustin and Eddie cried together.

Steve sighed. “Look, I know you really look up to Eddie. It’s all I’ve heard for the last seven months, but trust me when I say, left to his own devices, Eddie will find mischief if it’s to be had.”

Eddie sniffed, offended. “I think you’ve been hanging out with Jeff too much, thank you!” He crossed his arms over his chest and pouted.

Steve kissed him on the cheek. “I learned that one from Uncle Wayne, honey. But are you sure you’ll be all right?”

Eddie nodded and then just curled up into Steve’s side with a sigh. “Poor Chrissy. She must have been so scared.”

Steve kissed the top of his head. “I liked her too. She was a sweet girl. Mom was a grade A bitch, but Chrissy was sweet.”

“Uh...” Robin said raising her hand, “not to like be a wet blanket or whatever, but it’s starting to get really dark and my mom will kill me if I’m out late for the second night in a row.”

Steve gave Eddie a squeeze and stood up. “Let’s get Eddie into the house and all his stuff, then we’ll drive out the other direction and hope we can keep people off Eddie’s scent long enough for this blow over. I’ll send Nancy over to Wayne in the morning to let him know what’s going on. Dustin, get my spare walkie talkie out of the car, so Eddie has a way to communicate with us.”

Dustin hurried to do just that as everyone else helped get Eddie’s stuff into the house. Eddie pawed through the bags and humming happily at Steve’s choices.

“Never let it be said that Steve doesn’t know how to treat a boy, right,” he purred as he popped open a bottle of Yahoo and started chugging it.

“Why aren’t you concerned that we might be against you and Steve being together?” Dustin asked suspiciously.

Steve burst out laughing as Eddie shook his head.

“Dude,” Eddie huffed with a raised eyebrow, “his dad is like textbook homophobic, he’s perfected the art of us appearing to be ‘just’ friends for over a year. If you guys weren’t safe, you wouldn’t be able to tell any different.”

Dustin blinked at him in confusion.

“Yeah,” Max said with a half shrug. “That tracks. See you later, don’t die and don’t be stupid.”

Steve gave Eddie a quick peck on the lips. “Love you Eds. We’ll figure this out. We’ll be on so this. Hell, with Nancy on the case it should be solved before breakfast tomorrow.”

Once Steve had gotten them all bundled into the car and half way down the road when Dustin suddenly screamed, causing Steve to swerve off the road.

“Holy shit, dude!” Max said hitting his arm. “What the fuck was that about?! You could’ve gotten us killed.”

“Over a year!” Dustin huffed, kicking the back of the driver’s seat. “You’ve been dating for over a year! When did you start dating?”

Steve rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I don’t remember the exact date...” he taped his head, “but it was before Valentine’s Day, because this was the second Valentine’s we’ve had together as a couple.”

“That long?” Dustin whimpered. “You didn’t trust us?”

The car got deathly silent as they all took that in.

“It’s like that old saying if you want to keep a secret between two people,” Steve said, hands gripping the steering wheel tight, “you’ve got to kill them both or whatever.”

“You only need to kill the one,” Robin said gently. “But yeah, the more people who know they’re dating the more dangerous it is for them. If word got back to Steve’s dad or even his old friends they could really hurt him.”

“Oh.”

Steve shifted the car back into gear and started making his way to Hawkins again, letting Dustin sit with that information.

“Who knew?” came the quiet murmur from the backseat.

“Jonathan guessed right off the bat,” Steve said, eyeing Dustin in the rearview mirror. “And he told Nancy, which I really really wish he hadn’t. She made a lot of trouble for me just before I graduated.”

Dustin raised his head. “She did? Why would she do that?”

“Because Steve doesn’t like both,” Max said softly, “he’s gay. I’m not sure I wouldn’t be pissed at Lucas if I found that out about him.”

Dustin looked over at Max and then really sat with that information. “That was still mean of her.”

Steve smiled in the mirror again. “Thanks, bud.” He tapped the steering wheel with his fingers as he thought about it. “The whole of the ‘85 Hellfire club.”

“What?!” Dustin and Max squawked.

“They figured out I liked boys before I did,” Steve explained. “Plus, they were there for me when things got really bad with my dad. Stuff I’m not going to tell a bunch of middle schoolers, no matter how close we are.”

“That’s bullshit,” Dustin huffed, crossing his arms and slouching down in his seat. “You can tell me anything.”

“Yeah and what would you have done if I told you my dad is verbally abusive, huh?” Steve snapped. “There is nothing it would have done except make you worry every time they came home.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled. Because Steve was right. There were some things he couldn’t tell his best friend or his mom, because they wouldn’t understand. And this was definitely something he couldn’t understand.

“So,” Steve said after a couple of miles in silence, “that’s about it, except Wayne. Of course Wayne knows.”

“Wayne is acceptable,” Dustin said with a sniff.

“Yeah, thanks for that,” Steve drawled.

Tag list: TEN SLOTS REMAINING (you gain some you lose some *shrug*)

1- @itsall-taken @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @irregular-child @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @beelze-the-bubkiss @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @themoonagainstmers

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #boy with a bat

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katyawriteswhump · 3 days ago

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power of love 19/21

steve has powers/eddie lives season 4 fix-it fic. This is nearly the end, which will def be up tomorrow, if it kills me 😝

blurb: Steve has a habit of surviving near death experiences then getting sick for no reason. And Eddie and those fatal bat bites? After an impossible feat of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation from Steve, he’s mysteriously fixed. So, Eddie’s back to being banished, this time with Steve and Robin in tow. Eddie’s healing, but Steve isn’t… and life gets even more confusing, when Eddie develops feelings for Steve, which aren’t entirely unrequited.

(or, lots of angst, fluff, idiots to lovers, eventual smut and happy ending)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18

Preview: “Did you tell them how we opened the gate, Eddie?” “Nooooot exactly.” Steve’s brow furrows. “Seeing as we’re on the starting team now, don’t you reckon we should practice?” “Yeah,” says Eddie, deadpan. “Yeah, I really, really do.” He slams so hard into Steve’s opened arms that the stool tips back. Steve jumps off it, anchoring a fist in Eddie’s hair. Lips brush and spark yet again, and they get ‘practicing’ real hard. Any reason for the kiss other than kissing is forgotten pronto. There’s no future, no past, only here and now—sucking face like a couple of dumb teens at a keg party. To be fair, since realising he’s in love, Eddie’s chiefly felt it through a horror-flick lens of loss. Finally, he’s enjoying the kickass side of things, and it’s a super-fun ride. They don’t have to be releasing flood tides for this to be more than a kiss. When they surface for air, Steve waggles his brows, smirking again. “You’re not gonna pass out on me?” asks Eddie, because he feels he should check. “Nope. Tho’ these jeans ride up my butt, and you’re so not helping.” Yup, Eddie is dry humping a not-insignificant bulge at Steve’s crotch. Beneath Eddie’s sweatpants, he’s nursing his own more-than-semi: “You gonna do something about it?” “Sure thing.” Eddie wrangles down Steve’s zipper.

chapter after cut

Eddie POV continued...

“What’s going on?” Nancy Wheeler’s unexpected voice breaks Eddie’s complete focus on Steve. “Oh my God! Is he..?”

“Chill.” Eddie conjures a goofy grin he doesn’t quite feel. All the same, the real Eddie Munson is back in business, totally metal, and flipping the bird in the face of goddamn death: “He’s gonna be fine, Nancy. He’s gonna be just fine.”

Steve remains out of it.

When, despite Eddie’s desperate cuddling, he falls limp and stops muttering, Eddie’s bravado falters. He joins forces with Robin to hook Steve’s arms over their shoulders, raising him up and hauling him toward Nancy’s station wagon.

Eddie’s knees are about as firm as a jelly-donut, much like every muscle in his body. He grits his teeth, supports his share of Steve’s weight somehow. With an effort, he tunes into the others’ debate about where to take Steve and how close they should remain to Lover’s Lake.

Now Steve is breathing, they decide a hospital is too risky. Getting Steve somewhere warm and dry—not too far away—is their best shot.

“How exactly did you two end up here, anyhow?” asks Dustin, who’s limping impressively fast. “We thought you were in the Soviet tunnels."

“Good job you weren’t,” interjects Nancy. “You have no idea what went down there.”

Eddie forces his goofiest smile again. “Actually, Wheeler, I got an inkling.”

In the car, they piece together the jigsaw. After realizing Steve had been taken, Robin ran straight to Dustin’s, where she learned Eddie had been nabbed. They’d summoned all the gang still around—Nancy, Jonathan, Lucas, and Erica—and split up to try and find a way into the Soviet Base. Because Starcourt was charred rubble, and the military were all over the Hess farm, they’d sought a way in along the waterways:

“Then the freaky shit hit the fan,” said Robin. “Again.”

Robin and Nancy had been bolt-cutting their way into an underground culvert, when every drop of water was sucked from the stream.

“It was totally inexplicable,” says Nancy. “The same thing happened all over Hawkins, including at Lover’s Lake. We thought at first all the water had been sucked into the Upside Down or something, but then—”

“—as I said earlier,” chips in Dustin, “the police radio chatter went apewire about the flood in the military base. Then it got stranger than even that. Every single person associated with O’Sullivan’s occupation of Hawkins has totally vanished, even the ones out on patrol. They’re literally all gone, though we were chiefly freaking out that you two were d-dr—”

“Drowned like rats?” Eddie offers helpfully.

You have no idea how close I got, buddy.

He explains how he had been very much caught in the flood.

Thanks to Steve’s superpowers, they’d washed up here.

Alive.

That results in a few seconds of absolute silence, and then, Robin starts babbling: “So, yeah, we’d been searching for hours,” says Robin. “We were literally dying of worry. Then we stumbled on you pretty much by accident.”

Eddie finishes manoeuvring Steve into the vehicle. Trying to process is making his brain ache. “So, apart from us two, nobody made it out of the tunnels?”

“Not that we know of,” says Nancy, sliding into the driving seat. “I think they were washed into the Upside Down, although we know there’s little or no water there. Maybe that’s why the water rushed back into the lakes and streams super-quick.”

No. That’s not it.

Eddie doesn’t say it out loud. Not yet.

He thinks back yet again to when Steve kissed him during the flood. The show-stopping kiss that was gonna rock Eddie’s memory till the day he died, however distant—or close—that might be. If he lives, he might use that memory to conjure a masterpiece of pure metal.

Dammit, just thinking about having Steve weightless in his arms, gyrating madly against him, brings a misty smile to his lips.

Which dies a swift hard death.

Steve is unconscious. Wedged between him and Robin in the rear-seat of Nancy’s car. But, wow, talk about superpowers! Steve flushed away all of O’Sullivan’s evil-ass henchmen, whether they were polluting the waterways or not.

And the real sucker-punch? When they kissed, Steve told him they were opening a gate to another another dimension.

Eddie plants a soft kiss on Steve’s head, rested on his shoulder, and braces himself to explain it all.

“Steve didn’t just save me,” he says, “He opened a gate. Which wasn’t to the Upside Down. He sent those army guys somewhere else.”

****

Steve POV

“I love him!” fumes Steve, to his freaky-ass fairy-water-god-spirit. They are a swirl in the mists, into which he kicks a spectral foot. “He said he loved me too, and I genuinely don’t think he was shitting me. Do you realise how long I waited for this? Christ, and have you MET Vecna? O’Sullivan and his stormtroopers were My Little Ponies compared to that cuckoo son-of-a-bitch. Eleven is gonna need us BOTH!”

He keeps on arguing, with no clue if they’re listening. Obviously, he can’t stay dead, or whatever the heck is going on with his now creepily possessive fairy-KIDNAPPER. On the other hand, when he lands fully back into his body, it’s deeply un-fun.

His lungs are clenched fists, which his shallow breaths stab like icy shards. He can sense Eddie, somehow knows he’s near, so that’s kinda reassuring.

He keeps arguing with his supernatural stalker, till everything fades. When he again grows faintly aware of his physical surroundings, they’re soft and warm.

He still can’t open his eyes, though.

“Oh, c’mon!” he bitches, in case his fairy-kidnapper is still listening. “Seriously, you can’t separate us now—we got the rest of our lives to spend together. I want a family! Kids! Six of ’em!” Suddenly, he’s gotten it all figured out. “We can adopt.”

“We’re adopting now? Oh, Steve! Look, I don’t know if you can hear me. Focus on getting better. We’ll talk about the rest when—”

“Nance?” Steve startles awake, possibly because she’s squeezing his fingers bone-crushingly tight.

“Steve!” She drops his hand, looking spooked and relieved in equal measures. “Oh my God, you’re awake! You’re okay?”

His head spins with confusion. Still, he’s felt a shitload worse. “Where are we?”

“At the Byers’.” She passes him an opened bottle of water, watches him like a hawk as he sips. “This used to be Jonathan’s room. Nobody moved in, and we figured it would be a decent place to hide.”

“Peachy.” He hands back the bottle. “I’ve been here, like, three times. Each one almost died.”

She swipes a mascara-smudged cheekbone and slams him with a look he knows well. That mingling of longing and guilt that used to break his heart.

Not anymore.

Christ, does he genuinely have to explain that he no longer wants those ‘six little nuggets’ with her, and… Shit! His heart kicks off pounding. If he’s with Nancy, where’s Eddie? Or Robin, for that matter?

Nancy is saying stuff. He interrupts. “Eddie, Nance! Where is he? Where’s Robin? How the hell did I get here?”

“Steve!�� Eddie bursts into the room, eclipsing Nancy from Steve’s view. He bounces onto the bed, pulls Steve into a hug: “Christ, I leave you for five seconds, and… Mmmmph!”

Steve’s mouth covers Eddie’s hungrily. It’s difficult to top their last kiss, though they do their darndest. Steve flings his arms around Eddie, veins firing as his strength rushes back. When they finally break apart, Steve takes Eddie’s face in his hands, thumbs caressing those dimples:

He’s real. This is real.

“Got your note,” says Eddie, eyes large and liquid. “Both of them, actually.”

“Oh!” It takes a beat from that little bombshell to detonate. Steve flops back onto the pillows. “I’m sorry, Eddie. Look, I wrote the one you didn’t get first, and—”

“Apology accepted.” Eddie’s turn to caress Steve dopily, brushing his knuckles down the scruff on Steve’s cheek. “I mean, I get it. You wanted to protect me. In the end, both notes mean the same thing.”

“I guess they do.” Steve flinches from Eddie’s intensity. “In a screwed-up kinda way. I’m still an idiot for writing it.”

“Doesn’t matter, Stevie. In case you missed it, while you were busy coming back from the dead… Love you too.”

That has Steve looking up sharply, sitting up, too. Eddie is saying the words Steve yearned for all his life.

Definitely not a hallucination this time.

IT’S FOR REAL.

His arms glide back around Eddie, who mirrors him, sliding a warm hand to the small of Steve’s back: “Honestly, Eddie, I meant it with all my heart. I don’t deserve… I… um...”

Nancy coughs politely: “I can see I’ve not been keeping up with the plot?” Steve’s flash of remorse is fleeting. “I’ll give you two some space,” she says, which sounds nice, apart from she’s not left the room for two seconds before Robin charges in.

“Oh my God, Steve! You’re awake!”

The two-way hug becomes a throttling three-way hug. Robin elbows Eddie in the nose, so she can clamp tighter around Steve’s neck. The agonised creak of Jonathan’s former bed can’t stop this being another absolutely perfect moment.

For all of twenty seconds.

Steve’s gotten no idea if Max is still at death’s door or not. Plus, are any of their enemies actually dead?

Vecna isn’t, for sure.

“Okay, getting weird now,” says Robin, extracting herself from Steve and Eddie as swiftly as she arrived. “Right, I got news. Shit, neither of you need to look that spooked! It’s not all apocalyptically terrible.”

First, she and Eddie fill Steve in on what actually happened with the flood. Then Robin gets to the new stuff—El and Hopper are back in Hawkins, and Will and Mike are on their way. Since literally everyone associated with O’Sullivan has vanished, the small contingent of government officials allied with Owens—who is, apparently, also still alive—have wrangled a coup:

“They’re taking over command of the search and clear-up operations. Eddie is officially in the clear! They’re gonna work with El to get rid of Vecna, once and for all.”

“We can help her,” says Steve. Yeah, he wants to stay snug and safe with his two best friends forever. He’s still gotta a job to do. He suspects it’s the main reason he was allowed to come back.

“You already have,” Robin says. “Eddie told us. You totally annihilated O’Sullivan. You opened a gate to another dimension. Not to the Upside Down. Another one! So proud of my Dingus.”

“He’s talking bull.” Steve feels weary for the first time since he woke. Also, kinda guilty. He never set out to annihilate anyone other than Vecna. He was only following his instincts to protect people he loved. One thing is certain, though: “We did it. Eddie and me. And now… I got a hunch we’re gonna have to do it again.”

...

Eddie POV

WE.

We’re gonna have to do it again.

With Steve safe in his arms, chin notching on his shoulder, Eddie is totally up for it. He knows Steve’s shared his magic juju. He’s ecstatic Steve’s back, and they’re gonna duet on the next verse. And yet…

…who wouldn’t be shitting themselves?

A brief brainstorming about how exactly he and Steve might do ‘it,’ has them agreeing they’ll probably have to return to the Upside Down to flush out Vecna. And that’s before any other gate-opening ensues.

The prospect of returning to demo-bat central, doesn’t exactly fill his heart with song.

They’re summoned to a sitrep at Hopper’s cabin. An official statement of Eddie’s innocence has not yet been issued, and Steve complains he’s still shaky and got a headache. So, they get to stay behind at the Byers’, which is nearer the Lake. Dustin has found them clothes, chiefly from the charity collections, and they’re not exactly a great fit.

Steve’s jeans are particularly clingy around the ass. Eddie isn’t complaining about that at all.

“Is your headache bad?” asks Eddie, after the others have gone.

He’s in the kitchen, rummaging through the cupboard for anything other than cereal. They’re all so sick of it, Robin didn’t even touch the Count Chocular.

“Not really,” says Steve. Eddie pitches him a rock-hard blueberry muffin—a crappy toss, though Steve’s hand shoots out and catches it deftly. He’s decidedly peppy for somebody so recently dead: “Wanted to be alone with you. You know, for my stay of execution and all that?”

Eddie freezes. No. No way. Yeah, they should both be dead but they’re not. Steve’s perching on a stool, head tilting, smirking at his gallows humor:

“Did you tell them how we opened the gate, Eddie?”

“Nooooot exactly.”

Steve’s brow furrows. “Seeing as we’re on the starting team now, don’t you reckon we should practice?”

“Yeah,” says Eddie, deadpan. “Yeah, I really, really do.”

He slams so hard into Steve’s opened arms that the stool tips back. Steve jumps off it, anchoring a fist in Eddie’s hair. Lips brush and spark yet again, and they get ‘practicing’ real hard.

Any reason for the kiss other than kissing is forgotten pronto. There’s no future, no past, only here and now—sucking face like a couple of dumb teens at a keg party. To be fair, since realising he’s in love, Eddie’s chiefly felt it through a horror-flick lens of loss. Finally, he’s enjoying the kickass side of things, and it’s a super-fun ride. They don’t have to be releasing flood tides for this to be more than a kiss.

When they surface for air, Steve waggles his brows, smirking again.

“You’re not gonna pass out on me?” asks Eddie, because he feels he should check.

“Nope. Tho’ these jeans ride up my butt, and you’re so not helping.” Yup, Eddie is dry humping a not-insignificant bulge at Steve’s crotch. Beneath Eddie’s sweatpants, he’s nursing his own more-than-semi: “You gonna do something about it?”

“Sure thing.” Eddie wrangles down Steve’s zipper.

A faint whisper in the back of his mind tells him they’re crossing a line they’ve never crossed before. Doubtless, the Byer’s ex-kitchen is not the place to do it…

…and who gives a crap?

They grasp each other and stroke, sweaty palms acting as lubricant.

As if they goddamn needed it.

“You’re so fucking hot, Eddie,” moans Steve. “Oh God… yeah… please?”

Eddie grins as Steve’s eyes grow spacy, pupils dilating, then rolling up. Already, the juddering slide of skin against skin sends waves of pleasure rolling through Eddie. Each nerve-ending in his lower body goes livewire. Steve’s panted breaths gust against Eddie’s throat, almost enough to send him over the edge. It happens, though, when they resume the kiss. Their lips collide, they thrust into each other’s palms. Tongues tangle messily, and everything gets real hot and sticky.

They clean up together, under the trickle of a barely-working shower. Eddie’s kinda shy, because they’d never had a chance to be so intimate before. Steve, who is clearly more accustomed to ‘guy showers,’ points out cheerily, that neither of them has a single remaining bat-bite scar.

“Cool,” murmurs Eddie, and he knows he should be mega-happy about that. “Steve, nothing supernatural happened just now. I mean, when we—”

“—jerked off together,” butted in Steve. Okay, they’re already finishing each other’s sentences. Eddie can’t help snickering slightly. “I thought about that.” Which was more, to be fair, than Eddie did at the time. “I felt the start of that electric tingle then got carried away. I’ve used my powers a few times now. You have to concentrate, and I kind of know what triggers them. Truth was, there was… I dunno, not enough pressure? I was distracted by your hotness, man.”

Eddie beams for real, gaze raking Steve’s shiny wet bod. “Yeah. Ditto.”

“Robin suggested I go to Lover’s Lake for magic practice, so that should be our next move. I reckon El can help us too.”

Us.

Again.

Eddie finds himself back in the circle of Steve’s arms, wet and warm, and totally revved to kick supernatural butt. Steve remains hyper, talking at breakneck speed: “I reckon I’d like to explore other ways to make the earth move first, Eddie. I never actually slept with a guy before, you know that?”

“Wow,” says Eddie, though he’d kinda guessed.

“Tommy and I fooled around once or twice. Douchebag never let me forget it. I’m… Listen, I’m glad you’re gonna be my first. My proper first, and I’d kind of like to sleep with you before… you know, next round with Vecna.”

Oooookay. Eddie realizes one of them is gonna have to slam on the breaks. Crazily, it’s gonna be him: “Stevie, I’m flattered, I really am, but… is this really the time, let alone the place? The others could be back any minute.”

Steve’s flicker of annoyance dies fast. He sinks his dripping forehead to Eddie’s, so close their lashes brush. “Christ, Eddie. You’re right. I’m just trying to distract myself, I guess. We need practice. I mean, proper, not-fooling-around practice. It’s just… I’m so fucking scared we’re not gonna make that home run.”

“Hey.” Eddie squeezes Steve. Specifically, his ass, as Eddie’s hands keep gravitating there. “We’ll make it. I got a good feeling about this.”

“Man, you can be so damn corny.” Steve kisses him again anyway.

They’re still drying themselves, towels hitched around waists, when Dustin’s tinny voice breaks the loaded silence.

“CODE RED. I REPEAT THIS IS A CODE RED. VECNA IS BACK. YOU GOTTA GET UP TO HOP’S CABIN NOW. DO YOU COPY?”

Steve picks up the walkie-talkie and his voice wobbles as he answers. “Yeah, yeah, got it, Henderson. Keep your pants on.” Eddie watches Steve’s Adam’s apple bob, as he swallows hard. “I guess this is it.”

****

next chapter: epilogue part 1 on AO3 epilogue part 1 on tumblr

no pressure tags (not least because it's been months): @kal-ology @estrellami-1

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steve harrington whump #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steve harrington x eddie munson

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