#he’s not so great today but he will be again

[poguehearted77]

Between The Lines

Summary-> It's the little things that go on behind the scenes between you and Drew that makes your chemistry electric.

Belongs to my: OBX Season 5: Payback for Maybank Series

These can be read in any order!

"Park place." Maddison narrates where Drew lands his dog piece across the monopoly board. "I'll buy it." He says but your hand is in his face, "Not so fast. I'm sure you would love to buy it if I didn't already have a hotel on it. You owe me $1500. Pay up." You show him your open palm, ready for lots and lots of cash.

"He's so cooked. Look at that pathetic stack of cash Drew has. I've got piggy banks with more than that." Jonathan's comments send the four of you erupting into a fit of laughter which eventually dies down to a patient silence. "Sometime today would be great." Madison clears her throat.

"Josh is coming!" Drew points, appealing to your gullibility and you all fell for it. By the time you realized he was bluffing, the board was tossed and the pieces were all out of place. He gets up and runs off as if he already knew you'd be hot on his heels.

Your outburts left JD and Madison alone to pick up the pieces, but not without an interesting conversation. "50 bucks they're together by the time we finish the season." Madison says it so casually as she reaches underneath the couch for the pieces.

"So I'm not crazy? You see it too?" He looks almost relieved. "Trust me, I've got a knack for these things." JD seems skeptical about the timeline of the bet. "I dunno, we finish filming in four months. That might be too soon, I say by the premiere."

The both of them look up to Carlacia who seemed to have been streaming live on her istagram. She enters the room mumbling something about getting winded by you and Drew sprinting past her.

Madison scoffs, "That's like nine months from now. They could get together and break up by then, but you know what-- If that's what you wanna bet, then be my guest." She holds out her hand and JD shakes on it. "You're on."

"We're ready for you guys." One of the assistants notifys them that it was time to head to the screening room where the weekly table reads were held.

Today would be your first look at the script for the second episode, and to say you were shocked was an understatement.

Script Summary:

Eventually the pogues put their trust in Piper and she gives them a fair exchange of some arms that they can handle, while she opts for her weapon of choice, a steel pipe.

"How do you think I got the name and the scar?" She says and it puts an odd sense of comfort among the group, minus a skeptical Rafe, to know you were confident enough in your skills that you didn't need a gun.

They beleived they were in good hands, until they realized they weren't. There was movement coming from the bushes and it made the pogues stand on guard, beckoning them to come out. Soon, the figures finally revealed themsleves. More mercenaries.

"Nicely, done Piper. It seems you can still make yourself useful after all." The red-headed woman speaks up, tossing you a pouch of money that you caught with one hand effortlessly.

"Never doubt my capabilities, it's insulting." You warn, tucking the pouch into the bag strapped across your back. The british woman continues, "Y'know, Mr. Finch could use your talents again. Once we're done tying up loose ends, we're headed back to home base in Lisbon."

Rafe is livid. He knew he couldn't trust you. It couldn't be by pure coincidence that the mercenaries popped up in the middle of this oasis when you were leading. "Lisbon? You told us Finch was here-" Kiara exclaims and Rafe interrupts.

"It was all a lie, from the very beginning. Mr. Alami, the merchant from Agapenta, he was working with you, wasn't he? You knew he'd send us to you, and now you got your sad little payout from these dipshits for bringing us to them." Rafe seethes.

"I'll neither confirm nor deny that claim, love the enthusiasm though." Your attitude remains unbothered throughout the ordeal until Pope demands, "What do you want from us? We don't have the crown! Groff took it." The red head shrugs casually, sharpening her blades as she approaches the group.

"Don't you worry, Groff will get what's coming to him. For now, it's time to repay the debt that is owed. You get blood on your hands, I get blood on mine." Your eyes bulge, "Hang on, you never said you wanted to kill them." You step in and the woman pays you no mind.

"Perhaps because It's none of your concern. You've got your cut, now's a good time as ever to leave. It's about to get messy." She retracts her hand, about to plunge the blade into Pope when she's knocked out cold by a flying piece of steel.

The group looks over to you in shock, fear, and a hint of gratitude, but there's no time to gush about it when there's suddenly a brawl that breaks out between the mercenaries and the pogues.

You all hardly take them out before escaping.

"Piper, what the hell?!" John B yells and his anger is heavily agreed on in the group, you take it on the chin before offering the most sincere apology you could come up with. They're unconvinced. "I deserve that. Everything you heard back there is true. Finch's Fortress is in Lisbon. If you find him, you'll find Groff," You trail off, reaching into your bag, handing Cleo the pouch of money you'd just gotten.

"Take this. It's more than enough to get you a boat big enough to get across the atlantic and even have some leftover for food for a few days. When you arrive on the coast of Cascais, you'll need to head north in-land."

There's silence.

A long silence, nervous glances between the pogues and Rafe's eyes roll. "You guys cannot seriously be considering trusting her. She almost had us killed! Am I the only one who cares about making it back home?"

"Just shut up, Rafe!" John B silences him, and Pope speaks up. "Listen, I don't know about you guys but Piper just saved my life when she didn't have to. We've already lost someone. Going after Groff could be a suicide missison for all we know. But we all know this isn't about our safety, it's about revenge. For JJ." His speech is moving, the expressions agree.

"For JJ." They all agree.

"To Lisbon we go." Cleo chimes, and the group moves on.

End of Script*

You had just finished reading the script and you were blown away. The cast never knows what to expect whenevfer a new script is dropped in front of them.

"Wait a minute... If the pogues are going to Lisbon in the next episode then," Madison trails off and the director ties in, "So are we. Pack your bags, flights are booked for Saturday morning at 5am, please do not miss these flights, we're not opposed to writing you out!" Josh jokes and there's excited and shock all around the table.

You knew that the last season of the show had implied that the pogues would be on their way to Lisbon but it never dawned on you that it would be so soon, even though it made sense.

"You ever been to Portugal?" Drew leans in, a soft whisper in your ear tickled your skin and made the hairs on the back of your neck at attention. "Never, have you?" He thinks about it, "If a layover counts then yes, yes I have." You're not sure if the joke was funny or if it just left the mouth of an incredibly attractive man, nonetheless, it made you giggle.

Madison kicks JD from under the table, jutting her chin towards the two of you giggling in secret and he rolls his eyes. "Patience." He says it calmly, but Madison is impatient, she knows she'll reign triumphant by the end of it all.

-

It’s a Friday night—or, more accurately, the early hours of Saturday morning. The world outside your accommodations complex is still cloaked in sleep, and you should be too. But no. The responsibility of making your flight in two hours has ripped you from the warmth of your bed. Groggy but determined, you scrambled to gather your belongings, knowing you wouldn’t be back.

After a last sweep of the room, you opened the door with a flicker of confidence—only to jump at the sight of a six-foot-two figure standing in your doorway.

“Drew! Oh my god, you scared me.” Your hand flew to your chest in a theatrical gesture, your pulse thrumming in your ears.

A small smile tugged at his lips, his eyes crinkling slightly. “Sorry. Just wanted to make sure you were actually up. Everyone else already left. There’s one driver still waiting downstairs.” His voice was smooth, annoyingly easy to listen to this early in the morning. Too easy.

“You sound oddly refreshed for 3 a.m.,” you quipped, your own voice still husky from sleep as you grabbed your suitcase.

“That’s the beauty of insomnia.” He shrugged, gesturing to his temples with a finger like it was some kind of genius life hack. “You can’t wake up tired if you never really sleep.”

The elevator dinged open, and the two of you stepped inside. The silence that settled was heavy, charged with something you couldn’t quite define. It hung there until you both spoke at once:

“So where are you—” “How did you—”

You broke into quiet laughter, and Drew’s mouth twitched with amusement. “You first,” he said, giving you a slight nod.

“How did you know I hadn’t already left with the others?” you asked, tilting your head curiously. For a moment, something flickered across his face—an emotion too quick to name—before a light blush dusted his cheeks. He masked it with an easy tone.

“I did some askin' around,” he replied, the answer short and almost vague. It was just enough to spark your teasing instincts.

“Ah,” you said with a smirk, “so you missed me?”

Instant regret settled within you. The elevator seemed too small, too still as Drew turned to look at you, his gaze steady and disarming. For a heartbeat, he didn’t respond, and your cheeks grew warm under his stare.

“You could say that,” he finally said, the ghost of a smirk curling the corner of his lips. His attention shifted to the elevator doors as they slid open, leaving you to wonder if you’d imagined the whole thing.

The ride to the airport was longer than expected thanks to roadwork that forced a detour. You should've been annoyed, but at some point, your head found its way to Drew’s shoulder, and your eyes fluttered shut. The fabric of his hoodie was soft against your temple, and his warmth lulled you into a half-dream state.

Drew didn’t dare move. The weight of your head against him was almost too perfect, and he fought the sudden urge to reach for your hand resting on your lap. Instead, he focused on the ticking clock in the back of his mind and the quiet hum of the car.

When you arrived, he sprang into action. “C’mon, we don’t have time to waste,” he murmured, grabbing your suitcase and his carry-on in one hand while ushering you toward the terminal with the other.

You barely had to lift a finger. Drew handled everything—tickets, baggage check, even navigating customs—with practiced efficiency, his jaw set and his movements quick. He wasn’t just organized; he was determined.

“Do you always walk as fast as a drill sergeant?” you teased as you reached the gate, breathing a little easier now.

He shot you a look, his lips twitching. “I'm not a huge fan of being late,” was all he said. But the way his eyes lingered on yours for half a second longer than necessary told you there was more to it than that.

Finally, you made it to your seats in first class. You settled across the aisle from Madelyn, who flashed you a bright smile.

“I was starting to think you two wouldn’t make it,” she teased, leaning toward you with a glint in her eye. There was an underlying subtext to her words but you were too tired to decipher it.

“Drew made sure that didn’t happen,” you replied with a soft laugh. The words were simple, but they carried a warmth you couldn’t quite suppress.

From behind your seat, Drew caught the sound of his name on your lips--and god did he love the way it sounds. He didn’t know what you’d said, but it didn’t matter. The fact that you were talking about him stirred something in his chest.

As the flight began, you glanced back once, meeting his gaze. He held it for a fraction of a moment before looking away, his expression unreadable.

And yet, for the rest of the flight, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Couldn’t stop replaying the memory of the weight of your head on his shoulder—or wondering what it might feel like to hold your hand in his.

Taglist: @percysley, @lilithblackkk, @rafegf-real, @eternallovers65, @drsza, @wearemadeofstardust0, @cadhlabear, @thepopcultureaddict, @citr0us, @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account, @madi44444,

[steven-g-rogers]

Steve shrugged.  “I think that some people just don’t like it or it doesn’t matter how much time is taken it always hurts,” he said with a shrug.  “I know you’re saying that to tell me how compatible we are, but it’s one thing and everyone is different.  I’m not saying it for reassurance.  I’m saying it because it’s true.  If you were the kind of person who was repulsed by sex, or sex caused them a lot of pain and you didn’t want it, I’d be content without it.”  He caressed her cheek and looked into her eyes. “And that’s not me saying I don’t want sex or it’s not amazing.  It is!  But we are compatible for so many other reasons I cherish so much more than the sex.  Sex is like chocolate chips on a sundae.  Chocolate chips are amazing and they taste great on a sundae, but a sundae doesn’t need to have them.  Do you get what I’m saying?”

He shook his head.  “I don’t know why I’m going on about this.  You clearly love sex.  I just - I guess I want you to understand that it’s not what’s ever driving me.  Not even today on our marathon sex day.  I just love getting a quiet day being intimate with you.”

He kissed her again, running his fingers through his hair.  “Sometimes it’s hard to believe that this is real,” he said.  “I keep thinking I’m about to wake up.”

“We don’t have to rush back into it,” she said softly. “This is what I live for. Moments like this with you. Take your time and we’ll continue when you want, when you can.” Peggy kissed his cheek in return.

“How could lovemaking not be for me - for us? When it’s like this? When you make me feel so good, so desired, so loved?” 

Peggy nodded. “Kissing and cuddling are my favorite activities. I get to just be with you and hold onto you, and to show you how I love you.” She leaned in for a kiss on his lips. “I love you, I adore you too, my darling, my Steve, Mr. Rogers. Every moment, every kiss, every touch.”

[milktiicup]

Helloooo! I love your writing so much! I read it all day every time you post, especially your homicipher ones 🥹🫶 I hope you're doing great today btw!

If it isn't too much to ask, can you write the homicipher cast's reactions about the baby of Mr. Crawling and Mc? 👀

I imagine some would be very funny 😭

Have a lovely dayyy! Mwamwa!

little hands, dark hearts!

homicipher cast meeting you and mr crawling's baby! > scarletella, silvair, chopped, hood, machete mr crawling baby saga! chapter 1 chapter 2

‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🌊 ⋅ ˚✮ i think you can tell i have favs by the amount of length and detail some of these have dkjfhkdhdgj

warnings. lol just pure angst in mr. scarletella's

MR. SCARLETELLA

He stares. And he stares. And he stares.

The silence is suffocating, weighing heavier than the shadows beneath his feet. Dull, grey eyes bore into yours, searching for answers that you couldn’t give. 

Of course, he brought you here to be with him. You gave him all these lovely offerings, shedding beautiful blood in his name, stared directly into his eyes as he enveloped you, taking you to his domain- but you wouldn’t give him your name. You stand there, swinging your crowbar, defiance burning in your eyes. It’s not fear he sees, not submission, but anger- a raw, searing thing that slices through the quiet like a blade. And it confuses him. No, it infuriates him.

His grip on his umbrella tightens, the knuckles whitening. His lips twist into a scowl, but behind it, something softer flickers- an ache he doesn’t know how to name. He’s used to taking. Claiming. But you… you’re not like the others. You’re still standing. Still staring. Still resisting.

And it only makes him want you more.

But then there’s him.

That thing. That crawling, pathetic thing that dares to share the space you once offered to him.

What does that creature have that he doesn’t? What pull does it hold over you, to make you look at it like that? Mr. Scarletella hates him. Oh, how he hates him. He hates your baby. Hates the way its small hands grasp at you, the way you cradle it against your chest as if it’s the most precious thing in your world. He hates the way your smile softens when you whisper to it, the way you laugh when it coos.

You look so happy. How could he take that away from you? And yet- how could you do this to him? You like him. He likes you. Why did you pick him?

The resentment pools in his chest like ink, sticky and dark. He wants to scream, to tear down this fragile illusion of happiness you’ve built, to drag you back into his arms where you belong. And yet, his hands tremble. His scowl falters.

You look so happy.

And the thought guts him. How could he take that away from you?

His lips twitch, caught between a sneer and a sigh, as he looks away. For the first time, he doesn’t know if he’s strong enough to take what he wants.

Mr. Scarletella’s chest rises and falls, his breath unsteady. His umbrella clatters to the ground, forgotten as his hands flex and curl into fists at his sides. He steps closer, the air around him rippling with suppressed fury.

“Why?” The question tears from his throat, jagged and raw, barely above a whisper. His crimson eyes gleam with something between desperation and rage. “Why?”

He’s staring at you again, but this time, there’s no pretense of control. Just pain, naked and wild, burning in the shadows of his gaze.

You don’t answer. How could you?

So, he waits. And he stares. And he waits.

MR. SILVAIR

Mr. Silvair holds your baby, careful and learning. His bandage gaze peers into the little eyes, baby babbling and cooing and reaching for his hair. He smiles, soft and curious. 

His infatuation with your child is endless. How was it possible for you two to procreate? To create something from something undead, a ghost, a monster- and a perfectly normal human. Questions that he will never have answers for- questions he doesn’t dare act upon. The baby is fragile, soft, and defenseless. He couldn’t take it apart and put it back together- he can’t break something that could never be fixed.

And the question eggs him at the back of his mind- what if it could?

His hands steady yet soft, as though he’s cradling the most fragile thing in existence. The baby babbles, tiny fists reaching for the loose strands of his silver hair, and when their fingers catch hold of it, she giggles with pure delight.

“Them like,” he observes, his voice unusually tender.

You stifle a laugh. “Of course she does. It’s shiny. Babies love shiny things.”

His head tilts slightly, silver hair brushing against the baby’s chubby cheeks as they continue their determined mission to grab at more strands. “Shiny good?” he asks, his curiosity genuine, as if this is just another puzzle he’s determined to solve.

“Very good,” you assure him, stepping closer to watch the two of them. “She’s clearly a fan.”

The baby lets out a happy squeal, wriggling in his grasp. Silvair’s gaze flickers down to her, and though his eyes are hidden, there’s something warm in his expression. “Strong grip,” he notes, “Healthy.”

You smile softly, leaning against the counter. “She’s got her father’s energy, that’s for sure.”

Mr. Silvair doesn’t respond immediately, instead focusing on the baby as they try- and fail- to stuff one of his fingers into their tiny mouth. He gently redirects their hands, careful and patient. “Small,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “Important.”

His words catch you off guard, and you glance at him. “Important?”

He looks up, tilting his head. “From you. Important. Interested in them.”

The simplicity of his statement warms something in your chest, even if he was purely fascinated with your child out of sheer scientific interest. You’re not sure if he fully understands the weight of his words, but at this moment, it doesn’t matter. You’ll take the softness of the moment. 

The baby lets out another squeal, this one more demanding, and Mr. Silvair bounces them slightly in his arms, an action so natural it makes you blink in surprise. The baby quiets immediately, snuggling into his chest with a content sigh.

“Good,” he says, more to the baby than to you. 

You can’t help but laugh, the sound light and genuine. “She likes you,” you comment with a shuffled laugh. Of all the monsters here, your child just has to like the one who tears you apart. 

Mr. Silvair tilts his head again, his smile returning faintly as he glances down at the now-sleepy baby. “Me like them.”

“Cute?”

“Cute.”

MR. CHOPPED

“Want carry them,” Mr. Chopped pouts, cheeks puffed. “Them cute.”

“She’s so cute, isn’t she?” you chuckle.

The baby giggles, a toothless, gummy smile as bright as the sun. He frowned, his eyes narrowing in a mix of frustration and wistful longing. “Me carry. Want carry,” he repeated, his tone almost petulant.

“You’d need arms for that,” you tease, bouncing the baby lightly on your hip. The baby squeals, her laugh infectious, and you couldn’t help but grin down at her. “She’s so happy to see you, though. Look, she’s waving!” You guide her tiny hand in a slow wave toward Mr. Chopped.

His face lit up with exaggerated enthusiasm, his head tilting as he “leans” closer, as if proximity would help convey his affection. “Cute,” he said with deep conviction. “Many cute. Little human.”

The baby gurgles in response, her toothless smile lighting up her face. She reaches out as though she wants to grab him, her tiny fingers opening and closing in that delightful way babies do.

“See?” you laugh. “She wants to hold you!”

Mr. Chopped’s pout deepens dramatically. “Unfair. No arms. No hold. No carry. Me sad.”

You shook your head, amused. “You’re fine, Mr. Chopped. She can’t even hold her own head up for long; I’m sure she’s not judging you for not having arms.”

“Baby not judge,” he said solemnly, his voice tender. “Baby happy.”

“She likes you,” you reassure him with a smile. “You’ve got that big, friendly face, and you’re always talking to her like she’s the most fascinating thing in the world.”

“Them are,” he said matter-of-factly, his tone so earnest it made you laugh again.

“Well, maybe one day we’ll rig up some kind of… carrier for you,” you offered jokingly. “So you can hold her. Or at least let her sit in your lap- if you had one.”

Mr. Chopped perked up at that, his cheeks puffing out again with excitement this time. “Yes! Make lap. Make arms. Then carry. Hug!”

“She’d probably love that,” you said, kissing the baby’s soft head. She giggled again, her tiny hands reaching out toward Mr. Chopped, her eyes bright and full of wonder.

MR. HOOD

“Not understand,” Mr. Hood repeats.

You sigh. “You have to support the back of her head,” you say, guiding his ghostly arm to the baby’s nape. “Gentle. She’s fragile.”

“Weak,” he observes. “Much small.”

“Yeah,” you agree, “so we have to protect her.”

Mr. Hood’s form shifts as he processes your instructions, the faintest hint of curiosity flickering through his voice. “Protect... small weak thing.” His hand hovers near the baby’s head. It trembles slightly, not from lack of strength but from hesitation- like a predator trying to handle something delicate for the first time.

You place your hands over his, guiding him with care. “That’s right. Support her head. Babies can’t hold their heads up yet.”

He tilts slightly, as though trying to look closer, though his featureless head offers no expression to read. The baby gurgles softly, her tiny fingers curling around one of his. The textureless appendage seems to surprise her, and she coos in delight, kicking her chubby legs.

“Why small thing hold?” Mr. Hood asks, his voice edged with wonder.

“She’s curious,” you explain, smiling at the sight. “She doesn’t know what you are, but she wants to hold on to you.”

“Not wise.” His tone is flat, but there’s no malice in it. He shifts slightly, his massive frame dwarfing her. “Me danger. Not afraid?”

“She doesn’t know fear yet,” you say softly. “She only knows what feels safe.”

His hand rests under the baby’s head and back now, cradling her with surprising gentleness. The contrast is almost surreal- his immense strength and amorphous form against the fragility of a newborn. The baby giggles again, wiggling in his hold.

“Small thing… trust,” he murmurs, his tone almost contemplative.

“She does,” you say, watching them with a warmth blooming in your chest. “And that’s why we protect her.”

“Protect,” he repeats, as if testing the word. His grip shifts slightly, more confident. “Protect small thing. Understand.”

It’s strange, seeing someone- or something- like Mr. Hood in this role, but in the quiet moment, his usual air of detachment seems to melt away. The baby yawns, her tiny body sinking deeper into his hold, completely at ease.

MR. GAP

“Give little thing,” Mr. Gap says from the vent, his voice more curious than menacing. You freeze, hand still cradling your baby close to your chest as his long, dark arm stretches out, holding something soft and fluffy- a teddy bear.

Your baby, who has been cooing and kicking her legs happily in your arms, notices the movement. Her bright eyes widen, and she reaches out toward the stuffed bear with an eager little giggle.

“Give them?” It’s such an innocent request. He’s just offering the bear, his dark figure so out of place in the light of the room, but there’s something almost endearing about it.

You laugh softly, a smile tugging at your lips. “Oh, she’d love that,” you say. “She’s been really into cuddly things lately.”

The baby coos again, her tiny hands reaching for the bear, almost as if she recognizes the gesture as a gift. She touches it gently, then pulls it closer to her chest in a little snuggle, her face lighting up with joy.

“See? She likes it!” you say, glancing at Mr. Gap, your voice teasing. “Thanks to you.”

Mr. Gap pulls back slightly, his hand retreating into the vent, but you catch a glimpse of a subtle shift in his posture- a pleased air about him, as if he’s satisfied with the outcome.

“Them happy?” he asks.

You smile warmly, watching the baby continue to clutch the teddy bear like it’s her new best friend. “Yeah, she’s happy. And that makes me happy.”

A soft, quiet chuckle seems to come from the vent, and you can almost imagine a small, pleased grin behind the shadows. “Good,” Mr. Gap says, his voice full of pride. “Me good.”

The bear is now in the baby’s tiny hands, and her sleepy eyes begin to flutter shut, the soft comfort of the stuffed toy pulling her into a drowsy stupor. You gently rock her back and forth, watching as she drifts off to sleep, clutching the bear to her chest like it’s the most important thing in the world.

“Thank you, Mr. Gap,” you say softly, though he’s long disappeared back into his shadowy realm. You’re not sure if he heard, but you still find yourself whispering it anyway.

And for a brief, fleeting moment, everything feels a little bit lighter.

MR. MACHETE

“What… that?” he asks, a finger lazily pointing at your baby nestled in your arms.

“It’s my baby!” you reply, pridefully, and cradle her for exaggeration. Within a second, your face falls firm, and you sternly say, “No fighting little thing.”

“Not fight?” Mr. Machete’s jagged smile turns into a comical looking frown. He scowls, and turns away. “Not interested.”

“Mr. Macheteee,” you whine, “Just look at her! Isn’t she just so cute?”

Mr. Machete pauses mid-step, his broad shoulders tensing at your words. He lets out a huff, loud and exaggerated, before reluctantly glancing over his shoulder. “Cute?” he echoes, the word sounding foreign on his tongue. His tone is skeptical, almost offended. His machete falls to his side, an ear-scratching ‘clang!’ that disturbs you more than your baby.

The baby coos, her tiny hands waving aimlessly in the air. Her bright, gummy smile beams up at him, and for a moment, Mr. Machete looks genuinely stumped. 

“Them small. Shape wrong,” he notes, leaning in closer. His massive frame looms over her, but he makes no move to get too close. “Weak. No teeth. Cannot hold attack tool.”

He stares at the baby a moment longer, his scowl softening ever so slightly as the baby giggles, a bright, happy sound that cuts through his rough demeanor like a blade. She reaches toward him, her tiny fingers grabbing at the air, and for reasons you don’t quite understand, he doesn’t immediately pull away.

The baby’s determination seems to intrigue him. He tilts his head and extends a single finger- not a threatening move, but cautious, almost testing. Her tiny hand catches his finger, and she grips it tightly, her toothless grin growing impossibly wider.

“Them strong,” he finally admits, his voice low but tinged with what could almost be considered respect. “When little thing big, fight.”

You roll your eyes. Well, at least he gave your baby some attention.

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (XXXI)

Chapter 31 : ‘Six billion tons sounds impossible until I consider how it is to swallow grief’

Hi! Here is a new chapter! This is The Party… chapters 31 and 32 are twin chapters, the party will be told from both perspectives, this one from Andrew’s and the next one from MC’s. Just so you know…

This is one of the first scenes I’ve written when I began working on this project, so I’m quite fond of it even if it makes me cry…

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 3678

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Watching my friend pretend her heart isn’t breaking

On Earth, just a teaspoon of neutron star would weigh six billion tons. Six billion tons equals the collective weight of every animal on earth. Including the insects. Times three.

Six billion tons sounds impossible until I consider how it is to swallow grief – just a teaspoon and one might as well have consumed a neutron star. How dense it is, how it carries inside it the memory of collapse. How difficult it is to move then. How impossible to believe that anything could lift that weight.

There are many reasons to treat each other with great tenderness. One is the sheer miracle that we are here together on a planet surrounded by dying stars. One is that we cannot see what anyone else has swallowed.

Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer

It was working, Andrew was certain of it.

He had hoped it wouldn’t, that seeing you flirt with another man would leave Frank unbothered, ignoring you completely. It was a little cruel, maybe, because it meant that you would be sad, that you would be hurt by his reaction. But as he stared at you letting a man trace a line up your arm… your bare arm…

Andrew looked away, feeling sick, feeling like his world was crushing down around him. Collapsing. It was like… like being dumped by Samantha all over again…

He downed his whiskey, letting the burn of the liquor ground him to the present once more, but the relief was temporary, and soon enough, he was looking up at you again and you were leaning to whisper something in that stranger’s ear.

He turned around this time, unable to stomach the sight of him resting a hand on your waist.

The plan was simple. You were to make Frank jealous, by wearing that divine dress you had bought with Andrew, by flirting with another man. Andrew had thought about playing that role, being the man you would flirt with, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t have survived the cruelty of that situation, of you faking to be interested in him that way. Not when he loved you so ardently. And so, he was merely keeping an eye on you now, staying close to one of the tables where whiskey was being poured generously, avoiding to talk to anyone at this gigantic party, checking that you were safe, while you let another man flirt with you and touch your waist…

He downed another glass…

“You’re alright, Andy?”

He turned to his left, following the voice that now called him. Samantha, of all people… brilliant.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m alright,” he answered, shifting awkwardly.

“Thanks for coming today. I’m glad we can still be friends despite all of this. I know that it must be… peculiar sometimes, but… Thank you, I truly appreciate it.”

“No need to thank me for that.”

She placed a hand on his forearm, and once, not so long ago, it would have made his heart grow warm. Now, he felt nothing. It felt like they had happened a lifetime ago, the days when he loved her.

He thought of you, behind him, and he tried not to picture you kissing that stranger, because then he…

He poured himself another whiskey, downed it again.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” she asked, raising up an eyebrow. “I haven’t seen you drinking so much since college!”

“Well, we’re celebrating, aren’t we?”

“Andy?”

“Hmm?”

He looked at her once more. Her and her dark hair, and her beautiful eyes, and the lips he thought he would spend the rest of his life kissing. How strange… now she let another man kiss them, and he wanted to kiss someone else… Their mouths didn’t belong together anymore. And Andrew then realised that he was okay with that. He wasn’t okay with how it had all happened, how it was still happening… but he couldn’t picture himself loving her again. He was looking at her, beautiful and perfect on paper… and all he could think of was you.

The music was loud, they had to raise their voices to be heard over the shallow beats. The chatter of the room Sam and Frank had rented for the special occasion was almost deafening. Andrew’s head was spinning a little, the alcohol kicking in. He still wanted another drink…

“Do you… do you hate me?”

He frowned, surprised by her question, by how direct it was too. She was a pro at circling an issue.

He thought for a moment, didn’t find an obvious answer.

When he thought of hate, he thought of that man with his hand on your body. He thought of Frank and the way he still made your heart bleed…

“Why are you asking this?” he asked back instead of answering.

“Because I… I know that the way we ended things was… messy. But I don’t want you to hate me. I… I still care about you, Andy, even if…”

“Even if you don’t love me anymore.”

It was becoming a little hard to remain standing, his world was spinning.

Were you still there with that guy? Would you… would you let him kiss you the way you had let Andrew do it in your office? God… would you be the one kissing him, the way you had kissed Andrew that night in your flat?

Samantha blinked, Andrew was puzzled as he noticed tears in her eyes.

“I think… a part of me is always going to love you, Andy.”

His eyes grew round in surprise. Was it working? Was their stupid, idiotic, foolish plan working? This was ridiculous…

… would you go back to loving Frank? Frank was a fucking dickhead…

“Do you ever wonder what could have been our lives if we had remained together?”

I wouldn’t have loved Y/N the way I do now…

And yet a couple of seconds later, he was changing his thought.

I would have fallen for her still… despite loving you…

“I used to,” he answered truthfully, stopping his answer before it would hurt her, but she insisted.

“And now?”

He was too drunk to lie. And if he were to be fully honest, he didn’t mind being rough, hurting her a little. He hated himself for the selfishness of it, but he answered earnestly anyway.

“Not anymore, no.”

“Really?”

“I… I don’t think of you like that anymore. I’ve moved on.”

She raised an eyebrow, but seemed unimpressed.

“Have you? So quickly?”

He shifted, uncomfortable. And he didn’t like being bitter, being too honest and being hurtful because of it, but… but you were flirting with another man, and Andrew was drinking too much tonight… And you were wearing that green dress, the one you had bought together, and he could picture you now, and he didn’t want Frank to see you in it and regret you, because he didn’t deserve it and… and you had bought that fucking dress for Frank… for Frank…

“I don’t love you anymore,” he said plainly, the flatness of his tone hurtful by itself. “Like I… I’m not in love with you. I… I want someone else.”

“Someone else?” she asked, and her voice was annoyed but he noticed the glimmer of a tear at the corner of her eyes.

She was hurt. But then again, she had been the one shattering his heart and his self-esteem, and his world, and the confidence he had taken so long to build…

He went on anyway.

“Yeah… I… we’re not dating or anything. But I… I like her. A lot.”

“Have you asked her out?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t think she’d be interested. That’s okay. I don’t mind.”

No, he didn’t mind that you didn’t feel the same. You were a little too good for him anyway. Out of his league. You ought to deserve better…

“Now, that’s just your head saying dumb things,” she said, and even if her tone wasn’t kind, her words were reassuring.

“Maybe,” he shrugged.

“Andy… when are you going to understand that… You do deserve to be happy? That you are worthy of happiness too, huh?”

His next comment was unnecessary, but it felt good to tell the truth anyway.

“I had grown better at that while we were together. You breaking up with me to run off with someone else kind of destroyed that progress…”

He stopped resisting the urge to drink, reached for another whiskey, downed it in one gulp.

“I’m sorry, Andy. But we… weren’t right for each other.”

He wanted to argue, for the sake of it, to contradict her, but he was honest instead.

“I have to agree with that.”

He looked in your direction again, just a quick glance, just to check that you were alright. Frank was staring at you from afar too. That guy was leaning closer now, although you didn’t seem so willing to play along anymore. Andrew’s heart quickened, and soon it was pounding…

“Andy?”

“Hmm?” he asked back without looking at Samantha.

A sign… just one sign from you and he would come and make sure that guy would stand back…

Frank seemed to have read your body language as well, the bastard… he was walking over to you. Andrew closed his fists tightly, refraining from crossing the distance between you and him, from pushing that guy away, from telling Frank to fucking leave you alone because, Christ, you deserved so much better than him…

“Are you listening to me?”

Andrew almost jumped as Sam touched his arm again…

“What?”

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah, yeah… sorry, I was… lost in thought…”

“I was saying that I’m glad you and Y/N seem to get along. As you’re working together. I was worried when I learned she was Frank’s ex that it would make things awkward at your workplace.”

“We’re fine.”

I’ve fallen in love with her when I didn’t even think I was capable of loving anyone else after you…

“She seems nice,” she added, but her voice was weirdly flat.

“She is,” Andrew nodded, his heart fluttering as he talked of you. “She’s… she’s grand. She’s really nice, and… she’s a laugh, like… and very smart too.”

“Sounds like a catch.”

He didn’t answer, she didn’t seem to notice.

She was staring at you now too, while Frank had reached you and that stranger. He was talking with the guy, seemingly ignoring you, and even from afar Andrew could see that you were disappointed. The son of a bitch. He was pushing that guy away, without acknowledging you, he was making you feel terrible about yourself, Andrew could tell, and…

“I wonder what Frank saw in her.”

Andrew pondered on her question, and… God, he had so many things he saw in you. Your kindness, your wits, your passion for your work, your sense of humour, your smile, your eyes, the curve of your eyelashes, how fucking smart you were, your warmth, your voice, your way to scrunch up your nose a little when you were thinking, your anger, your talent, your…

… you, just… you…

But Frank? Did he see all that?

How could he have seen all of that, and still leave you?

The guy you had been talking to left, his drink in hand and a polite smile on his lips. Frank turned to you, got a conversation started. And Andrew wished he was right when he thought he could read in your expression that you were forcing yourself to look happy with his attention. Andrew didn’t believe in God, but he prayed still, silently, for you to see that Frank was not good enough for you, for you to long for his company instead… Christ, he hoped he was right when he read in the way you leaned away from Frank that you had changed your mind, that you didn’t want him to touch you the way he had just held your arm…

“Anyway, who’s the lucky woman you’ve spotted then? Do I know her?”

Andrew looked at Samantha, but he couldn’t hide the annoyance in his voice as he answered.

“I don’t really want to talk about that with you, honestly.”

“Right…”

Frank was taking a step closer to you, his hand inching for your waist…

Andrew was never one to pick up a fight, but he wanted to punch your ex in the face so bad…

“I feel a lot of resentment today, Andy…” Samantha said, trying to dissect his brain, the way she used to when they were together, but Andrew was not in the mood. “Did something happen?”

He let out a long exhale through his nose, refused to answer.

“You said you were ready to put all that happened behind us.”

He was about to argue, but he couldn’t. She was right. What a fucking fool he had been… to think that he should still want her after she broke what they had spent years building, for some random guy she had met a few weeks before. And then she was inviting him to her wedding, and he was there running back right into her arms? She was marrying Frank after knowing him for mere months when she had claimed not to be ready for marriage with Andrew when they had spent seven years together? She had not even agreed to move in with him… It seemed to hit him then, how much of a fool he had been, and the little self-esteem he had left finally took over to show him that he deserved better than to be treated like that. Anyone would deserve better. He was being an absolute fool. And you were too, you and your broken heart and he couldn’t do this anymore, he couldn’t pretend that all this was alright, that he didn’t want to kiss you…

He had one last question to ask, one last thought that was holding him back, one last answer he was too afraid to receive. He finally asked it.

“Frank left Y/N two weeks before you left me,” he started, the coldness of his tone unusual for him. “Did you sleep with him while we were together?”

Samantha blinked.

“Why are you asking me this?” she asked back, but Andrew didn’t back down, his hazel eyes turned into steel.

“Answer me. Did you sleep with Frank before you left me?”

She remained silent, and he knew what it meant.

He thought he would be hurt, and he was, but the main emotion that came rising in his chest, made his blood boil, blinded him for a moment, was hate. Rage and hate. A lethal combo…

He huffed, shook his head.

“I left right after, and it wasn’t planned… it happened once, and then I left, and it didn’t last… it’s not like I was having an affair.”

“Shut it!” Andrew hissed. “Just… shut up for once!”

Her eyes grew round. It was so unlike Andrew to use such a mean tone…

“Andy…”

“I can’t believe you did something like this to me…”

“You’re not perfect either, Andrew, don’t pretend…”

“Don’t pretend what?! That I was always faithful to you? That I loved you? That I wanted to spend my life with you when you dumped me for a guy you barely knew?!”

“And why do you think I did that?” she answered, with venom in her words, and Andrew hated himself for falling for it. He knew she was being mean, that he shouldn’t have believed her, but he was the one always doubting his own worth, he couldn’t help it… “I’m sorry, Andrew, but you weren’t perfect either. And the truth is, I wasn’t happy enough with you.”

The word enough echoed in his head, out of context, he applied it to himself. He could feel his brain starting to spiral… but he forced his gaze to remain on Samantha. His thoughts had turned to you, and he had to check…

“Did Frank cheat on Y/N too?”

“What does it matter to you…?”

“Just. Answer. The. Damn. Question,” he hissed through gritted teeth, struggling not to shout it instead.

She heaved a sigh, but answered still.

“No… no, he didn’t. The first time anything happened between us was three days before we two broke up. And Frank had already ended things with Y/N to be with me.”

Andrew heaved a sigh of relief.

“Thank God,” he breathed, running a hand through his hair, and Samantha frowned at his reaction.

“What does it matter to you?” she snapped.

“It matters to me that I’m glad her partner didn’t do this to her,” he replied, grabbing another drink.

“If you’re so angry at me, what are you doing here?”

Andrew bit the inside of his cheek to refrain his earnest answer.

Because Y/N needs me here.

“Honestly, I have no fucking clue…”

He downed yet another glass, walked away before Samantha could answer anything, and he headed towards the exit, fleeing the reception. He caught your eyes as he was passing not too far from you, refrained his urge to reach for you and hold you close, but his expression made you frown.

The cold air hit his cheeks, he realised he hadn’t picked up his jacket. The alcohol was getting to his head, the inky sky filled with stars was spinning above his head. He spotted an area with a few trees and a corner covered with grass. He aimed his feet in that direction, unstable, struggling to stay upright.

And you were still in there, with Frank, why fucking Frank, why him, why couldn’t you want…

“Andy?”

He turned around at the sound of your voice, almost falling in the process.

“You’re okay?” you asked while you walked closer, extending a hand to steady him if he needed.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he lied.

“Are you drunk?”

“A little bit,” he admitted, averting his eyes in a sheepish way.

“Do you want me to take you home? I didn’t drink at all tonight…”

But the image of Frank leaning closer, reaching for your waist flashed before his eyes. He clenched his jaw, opening and closing his fists repeatedly, not knowing what to do now with his own body, with his too-long limbs, with the knowledge that you too wanted Frank and not him. And Andrew hated that guy for taking everything he wanted away. For making Samantha leave him. For taking the life he thought he was going to build with her. But most importantly, for taking you away, even now… Andrew hated your ex for hurting you, for breaking your heart, and for being unable to let you go, for dragging you along with him, for keeping you dependent when he had someone else, and of course… of bloody course, Andrew had to fall for you, when you loved Frank.

What could you see in a guy like him? What did Andrew lack that made you unable to choose him instead of Frank?

He sat down in the grass, his brain swarming with thoughts that made him as dizzy as the liquor did.

“I think I’m… gonna stay here for a couple of minutes,” he answered, voice distant and words slurred by too much whiskey.

You sat down beside him.

“You’re okay?” you asked again, voice gentle, caring. Andrew wanted to cry at the sound, to hide in your arms and let it all out… his rage against Samantha, his jealousy against Frank, his love for you…

“Aren’t you supposed to be with Frank?” was his answer instead of yielding to his own wants and lean closer.

“You didn’t seem well.”

“I’m fine. This is your chance, it was working…”

He saw you clenching your jaw, even if there wasn’t much light around the venue. The parking lot was close by, with a few lampposts there. The moon was high and bright though, and through the windows of the venue behind the two of you, light was pouring into the night. It made for a dim lighting, but just enough for him to distinguish your features.

“I’d rather stay with you for a while,” you breathed, something pained and aching in your voice.

That fucking asshole… Andrew was certain Frank had hurt you somehow, said something wrong…

“I saw you talking with Samantha… what did she say?” you asked, changing subject and aiming straight for the sensitive one without knowing.

It was Andrew’s turn to clench his jaw. He didn’t say anything.

“What did she say?”

He shrugged, but you insisted, and he ended up yielding.

“She cheated on me with Frank.”

Your eyes grew round, and there was wrath shining in them too.

“He didn’t cheat on you,” Andrew hurried to add, wanting to alleviate your pain and worry, but your expression didn’t change. “It happened right after he broke up with you, but she hadn’t broken up with me yet… so technically…”

“What a fucking bitch…” you spat, and he was surprised by the harshness of your words, so much so that he giggled.

“Yeah, you can say that.”

“I’m so sorry, Andy,” you breathed, reaching to rub his back.

“It’s okay. I just… I just want to forget her now.”

You nodded but looked away.

“So… I’m losing my partner in crime for good?” you joked, but there was something strained in your voice, revealing of some kind of ache.

“I’ll still help you with Frank, that’s alright. If… if that’s what makes you happy…”

He froze when you leaned closed, rested your head on his shoulder. He reached out without thinking, the alcohol making him bolder than he usually was, and he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you in a tight hug. You remained like this for a couple of minutes, or perhaps a little longer than that, Andrew wasn’t sure. He was too drunk to notice the passing of time, he felt too warm holding you in his arms…

“Let’s get you home, Andy,” you broke the comfortable silence that had settled around you, broke his embrace to get up. You offered him your hand and helped him up, let him lean on you while you walked to your car.

And he wanted to tell you that he loved you, that he had for some time now. That he didn’t want Samantha anymore, only you. That he dreamt of you in his bedsheets, dreamt of what you would look like under him, dreamt of kissing your eyelashes. That he wanted to hold your hand, that he looked at you sometimes when you worked, in your shared office, because he just couldn’t help it. That you were beautiful, that he thought about you all the time, that he couldn’t eat at the thought of spending a moment with you. That he wanted to kiss you now, and forget about your exes, and take you on a nice date, whatever you would like.

He wanted to kiss you, but he didn’t.

[althaiareads]

“The carnitas are my weakness, and the gringas.” He points to two dishes on the board.

Girllll, carnitas? Ik it's basic, but I love them. The first time I met one of my (now) best friends, who is mexican, she cooked a whole assortage of tacos: birria, tinga, pastor, carnitas, everything you can imagine and I just fell in love with them. Actually,I'm gonna have them for lunch today, in honor of Frankie.

“Good name, great name, very solid.” Sophia smiles, “I approve of his mother’s choice of name.” 

Okay, I just fell in love with Sophia, she and I are besties now, I don't make the rules.

The night is a disaster. As you let the door to your place slam shut behind you, you slip down to the floor, tugging your heels off as hot tears start welling up.

Nooooo, wait, noooo. What happened, everything was going so well :(((((. SOPHIA HAD ALREADY APPROVED HIM.

In all honesty, though, I, too, would run as far away as possible from a man who got, like, physically violent in front of me, even if it was to "defend me". Just the one experience with a violent guy is enough for me, lmao. But, then again, our boy has his load of trauma and it's not like he's not taking actual steps towards changing those violent default patterns. Also, he has a pretty good grasp of who the "bad guy" of the situation is, which is not nothing.

Girl, this was so good, I live for how in love they are already, the neediness, is so so good. Hopefully they make up quickly. I get the feeling there's a deeper reason behind her reaction too, so a very long and honest conversation between them both is due!

The Pilot and his girl - ch. 3

So I have a clear plan for where this fic is going now, yay! I've outlined about 13-14 chapters and we're gonna do a little bit of TLoU crossover down the line so expect a Joel/Tommy cameo at some point :) I also decided on a title finally so it's now offically The Pilot and his girl

I'll add warnings as needed but there's only fluff in these first few chapters, playing around with our sweet Frankie.

(oh, btw, for anyone who notices, I know "chamo" is Venezuelan, but I love the expression, maybe the chef is from Venezuela :) )

Taglist: @pimosworld

Chapter 4

It’s not until Denny drives past in his truck and honks loudly that Frankie and you finally break apart, you’re giggling into Frankie’s neck as he waves at his boss and from the corner of your eye you see Denny give Frankie a gleeful thumb’s up through the window.  

“Maybe I should take you somewhere nicer than an airfield,” Frankie says and pushes back a strand of your hair. He’s got his hand hooked around your shoulders, behind your head, and the other still on your cheek. He’s warm and solid pressed up against you, the warm metal of the car at your back and him in front. 

“I don’t wanna break the mood,” you smile at him, “but I’m really hungry. Do you wanna have lunch since our breakfast was cut short?” 

“I’m fucking starving,” Frankie confesses with a grin. “There’s a small place nearby that does really good tacos if you like that? They’re really good and they’re usually quiet during the day.”

“Tacos sounds awesome, I haven’t had any in ages.” 

“Ok then, let’s get some tacos in you,” Frankie pulls you in for a final kiss, which turns into another long, slow exploration of each other's tongues until Frankie’s stomach rumbles loudly in protest and you start giggling pressed against his lips. Frankie reluctantly lets go of your bottom lip and glances down at his small belly. 

“Traitor,” he scolds it and reaches behind you to open the door to the truck, giving you a hand inside. 

…

The taco place really is nearby, less than ten minutes later Frankie pulls into a small parking lot next to a green park. Across the road is a small cluster of buildings, one sporting a big chilli pepper and the sign “El Chibiski” in bright colours. 

“I thought we could get some food and then eat in the park if you want?” Frankie asks as he parks the car and pulls off his hoodie, you copy him and leave his green one in the truck. 

“You’ve got this all planned out, it sounds like a great idea,” you say as he jumps out of the car and quickly comes round to your side to open the door. “You’re never gonna let me open this door, are you?” you smile as he takes your hand and you step down. 

“No, never,” he grins and closes it behind you. 

The taqueria is almost empty, the lunch rush over, and the smell that hits you as Frankie opens the door is mouth watering. As if on cue your stomach rumbles and he chuckles as you look at the menu over the counter. 

“Got any recommendations?” you ask him, “I definitely want some pastor but it all looks good.” 

“The carnitas are my weakness, and the gringas.” He points to two dishes on the board. “I say we get all three and some bistec ones too and just share everything, seeing as they don’t have fries on the menu.” He says the last thing with a grin and a quick glance at you. 

“I guess that means you’re getting a second date, Morales,” you huff in fake exasperation, “should’ve known you had ulterior motives.” 

“Oh no, you’ve seen right through my clever plans, cariño,” he giggles as you give him a playful slap on the shoulder. He gives your hand a quick squeeze, smiling under his cap, before stepping forward to order, adding a couple of bottles of water too. 

You watch Frankie chat in Spanish to the guy taking the order, exchanging jokes as he relays the order back to the kitchen. It sounds like Frankie comes here a lot by the way the chef greets him too when he spots him through the open order window. It’s an easy atmosphere and it’s nice seeing Frankie’s relaxed manner with the staff. You can only see him from behind but his head falls back as he laughs loudly at something the guy behind the counter says, and the chef yells a response from the kitchen, making them break out into more laughter. There’s something about seeing a guy you’re dating be liked by others, like a little green flag popping up. But to be fair, so far you’d seen no red flags around Frankie. He seems to be exactly what he looks like; a friendly guy, a little bit shy sometimes, but easy to like and easy to be around, a warm personality that seems to shine when he’s comfortable and in his element. You find yourself smiling as you hear Frankie laughing again, he makes you feel good, even though you’ve known him less than twenty four hours.  

When he comes back over he's got a big grin on his face, still chuckling from the jokes at the counter. 

“They always tell the dirtiest jokes,” he says, “I’m too embarrassed to translate them,” he smiles as he sits down in the chair next to you. 

“You know I speak Spanish, right?” you smirk at him and his eyes widen in shocked surprise and his neck immediately starts turning red, his cheeks tinged with pink. 

“¿Tú hablas español?” 

“Not a word, but seeing you blush was totally worth the lie, you’re so cute.” You can’t help touching his flushed cheeks. 

Frankie bursts into rumbling laughter as he grabs you and pulls you closer, chair and all. “Cheeky girl,” he grins and takes hold of your chin before kissing you softly. You kiss him back with a smile and his scruffy beard tickles your cheek when he moves his lips and presses a soft kiss just below you ear. 

“Maybe I should teach you some Spanish,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin, “so I can tell you exactly what you do to me when you’re this close.” He presses his lips to the thin skin under your ear again, letting his tongue slip out for a taste of the salt before kissing it again. Your breath catches in your throat as a shiver runs down your spine, heat pooling between your legs, creeping up your neck. When Frankie leans back he gives you a cheeky smile. “Now who’s blushing, hermosa?” 

You hook a couple of fingers into his t-shirt and pull him in for another kiss and he comes willingly, still with a cheeky smile. 

It takes a few more minutes, you’re lost in your own bubble with Frankie, but when someone loudly clears their throat next to you, you reluctantly lean back and look up. 

“Chamo, enserio?” The chef is holding out a take away bag for Frankie, grinning down at him, and Frankie gives a little embarrassed shrug and takes the bag while the chef gives him a friendly slap on the shoulder, smiles at you and retreats into the kitchen, waving at Frankie’s “Gracias”. 

Frankie calls out a goodbye to the guy behind the counter as you leave the restaurant, his hand seems to automatically fall to the small of your back now, and you cross the street to the park. The park isn’t big, but big enough so that when you walk towards the middle the noises from the street and the city are muted. Frankie stops by his truck and pulls out a blanket from the backseat and when you find a shady spot under a big leafy tree he shakes it out for you both to sit on. 

The smell from the take away containers makes your stomach rumble as Frankie pops them open and when you finally get to bite into a taco with pastor meat you moan and let your head fall back. 

“This is so fucking good, Frankie,” you groan and go for another bite, missing how Frankie’s hands stops trying to pick up one of the carnitas as his eyes go dark, fixed on your mouth. He swallows and shifts on the blanket, looking down at his food again. 

“Yeah, they do the best Mexican in town, we go there for lunch a lot since it’s so close to the airfield.” He grabs his taco and keeps his eyes on it as he takes a big bite, trying to ignore the way you moan again at the taste. 

“I can see why you like it, I’d be here every lunch if it was this close to my job,” you say, trying to catch some juice that’s running down your hand. 

“I go too often to be honest, I think the carnitas are directly responsible for my old man’s belly,” Frankie looks down at his midriff and pats the small soft swell under his t-shirt, “definitely not as flat as it was in my 20’s.” 

“I like it,” you say, “can’t believe I’m gonna say this, but…it’s kinda sexy on a guy, something soft when you’re all hard angles and muscles everywhere else.”

“You think my old man’s belly is sexy?” Frankie is looking pretty pleased about your confession. 

“Yeah, I do. And stop calling it an old man’s belly, you can’t be that old?” 

“34, and I’m already going grey,” Frankie scrubs at his beard, where there’s a few strands of grey with the dark brown. 

“Oh yeah, you’re ancient.” you smile and touch your fingertips to his few grey hairs. “A whole two years older than me.” 

“I nearly had a panic attack when I saw the first grey one,” Frankie says, “but my friend Pope has loads and he’s younger so I try not to worry.” 

“I think you look really good, Frankie, with or without grey hair,” you reply and he looks over with a warm smile, his eyes crinkling in that way that makes him look so soft and sweet. 

“Thank you, hermosa, and I think you’re probably the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” 

“Frankie…” you blush and can’t even make yourself look at him as he continues to smile at you. “I’m serious,” he says, “you made my heart stop when you smiled in the bar last night, and you weren’t even looking at me.” 

You’re too overwhelmed by his attention to even find your voice and just blush even more like a fool while you pretend to pick another taco from the boxes. Your heart is racing at a hundred miles per hour and you can still feel Frankie smiling at you, his half eaten taco in hand. 

“Fuck!” Frankie suddenly sputters out. You look up at him and see a large drip of juice from his taco trickling down his white t-shirt. “Damn, I guess I was pushing my luck with the tacos after the cherry pie,” he grumbles and gratefully takes the napkins you hand him. Wiping at the stain only makes it worse, spreading it out, and Frankie soon gives up, accepting his now stained appearance. “Can’t take me anywhere,” he gives you an apologetic smile and finishes off his carnita. 

It’s easy to hang out with Frankie as you share the remaining tacos, sitting close to him on the blanket, talking about movies. He’s making a list of horror movies for a future date and your loud protests make him laugh as he lists one movie gorier than the other. Finally you force him to have the last carnita, your stomach already full, and as he bites into it you tip backwards onto the blanket. 

“I’m so full, Frankie, I’m never eating again,” you groan as you put your hands over your belly, laying flat on your back. You can hear Frankie chuckle with his mouth full and you glance up at his profile. The air is warm in the shade under the tree, the light filtering through the leaves makes a dappled pattern over his body and cheeks but his nose and eyes are still shaded by the peak of his cap. 

“Frankie, come here,” you beckon him and he turns to look down at you as you put your hand on his shoulder. He wipes his hands and his mouth on a napkin, before stretching out next to you, propping himself up on his elbow.

“Can I take your cap off?” 

“Sure,” he replies with a smile, and you reach up and pull it off him. The sun immediately creates a halo of unruly curls around his head and you can see the dark brown of his eyes change to something more amber. Looking at the way the sun turns his dark brown curls golden you reach up and push your fingertips through them, your nails scratching along his scalp as the smooth strands slip underneath your hands. A shiver runs through him and he closes his eyes, leaning into your hands, as you play with his curls, letting them wrap around your fingers and watch how they bounce back when you let go. Frankie sighs and drops down on your chest, resting his head just above your stomach. “Please, don’t stop doing that,” he pleads and you continue to run your fingers through his hair, hearing him moan gently as his breathing slows down. 

You’re not sure when he actually falls asleep but when you hear a soft snore from him you realise he’s in a deep slumber on your chest, one arm thrown across your stomach. Continuing to caress his curls, making them stand on end even more, you close your eyes too and enjoy the feeling of his solid body pressed against your side and warm breaths against your t-shirt. It doesn’t take long before you’re asleep too. 

…

Frankie wakes up first, blinking at the bright light and feeling disorientated before turning his head and seeing you sleeping with a hand in his hair. Your head is tilted sideways, your mouth slightly open and he can feel your chest rise and fall with your gentle breaths. Carefully he pushes himself up so that he can move his arm and slide the back of his hand across your cheek. Sleep and sun has made your skin flushed and he relishes the silky feel of it as he caresses you lightly. 

The movement must have roused you because he sees your eyes move as you slowly blink, turning your head to focus on him. 

“Hi,” he says gently with a smile and you smile back at him, “Hi, Frankie.” 

You yawn, clamping a hand over your mouth and giggling as it makes Frankie yawn too. He scoots up further so that he can prop himself up on his elbow closer to your head and his hand leaves your cheek, caressing down your neck, stroking random patterns over your skin. 

“I guess tacos make us sleepy,” he smiles and you nod, slightly distracted by how close he is as he leans over you, blocking the sun. His curls are even more unruly, sticking up all over his head, and you run your hand over them again, lacing in your fingers into the curls at his neck and pulling him down towards your mouth. He comes willingly, his lips finding yours easily and when he parts them for you, his tongue is soft and eager against yours. The cool tip of his nose brushes against your cheek as he moves closer, deepening the kiss when you let out a low moan against him. Your fingers wrap tightly around his neck and your other hand finds the side of his chest, the warm cotton soft against your palm as you touch him properly for the first time. He’s firm under your touch, bunched muscles as he holds himself up over you and you caress further up his back. You relish in being able to feel the curve of his shoulder, the way his spine dips between his shoulder blades and disappears down towards the edge of his jeans, wishing there was no fabric under your hand. 

You feel his hand leave your neck, graze across your throat and softly brush against your breast as Frankie lets his fingertips trail down along your torso, finding the sliver of skin between your jeans and t-shirt. With a soft grip he runs his thumb along it, grabbing your waist and pulling you closer. 

“Is this ok?” he whispers close to your mouth as his hand caresses under your t-shirt. 

“Yes, Frankie,” you murmur and push your lips against his, tasting him on your tongue as your need for him grows, a louder moan escaping you. Your response makes him bolder and he pushes you into the blanket with a growl, buried against your mouth. His large hand is flat against your torso and you can feel how he wants to move it further up under your shirt, to feel more, grab more, but you’re still out in the open, still in public, and with a groan he pulls back. He slumps down beside you, burying his face in the crook of your neck with a sigh. His hand leaves your skin, instead he rests it modestly on your stomach, over your t-shirt. 

“Tan suave, hermosa,” he mumbles, “When can I see you again?” He pushes himself up on his elbow again, looking down at you with eyes that seem darker. 

“I’m busy next weekend, the wedding,” you explain with an apologetic smile, “but after that I’m all yours.” 

“All mine, huh?” Frankie grins and you wink back at him. “I wanna take you out for dinner, properly, but I also don’t wanna wait two weeks to see you again,” he says, “maybe we can catch up for drinks or something before then? Or dinner if things aren’t too crazy at the airfield, depending on when I can get away.” 

“I’d like that, Frankie, “ you smile at him, “I’ll check with the bride what the plans are for this week so I know what evenings I’m free, I know she had some sort of social events planned and then the rehearsal dinner on Friday.” 

“Wow, she’s going all out with this wedding?” Frankie raises his eyebrows. 

“Yeah, full on everything, rehearsal dinner, actual wedding day and then spa day and brunch on Sunday. I’m going to work on Monday after the wedding to relax…” you sigh, thinking about how drained you were going to be after three days of socialising with a crowd mostly made up of strangers. “Speaking of next week,” you say with a glance at your phone, “I should probably get home and get everything ready for it.” 

“Yeah, sounds like you’ve got an intense week coming up,” Frankie smiles and pushes himself up to his feet before giving his hand to you, pulling you to your feet. “I’d love to see you soon if you can but don’t stress it, there’s time.” 

He pulls you in for a kiss as you stand, wrapping your arms around his neck before sliding his hands down your waist, stopping to tug you closer to him. You press up against him, feeling his belt buckle dig into your stomach and his mustache tickles you as he gently makes you open your mouth to him again. Kissing him feels addicting and when he starts pulling away you slip your fingers into the curls at the back of his head and slowly let your fingernails run along his scalp. He immediately moans and pulls closer again, melting against you. 

It takes you a while to get back to the truck, stopping for more kisses, Frankie’s arm wrapped around your shoulders, and his soft lips so easy to reach up to, his hand sliding up to hold your neck, grabbing your hair and pulling you in for another long kiss while the afternoon slips away. When you’re finally by the passenger door he cages you in against the truck, his hands on either side of your head as you pull him closer, needing more of him. It leaves you both breathless, Frankie shifting his stance when his obvious hard on becomes uncomfortable but it does nothing to hide it. 

“Sorry,” he mutters when he pulls back a little from you, giving you an embarrassed little grin, “it’s difficult to control when you’re so close, hermosa, you feel so good.” 

“Don’t be sorry,” you mumble, pulling him back, “mine’s less obvious but just as out of control.” Frankie groans and drops his head to his chest before taking a deep breath, “Ok, I need to get you home before you say more things like that.” He opens the door behind you, “Get in before I change my mind.” 

…

Frankie drives back to the coffee shop where your car is parked and pulls up next to it, again jumping out and coming around to your door to open it. You stay in your seat until he puts out his hand for yours this time and he gives you a warm smile. 

“You’re learning, cariño, never letting you touch this door.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you smile back and take his hand and step down. He holds onto it as you walk over to your car, parked just down the street. After you unlock it and put your jacket inside you turn back to him. He’s smiling down at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners and his face is so handsome and warm it makes you wish you could call off all the plans for the week and just spend it with him. 

“I’ve had a really good time, Frankie,” you say as his hand comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb smooth over your skin. 

“Me too,” he says, “call me about next week, I’ll make sure that Denny lets me leave on time any evening you’re not busy. I really want to see you again soon, hermosa.” The last thing he says as his thumb caresses your lips, tracing the outline of them, his eyes flitting between your eyes and your mouth. 

“I’ll see if I can get out of some of all the social events, maybe Wednesday’s…” You close your eyes as Frankie’s beard tickles the side of your neck, his lips moving slowly over your skin. “You’re making it very hard to concentrate, Frankie,” you protest weakly and you hear him chuckle before he pulls back. 

“Ok, I’ll let you go,” he gives you a grin, “I need to start planning our movie date, need to get my dvd of The Shining back, I thought we’d start with that one.” 

Your face pulls into a grimace, wrinkling your nose at the prospect of a horror film and it makes Frankie laugh. 

“Un-wrinkle your face, hermosa,” he rubs his thumb down your nose with a grin, “I won’t really make you watch it if you don’t want to.” 

“Let’s start with something less scary, please.” 

“Anything you want, really,” he replies and you lean into him, kissing him one last time before getting in your car. “Thank you, Frankie, for today.” 

“See you soon, hermosa,” he smiles back at you. 

…

Your week turns out to be more hectic than anticipated and as Friday rolls around you still haven't been able to see Frankie. Between your work, his work and the looming wedding, all you’d managed was a few phone calls late in the evenings when you got home. You’d hear Frankie’s sleepy voice assure you it wasn’t too late when you called him and then his rich baritone would keep you company as you got ready for bed. On Thursday you’d crawled into bed and facetimed him, his dimly lit bedroom making his eyes black as he smiled at your big yawns. You wish you could ask him to come over and just sleep next to you, the ache for him almost physically painful. When you said goodnight and turned off your phone you rolled onto your side, trying to imagine what it would feel like if you had Frankie’s warm body curled around your own as you drifted off to sleep. 

Friday morning you put on your office clothes and pack a bag for the rehearsal dinner; a dress and heels to swap into after work before heading to the very upscale restaurant booked by the groom’s parents. Frankie has sent you a sweet good morning text and you reply as you wait for your coffee to drip down, smiling at his usual lack of capital letters, punctuation or any apostrophes. You’d asked him about it during the week, thinking maybe his phone was broken, and after a few awkward chuckles he’d confessed; he just hadn’t figured out how to do them on a smartphone and now he was too embarrassed to ask anyone. You’d tried to not laugh, his flustered huffs down the phone made you want to hug him tight, and you’d promised to show him how to do it the next time you met. 

“Didn’t realise I’d need a college degree just to type on the phone,” he’d chortled. 

…

You manage to leave work a little bit early and change into your dress and heels, touching up your make-up and hair, before heading out. As you arrive early to the restaurant you find one of your best friends, Sophia, at the bar. She’d missed the bachelorette party and had only just flown in for the wedding weekend, her suitcase still next to her bar stool. She waves both her hands over her head when she spots you and you all but run over to her with your arms outstretched. 

“It’s so good to see you, sweetie,” Sophia says after you’ve both stopped hugging and squealing, tucking her arm under yours, squeezing it tightly. “I miss having you around.” 

“Well, that’s what happens when you move to another continent and decide to marry some random Welsh girl,” you reply. Sophia had married Carys three years earlier and moved back with her to London a year later. “Speaking of, where is she? Not here for the wedding?”

“She is, but she had to wrap something up at work, she’ll be here in time for dinner.” 

The bartender comes over and you both order champagne, seeing as it’s the groom’s parents who will be footing the bill for the open bar. Sophie grabs her suitcase and glass and motions you over to one of the booths. 

“So what’s going on with you? I hate to be the one that asks the obvious question but…anyone new in your life? It’s been ages since..you know who…and I’d love to see you happy with someone.” 

You take a sip of the champagne to avoid answering straight away. You didn’t like talking about the people you were dating too soon, preferring to find your footing and know where it was heading before fielding a hundred questions from your friends. But Sophia was different, she wouldn’t start planning your wedding or pester you to introduce him to her, and she was a solid judge of character. 

“Ok, so…” you start slowly and Sophia lights up, her smile like a thousand watts, “I did meet this one guy last Saturday.” 

“I fucking knew it!” she exclaims, “you looked different, happy different, sweetie.” 

“We’ve only had one date so far, but it was really nice,” you say, smiling at the memory of your Sunday with Frankie. 

“What’s his name?” Sophia asks, sipping her drink. 

“Frankie, Francisco Morales.” 

“Good name, great name, very solid.” Sophia smiles, “I approve of his mother’s choice of name.” 

“Dumbass,” you chide her with a snicker. “He was at the last bar we went to with the bachelorette party, he was there with some friends, and he was so sweet and handsome and kinda shy that I gave him my number, despite swearing to never do that again.” 

“Sweet and handsome is good, what does he look like?” 

“I won’t do him justice at all, but he has brown, curly hair, dark brown eyes and an adorable scruffy beard with a dimple. But his face is just perfectly sweet and soft and when he smiles his eyes go all warm and I feel like I can’t move when he looks at me.” 

“Girl, you have a crush on this man, I can tell…” Sophia giggles and clinks her glass against yours. 

“I do, I can’t deny,” you laugh with her. “We kissed on Sunday and, oh my god, I just wanted to take him home and keep him in my bed for a week, maybe two.” You lean back, sighing as you remember how Frankie’s body felt pressed up against yours, his eager tongue slipping against yours as his hand slipped under your t-shirt. 

“So do it, what have you got to lose?” 

“Nothing, but this week has been crazy and the entire weekend is packed. He knows I’m busy so we’re gonna try to meet up for drinks some night next week. But definitely dinner next Saturday,” you take another sip of your champagne. 

“Ok, but what are you doing here tonight, babe?” Sophia looks at you with a frown. “It’s not like you have to be at the rehearsal dinner, bail and go see him instead.” 

“Lizzy would kill me, and if not her than Steve’s mother, they’re paying for this thing.” 

“Lizzy will not kill you if you ditch her for a guy that makes you smile like that,” Sophia points a meaningful finger at your face, you can’t seem to make the corners of your mouth go down. Talking about Frankie has you longing for him and as Sophia pokes you in the side you start giggling, wriggling away from her. “Go see him, call him right now, see if he’s free, and then you go fuck his brains out and come to the wedding as a new woman.” She pokes you again, “Go now, call him. If he’s available I’ll talk to Lizzy.” 

“Ok, ok, jeez, woman, I’m going,” you laugh and push yourself out of the booth. 

You leave the bar area and wander out to the patio in the back, away from the crowd that’s starting to congregate in the restaurant, as you pull up Frankie’s number on your phone. 

“Hey, hermosa,” his warm, rich voice comes through the phone after two rings and you feel yourself smiling. “What’s up, I thought you were at the rehearsal dinner? 

“I am, it’s just about to start. I just wanted to talk to you, I wish we could’ve made time to meet up this week.” 

“Yeah, me too, cariño, I’m sorry I was so busy at work.” 

“No, I’m the one who’s had the crazy week and all the stuff planned this weekend. But I was thinking, maybe I can sneak away from this dinner early and we can meet up, unless you already have plans?”

“I do, I’m meeting the boys for a couple of drinks, but I will most definitely ditch them for you any day.” You can hear the smile in his voice as he gets eager about the idea. 

“Maybe if I stay for the actual dinner here and leave when that’s done? So you can hang out with your friends first and then we can meet up for a drink or something?” 

“Yeah, that sounds like a great idea, we’re going to some new place downtown that Will wanted to try out, and I think it’s pretty close to your restaurant. Send me a message when dinner is done and I’ll come and meet you there, ok?” In the background you can hear someone yell, “Come on, Fish!” and he calls for them to give him a sec. 

“Go Frankie, go with them, I’ll message you when I’m done.” You feel heat rising in your cheeks at the thought of seeing Frankie again so soon. Frankie’s voice is softer and lower, you can hear him walking, his boots scuffing across a hard surface as he replies. 

“Can’t wait, hermosa, I miss you.” 

“Miss you too, Frankie.” 

…

True to her word, Sophia pulls Lizzy to one side during the dinner and explains why you’ll be disappearing as soon as her uncle Herb has wrapped up his rambling speech about Steve mowing his lawn. Both women shoot you wide grins and thumbs up across the room as you excuse yourself while the coffee and dessert is being brought in, fumbling in your bag for your phone to text Frankie. 

You wait for him to arrive just inside the entrance of the restaurant and can’t help but laugh as Sophia’s head pops out from behind one of the large potted plants, looking like she’s in a bad spy movie. 

“What?” she giggles, “I just wanna see this guy who’s got you all smiley. I’ll be totally discreet.” 

“Come here, dumbass,” you say fondly, and she wraps her arms around you in a big hug. 

“Sweetie, I hope he’s all you want him to be, you deserve this.” 

“Thanks, Soph, you’ve always got my back,” you peck her on the cheek and she gives you a smile before glancing over at the big windows on either side of the glass door. 

“Please tell me that’s him,” she mouths, her eyes widening slightly. 

You turn and spot Frankie walking towards the door and your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him. He hasn’t seen you yet and as you watch he smooths his large hands down the front of his dark red button up shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing off his strong looking forearms. He’s ditched the cap and the evening breeze ruffles his curls, making them escape the attempt you can see he’s made at taming them. He’s got dark jeans on, hugging his thighs and showing off his ridiculous shoulder to hip ratio. Spotting you through the door his eyes crinkle and he gives you that sweet nervous smile. You smile back at him as his hand shoots up and rubs the back of his neck, his ever present awkward little gesture that makes your heart clench. 

You’re about to turn and say goodbye to Sophia when she swiftly steps forwards and opens the door to the restaurant for Frankie. 

“You must be Frankie,” she beams at him, ushering him inside. 

“Uh, yeah, I am, hi,” he stutters, taking the hand Sophia holds out. 

“Hi Frankie,” you say, “this is my friend Sophia, she’s just leaving.” You give her a stern look that she ignores.

“Really nice to meet you, Frankie, I’m so happy I convinced my darling friend here to ditch this dull crowd and call you instead.” She’s still beaming at Frankie, unashamedly looking him up and down as you step closer to him. He seems to find himself a little and gives Sophia a friendly smile before turning his attention back to you. 

“Hi, hermosa,” he says in a low voice as he drops his head and kisses your cheek, his hand landing on your waist and pulling you closer.

Sophia gives you a quick thumbs up and an excited grin before Frankie looks up again. 

“Alright, Mr Morales, take my girl out and show her a good time, you have my blessing,” she croons and starts ushering you both out the door. “Now get going before you get roped into this damn wedding again, sweetie.” 

“Bye, Soph, I’ll see you tomorrow.” you call out as you leave, Frankie’s arm still around your waist. 

You both laugh as you walk down the street, getting away from the restaurant. “I’m sorry about the ambush,” you giggle, “She’s a bit of a whirlwind but she’s my best friend, I can’t deny her anything.” 

“She seems like a good friend, looking out for you,” he smiles. 

“Yeah, always.” You tug lightly at him, making him stop as you turn, looking up at him. “Hi,” you whisper and his arms wrap around your waist. 

“Hi,” he mumbles, dropping his head to your forehead, his eyes warm and soft. He stays still for a few beats but when you reach up for his lips he almost makes you stumble back with how fiercely he kisses you. His arms come up along your back, pulling you in as his tongue frantically licks into your mouth and you moan against him, his fevered advance making your body ache. A few moments pass, his body hard against your own as he seems to need to pull you as close as possible, his hot breath over your skin as he kisses you acutely. Only the loud whoop from across the street makes you break apart. 

“You’re so gorgeous in that dress, hermosa,” he murmurs as he reluctantly pulls back, letting his eyes slide over the black wrap dress and down your legs on display. “You’re always gorgeous but that dress on you…” he trails off, his hands slipping from your waist, down over your hips. His eyes are dark and you feel your own need mirrored in them as he looks up at you again. 

Eventually he takes your hand and starts walking again, “About that drink, yeah?”

You nod and let your breath slip out, slowly exhaling to calm your nerves, squeezing his hand tightly.

…

The night is a disaster. As you let the door to your place slam shut behind you, you slip down to the floor, tugging your heels off as hot tears start welling up. All you can see when you squeeze your eyes shut is Frankie’s furious face as he slammed the man against the wall, the dull thump of his fist against his face, the blood pouring from the battered nose. Sweet, shy Frankie suddenly dealing out violence, dropping the man with two swift punches and then turning back to you, taking hold of your arms, his knuckles still coated in blood, another man’s blood. 

You’d barely heard him as he tried to make sure you were ok. It had been nothing. The man had groped you as you left the ladies, you’d slapped his hand away and he’d grabbed your arm, pulling you around with a leer. Frankie had appeared at your side out of nowhere, the man slumping on the floor a moment later. But it was Frankie’s transformation that scared you, his face had been furious, but as the punches fell it was cold, emotionless, and he didn’t even flinch as blood spluttered from the man’s broken nose. When he took hold of your arms, looking down at you, he had blood on his shirt and you couldn’t look away from it. Frankie’s face was still impassive, only a slight frown, as he asked you again if you were hurt. You stared back at him, pulling your eyes away from the blood, it was on his skin too. Suddenly, severely aware of how little you knew Frankie, you pulled away from him, scared of the man in front of you, of the violence he’d shown. 

Who could be that violent? 

Who would punch a man so hard he didn’t get up again? 

You’d stammered something, telling him you needed to think, to not follow you, seeing the shock on Frankie’s face turn to despair as you backed away, his hands still on your arms, slowly letting go. Turning your back on him you heard him speak your name but you ignored it, the adrenaline in your system was spiking, making your hands shake and your legs move quickly. 

You hold it together in the Uber home but now you’re on the floor of your hallway, sobbing at the unfairness of everything. 

Chapter 4

[writingblogsandothers]

The Chosen One

Part 8

Writer's Note: Short and Sweet this evening! One final shot - Don't forget to submit your answer for our poll Sending all the love, as per X

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Mild Taunting/Teasing // Mild Fear // Mild violence // Mild kissing // Mild indications of sleeping together (nothing overly descriptive)

Use of She/Her/Lady - Female Pronouns

Readers over the age of 18 only please

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7

Geta turned over from his side to meet Aurelia’s face, only to find she wasn’t there. Perplexed, he got out of bed and put on his robe to go and find his wife. On walking out the door, he found Alba attending to basic chores around the hall.

“Alba, where is she? Where is Aurelia?” he was growing concerned as she never left without letting him know where she was.

“Ah my Lord, someone came to fetch her this morning? Macrinus, I believe was his name?”

Geta breathed in deeply and straightened his posture. He and Aurelia had a long discussion last night over her stance on Macrinus and his leering way of imposing on their household.

“She left unaccompanied? You let her?”

Alba didn’t know what to say. She knew Aurelia was a woman of her own right, taking little heed of any advice she was give. “Sire, I-”

“Enough Alba. Where did they go?”

“To the Gladiators.”

***

“You put great work into your men, Macrinus, no?”

“Oh yes, Empress. Great work indeed. These men came from nothing. I have made them into the stallions they are today.” Aurelia tried her best to hide her disgust at the lack of empathy that this man had.

“Tell me, Empress, if you will. Do you trust your husband?”

Aurelia stopped walking and stared at the man, “Why do you ask such foolish questions? Of course I trust him.” Macrinus nodded his head, “Why, do you have concern that I should not?” She knew his game. She was much more intelligent than these men give her credit for.

“Well my Lady, it is just that – ah, forgive me, I should have said nothing.”

“No, no, Macrinus. Tell me now. I demand it.”

“Do you know of his plans for Ostia, your hometown?”

Aurelia furled her eyebrows, “No, I do not. But you have began, so you will finish.”

Macrinus sighed, taking Aurelia by the arm, walking further. “He wishes to build a further palace, right by the water. Great fortresses to blockade and guard Rome’s great land. It means that all who live there will be displaced. I wonder what will happen to your dear Mater and Pater. It’s all very sad. I’m surprised he has not discussed this with you, after all you are the Empress and have a right to know.” Aurelia nodded her head, why did Geta not tell you of such plans?

“Thank you for your kind service Macrinus.”

“Anytime, my lady.”

They walked further down the hall before they were met with a searingly angry Geta. His long cloak swept in the wind, with each thunderous step he took along the uneven tiles. He bit his lip as hard as he could in a bid to contain his emotions.

“Macrinus, I see you have found my wife. How are we seeing today in so?”

Macrinus grinned at the Emperor. He could see he had gotten under his skin. “My Lord, I have a meeting with your brother – I think it best for you to join also. We have good news for the future of Rome!” He clapped Geta on the shoulder, to which Geta grimaced at his wife, grabbing her by the arm. “Let us meet Caracalla, and hear this good news.” He leant down and growled into Aurelia’s ear, “Never leave me again without telling me where you are going.”

Aurelia looked up to him to see him extremely angry, she curtly nodded and carried on walking to meet Caracalla in the main event space. However, she was as equally angry with him and would discuss the matter later.

***

Caracalla stood entwined with several people, all kissing various parts of his body. He shooed them away once Macrinus and Geta entered. He didn’t notice Aurelia behind but once she emerged he announced, “Ah brother, good to see you have brought your dog with you, yet again.” Geta looked at Caracalla with only fire in his eyes, “Brother, it would serve you well to keep that mouth of yours shut and stop with the degradation of my wife.”

Caracalla laughed, “Oooh brother please, calm. It was merely a joke. Anyway, it is good she is here. She needs to know of the new and good news!”

Geta questions, “What good news?”

“Macrinus is eligible for Senate promotion.”

“Excuse me?” Geta exclaimed. “Brother, may I speak with you a moment? In private.”

The two took themselves off to the exterior balcony, while Macrinus announced to Aurelia, “Some people just don’t know when to stop, Aurelia.” She perked her ears to this, “Yes, I would agree. I have seen so much destroyed from people not knowing their boundaries. But, do tell, how have you experienced?”

“Ah I shouldn’t say,”

She interrupted him, “Yes, as you keep alluding to Macrinus, yet spill all. Do tell.” She affirmed confidently.

He smirked at her, “Senator Thraex. He is a man who, let’s just say, has a want. A problem. He borrowed quite a bit of money off me, but cannot pay it back.” Aurelia was about to speak before Macrinus began again, “You see we found a solution – I now own his home. He has nothing. That’s what we need in Rome, Aurelia. Men who get what they want, and ensure nothing in their way stops them.” Aurelia narrowed her eyes, opened her mouth before the loud clashing of voices and objects stopped her. She rose from her seat to walk over to where Geta and Caracalla were. The door suddenly flung open with Caracalla rushing out, tears streaming his face, “MACRINUS, COME NOW. WE’RE LEAVING. GAMES ARE CANCELLED TODAY. YOU’VE RUINED EVERYTHING BROTHER!” Macrinus rose, bowed to Aurelia and followed Caracalla.

Looking into the room she saw Geta like she had never seen him before. Enraged. Red faced. Veins popping out in places where she never thought a vein would run. He roughly took her by the hand, muttering words to himself that Aurelia couldn’t make out. Geta took her to his quarters rather than hers. He sent all hands away, he just wanted the space to him and Aurelia.

As soon as they were on their own, he sat down on the large seat in front of him and broke down to cry. Aurelia knelt before him.

“Dear one, what is wrong?” Aurelia asked softly.

He looked to her with such sorrow in his eyes. “I thought something happened to you this morning, when you weren’t there. I am sorry for the way I acted toward you earlier. I was rushed.”

Aurelia took his hands, “Geta, I am sorry. I shouldn’t have left without saying anything but I didn’t want to disturb your slumber. You look very sweet in your sleep.” She giggled to the Emperor, to which he wrinkled his nose in return and kissed the back of her hand. “I promise, from now on tell you everything and even bring you with me if I must.”

Geta nodded and continued, “Now I have Caracalla to worry about…”

Aurelia sighed, “Only now you have to worry about him?” she jibed.

“Aurelia, this is serious. I fear the disease my brother has of the loins has spread to his brain. He is saying the most ridiculous things, and agreeing to the most ridiculous ventures. I really think that Macrinus has had a helping hand here. My brother is very impressionable.”

Aurelia paused then began, “Speaking of Macrinus, he was telling me of your venture you want to see through for Ostia.”

Geta looked at her with a puzzled look, “What plans?”

She relayed what Macrinus had told her. Geta began, “Aurelia I have never said such things – why would I want my palace at sea level anyhow? Surely that would entice more to invade Rome if they knew the leader was there at such easy access?”

Aurelia paused to think. He had a point. Until it clicked, “He’s trying to drive a wedge between us. He wants me to think ill of you.”

Geta was to begin again before they were interrupted by a loud knock at the door. Marcus Acacius busts through, “Emperor, Empress, forgive me for the intrusion, but something has happened at the Senate. It’s Macrinus. He has been appointed in as Senator over Thraex. He is the new higher power.”

Aurelia’s eyes shot wide, with Geta clearing his throat.

“We must discuss how we are to solve this problem. Immediately.”

Part 9

[loliwrites]

The One You Need | seven

🎶 Rest your head here, pull me closer I'll hold you tight while you let go, girl And I could love you, if you just let me Be the one you need🎶

pairing: neighbor!joel miller x f!reader  rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni  summary: when you move into town hellbent on keeping everyone at an arm’s length, your neighbor Joel finds his way into your life. warnings/tags: au, neighbor joel, age gap [reader is late 20s/early 30s, Joel is late 40s], hyper-independent reader, absent fathers, minor discussion of baby poop, fluff, cuddling, SMUT, repeated verbal consent, oral (m and f receiving), unprotected p in v sex, hair pulling, hickeys, mild choking, pussy pronouns, terms of endearment [sweetheart, good girl, sweet girl], female reader, reader has hair long enough to pull, no physical description, protective!joel, soft!joel, dare i say ei!joel, no use of y/n. word count: 9.1k series masterlist | part six a/n: here’s the last chapter of this fic! it’s been a long time coming and i’ve appreciated each and every one of you for reading, commenting, and reblogging. it was great fun and i hope there’re more stories to tell in the future

It was worse than you imagined. You sister really was on her own despite having a very legally married husband. It only took a day to realize she hadn’t been exaggerating the situation at all. He left for work at five in the morning after not even attempting to help with the baby through the night. Your little nephew was going through a bout of sleep regression, and you witnessed how your sister was the one who went to soothe him when he seemed to wake and cry every hour. And when her husband came home twelve hours later in the evening, he made a beeline for the couch, sat down on it and suddenly had a list of demands.

Bring me a beer. When’s dinner? Did you vacuum today? Why is the washing machine ringing? You should switch those clothes out. And after dinner, he didn’t even bother taking his plate to the sink much less being a fully-functioning adult and cleaning it – or at the very least, rinsing it off.

Your sister’s day to day seemed to be a never ending circle of soothing the baby, changing the baby, feeding the baby, cleaning, cooking, cleaning again, and laundry. How she had managed for so long before hitting her breaking point and calling was beyond you. Now carrying some of the burden, you felt resentment growing for her husband – and for all men. Was this not how your own father had acted when your mom was raising you and your sister? Was he not just as absent-minded? And if these were the two marriages you had for reference, men seemed to take the cake for least helpful and useless humans on the face of the earth. All forty-nine percent of them.

It was a big reason (but not the only reason) as to why you were dodging Joel’s calls. Your first few days with your sister had grown so much anger toward men that the last thing you wanted to do was talk to one – even if he was putting on what you now believed to be an act about being attentive and caring. For the first week, he tried calling two or three times a day, and you let each of them go to voicemail. Your sister had asked who was calling, but you shrugged and insisted it was spam. Now that you’d been with her for two weeks, Joel called less and less. Still, he called once a day at varying times, hoping to catch you in a free moment. What he didn’t realize was you had no free moments as you took some of the weight off your sister’s shoulders.

You closed your laptop as your sister rounded the couch with two cups of coffee. On the carpet in front of you, your nephew was playing with a toy that seemed to only be able to play one song over and over again. With rather poor timing, your phone rang right as you were being handed coffee, and so it was impossible for you to hide the screen which very clearly read “Joel” and not “Spam Risk”. As you went to click the side button and send the call to voicemail, you caught a mischievous glance from your sister.

“Who’s Joel?”

“My neighbor,”

Your sister hid her smile by taking a sip from her coffee. She nodded slowly and let out an acknowledging hum. “He’s spam?”

You shot her a glare, “yes.”

She nodded again, then fixated her attention on her child. “How many times have you slept with spam?”

You took another sip of your coffee before reaching forward to set the mug on the table in front of you. “Not enough to warrant him being so persistent,”

“Must’ve left quite an impression. Why aren’t you answering?”

You pondered how far into this conversation you wanted to go. If you wanted to go into it at all. That childhood in the family home had really done a number on you. Shit, you were sure it had done a number on her, too. That the years of walking on eggshells and trying to figure out what type of mood mom and dad were in had done seemingly irreparable damage. That you couldn’t get yourself to let someone in. That in the times that you’d tried, it wasn’t enough. It ended in heartbreak – both blindsided and not.

And deciding none of that mattered because your sister was in her own sewer of shit, you decided to go with a simple answer. “I think he’s looking for something I can’t give him,”

If she’d been your best friend who you told everything to, she would’ve called bullshit. But it was just your sister, so she nodded in false understanding. You wondered if anyone would ever really know you.

With your morning coffee behind you, you started off on a laundry list of chores – which surprisingly enough, didn’t include actual laundry today. Surely today would blend into all the other days spent here. And would culminate in you growing so frustrated with your brother-in-law that you’d eventually just remove yourself from the room and disappear into the guest bedroom that at this point should’ve just had your name on it.

It was like clockwork. Completely infuriating that you could predict it so easily. He came home, ignored his child, and plopped his ass in his recliner, demanding a beer and asking why the living room hadn’t been vacuumed. You wanted to smash the glass bottle over his head and scream that there weren’t enough hours in the day to do everything. Not when there was an infant that needed attention and caring for. 

And because you knew you were bound to say something you’d regret, you excused yourself from the living room early and retreated to bed with your laptop and some shitty television show you could go numb to. Even though the intent was to turn off your brain, you couldn’t stop thinking about how long you were going to stay here. A couple more days? Weeks? A month or two? Would you ever go back to Texas?

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

The next morning, you woke up in a sheen of sweat. Hair stuck to your cheek and forehead. And you sat up with the sheets pooled around your waist. Fuck. Two weeks and the sex dream about Joel you expected to happen in the first couple days had finally made an appearance. It would’ve been nice to get laid. Of course. But not at the expense of stringing him along. He deserved someone who could open all the way up to him. And lean on him. And depend on him. And all you could do was depend on yourself. No one else could pick up any slack for you. You could do it the best.

The baby shrieked from the other room and you knew it was late enough in the morning that he was up for good and your brother-in-law had already left for work. It was safe for you to re-emerge into the wild. Blindly reaching for the nightstand, you fumbled around for your phone, realizing it wasn’t plugged into the charger. Thinking back through the blending of days, you couldn’t even remember the last time you’d had it.

Padding out and seeing your nephew playing with a rattle, you waved excitedly to him. All but running over, you bent over and gave him a big, loud kiss to the head. Then you turned to finally address your sister who was already brewing a pot of coffee.

“I gotta go to the store today,”

Your sister nodded and picked up a notepad where you could see the grocery list of things she’d already added to it. She was past the point of offering to go with you as the last time that happened, it was an utter nightmare. Toting a fussy infant around while trying to move efficiently through the market was counterintuitive. You just wanted to get in and get out, and you could do that best if you went by yourself.

“Do you know where my phone is?” You looked back over your shoulder at the coffee table with no luck.

“I put it by your keys near the front door. It fell between the couch cushions last night,”

You nodded once – the sneaky couch cushion. Always the likely culprit. “I’m gonna go shower, get a cup of coffee and watch an episode of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse with my little man,” you pointed at your nephew. At your attention he burst out into a toothless grin and a giggle. “And then I’ll head out for groceries,”

You were quickly learning that nothing ever went to plan with a baby. Everything was constantly derailed. The plan of shower, coffee, and TV was a nice one. But what you couldn’t account for was that halfway through the episode of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, your nephew was going to have a massive blowout that sent poop up to his shoulder blades. Gagging and choking to keep yourself from upchucking, you ran him to the bathroom while your sister drew the bath. Getting him undressed was a task as removing his onesie meant you got some of the poop in his hair. And bathing him while also dodging the poopy water he slapped in your direction could’ve qualified you for an olympic medal. You ran for the front door as quickly as you could once he was clean again and your sister had him back in a fresh onesie. 

You never thought you’d be so happy to go to the grocery store. Even if it ended up that it seemed like everyone and their mother was doing their shopping all at the same time. Didn’t anyone work anymore?

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

Stubborn as all hell and not wanting to make more than one trip out to the car for groceries, you loaded the canvas bags on your shoulders and forearms until they were tugging at your skin and threatening to drop everything you’d just bought on the garage floor.

Struggling to lift your hand to turn the doorknob you got the slightest of grips on it and used your weight to push the door open, while using your foot as a wedge to keep it ajar for you to slither through and into the house. It was commonplace now to enter the house as quietly as possible. The baby was a notoriously light sleeper and you’d already been guilty of accidentally waking him more than once. So sneaking in, you knew you’d made the correct decision when you heard the classical lullabies coming from the nursery. He was out. And elsewhere in the house, you could hear the kitchen sink going. Good. Your sister was catching up on the pile of dirty dishes her husband had left behind.

You huffed and puffed, willing yourself to make it to the kitchen before you dropped the bags to the floor. It seemed as though you were going to make it. A quiet, self-congratulatory cheer was halfway out of your mouth when your breath caught in your throat at the threshold of the kitchen.

Hunched over the kitchen sink, rinsing off a handful of soapy silverware, was a large, strong back with broad shoulders. Far larger than your sister’s. Joel.

Frozen, taking a moment to comprehend that he was actually, truly there, you didn’t say a thing or make another sound. But it was like he could sense someone behind him. After setting the clean silverware down in the drying rack, he looked over his shoulder and spotted you.

“Hey,” he pressed a smile at you. That charming smile you’d gotten really used to seeing back home.

“What are you doing?”

“Well,” he chuckled and looked down at the sink, “I’m gonna finish washing these dishes.” He glanced back up at you, “then I’m throwing a load of towels into the laundry.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. Eyes flicked over him. He was just as you remembered. As if two weeks had been two years and you’d just come back from war. “Where’s my sister?”

“Sleepin’. She was tryin’ to get the little guy down for a nap but he was fussin’. I told her to get some rest,”

Tears started stinging the corners of your eyes, “you put the baby down for a nap?”

He nodded, almost looking confused at your confusion. Why wouldn’t he help with the baby? Little did he know you’d just spent the last couple weeks watching the baby’s father do absolutely nothing. So without saying anything else, you ran to him. Threw your arms over his shoulders and clutched onto him. There was a keen awareness that as you held onto him for dear life, he wrapped his arms around your hips and held you to him. Secure. Steady.

You sniffled and turned your face into the crook of his neck, “I miss you.”

Though he knew you couldn’t see his face, he still tried to hide a grin. Instead, he turned and pressed a kiss to the side of your head, “I miss you, too.” He let you go as you slowly backed away from him and wiped your fingers beneath your eyes to make sure he didn’t see any tears fall. But he stared into your eyes and smiled a little wider, helping you catch the one tear that had made it down your cheek. He swiped it away with his thumb, “you were screening my calls.”

“I know. I’m sorry, I–”

He pursed his lips and shook his head, “don’t apologize. I know.” Joel pressed another smile and cupped his hand over the back of your head to guide you closer so he could kiss your forehead. “I know I was asking a lot of you too soon. I know that,” he lowered his hands to yours and intertwined your fingers together. “I was scared you were going to run too far away from me. That I wouldn’t be able to wrangle you back. And I… pushed too hard. I know I did because I saw the same thing in your sister today. So afraid to ask for help. Like someone’s gonna think you’re a burden if you can’t do it all,”

You sniffled again and Joel raised his hand again to swipe another tear away before it could fall fully down your cheek. 

“You’re not a burden because despite your best efforts, I’m falling for you. Take the trash out to the bins for you. Snake the drain when your hair clogs it. Plant flowers in the winter and pick a bouquet for you in the spring. I want to do all those things, so all you gotta do is ask me. Ask me and I’ll do anything for you,”

Nodding, you leaned forward and pressed your forehead to Joel’s chest. He scritched his fingers through your hair. All you could do was sniffle again. Because how in the hell did you stumble upon a guy like him when… “My sister’s husband is just like our dad. And I feel bad for her,”

Joel took a deep breath. He didn’t want to be too hasty with a response to this one. Finally he settled on one. “Is that why you dodged me? Thought maybe I’d turn out to be like your dad and your sister’s husband?” He lowered his head closer to yours when you didn’t stir. You were just trying to protect yourself. He knew that, too. “You’re a good girl. You know that?”

You raised your head and looked up at him. Something you expected to hear more likely within the bedroom, had never sounded so innocent. Joel grinned a little wider and brushed his fingers through your hair to push it away from your face.

“A good girl. An understanding sister. And a helluva woman,”

On any other day, you would’ve blushed and hid your face from him at a comment like that. But today, you let his words rain over you. You wanted him to continue. To keep proving that he was leaps and bounds different from other men. But your nephew had other plans. 

And at the sound of his crying, your sister padded out of her room and spotted you and Joel in the kitchen. She blinked sleepily, beaming at the sight of you two before she carried on to tend to the baby. 

You stayed turned in her direction for a moment after she’d already left your scope of vision. But at the feeling of Joel’s hands squeezing your hips, you turned your attention back to him. “You stayin’ here, or…?”

He shook his head, “I’ve got a hotel ‘bout 10 minutes away.”

“Well, hurry up, then. I’ll throw the towels in the wash,”

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

There you were. Once again. Lounging in Joel Miller’s (hotel) bed. His khaki duffle bag was on the desk pushed up against the corner of the room. A small backpack of some items of yours sat beside it. And his phone was on the nightstand beside you. That struck you as the greenest of all green flags because the phone was in striking distance should you get curious, but Joel was not. He was in the bathroom, where now, the shower turned off. You had come in together, but despite your lips on his neck with teeth grazing over it, he insisted on showering first. To get the airport off of him.

The bathroom door creaked open and you looked in that direction, awaiting him to return to your line of vision. He did just a second later. Rounded the corner out of the bathroom and stood there at the foot of the bed – a white towel slung around his hips, haphazardly secured at the front. He held a smaller white towel and scrubbed it over his head to rid his hair of dripping water.

“Now that’s a sight I missed,” he trailed his eyes over your body, splayed out on the bed. He tossed the smaller of the towels onto the desk and crawled onto the bed. 

He was so close now. His position above you forced you to recline, laying down fully. Caged there between his hands on either side of your body, you lifted your head off the pillow and kissed him. Pleased that when you lowered your head back to the bed, he followed with you as to not break your kiss. His tongue pressed to your mouth in search of entry, and once you let it in, it was greeted by your own tongue. 

Joel hummed into your mouth and let his hips fall down to yours so he could move his hands to your face. Cupping either side of your head, he brushed his thumbs back and forth over your cheeks. After a couple weeks of living life more closely resembling a nun, mixed with this morning’s sex dream, you felt redeemed by a makeout session. Longing and yearning paired with frenzied lips. Teeth gently tugging at soft, plush skin. Tongue vying for attention and power. Wandering hands in search of the next bit of purchase. You bucked your hips upward, dragging your mound over the bulge between his legs. That white towel was doing as many wonders as his gray sweatpants did. It felt like you were in college again, on some sad twin mattress, dry-humping a co-ed that wasn’t going to give you any amount of pleasure. This time, you knew the man you were dry-humping would.

Joel’s lips tightened into a smile against yours and he pulled his hips back to tease you… to keep you from getting the friction you wanted. He snaked his hand between you and the pillow and grabbed a fistful of hair at the back of your head. With a slight yank, your head tilted backward, leaving your neck exposed, and you at his mercy.

“Joel,” you moaned, feeling the throbbing in your core intensify.

“Only good girls get to do that,” he smirked and pulled your hair a little harder. With your neck stretched out fully, he leaned forward and bit it, close to the collarbone. 

Instead of letting go, he sucked on it, and you absolutely knew what he was doing… Marking you. You’d wear the bruise for a few days, hiding it like a teenager who feared getting caught with it, but who would secretly ogle it in the mirror to remember the day it was given to you.

“I’m a good girl,” you pleaded, trying to lift your hips again. 

But now he moved his other hand down and gripped into your hips. Forced it back down to the bed. Too easily, you thought. “Are you? Last time I checked, good girls didn’t disappear for two weeks without a goodbye fuck,”

You pursed your lips together in a pout. That was fair. Had you not sprung your exit on him at the very last possible moment, knowing it wouldn’t amount to any sort of closure. For either of you. “I want to be one for you,”

Joel did his best to hide his smile. But you saw it crack through this domineering facade. “Yeah?”

You nodded with widened eyes and batting eyelashes. Tracing down his chest and stomach, your hands found their purchase on the top of the towel at his hips. You looked down at it for the quickest of moments. Just enough time to spot the outline of his cock beneath the fabric. Then you flicked your gaze back up to his eyes.

“Show me what kind of good girl you are,”

With a clear indication to proceed, you looked back down at his waist and curled your fingers beneath the fabric. Though it hadn’t budged from where he’d originally secured it, it became undone with very little force from you. The towel fell open and partially exposed him to you. Realizing your jaw had fallen slack, you closed it and swallowed while simultaneously pulling the towel to the side until he was completely free from it.

There was something oddly intimate about his complete nudity juxtaposed by your lack thereof. His member bobbed up and down on its own volition as he grew harder and you reached forward to wrap your fingers around him. Though with the way you were positioned together, you had to rotate your hand palm up, and twist it in a less than desirable way to be able to stroke him at all. 

His eyes drifted down to his waist and caught sight of your hand. Just having you touch him again was pleasurable enough. If he was being honest, his own hand hadn’t been cutting it in the past couple weeks. But he saw you struggle to keep pace at the awkward angle and he grabbed hold of your wrist and pulled it off of him. What he didn’t expect was that you’d cry out, and with a sense of near-panic, try to reach for his length again.

Realizing he’d asked you to show him, and then very quickly was keeping you from doing so like some sort of punishment, his heart twisted into a knot. “Sorry– sorry. Just let me…” He sat back on his heels and shifted his weight from one knee to the other, to reposition himself, straddling your body. 

He lifted your hand, palm facing up, and spit into it before he released your wrist, which you promptly brought back to his shaft. Now with a better angle, you were able to stroke him with far more ease. Your eyes stayed glued to it, focused on how your hand slid from the base all the way up to the head, where your fingers curled over it before sliding back down to the base.

“Lemme see your eyes,”

On command, you looked up at Joel. His jaw had fallen slack and he stared at you with something devilish in his eyes. You licked your lips and inhaled sharply, wishing you were a little less clothed at the moment. Or at the very least, not wearing an old college t-shirt. A little visual stimulation right now could’ve done him some good.

“You wanna suck my dick, sweetheart?”

It was a far more gentle proposal than you’d been expecting, but nonetheless, you nodded eagerly. You lifted your head to try to get at him as quickly as possible, but he shook his head and clicked his teeth until you succumbed and laid back down. This time when he peeled your hand off of him, he did so with a nod to assure you, you’d have it back in a moment.

“Take your shirt off for me?”

Thank God. You reached for the hem with haste and tore the thing off, flinging it over the side of the bed. Left in your bra – not the sexiest of them but still with a little padding for a slight push-up – you went to resume your place, but Joel caught you and helped you up a little further so you weren’t in a fully supine position. Now with your head propped up at a slight angle on the pillows, he brought his knees further up until he was straddled just below your shoulders. You flicked your eyes at him nervously. This was new.

“This alright?” He asked with his length in his hand, slowly stroking himself. There was a moment’s pause on your end, eyes flicking back and forth between him and his cock, before you nodded. He smiled to himself as you fixated on the way he played with his member. “Let me hear you say it,”

You looked back up at him. How could you have forgotten you were in the presence of the king of verbal consent? “This is good,”

“Good girl,” he smiled. With slow deliberation, he eased his hips forward and guided himself into your awaiting mouth. His free hand moved to the headboard, palm pressed flat against it to steady himself. He knew he’d grow weak feeling your mouth working him over.

And he was right. The moment your lips closed around the head of his cock, he let out a labored groan. His eyes fluttered shut and he let his chest deflate for what seemed like the first time in a long time. Now with both of his hands against the headboard, you held onto the base of his cock gently while you sucked and licked at the head; pulling more and more precum from him with each lick to the underside.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he looked down at caught you staring at him. 

You blushed and inhaled through your nose. Allowing your eyes to drift shut, you worked your mouth down halfway down his length, then pulled back so as to not choke on him. With a slow rhythm, you did that over. And over. And over again. Joel wasn’t touching you. Wasn’t saying anything particularly dirty to you. Yet you felt yourself drip in your underwear and you squeezed your thighs together. 

He must’ve heard the fabric of your jeans rustle because a chuckle floated out of his throat and your eyes snapped open. He stared down at you, head cocked to the side, and had a hard time deciding if he wanted to look at your eyes or the way his shaft moved in and out of your mouth. You kept in a staring match until your hands drifted around his legs and urged him forward even more. At that, Joel bowed his head and was decidedly focused on your eyes.

He obeyed your urging, but with a watchful gaze, he went even further than you expected him to. The head of his cock pressed at the back of your throat. Your eyes filled with tears. One even escaped the corner of your eye and rolled down to your temple. Fingers gripped tighter to the back of his thighs as he pushed the limit.

“Look at you gettin’ all of me in your mouth,” he’d grinned breathlessly, all but shoving the entirety of his length past your lips. 

You’d managed to hold your breath while he explored the far ends of the boundary, but with the next breath you tried to take, you choked and sputtered around his length. Joel pulled out of your mouth. Strands of saliva kept you connected for just a moment before they broke as he stroked himself again.

He bent over, nearly folding himself in half to lower his face to yours. Despite your heavy breathing, his free hand cupped around your neck and squeezed the sides of it gently. And he kissed you with lust and fire. No consideration or care for the fact that you’d just had him in his mouth. He lapped at your lips and tongue, drinking you up until you’d regained your breath enough for his liking. 

Joel unfolded himself and placed both hands against the headboard again. Eyes glued to you, he watched as you dove forward for his length, and took it in your mouth again. Reinvigorated, you sloppily dragged your lips over him before pulling back just enough to move your mouth down to his balls.

“F’you keep doing that, I’m gonna come,” he muttered through his teeth trying not to paint your face with his spend then and there.

But when his comment was met with a challenging hum from you, he lowered one hand from the headboard and reached behind him, stretching as much as he could while not disturbing what you were doing. His fingers hit the waistband of your jeans and he kept going. He pushed them beneath the tight fabric, and then pressed into your skin to get his fingertips beneath your underwear.

Your legs flinched together when he passed over your clit. You brought a hand up to his shaft for the twofold purpose of pleasuring him and keeping it out of the way while you paid his balls some attention. But with his middle finger circling your button, your mouth dropped open, “please, Joel.”

His response came to you in a soft tone. “I need to taste this pussy, sweet girl. Make me come and I’ll eat you out,”

The lightness of it – despite his words being wonderfully and horribly sexual – caught you off guard to the point that your eyes found his and you licked up over his delicate anatomy. Carefully, you sucked one of his balls into your mouth and rolled your tongue over it. The more you continued, the more you felt Joel unable to keep pace. His fingers stopped and started randomly. Brain slowly losing the ability to function as the pleasure swept through. You switched over to his other testicle and gave it the same gentle treatment when his finger stopped for good this time. He slid his hand out of your pants and curled it around the front half of his length, cautious to not accidentally bump into your face.

“M’gonna come,” he mumbled frantically, giving himself a few short tugs. “Where do you want it?”

You grinned and pulled away from his balls, “anywhere.”

“Where,” he all but demanded. His cheeks were flushed as he besought you for a clear answer.

“Mouth,” you cupped your hands around his thighs again. “My mouth,”

A guttural moan came from Joel and he angled his member at your open mouth with not a second to spare. He spilled onto your tongue with another groan. The muscles in his shoulders and arms tensed up until his orgasm was over. He released his shaft and it smacked down to your tongue. You picked up where he left off and wrapped your lips around him. Despite being wary of continuing gently, his body shuddered when you gave a final suck to him.

“Wait, wait…” he eased his shaft out of your mouth and hand and began to work himself backward away from your head.

Again, you’d only just swallowed when he bent over again and kissed you with an open mouth. He was, undoubtedly, the most surprising man you’d ever come across. Soon though, his lips left yours and he made his way down to your neck, where you stretched out to give him room to do so. His lips stayed by your ear, and ever so stealthily, he settled himself between your legs. Easing your thighs apart so he could drop a knee between them.

Joel kissed and licked your neck for a moment before he nipped on your earlobe, “you’re wearin’ too many clothes.” He smiled at your reaction when you nuzzled your face into his shoulder. “How about we take this bra off?” 

His hand snaked around to your back and paused at the clasp until he heard you give him the go ahead. “Yes,”

Within seconds, he pulled away to part your chests only as far as he needed to in order to take the garment off you and toss it to the floor. He returned his lips to your ear with another quiet demand, “arms above your head.” Pride flooding him when you obeyed yet again. He crossed your wrists over one another and held them with one of his massive hands. Joel kept his eyes locked on yours when he trailed his free hand down between your bodies and set his fingertips on the button of your pants. “You gonna let me eat you out?”

You nodded enthusiastically and responded all at the same time, “yes. Please, God, yes,”

Joel undid the button and zipper on your jeans. With your help of lifting your lower half off the bed, he managed to shove your pants down to your calves. “She still taste as good as I remember?”

You giggled, playfully fighting against his grip on your wrists. Testing the waters. “It’s been two weeks, not two months,”

“Two weeks too long when I want it everyday,” he released your hands and kissed his way down your chest, between your breasts, down to your belly button, until he met the waistband of your underwear. He tugged on your jeans and freed your legs from them completely. Spreading your legs wider, he lowered himself between them and draped one of your legs over his shoulder. He kissed your inner thigh while his fingers toyed with the lace at the crease of your leg, “can I?”

“Joel, just do it, pl–” your words died in your throat when Joel pulled your underwear to the side and latched his mouth on your clit. “Please,” you moaned and immediately buried your fingers in his hair. Both of your hands cradled the back of his head, fighting the urge to push it down harder on you. 

He opened and closed his mouth around you, craning his head lower to lap at your dripping entrance. “Goddamn. Love that you get this wet just from sucking my cock,”

Just from the way your underwear had stuck to you, you were sure you were a mess. Slicked up and ready for Joel. He wouldn’t need to do too much for you here. Shit, the sex dream itself had nearly gotten you there. Yet he kept working. Licking from your entrance, all the way up to your clit. 

You shivered and tugged on his hair, silently begging him not to stop. The noises coming from him – the hums and the moans – were a pretty good sign that he wasn’t going to. He lifted your leg off his shoulder and pushed it back toward your chest. It raised the angle he was able to get at you and he used that advantage to close his lips around your clit again. It made your calf spasm in his hand which he remedied by massaging his fingers into the muscle. And most of all, you knew he was making more of a mess of you than you’d already been before. With each lick and swipe of his tongue, a wave of arousal flowed out of you. He even brought a hand up to your entrance and smeared your slick all over as if proving the point even further. 

Joel eased his middle finger into you with his palm facing upward. Your body fought him but he fought back by biting your inner thigh, and a shriek left your throat at the sharp feeling.

You clutched at his hair tighter, tugging on it with fervor, “so good, Joel. S’good,”

He pulled his finger out of you, much to your dismay. But very quickly pushed it back inside. This time with the addition of his ring finger. You let out a coo… a hum… a plea for him to get you there. To just tip you a little further, off the edge, foregoing the wherewithal to be embarrassed by how quickly he could.

You came without warning. You’d thought you had a minute left but there you were coming undone, moaning and trembling beneath him. In fact, the first coherent words out of your mouth were exclamations of apology. You brought a hand up over your mouth, trying to ground yourself as your body still jerked to each of Joel’s movements. Sorry’s passed your lips in a steady stream.

Joel didn’t answer right away. Just removed his fingers from your core and kept kissing and licking your swollen cunt until your body stopped spasming. He kissed up your hip, to your navel, and continued past it. It wasn’t until he pressed his lips to the curve of your breast that he finally lifted his head. He stared at your lips and wiped his hand over his beard to clean away some of your release before he leaned back in and kissed you.

You accepted it wholeheartedly, trying to pay him back for your lack of warning before you came. He’d been aware enough to warn you of his. “I meant to warn you, I–”

Joel pulled away from you and shook his head, “don’t you fucking dare apologize for coming.” He lowered his weight to you and cupped one of your breasts in his hand. He kneaded the supple flesh and lifted his other hand to the side of your head. Lips pecked your jawline until he closed in on your ear. “Want me to fuck you?” 

He whispered so softly you almost didn’t hear it. Had you not been so tuned into him, you might’ve missed it. But you nodded eagerly, arching your body off the bed to grind up against him.

His lips stretched into a smile against your jaw. “Take your underwear off,” he paused, waiting as you did so. He only lifted himself far enough up for you to complete the job. Then, brimming with pride, he whispered to you again, “put me inside you.”

“Joel,” you whined, hoping he’d take control of the situation.

But he was intent on matching your stubbornness. “If you want it, take it,” he grinned again against your ear. 

This time there wasn’t hesitation on your end. You reached between your bodies and wrapped your fingers around his girth. He nodded softly and you brought him between your spread legs. Careful, deliberate actions until you pushed him past your tight ring of muscle and he sunk inside you.

“Attagirl,” he lifted his head and kissed you tenderly.

You’d expected frantic, hurried sex. The type of starved lovers after weeks away. Something a little more similar to the oral sex you’d both just given and received. But instead of quick thrusts that sent your head into the headboard, Joel let himself rest inside you for an extra minute. He kissed your lips, and cheek, and jaw, before he made his way back up to your lips. Just content for the time being to relish in the feeling of him throbbing inside you, and your body responding to it with tugging clenches.

“Joel,” you whined again.

This time he cupped both hands around your cheeks and hushed you. “Let me take my time with you,”

“I need you to move though. Fuck me. Hard. And now.”

He smiled a little wider. Before he gave you a verbal answer, he rocked his hips backward and then slowly thrust back into you. “Be patient. Let me take care of you,”

It wasn’t lost on you that he was saying that a lot lately. Let me take care of you. If this… mind-blowing sex and earth-shattering orgasms were included in the “taking care of you”, you were inclined to let him. So you bit your tongue and set your hands on his ribs, content to let him take care of you however he saw fit. You doubted you’d have any objections if it was going to end in another orgasm.

Joel’s languid thrusts pierced into you in steady repetition. And though they weren’t fast or rough, they were just as deep and powerful as you remembered. Maybe even more so as the slowness allowed for his eyes to remain on your face; catching every miniscule change in your expression. From the breathless smile that spread across your face when his cock passed over your gspot, to the wince that replaced it when the head of his length pressed against your cervix. 

He kissed you again, this one a tender thing that matched the care and precision of his thrusts inside you. Each forward motion of himself into your anatomy fanned the flame inside you. A heat rose in your chest and migrated up your neck and to your cheeks. You saw a similar flush in Joel’s own chest and cheeks. It gave you great pleasure to know you could satisfy him as much as he could satisfy you.

You clutched at his sides a little tighter when a particularly deep thrust made the edges of your vision blur. “Want you to come inside me,”

“Yeah?” He nodded, reassuring, “I will.”

In times past, even if the sex wasn’t hurried, it wasn’t necessarily an event. Not like this. Not like Joel was content to fuck up into you for hours if that’s what it took. It surely wasn’t going to. But not once did his pace quicken or falter. Not when you purposefully squeezed your muscles around him to spit him on. Not when you lifted your hips off the bed to meet him halfway. In fact, he just held you down. Pinned a hand to your waist and forced you flush to the bed so he could keep his desired speed. 

But in the effort of once again meeting each other at stubbornness, you decided to take matters into your own hand. You pressed against his chest with force, not surprised when he immediately leaned away from you. He didn’t go as far as to pull out, but he did stare down at you, utterly confused. Just after your last request, he wasn’t expecting you to be stopping him.

“I wanna be on top,” you pressed on his shoulder thinking he’d roll over just as easily.

But Joel just laughed at you and shook his head. He pulled out to the tip and then rolled his hips forward back into you. However, you pushed on his chest again, more insistent this time. Joel caught one of your wrists in his hand and pinned it down by your head.

“Why not?”

“‘Cause you’re gonna go too fast and we’re havin’ a moment,”

You glared playfully at him. If he wasn’t going to let you do it off the bat, you knew you could play harder. Lifting your head off the pillow, you nipped at his jaw, making your slow way to his neck, where you dragged your tongue over his jugular. “I want to ride you… pretty please?” You suckled on his neck and let out an airy whimper, “wanna feel you all the way up in my stomach. Feel you…”

Joel cut you off with a well-placed arm around your back and he carefully flipped you both over without slipping out of you. Victorious, you wiggled your hips, drilling him into you to the hilt.

“Don’t get too cocky. I would’ve come if you said rearrange your guts, so really I did you a favor,”

You rolled your eyes and set your hands on his chest, using the leverage to roll your hips back and forth along his length. You’d play by his rules. You’d go slow and let the moment continue. You wouldn’t try to ride him within an inch of his life just for the heck of it. Shit, you weren’t far off of your next orgasm when he was on top of you. Now you knew your time on top of him was finite.

He kept his hands on your hips as if he wasn’t sure you’d comply with him. Like he’d have to use every remaining ounce of strength to keep you moving how he wanted you to. But on top of him, able to fully harness the friction against your clit you’d been searching for, it wasn’t hard to want to comply. You could get everything your wanted and more. So as your movements kept him deep, and your anatomy clung and pulled at him, you neared another orgasm with haste.

You thought he could feel it coming. You were sure he could. The grin on his face was either because he knew your climax was imminent, or because his was. Either way, it seemed like a good time to you. Your head bowed forward, chin dropping to your chest, and your body stiffened. Everything stopped for you as you tried to fight it off. To make it last a little while longer. But the ever-present grip Joel had on your hips tightened. Fingers squeezed your supple flesh. And he thrust up into you with power you weren’t sure he’d be able to get at this angle.

The orgasm crashed into you and you were only half-aware of the filth coming out of Joel’s mouth. The words, despite being completely debauched, seemed almost normal now. The only thing that caught you was how his expression twisted when you clenched down on him. How his fingers flexed around your hip. And how he then pushed you down on him, making it impossible for you to wriggle away as he came inside you. 

You collapsed down against his chest, breathing in as much fresh air as you could get into his lungs. A thin sheen of sweat covered his neck and chest but you couldn’t have cared any less to lay your cheek against it. As your breathing began to even out, you felt one of Joel’s hands wrap around your backside and reach for his member. He eased himself out of you, humming to match the groan you let out. 

It wasn’t the time to think about it, but you couldn’t get your mind off the thought of how long you’d get to keep Joel out here. If he’d stay with you a few days. Maybe a week. How were you ever going to leave your sister in a lurch, without help, if you returned back home. Home to Texas.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

Despite having showered before sex, both you and Joel showered again after it. Bound to go back to your sister’s. But you were already back in bed waiting for him, while Joel rustled through his duffle bag in search of a clean shirt and pair of jeans. He’d already asked you in the shower what that funny look on your face was all about. But you’d told him it was nothing, and though he didn’t particularly like that answer, he didn’t press it at the time.

Now as he glanced over at you on the bed and saw the same look on your face, he figured he’d try again. “Spooked?”

You flicked your eyes over at him, “no. Just thinking about how I’m gonna have to leave her here with him.”

Joel nodded and slid a navy blue shirt over his head. “You can stay here as long as you need,” he tilted his head to the side. “I mean, you don’t have to rush home for me. I’m not goin’ anywhere,”

You nodded as he neared with a pair of jeans in his hands. He sat on the edge of the bed beside you and leaned in for a quick kiss. It was there and gone in a flash. Replaced by the feeling of his hand on your thigh.

“I know this is a weird thing to bring up but I feel like we should talk about it before we get too deep into this thing and it gets brutal or mes–”

“I hate this preface,” you mumbled, searching his face for any indication of what this apparently uncomfortable conversation was going to be.

“Do you want kids?” He caught your widening eyes and gripped into your thigh a little tighter as if to keep you both grounded in reality. “I can’t give you any, ‘cause you know… snipped. And before you say it’s reversible or anything, I don’t want to get it reversed.”

“I wasn’t going to say it’s reversible,” you pressed a smile.

“Well…” he took a breath. “I just don’t want to get too far into this if the answer is yes because then I won’t be able to give you what you want. And you deserve that… if you want it,”

“I don’t know. I haven’t met a man that I could see myself having kids with,”

“But what if that’s me?”

“It won’t be.” Off his shocked expression, you reached forward too and set your own hand on his leg, “I mean, if seeing myself with you means no kids, then that’s not even an option to consider if I see myself with you. It’s like you being young… it’s not an option,”

Joel smirked and raised his hands to your ribs to tickle you, “that was kinda mean.”

You nudged his hands away from you and leaned in instead, resting yourself against his chest. “Right now, at this moment, I’d rather have you and nothing than a sub-par husband and a kid,”

“I didn’t say nothin’ about getting married. The vasectomy got nothin’ to do with that,”

“We’ll see how it goes. No pressure. Y’know ‘cause in fifteen years you might be a real pain in my ass,” you winked.

He tackled you down to the bed and smothered your neck and face with endless kisses until you were laughing hysterically.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

The following days passed slowly. For the first time in a long time, you were happy about that. Time wasn’t flying by before your very eyes. You had time to relish Joel. To be continually stunned by him every time he stepped up to do something for your nephew that your sister’s husband should’ve been doing. There was time to lounge and talk. To play around. To be told by an older woman in the grocery store that “you and your husband have made the cutest little boy”.

And when his flight home came a few days later, you drove him to the airport and clutched at his sweater with every ounce of strength you had. Told him you didn’t know when you’d be home, but it would be soon. And he didn’t ask you to clarify. Didn’t ask if that meant in a couple days, a week, or a month. Just cupped his hands over your cheeks and nodded. Told you it was okay. Trusted that you’d come home when you were ready to.

That only took about a week. One more week of watching your brother-in-law sit on his ass while you helped raise his child. You broke the news to your sister and she did her best to hide her fear and pain. You did your best to hide yours, too. On the way out, you also left her with some words of encouragement. To not let him sit on his ass. To force him to take an active role. And if he couldn’t, then to get the fuck out. Though she nodded and said she would, you knew she’d always stick around and be left unsatisfied.

Joel had told you to let him know when you were coming home. That he’d pick you up from the airport. But you decided to let him off the hook. To handle your own business and call an Uber to scoop you up.

He was in your front yard, mowing the lawn when you showed up. He let the gas engine rumble to a stop when the car pulled up. Stood, watching you, with his hands on his hips as you rounded to the trunk of your car and lifted out your suitcase though the driver came around to help you. You murmured an “I got it” to him and Joel found it endearing. How you said that to him on the first day you moved into the neighborhood and put up such a fight at his insistence to help. What he’d learn later, and what this sad Uber driver would never get the chance to learn, is that you were all bark and no bite.

You rolled your suitcase over the curb and let it fall to the half-cut grass. Got up in front of Joel and smirked at him, “you’re mowing my lawn?”

He smiled back. Much more pleasant. “Yeah. It was so long, it was bringing down my property value. You’re a bad neighbor,”

“Yeah,” you shifted your gaze to the grass momentarily. “Maybe I’ll be a better girlfriend,”

A red flush crept up over Joel’s cheeks. He nodded as if he was sure of it. “Probably not,”

Your jaw dropped and you slapped his chest playfully.

Joel caught your hands and held them against him. He leaned in for a kiss. Something rather chaste, but he inhaled to take you in before he stood back up. With a nod in the direction of his house, he smiled again, “go on to the house. I got a fresh pot of coffee goin’.”

“I want to shower,”

“Shower there. I got clothes,”

You pointed at your suitcase, “I have laundry.”

“I’ll bring it in. Go on.” He nodded again in the direction of his home, “I’ll meet you there after I finish up here,”

You relented and made off for his home after one more kiss. Before you’d even fully crossed the street, you heard his old push mower roar back to life. With his front door unlocked, you stepped inside and came face to face with a vase full of fresh cut flowers on the table in the entryway. Like he’d been expecting you the whole time.

[justagalwhowrites]

Turkey Trouble - A TSATS Thanksgiving One Shot

You try to make Thanksgiving dinner for your newly adopted niece, Ellie, but need some help from Joel. A one shot set in the The Savage and the Sanctuary universe.

Pairing: Bodyguard!Joel Miller x Movie Star!Female Reader (from The Savage and the Sanctuary)

Length: 1.7k

CW: SFW; lil angst; modern no outbreak AU but Sarah is still dead (sorry Joel); NO SMUT; no use of Y/N; whole fic this is set in has mature themes and will have smut so minors DNI 18+ only

A/N: You can thank @diversemediums for this because she gave me the brain rot. This would be harder to read as a stand alone fic but it can be done with the understanding that Joel is reader's bodyguard and they have an antagonistic relationship. Reader has recently adopted her best friend's daughter, Ellie, after her friend's death. I'm not sure yet if this is canon or not but it could be? I haven't written to this time in the story yet but I THINK this is about where they'll be emotionally at Thanksgiving.

Joel hated Thanksgiving. 

He used to like it. Back when he was a father he liked it. He and Sarah would watch the parade, he’d make cinnamon rolls and the whole dinner spread, Tommy would bring over burnt mac and cheese and the three of them would go to Waffle House and to pick out a Christmas tree the next morning. 

Now, it was all a reminder of everything he’d lost, of just how little he had left to live for. 

So he took his time getting out of bed on Thanksgiving morning, not looking forward to spending the day missing something he could never have again, something that seemed even more painful when he was facing it with you and Ellie. 

But, eventually, his need for coffee forced him to move and he padded to the kitchen, not bothering to change out of the flannel pants and t-shirt he’d slept in. 

Ellie was on the couch with a mug of cocoa and a cinnamon roll, the parade on and she smirked at him. 

“Well don’t you look pretty in the morning,” she teased. 

“It’s Thanksgiving,” he said, trying to not take his foul mood out on the kid he’d become overly fond of in the last few months. “Not in the mood for a fashion show today.” 

“Oh so the jeans are a fashion show,” she said. “Got it.” 

He rolled his eyes and headed for the kitchen. 

“Careful,” she called after him. “She’s in a mood.” 

“Great,” he muttered, pressing on, anyway. 

You were, indeed, in a mood, standing at your massive kitchen island with a turkey that was far too big for the number of people you were feeding, frowning at a recipe, your hands covered in butter. 

Joel snorted. 

“The hell are you doin’?” 

You looked up to find him, seemingly surprised to find him there.

“Making a turkey,” you said. “What does it look like?” 

“Looks like you’re making a mess,” he said, going around you for the mugs and pouring himself a cup of coffee. 

“Well, cooking is messy,” you said, chin up defiantly. 

“Not that messy,” he said, smirking a little as he leaned back against the counter, crossing an arm over his chest while he drank his coffee. “Where’s Esmo.” 

“It’s Thanksgiving,” you said, incredulous. “I’m not about to ask her to work.” 

“Right,” he said, even though he definitely should have seen that coming when he thought about it. “You ever made a Thanksgiving dinner before?” 

“None of your business,” you said, going back to the turkey and trying to smear butter over it and failing. 

“It is if I’m stuck using this kitchen,” he said. “You’re gonna get salmonella everywhere.”

You glared at him. 

“Well there’s a first time for everything,” you said. “And all I have to do is follow the recipe, so…” 

Joel shoved himself off the counter and looked over your shoulder, down at the recipe. It was not, as he’d expected, some bullshit celebrity cookbook but a simple, handwritten index card. 

He skimmed the instructions and realized that there were parts missing that were probably simple assumptions that you just didn’t know about. 

“Where’s this from?” He asked. 

“Anna,” you said. “Ellie’s mom. She’s hosted Thanksgiving and made a legitimately amazing turkey, Ellie loved it even as a little kid. I should have paid more attention last year but I was stupid and I didn’t and I just want Ellie to have a normal Thanksgiving and I have Anna’s recipe and I just need to figure it out…”

Joel’s chest tightened at that. You wanted Ellie to have a good Thanksgiving, a holiday that was like the ones she had before her mother died. She deserved that. And Joel understood why you’d be dead set on being the one to give it to her. 

He cleared his throat before he got too choked up, trying to remind himself of the distance he’d been struggling to maintain with you. 

“Well, you’re doing it wrong,” he said, taking a sip of coffee. 

You glared at him. 

“Unless you’re some Thanksgiving dinner expert…” 

“Made more than you have,” he said, almost smug. 

“Really,” you said brows raised, incredulous. He shrugged. “You’ve made a turkey.” 

“Sure,” he said. “Plenty. Not sure if you know this but most people don’t got private chefs at their beck and call…” 

“Oh, fuck off.” 

“Do you want my help or not?” He asked. 

“I wasn’t aware you were offering,” you said. 

“Well,” he shrugged. “I am.” 

You ground your teeth for moment before you sighed, literally throwing up your hands. 

“Fine,” you said. “Show me.” 

“Well,” he said, putting his cup down. “For starters…” 

He stuck his hand inside the cavity of the bird and found the neck, pulling it free and holding it up. 

“You gotta take this out.” 

You laughed and groaned. 

“Jesus,” you said. “Alright, Big Miller, show me how it’s done.” 

Joel had to give you credit, you’d done a better job than he’d expected once he took a closer look at the bird. He helped get the rest of dinner ready to go, giving you smaller tasks to do while he managed the turkey. With the two of you working together, you were both able to make it to the living room before the parade was done, sitting on either side of Ellie and watching the musical acts perform and the floats go by. 

Part of him hurt, sitting there with a girl who wasn’t his daughter doing something that had once felt sacred. He didn’t let himself hurt like that anymore, he tried to drown it or shove it down deep as best he could but sometimes he just couldn’t. He couldn’t now. 

But, for some reason, it didn’t bother him the same way this time. Hearing Ellie make a bad pun (“Did you know they took turkey off the menu for Thanksgiving? I suspect fowl play.”), watching you bob your head in time to a musical number, smelling the turkey once it had been in the oven for a bit, even the taste of the coffee with the cinnamon roll warmed something inside him. The pain of loss was still there but so was this strange sense that it didn’t need to consume all of him. That there could be moments worth living for, things that weren’t defined by the missing pieces - even if that piece felt like everything. 

You got the hang of basting relatively quickly and Joel showed you how to make the other Thanksgiving staples, things that he’d once made for his daughter that he was now making for the girl who had become yours. When Elise, Ellie’s grandmother, came over that afternoon, things had come together well. 

“Where’d you learn how to do this?” You asked Joel as you arranged the last of the dishes on the laden dining room table. “You don’t strike me as the chef type.” 

Joel looked at you for a moment and considered telling you the truth, at least for a second. Part of him wanted you to know this, know him. 

But he couldn’t bring himself to say it, her name getting stuck in his throat. 

Instead he just shrugged, setting down a bowl of mashed potatoes. 

“Tommy ain’t much of a cook,” he said. “When our mom died, Thanksgiving didn’t make itself.” 

You cocked your head at him for a moment, like you were trying to decide if he was telling the truth, and then nodded slowly, like you were filing information away. 

“Well, thank you,” you said. “You really did save the day.” 

He shrugged again and took his place at the table with you, Ellie and Elise. 

When the meal was over and the dishes were done, he tried to keep to his room but instead found himself drawn away, something inside him tugging him toward the rest of the world. He went to the living room and found you on the couch, your legs tucked alongside yourself as you watched a movie. 

“Leftovers are in the fridge,” you said, barely glancing his way. 

He grunted and acted like he was walking toward the kitchen but, instead, stopped behind the couch, watching the movie, too. 

“What is this?” He asked eventually. 

You glanced over your shoulder at him and then back at the screen. 

“Love, Actually,” you said. “I used to watch it with Anna after Ellie was in bed on Thanksgiving. Have you seen it?” 

“Heard of it,” he said. “Ain’t seen it, though.” 

“It’s these individual stories about all these different kinds of love. I’m only a few minutes in if you want to watch,” you said, looking at him almost hopefully. He was taken aback, silent for a beat too long and you shook your head. “Never mind…” 

“No,” he said quickly. “Just… yeah, I can watch.” 

“Yeah?” You asked, brows raised. 

“Sure,” he shrugged. “Not like I’m going fuckin’ black Friday shopping in the morning.” 

He sat on the opposite end of the massive couch from you but, over time, drifted closer until the two of you were beside each other. Not touching but a sense of familiarity he wasn’t used to anymore hanging over you both. 

“So,” you said when the movie ended, tears clinging to your eyelashes. “What’d you think?” 

“Not bad,” he said. “Not sure it’s my thing but… not bad.” 

You smiled a little at that. 

“I should get to bed though,” he said. 

“Right,” you said, drying your eyes as he got up. “Hey, Joel?” 

“Hm.” 

“Thank you,” you said. “For everything you did today. I’d have fucked it all up without your help and Ellie deserves better and just… thank you.” 

“Sure,” Joel said. “It… it was nice. Best Thanksgiving I’ve had in a while.” 

“Really?” You asked, brows raised. 

He nodded, the truth of that clutching hard at his chest, just how much you and Ellie had come to mean to him in the months he’d been protecting you, this keen vulnerability settling in him at that thought. 

But he’d deal with that later. He wasn’t going to let it ruin shit now. 

“Yeah,” he said. “It was.’

[jakegooglyeyes]

I read this twice today, this was so good. You really captured John's personality.

Again, I always love, love, love the banters in your fics. They are so fun to read.

And I felt seen by reader because I'm that bitch who made every hotel room my own bedroom by bringing absolutely everything to make my stay comfortable.

Good luck with that, babe. 'Cause we both know you won't last.

I'm so feral for this man.

John asking if this was what you wanted. John calling you a good girl. John giving commands *throw my hands in the air* Who allows him to be this way???? And where do I sign up??????

The smut is great, and the story is genuine sweet. After what he has gone through, he really deserves someone to look about for him and keep him distracted from triggers and let him touch and grope and cum inside on a road trip in the middle of nowhere.

Wow, he just threw the whole panties away. That's littering, John. Can you just, put it somewhere??????

FIREWORKS — JOHN KINLEY 🎆

summary: does john ever feel like a plastic bag drifting through the wind, wanting to start again? yeah, probably. but this fic isn't about john's existential crisis. it's about keeping his mind occupied during the fireworks of the 4th of july.

warnings: smut (teasing, masturbation, fingering, edging, orgasm control, penetration, outdoors sex). 18+ NO MINORS.

word count: 2680

gifs credits: @/pedropcl (cropped) / divider credits: @/firefly-graphics

notes: i finally wrote for john (big thanks go to @sizzlingcloudmentality for helping me out with your amazing suggestions)! it's not the idea i've attempted to write like 4 times, but it's an idea. that's gotta count for something 🫡 thank you for reading & REMEMBER TO REBLOG!

"The truck is loaded and ready to go." John's smile faded when he saw the new bags waiting for him by the front door.

"Just in case." You justified without being prompted to.

"We're leaving for the weekend, honey." He bent over to unzip one of the kaki Duffel bags, he pulled out several mismatched fuzzy socks. "We don't need all that. Wait... Is that a candle?"

You nodded proudly when he held up the glass jar. "We agreed to have a relaxing weekend getaway. Candles are relaxing. Look! That's your favourite scent too!"

He grinned at the attention and closed the bag after securing the candle deep into the clothes you packed just in case. He stood up with the bag on his shoulder. He held on the strap with one hand and grabbed yours with the other, dragging you out of the house before you came up with the idea to bring the appliances too.

John shut the tailgate and walked around the pickup truck to open your door, making sure you got in just fine. After a peck on your cheek, he closed the door and made his way to the driver's seat.

"Do you think there's gonna be a lot of traffic?" You buckled your seat belt at the same time as John did. "People go crazy around this time of year." John shot you a look that meant to say when did they not?

"We're not taking the highway." He engaged on the street and made a few turns you did not recognize as your usual route.

You trusted him. He knew his away around endless deserts and bushy hills, this would be no different especially since John had helped you to plan this weekend getaway. You found a secluded Bed and Breakfast, hours away from the house. It seemed cozy, you were lucky to reserve a room during the busy weekend.

The village was so small, there was not a single activity planned for the Fourth of July. You could have told him you were both going camping without electricity or running water and he would have accepted the invitation. He would have accepted anything just to escape.

Your mind wandered while John kept driving into the sunset. You wondered what food they would serve for breakfast, what the backyard would look like. You hoped they had a garden. You wondered if this would become a yearly tradition, where the managers would recognize you and fold your towels into pretty swans before your arrival. You hoped it did. You wondered what John was thinking about, you turned your head to admire him.

He felt your gaze on him, he grinned. "Everything alright? Did we forget something?" He marked a pause, he turned on a different road. "Let me guess, you wanted to bring the lawn mower?"

"We don't even have a lawn mower."

"Shit, we forgot to buy one?" He chuckled. "The trip is ruined."

Your heart skipped a beat at the sound of his laughter. A rare treat. A smile lingered on his lips, growing wider when he set his hand on your thigh. Your hand covered his and your eyes did not leave his handsome face for dozens of miles.

He could feel you were getting bored. He was too, quite frankly. At a certain point, the scenery blended into one blurry painting of trees and run-down houses. He knew the destination was well worth the hours of driving, but he would not despise a change of view. In the meantime, John distracted himself with caresses and squeezes on your thigh. One moment his hand was down to your knee, but then it would move back up and his fingers would attempt to disappear between your thighs.

You shifted on your seat, trying not to let those touches get to you too quickly. You still had a long way to go, but if John kept teasing you it would be impossible to resist. His hand hovered until you settled down so he could place it back on your thigh with a firm grip. You spotted a lonesome traffic light in the distance.

"Is everything alright?" John asked again, glancing in your direction with a faint frown.

"It will be soon." You said with a smirk that did not go unnoticed.

John looked ahead, squeezing your thigh harshly. His hand pushed further up, but you closed you legs around him too tight to let him move. He scrunched his nose at the sudden, but small, frustration.

Your prayers for the green light to turn red were heard and you unbuckled your seat belt as soon as the truck went immobile. "Unlock the door." You demanded.

John did not budge, pretending he did not hear you.

"Unlock the door, please."

The lock clicked. You slid down the passenger seat, your skirt riding up while you did so. John watched you while you slammed one door, opened another. He turned his head while you clumsily climbed on the back seat of the truck.

"Nothing wrong with being the passenger princess," You answered the question he did not dare to ask. "I just wanted a little more space."

His face was still lit up by a bright red hue when you found a comfortable position. John put two and two together, indulging in your shenanigan without any hesitation. He focused on the road again, darting his eyes on the rear view mirror. "A little more to the left," you scooted. "Perfect."

The light turned green and the engine roared while John kept driving. You pulled on the the seat belt so it was loosely attached around you, giving you plenty of room to move. You spread your legs open, finding a position that was both comfortable for you and easy to admire for John.

"You're playing with fire." John scoffed.

"No, I'm trying to distract you from the fireworks." You corrected him and earned a grin in response. "The least you can do is say thank you."

"I'll thank you when I'll be satisfied with my distraction." You leaned forward, a playful slap landed on his shoulder. "Hey!" He adjusted the mirror so it hit the right angle, then he winked at you.

You sat against the large back seat. You ran your hands over your thighs, in the places John had touched. "How much time do we have left?"

John flicked his wrist, trusting his military watch more than the clock of the truck. "About an hour." He estimated based off the number of miles indicated on the last road sign.

Your fingertips drew abstract patterns on the inside of your thighs, approaching close to your core. You hummed, thinking about a plan to make the fun last. Your breath hitched when you reached the wet fabric of your panties.

John's breath hitched too when he caught a glimpse of you, staring at him while you pushed your panties to the side. He missed what happened next as the road became sinuous for a moment.

You brought your middle finger to your lips and licked it, eyes still glued on your man. The pad of your wet finger pressed on your clit. You moaned out his name while you began to rub in circular motions.

He caught you while your head fell against the back of the seat. His own jaw dropped slowly while he watched the expression on your face as you picked up the pace. The pickup veered into the other lane for a quick second, John straightened it up.

You stopped abruptly. "Be careful." You warned him.

"You're being dangerous." He warned you, too. He gave you time to settle down, to get further lost into your pleasure after your heart had skipped a beat in fear.

He stared ahead, now you were the one watching him. You watched as John blinked slowly. As his knuckles turned white from the tight grip on the steering wheel. As his Adam's apple bopped while he swallowed thickly. As a loose strand of hair escaped the sunglasses perched up on his head.

His voice drew you out of your fixation. You made him repeat himself.

"You're not cumming 'til i say so." Somehow, that did not make you stop. You rubbed more, more, more, and you pulled away right on the edge of your orgasm. "Good luck with that, babe. 'Cause we both know you won't last."

You exhaled, coming down from your first edge. "We both know you won't last either."

John's silence proved you right. Though he showed more patience and restraint than you expected. He coaxed you through some of your edges, reminding you to pull away at the right time and telling you that "you look so fuckin' pretty for me, that's it, fuck yourself good".

The more praise you earned, the harder it became to hold back. His words toyed with your mind, making it so incredibly difficult to not give in. To listen to his order and not cum until he commanded you to. This particular edge gave you a rough time, your fingers barely stroked your clit that you were about to burst into an explosive orgasm. You tensed on your seat, eyes shut and with a breath stuck.

John glanced at the mirror and saw you. He saw you were about to tip over the edge. It was written all over your face that you could no longer resist your own release. "Don't you fucking dare." He clenched his jaw and pulled over in a swift turn of the steering wheel. You shifted in your seat, causing you to stop at the perfect time. "You're not cumming. Not without me." He put on the brakes and lost no time to get out of the vehicle.

"Took you long enough." You spoke when the door opened before you. John reached into the car to remove the seat belt. He gave you a stern look that made you smile from ear to ear. He was just so fun to mess around with, until he was not... But you did not feel like pushing his limits too much tonight. You could save that for another time.

John helped you to scoot closer to the edge of the seat, he stopped you from closing your thighs together. Finally, he could touch what he had been craving. His fingers worked you close to another edge. And another. And another. Until you were writhing for him on the seat, until he was sure you had left a damp spot on it. He wanted to test your limits, just a bit, just for fun.

"No, no, no." You gripped on his forearm, trying to pull him away.

He grunted in satisfaction, you followed his command and he did not even need to remind you. "That's my good girl." He captured your lips with his, his beard tickled your skin. Like a magnet, he attracted you out of the pickup until your feet met the ground.

His tongue explored your mouth while his hands gripped on your hips. The second you pulled away to catch your breath, he made you spin on your feet. The buckle of his belt rattled while he rushed to pull down his pants and underwear just below his ass.

You bunched up your skirt for him, propped your leg up on the step. You earned a low, rumbling grunt as a reward when he pushed his cock in your wet pussy. In return, you moaned out his name again and caused him to bottom out inside of you.

"Got yourself ready for me, huh? Is this what you wanted all along?" The bruising grip of his rough hands on your hips made you wince. "You wanted to get fucked by the side of the road like a whore." He pulled out, then rammed himself all the way back in. "That's so cute."

His left hand abandoned your hip to travel up your sides then your shoulder. Until he found the back of your head, he pressed you down against the seat. With his other hand, he guided you to meet his thrusts. At any moment, someone could drive by. Not that you had seen many cars thus far, but it was a possibility. It added a whole new dimension that both John and you found pleasure in.

The show you gave him from the back seat, paired with palming himself over his pants, had gotten him riled up to the point he knew he would not last long. He wasted no time and enjoyed the feeling of your clenching walls to the fullest.

"Just like that! Keep... Fuck! Keep going." You snaked a hand underneath your body until your fingertips reached your clit, barely brushing over it to take you closer to your release.

Suddenly, John’s thrusts stopped. He turned his head to the side and watched as the sky was illuminated in the distance by red, white and blue fireworks. He took a second to admire them then he continued to fuck you, picking up the pace. So that you would moan louder. And louder. And louder. Until you were all he could hear.

The skin of your ass slapped against his thighs, adding to the obscene sounds. Your noises covered up the explosions of the fireworks.

"Thank you." John broke the silence, slowing down. He dragged his hips back and forth, making you feel every inch of him.

"What for?" You mumbled. You revelled in the way John’s cock stretched your tight pussy. Your slick walls clenched on him even more.

He punctuated his thrusts with grunts. He leaned forward, pressing down on your back and trapping you against the car seat. He whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "For being a good distraction."

"Good enough to let me cum?" Your voice cracked.

"Damn right." John smiled on your cheek while he pressed a kiss on it. "Cum for me, let me feel you."

The sky turned pitch-black again as if nothing happened. As if the fireworks travelled all the way to your core while you came for John. Stars spun around your head, you still saw them when you closed your eyes.

John saw them too when he spilled his cum inside of you, coating your walls white. He stilled, replacing the sound of your skin slapping by his addictive grunts of pleasure. Slowly, he stood up straight, careful not to his his head against the door frame. He was even more careful when you did the same, his hand protecting the back of your head.

"Well..." You chuckled, coming down from your high. "The whole point was to avoid the fireworks. Should we just cancel and drive back home?" You would be disappointed not to visit the Bed and Breakfast, but you would understand if John preferred to stay home.

The unpleasant thought of unpacking the multitude of bags you lovingly forced him to bring along crossed his mind. His lips curled into an upside-down smile. "Let's just keep driving." He glanced down at your wrinkled skirt. His hands disappeared under them to rip your panties from you as you gasped at the gesture. With a proud grin, he walked around the pickup and sat behind the wheel again.

You regained your place as the passenger princess. Your eyes were glued on John as he engaged back on the road. He pressed a button, the window on his left slid open. He stuck his hand out and, with a shit eating smirk on his face, he let them go. Your panties drifted through the wind.

He chuckled when you abruptly turned to look at the side mirror. You distinguished a drop of red on the blackness of the asphalt that blended with the sky. You scoffed in disbelief while your panties disappeared into the landscape.

John's hand regained its place on your thigh, more so between your thighs. He groaned at the soft, slick skin under his fingertips. He dragged his hand up until it reached the familiar heat of your core. "Yeah, let's just keep going."

[autonomousroboticorganism]

period madness (TF Prime)

featuring - Optimus Prime x F!Reader, Bumblebee x F!Reader, Smokescreen x F!Reader, Knock Out x F!Reader, Soundwave x F!Reader, Shockwave x F!Reader, Wheeljack x F!Reader

summary - your Cybertronian partner finds out just what a human woman's period entails.

warnings - none

a/n - Knock Out's takes place when he defects to the Autobots. also, don't fight me, these are based on my experiences and what helps me.

OPTIMUS PRIME - cramps

While he may not fully understand what's going on and what's happening to your body, he is still extremely attentive and supportive. He is there to provide any comfort you need, and will not hesitate to take one of the other humans out to a convenience store if you need anything. He knows when it's that time of the month because he'll walk into base after another mission and see you laying face-down on the couch.

"Are you okay, (Name)?"

An unintelligible grumble from you was the only response, before Miko spoke for you, "Her cramps are bad this month. Really bad."

Optimus looked back at your figure, then reached over the railing to carefully lift you into one of his servos, ever the gentle giant. If there was one thing he did know during this time, it was that you were somewhat appeased by warmth.

"How was the mission?" You finally looked up at him, eyes glassy with tears from the pain.

"I shall tell you all about it when you are warm and comfortable," the Prime replied, taking you to his room in the base and laying on his berth. He lay you on top of him, right over his spark where it was warmest. "Is this better?"

"Mhmm, much," you sighed in relief and satisfaction, curling up on his warm chassis. "Thank you."

"My pleasure," he smiled, happy that your pain was eased, if only slightly. "Today was quiet, no sign of Decepticon activity. We found an empty Energon mine that had been stripped entirely of its contents."

"Aw, man," you empathised, "I hope you guys find some soon. But I welcome a quiet mission, as opposed to you going out and getting hurt."

It warmed his spark to know that even while you were in pain, you still worried about him getting hurt. He knew you cared very much for him and the team, but he was unaware it was to this extent. He carried on with his story, explaining how they had found something more disturbing than an Energon mine filled with cons. You listened intently despite being overwhelmed by pain in your uterus, happy to be distracted by one of his tales. And it always helped that you liked to listen to his deep voice, because it was soothing to hear.

BUMBLEBEE - emotional

Bumblebee knows a bit more than Optimus, but less than he feels he needs to. So a few days before your period, when you exhibit the warning signs, he asks Miko - with Raf as translator - to help him with research on the topic so he's better prepared to help you. He doesn't want to let you know he does this, but you know and you think it's very cute. And sweet.

He knows when you have it, because on your first day you storm into base looking for him and you cling to him like a little koala. He has no complaints of course, until you end up crying into his arm.

Immediately he's concerned, his little beeps translating in your mind to 'are you okay?' Apart from Raf, you were the only human who could understand what he was saying. Neither of you knew why, but it was so convenient and a happy coincidence that you never questioned it.

"Today I saw a duck," you sobbed, "And you know, it reminded me that Jasper doesn't even have ducks because we don't have any lakes and..."

You rambled on and on, tearfully so, while Bumblebee shot Smokescreen a confused look. Your guardian shrugged.

"She's been emotional all day."

The scout turned his attention back on you and held you up, whirring and beeping in concern. You stopped whatever story you had launched into afterwards and looked at him, before your eyes lit up.

"Ice cream? That sounds great!"

Bumblebee beeped and whirred again, telling Smokescreen where you two were going before transforming and driving off with you. He played some of your favourite music, and eventually you calmed down enough to look at birds and not burst into tears.

Once you had your ice cream, he took you on a nice, long scenic drive. The long way back to the base. You relaxed in his passenger seat, happily eating your cold treat.

"Thanks, Bee," you smiled, "I can always count on you."

The scout beeped back that you're very welcome and he'd do anything for you. And he mentally thanked Raf and Miko for telling him that ice cream might be a good idea for mood swings.

SMOKESCREEN - cravings

The newbie is not as great with human beings as he'd like to be. He'd had to learn a lot since coming to earth, and one of those things was to navigate a relationship with a human being. One that was both his girlfriend and his charge. So throw periods into the mix and you have...a very very confused Autobot. He knows absolutely nothing about periods, stemming from his lack of knowledge about the human anatomy.

"So...why don't human guys bleed?"

"SMOKESCREEN!" You protest with a burning face. "You can't just ask that!"

"I...thought it was a valid question?"

You sighed, "Men don't menstruate because they don't have to have babies." At his clueless expression, you added, "They don't have to give life to what you call sparklings."

"Ohhhh..."

He still didn't understand. Nonetheless, he was eager to help. Anything you asked of him, he tripped over himself in his rush to do it. Anything you wanted or needed, he found a way to get for you. Hugs and kisses? Of course! Cuddles? He would never say no to that. He had grown so fond of and attached to you that he was even clingier than you were on your period. But you thought it was sweet.

"So it hurts...here?" The giant mech prodded your uterus, gently.

"Mhm," you nodded, devouring a slab of chocolate Jack had given to Smokescreen to give to you. "Hey, don't poke me!" You smacked his servo away.

"Sorry," his faceplates burned in embarrassment.

He watches you happily munch on your chocolate, amused that such a small thing could appease you when just moments ago you had been screaming at Ratchet for not knowing about female human anatomy.

KNOCK OUT - body pain

Knock Out knew humans were fragile. He's used that against the Autobots multiple times when he was a Decepticon. But now that he's become an Autobot, he has to be extra careful around you, Jack, Miko, Raf, June and Fowler. Especially you. But it seemed that every month you would go into a state where your body hurt for no reason at all, and it wasn't until June explained to Knock Out what you were experiencing that he finally understood.

"(Name)! Are you okay?!" The medic panicked, rushing to your side the moment he heard a pained whimper come from you.

You were trying to roll over on the couch, but sharp pain erupted in your lower back causing you to let out that sound. You looked up at your concerned boyfriend, pretty optics putting you at ease.

"Mhm, just really sore."

Knock Out looked at June in desperation, and the older woman laughed at the fact that he had once kidnapped her and forced her to play a crueler version of hide-and-seek, but now he was desperately seeking her medical advice.

"I'll get some painkillers and water that you can give her," the nurse stood to go retrieve those items.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" He asked you in the meantime. Knock Out hated feeling useless, helpless, which was a side effect of being criticised so often.

"Pick me up?" You suggested.

The bot was more than happy to oblige, lifting you onto his servo with surprising gentleness. You happily laid on your back on the warm metal, sighing contentedly until your head started to hurt.

"Maybe also poke me in the head?"

"What?! I could kill you!"

"That's kind of the idea. My head is already doing that."

"I will not terminate the one good thing I've managed to earn, thank you very much," he insisted, cooling his free servo and pressing a non-lethal part of it to your temple. "That better?"

The pain in your skull receded, and your body relaxed, "Oh, much better. Thank you, Knock Out."

The bot beamed at the grateful response, "You're very welcome!"

June returned with the painkillers and a bottle of water, which Knock Out carefully handed to you with the servo he had used to ease your headache. He watched you intently as you took the medication, before lying back down on his palm.

"Now just hold me."

The former con eagerly obeyed that command, even taking you to his assigned room in the base and laying with you on top of him on his berth. He placed a servo over your smaller frame, practically blanketing you with it. He further eased your pain by slowly running it up and down your back, gently and affectionately caressing you. The mad doctor had truly changed for the better.

SOUNDWAVE - nausea

Soundwave had taken it upon himself to learn about humans when he'd first taken you. So he knew very well what the warning signs of anger, hunger and cramping meant. He was well-equipped to help you, because this bot is hardly ever ill-equipped for anything. He searches the human internet for things he can do to help ease your pain and make this uncomfortable period of time more bearable for you. So you usually find stuff you need and crave during your period already laid out on his berth when the first day comes.

The Decepticon walked into his berth one of those days to see you happily munching away on the snacks he'd gotten Laserbeak to acquire for you. Speaking of the little bird, you were laying atop one of its wings, and Soundwave always liked to see how comfortable you were around it.

But then a weird look came over your face, and you turned a little sickly. The bot worried that the snacks had done something to you, but you just set them down and curled up, breathing in and out deeply. Soundwave was by your side in a second, touching your shoulder in concern.

"I'm-I'm fine," you reassured him. "Sometimes I just get nauseous. And sometimes it's the snacks that I like that cause it. I can't explain it."

The silent Cybertronian nodded to say he understood, before scooping up into one servo and soothingly rubbing your back with the other. Then he handed you a sugary drink he'd also obtained for you, his screen showing you research saying that something sweet and fizzy might help.

You smiled at him and took the drink, taking a few sips and finding that he was right, "Thank you, Soundwave. I can always rely on you."

His screen showed something else now, a bright red heart. Your cheeks heated up, and your smile became flustered at the gesture. Despite being committed to not speaking at all, he could be expressive and sweet when he wanted to be. His actions always told you more than his screen did, though.

SHOCKWAVE - bodily insecurity/bloating

Like Knock Out and Ratchet, Shockwave is scientifically and biologically knowledgable. He's an expert in all things physical and mental. Unfortunately, he spent so much time on a dead Cybertron that he was completely helpless when he first got attached to you on earth. Fortunately, he was a quick learner and very studious. Meaning he found out pretty quickly what he was meant to do during a time like this. Though sometimes, you still confused him.

Like now, when he walked into the room to see you sitting in front of something that mirrored your reflection. You were frowning and poking your midsection, eyes becoming glassy and bottom lip trembling.

"What has happened?" The intimidating Decepticon approached. "Are you hurt?"

"No," you wailed. "I'm getting fatter!"

"..."

Shockwave was, well, shocked. He never thought once that you were a displeasing weight or size, and he would never mind or care if you were picking up weight. But in this case, it was not true.

"Little one, that is a most illogical statement," he picked you up with his one servo. "You are not looking any different."

"Then explain this!" You cried, poking your stomach again.

Once more, Shockwave failed to see the issue, "You are perfect, my little human. There is nothing wrong with you."

"You're just saying that!"

"Have you ever known me to lie?"

"No..."

"Then cease your worrying," he reassured you. "I understand that on your...period, as you humans call it, you may feel bloated. But that does not mean you have increased in size. It is normal, and it will go away."

That was...oddly comforting.

"Thank you, Shockwave. That means a lot coming from you."

"Good. Now stop crying, little one. I have something to show you."

WHEELJACK - anger/frustration

Wheeljack was generally a lot more sensitive and considerate towards you than anyone else on base, but that doesn't mean that he was perfect. There were times when he didn't mean to offend you or incite your fury, but his actions or words that just tumbled out of his mouth left you shaking. He wasn't aware of human periods until Miko told him about them when you'd first started dating him, but he still continued to piss you off.

"WILL YOU STOP FOR ONE SECOND!" You screamed at the Wrecker one day while you were lounging in front of the TV while watching Jack and Raf play video games.

Wheeljack and Bulkhead were lobbing a giant ball of metal around, as they tended to do every other week, and Bumblebee and Smokescreen had been tempted to join. They promptly changed their minds at the sound of your yell and the glare on your face.

"Sweetheart, we're just playing around," Wheeljack responded calmly, shrugging your attitude off. Bulkhead got nervous, though.

"Well could you go play somewhere else?!" You snarled, rubbing your temples. "You're making my headache even worse!" You were usually irritable on your period, so Wheeljack took this as a sign.

He sighed, "Would you stop being such a buzzkill?"

Dead silence. Everyone beside Wheeljack froze up, knowing that was exactly the wrong thing to say to you at this time. Your eyes narrowed, and you stood up so fast your head spun.

"Well if I'm a buzzkill then I'll just leave!" You spat, storming down the stairs while trying not to burst into tears. Both angry and sad.

"Sweetheart, I didn't mean that," the bot immediately regretted his words, spotting your glassy eyes. "Come here."

"Go away!"

He sighed and grabbed you before you could leave the base, "Where are you going to go? There's nothing but dirt outside this base, sweetheart."

"I'd rather walk across the desert than spend more time arguing with you," you grumbled.

"Alright, alright," he relented. "I'm sorry. Can I make it up to you? We'll go sit in my berthroom and I'll project your favourite movie onto the wall."

"...Fine."

Wheeljack was an idiot, and impulsive, but he sure knew how to charm his way back into your good books. He cuddled you and rubbed your uterus for you, getting help from Miko to get you snacks that would keep your temper at bay.

[dollscircus]

Due to my actives during work today I’m now amusing myself with the mental image of a house keeper!reader

They walk in to clean a room, they knocked so response. Knocked again. Nothing again. Great. They walk in, the rooms a mess with trails of blood but it’s Gotham. They mind their business. Dragging their big ass trolly into the room.

They strip the bed first. Ignoring the blood stains. It’s Gotham.

Ignoring the bullet casings. It’s Gotham. They just swept them up and dumped them in the bin attached to their trolley.

They opened the door to the bathroom and like a startled raccoon Jason, Red Hood who passed out in the bathtub the night before jumps awake as they flicked the bathroom lights on.

They stare at each other.

Blink. Blink. Blink.

They sigh

“I’m going to clean room 120.” This room is 119 “Please be gone by the time I come back, check out was at 12.” It’s currently 12:35. They said as they close the door. Gathering up the bed covers dumping them into their trolley and dragging it back out of the room.

He is gone when they do return, with a next tasteful tip left under one of the unused glasses.

It’s Gotham

[writersdare]

You Should Always Come First | Bang Chan 방찬 Drabble

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader (she/her)

Summary: Chan could no longer watch Y/N exhausting herself.

Warning: fluff

Word Count: 688 (drubble)

Author’s Note:  For those who are worried about an upcoming exam, test or a job interview. You can do it, don't doubt yourself ♡

“Baby, what is it?” 

Chan has noticed Y/N being rather tense that evening, yet, he didn’t want to get on her nerves with the same questions, as he pretty much knew the main reason of his girlfriend’s mood — the upcoming exams. Even though Bang Chan was sure that Y/N would pass them well, he could understand Y/N’s concerns. It’s never easy to be confident in your own abilities in general, and being under a stress it felt  almost impossible at all. The idol learnt it from his own experience. 

Chan understood that words such as "it’ll be alright" and "you know the material well, don’t worry" wouldn’t help much. Of course, support was important, yet, in the moments, when everything felt like a bare wire, each phrase should have been chosen very carefully. He didn’t want to give Y/N even more pressure — she was giving it enough herself. Chan tried his best just by saying small "don’t be harsh on yourself", "don’t forget to rest" and "I know you work hard, and it’s way more important than the result". 

Yet, when he saw that Y/N was getting angry at herself for not being able to learn important terms once again, the guy decided it was time to interfere. Her brain simply refused to accept new information, as it simply had enough today. And yesterday, and the day before yesterday… His girl needed a break. 

“It’s nothing, just can’t memorise it. I don’t know how I’m going to pass it,” Y/N sighed and closed the eyes, trying to keep herself together. 

“Let’s get some rest, it’s been a while," Chan said softly. “I’ll help you to learn it after a break, okay?” he promised and stood up from his place to take a seat next to the girl. They were in his studio, but while Y/N was studying, the idol couldn’t  really concentrate on music the last thirty minutes, being too worried for the girl. She’s been exhausting herself lately, and all Bang Chan cared about was Y/N’s well-being.

“You’re doing great, I promise,” the guy gently cuddled Y/N, trying to soothe her. Finally relaxing a bit, she went a little numb in his embrace and placed a head on Chan’s shoulder. 

“I know rest is important. It’s just… I don’t have time. The exams are in few days, and it seems like I still don’t know anything,” Y/N admitted quietly, at the same time hating herself for the recent complaining.

“Learn as much as you can, but don’t exhaust yourself. It’ll make things only worse, Y/N," Chan reminded and patted her head lightly. "And just a lunch break isn’t enough. Let’s spend this evening together, not thinking of anything, okay? Tomorrow will be a new day, and you can start again," the idol pecked her cheek tenderly.

The girl sighed and nodded,

"Channie? I’m sorry I was a bit gloomy lately. I didn’t mean it like this. It’s just… the exams–" after a moment of silence she quietly mumbled, but Bang Chan didn’t let her finish.

"I know. Don’t worry about it, Y/N. And I know it’s not easy to get distracted, when all you can think about is your exam. I don’t mean to say it’s not important, you put value on it for a reason, yet, I don’t want you to forget that it’s not the only thing that matters. You should always come first," he smiled and lightly tickled her, so the girl shivered, and a quiet giggle left her lips – she was extremely bad when it came to tickling. However, Chan was no better. "Got it?"

"Mhm. I like how you can be serious for only few minutes, and then you are back to your normal self" Y/N joked and shrieked, when the idol tickled her side once again.

"Yah! I can be very serious, when it’s needed! Do you doubt me?!" the guy jokingly outraged, feeling a warmth spreading all over his body. He missed her sincere smile and silly little giggles. After all, it’s all what he needed now.

– photos and a gif aren’t mine and belong to the rightful owner, gif found here @chanstopher –

taglist: @yukichan67, @laylasbunbunny, @skz-streamer

© writersdare | all rights reserved

All stories are original and written by me. Do not copy, trace and post anywhere without permission and credit. The stories are fictional, they do not correspond to reality and written just for fun ♡

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[rekino2114]

Training with fem!gojo

A/n:Enjoy my poor attempt at writing a fight scene because I've been seeing way too many gojo vs sukuna edits(guess who's back in his jjk phase). Also, if this does well, I might make more fighting based posts for this au cause I really liked writing this so if you have any ideas for what y/n's cursed technique might be I'd love to hear them

(This is part of my "fem!gojo with a reader stronger than her" au here's parts 1 and 2)

"Allllright everyone are you all excited for today's super special lesson?"

"Well sensei......you haven't really told us what the lesson is about"

".......Oh really?"

"Yeah, you just dragged us here without explanation. This better be good. I skipped my training for this"

"Calm down maki, I'm sure it's gonna be fun"

"It will be, yuta, I can guarantee you that....well for me at least"

".........what?"

Gojo ignored megumi and walked away, turning back to her students after a while

"For today's lesson, we have a very special guest, the strongest sorcerer of today, not to mention my boyfriend:y/n l/n!"

She moved out of the way to reveal you, who just yawned in response while she was hyping you up

"Oh is l/n-sensei going to be teaching us?"

"Nope we're going to fight"

"...........what?"

"I thought that seeing a fight between the strongest sorcerers would be a great alternative lesson. You can learn new stuff and have fun, well I'll have fun"

"I only agreed to this because I was bored, fighting weak curses all the time gets repetitive quickly"

".....that's-"

"AWESOME! I can't wait to see it"

"Very well, I knew you'd be excited"

"Wait, wouldn't a fight be useless since we know y/n is stronger?"

"To make things fair, I'm not allowed to use any of my innate techniques, and satori can't use her strongest ones like her domain or purple"

"OK get away a bit, I wouldn't want you to get caught in the blast"

Before anyone had any chance to complain, all of the students backed away as you and your girlfriend got into position

"You ready with the barrier, ijichi?"

The man with glasses nodded and proceeded to make a large barrier to defend the students.

Seeing this, gojo smiled and started to take off her clothes, leaving her in a tight black shirt (which made you blush a bit as it hugged her muscles and curves perfectly). Meanwhile, you started stretching to get ready

"Be sure to not hold back, I won't even if you're my girlfriend"

Satori smirked at your words and took off her blindfold, throwing it away

"Don't worry, we both know......I never hold back"

You both got into position and immediately ran at each other at blinding speed. She started throwing punches that you dodged. You tried to do the same but were blocked by her infinity

"Tch"

You sprinted away from her and began thinking

'Just as I thought, her infinity is as annoying as always'

You made a fist with your hand as it started glowing with (your favorite color) colored cursed energy

'Luckily, I know just how to counter it'

She teleported towards you and punched you unsuccessfully. You swung your fist at her again, but this time, it started putting strain on the invisible barrier. However, gojo teleported away before it could connect fully

"W-what? Did you see that? He was about to touch gojo-sensei!"

"Did she deactivate her technique?"

"No, the barrier was still there. It was just being weakened, was that one of y/n's techniques?"

"But he said he wasn't going to use any"

"No.....he said he wasn't going to use any that were exclusively his"

"Domain amplification Eh? Can't say I'm surprised"

'Because he's not using any innate techniques, he can focus on using domain amplification all the time,at this rate he's going to go trough infinity soon it's better to deactivate it and focus on blue for now'

"Can we get sushi if I win?"

"Hm?"

"It's been a while since we went out and I want sushi, If I win can you pay?"

"What are you talking about? I always pay anyway"

You cracked a small smile as you got into a fighting position again

"Eh, true"

You raced at her, and you started trading blows at each other like before. Only now, you could freely touch her

'She stopped using her technique?.......good'

You focused all your energy in your punches and continued aiming at satori who couldn't keep up with your strength

"It's insane! the moment he figured out she stopped using infinity he immediately amped up the cursed energy in his fists by undoing the technique, he's so fast"

"And his strength is absurd, he's definitely winning in terms of hand to hand combat"

Just as yuji said that gojo tried to land a punch on your stomach but you blocked it with both hands, thinking she had a chance she raised her other fist but you ducked causing her to lose her balance, you grabbed her by the arm and raised her in the air before making her fall and pinning her to the ground

"You know, I'd actually quite enjoy this position if we weren't fighting"

"Shut up"

"Very well"

You saw her raise her fingers and move them to the right

"Blue"

you were flinged to your right by an invisible force. You put your hands on the ground to stop your motion, but before you could even move, you saw more blue energy form right where you landed

"Ugh!"

"Cursed technique amplification blue maximum output"

You were swept up in the blue sphere of energy that formed under you and that engulfed even the ground beneath you, after playing with it for a while satori threw her blue right at the edge of the barrier, damaging you.

'She's keeping me away because she knows I'm stronger in a close ranged fight, and because I can't use my techniques, I don't have any ranged attacks. she has a big advantage......well, that just means I'll have to get closer one way or another'

You wiped a bit of blood from your face and smirked

".......thank you, this is what I wanted to see, thank you for not holding back"

You suddenly punched the ground with great force,making the rubble and dust spread everywhere, making a veil

'Is he trying to conceal his position? Did he forget about the six eyes?'

Gojo used blue to move the dust and debris out of the way, and to everyone's surprise, you weren't there

"W-what? where did he go?"

'Wait I figured it out! Before, when I used blue to move the rubble away, he got moved too. He used my own technique to move out of my six eyes range........that means'

"Look!"

A mere second before yuta yelled, satori turned her head, but it was already too late as she saw you standing behind her with a fist full of cursed energy.

The honored one tried to activate her infinity to stop the punch, but that was futile as you immediately started using domain amplification when she did. You landed the most powerful punch you had thrown in a while on gojo's back, causing her to spit blood

"That punch.......even I can tell how strong it was"

"It probably would have killed a grade 2 curse, at least. and it wasn't even a black flash"

"Wait, it's still not over"

"Eh?"

The students looked in shock as you didn't even let the special grade sorcerer fly away from the punch because immediately after it connected, you grabbed her by the hair threw her to the ground punching her in the stomach when she landed.

"THIS IS THEIR TRAINING? HE LOOKS LIKE HE'S TRYING TO KILL HER!"

You stood over her body as you looked at her bloody face, mentally apologizing even knowing she definitely wouldn't mind

"We can finish this if you-"

"This is why I love you"

"Eh?"

"Every time I fight you, I feel this sensation....I have only felt with toji, you....you make me feel so understood.......so ecstatic!.....I'm so glad I find you"

You saw her smiling at you. It warmed your heart, and a small smile crept up your face

"You didn't figure it out, did you?"

You suddenly got worried as she kept talking

"Immediately after your first punch, I deactivated infinity so I could focus on expanding blue and red's outputs"

She raised her arm and did a finger gun gesture with it, aiming it at you

"And I haven't used red yet"

You tried running but a red light started to glow from her finger and engulf your vision

"Cursed technique reversal red maximum output"

Gojo fired off an incredibly large red, which hit you directly in the face and sent you flying away, but before you could hit anything solid, gojo teleported behind you and kicked you making you fall to the ground painfully

You stood breathing heavily for a moment, blood dripping from your face before you smiled back at her once again

"Hey, can we allow RCT since the fight is truly getting started?"

The moment you said that you saw gojo heal from the wounds you gave her which prompted you to do the same

"I don't see why not"

"Good........then can we also throw all the rules out of the window since it's getting serious"

Gojo's smile got even wider as she knew what you meant. She giggled a bit before holding her hand up

"I thought you'd never ask"

Everyone who was watching gasped as satori did the hand sign they were so familiar with. you held your hand(s) too in another gesture that everyone could deduce the use for

"Domain expansion: infi-/domain expansion:(doma-"

As you were about to expand your domains, you both saw the barrier being lifted as you grunted in confusion, gojo turned towards ijichi and saw that Yaga was now with him

"Hey what's this? We were just about to get to the good par-"

"What's this!? How about you look at what you did!"

You both turned to see the area of the courtyard you were fighting in completely destroyed

"You decide to have a fight with y/n without asking me in our courtyard!?"

"Well, it wasn't for nothing, you know? My students have learned a lot from watching us"

Gojo looked at them with an hopeful look that they didn't reciprocate as all of them shook their heads simultaneously

".............."

".............."

"S-sorry sensei I was also going to say, wasn't me watching this fight a bit risky since sukuna is inside me and could learn all of your techniques and counters by watching the fight?.......hehe....."

"..............."

".............."

You and your girlfriend seemingly ignored everything everyone said and started walking away unconcerned with your hands behind your head

"So which sushi restaurant you wanna go to?"

"Does that even count? We didn't finish the fight"

"Eh, who cares"

".......you were going to buy me sushi no matter what happened right?"

"Awwww, you know me so well"

She gave you a kiss on the cheek, and you blushed while the principal continued to yell at you two

"HEY WAIT, WHERE ARE YOU GOING?"

In response, gojo simply held your hand and waved at everyone there before teleporting both of you out of there

"..........are they serious?"

"How are those two the strongest?"

".......wait gojo forgot her clothes and blindfold........who wants to give them back to her?"

Everyone present sighed, knowing how much of a bother it was to deal with you and satori

[covenha]

Shame | JWY

Synopsis: Wooyoung can't stop thinking about you (and what he wants to do to you ;) Pairings: Jung Wooyoung x fem!reader Genre: smut (+18), mdni WC: 1010 Warnings: this contains smut so if you don't like what please click away! reader ovulates, wooyoung having major pervy thoughts a/n: I wrote this all in one sitting after doing so much math for a booth making competition so there's probably grammatical errors and this might be all over the place woops, but at least I'm back from the dead! formatting for this one is non-existent but I don't have the time (or energy) to stretch this into a proper fic so this will have to do. I cannot stress enough how this is FICTION and this definitely is not telling of how the characters in this story are irl. And as always, feel free to leave your feedbacks in the comments or request something, they are much appreciated. Enjoy!

So imagine this, you get a notification from your period tracking app that today you are ovulating but you don’t pay it much attention

You haven’t been having such a great day so far, the coffee machine broke for reasons unknown so you haven’t had your daily dose of caffeine, you misplaced one of your bluetooth earphones so now you have to survive a day with ½ of your music fix, and to top it all off, because you were busy looking for your missing earphone you lose track of time and miss the school bus leaving you no choice but to walk to school 

On your way to school you pass by one of your upper classman’s house, Jung Wooyoung , vice-president of the radio broadcast club who’s in charge of school announcements 

You give him a polite smile and walk on your way, but you slow down when he shouts at you to wait up

He suggests you guys walk to school together since it “just makes sense”, the introvert in you is dying to say no but the people pleaser in you just nods along to his suggestion 

As he’s busy yapping about the festivities at your school’s upcoming founder’s week, you feel a weird sensation start to rise in your body

Unbeknownst to you, Wooyoung happens to have a black cat that he so lovingly calls “toothless”, an animal whose fur you happen to be very allergic to

You start sneezing every now and then, interrupting Wooyoung’s monologue on how the school should be investing better speakers for the football field, the first few times he just shrugs it off to some cool morning air sniffles but as the sneezes get a tad bit more aggressive he starts to feel concern for you

He asks if you’re okay, to which you just say that “it’s probably pollen or something” and he just nods at your reason

But as the sneezing doesn’t stop, a few blocks away from your school, he asks again “Are you really okay?” and then he puts a hand on your forehead to check if your temperature is up 

He feels your skin is a little warm and offers to walk you to the nurse’s clinic to which you repeat what you said about it probably just being allergies

But he relents and brings up how you feel like you might be coming up with a fever 

You sigh at this. because how were you supposed to bring up that your elevated temperature was probably just because it was this time of the month?

As Wooyoung continues to urge you to at least ask for some medicine from the clinic you just decided, you know what? I’ll just tell him, he definitely won’t stop until I tell him. So you cut him off and say “It’s because I’m ovulating.” 

Then comes a pregnant pause (I intended this joke okay please laugh)

“Oh.” is all he has to say. He feels the blood rushing up to his cheeks (but also down there if ykw I’m sayin)

“Yeah. That’s why I’m a little warm today.” You just give him a tight smile as the both of you enter school premises. 

He doesn’t have much to say as you guys walk into the hallways, I mean how could he even talk to you after that? 

He had the fattest crush on you since you signed up for the photography club last fall, and boy was he smitten. He was so excited to see you walk past his house this morning that he basically yelled at you to stop in your tracks. (This was not one of his proudest moments but he’ll just have to move on and rant about it to toothless later when he gets home.)

You had the prettiest smile, an infectious laugh, and you had a humor that just had him in a chokehold. So when you said so straightforwardly that you were ovulating, he didn’t know how to react. 

He liked to think that he was better than to fantasize about you in a sexual way, I mean, you barely knew him. Up until this point, he was probably just the Junior Social Sciences student who yelled at you to walk to school with him. 

But the way you looked when you were focused on taking the best shot, with your camera all adjusted and moving to get the best angle. He was weak to his body’s primal desires. 

Even as you both exchanged pleasantries as you parted ways, you were still on his mind. He was so unusually silent that even his friends started wondering if something wrong was going on with him. 

It was midway through a psychology lecture that he just couldn’t stop thinking about you. How soft your skin was, even from the few seconds that he put his hand on you. He bets the rest of your body is just as soft…. Soft and supple and aching for him to take a bite out of. 

He wonders if your moans are soft and breathy during foreplay, then he imagines your noises getting more whiney and drawn out. You’d look so cute all teary with your eyes squeezed shut as he kept hitting that special spot in you. 

He wonders if he could make you beg… to go harder? For more? To stop? Who knows what's going on in his brain. He just knows that he desperately wants to know how you sound when he angles his thrusts to hit nice and deep. 

But most of all, he wants to know just how much you can take. I mean it would be such a shame for you to not be pleasured when your body is at its prime. 

That night, he jacks off to the thought of you. And as he lays there on his bed watching his cum drip down his softening tip, he thinks to himself how it's such a shame that it be wasted like this.

Because he would rather it be dripping out of you. 

[captainlunaxmen]

All for the Cameras

Chapter 12

Finnick Odair x Fem!reader

Hello hello hello 👋🏻

Hope you guys are well, we're close to the end here. This chapter is a little shorter, mostly because I wanted to separate the part in 13 and then when they get to the Capitol.

Hope you like it. Once again, let me know what you think, and if you want to be tagged in the next chapters, let me know❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Chapter summary: progress

Chapter wanrings: panic attack, Finnick being an understanding cutie pie, mention of torture and death.

Tag list.

@guacam011y @justtrying2getby @idontevenknow1359 @alexandra-001 @bambikitten @maggiecc @redh00dsbf @haneybunny @1-800-styles @sisiking99 @merromimo @yourdailymemedelivery @regsg18 @gordorio @bambikitten @gracieeleanorr @shev3nom @honethatty12 @savingprivatecass @erindiggory @martahabla @sterredem @aawdrea @wpdarlingpan @strawberry--fawn @barbarathewanderer @ih8books @a-mysterious-potato @mayonesavegana @celinaiscrying @katherinejess @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @abaker74 @syd649 @meikoo @secretsicanthideanymore @p1stachi @laylasshiftingtonight @yourmumstoy @s0urw00lf @kermits-bitch @littleshadow17

@piya-re @ivymyers @potao-o @wqstedyouths @kaceyh24 @miniatureblazellama @lillell4670 @11jaz @f1blogs @ooddiieesblog @capswife

I'm sorry if I can't tag everyone😔🥺

It's been a few days since I arrived in 13, I've been recovering rather quickly according to the doctors and to Prim, who's been by my side constantly.

I managed to give more information on what I saw and heard in the Capitol, so that made me feel useful. Some of the people in 13 are still suspicious of me, which is understandable, I would too...

I still can't properly look at Finnick, not for more than 3 seconds, which is an improvement from the 2 seconds of the first day, but it's still not enough. I can see how hurt Finnick gets from all of this, I'm afraid he thinks it's his fault, because it's not, I try to remind him as much as I can, but I thinks it's getting to him a little too much.

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

"Don't you have better things to do than be present during my examinations?" I ask Boggs, while the nurse gently uses the needle on my skin.

"I don't actually." He states and I smile.

"Is... is he doing okay?" I tentatively ask, he sighs taking a seat on a chair.

"He's doing better, Mason is with him constantly reminding him 'not to take shit personally', as she puts it." He chuckles, "do not beat yourself up, he knows you can't help it, it's not your fault."

"I know, but-"

"No buts, don't blame yourself for what you've been through." He looks me straight in the eyes, "hear me?"

"Yes, sir." I nod, "is there anything more I could try maybe?" I ask the nurse.

"I'm afraid such rehabilitation takes time, my dear." She gently explains, "but you're making great progresses, that I can promise you."

I sigh, defeated.

"Don't rush yourself." Boggs insists.

"But I feel useless." I complain, "I saw people coming and going, doing all they can to help and I am here needing assistance."

"Useless? Don't you realise how helpful you've been, even from the Capitol?" He sounds outraged almost, "your secret messages, your information on Peeta's condition and those treatments. You've been more than helpful."

"Thank you, sir." I smile, grateful for his words.

There's a knock on the door and soon after Plutarch walks in.

"Afternoon, miss L/n. How do you feel?" He asks.

"Physically? I'm fine. Mentally? To be determined." I say, forcing out a small smile.

"That's good enough to hear." He nods his head and sighs deeply, "listen, I wouldn't want to ask this, but we need you today."

"For what?" Boggs asks, sitting straighter, almost protective.

"We heard some of the districts are still uncertain... and... some found out about the rescue mission and don't agree with her saving." Plutarch's reluctant to say it, "we need to prove them-"

"That I'm not with the Capitol... yeah, what do I have to do?" I nod, determined to be of assistance.

"We'll broadcast your images to all districts, you'll have to explain what they did to you." He explains, watching me carefully.

"Is that really necessary?" Boggs sighs.

"I'm afraid so." Plutarch then looks at me, "do you understand it, miss L/n?"

"I... I do, Plutarch, when will I have to... talk?"

"I'm very sorry, but a few minutes." He says, Boggs shakes his head violently, frustrated.

During my time here he became a good, let's say, uncle figure. We bonded almost immediately and he always checked on me. I think he started because this way Finnick would be able to get some proper rest, but now I think he cares about me, like I do him.

"Okay..." I take deep breaths, "can I... can I have a moment?"

"Of course." Plutarch nods and walks out.

"You don't have to." Boggs is quick to assure me.

"I actually do." I stand up, taking deep breaths, my hands on my hips, walking around the room.

Boggs' eyes follow me, ready to be of help if needed.

"He'll need to pass through me, if he thinks he can force you." He reassures me, more to make me laugh than to mean an actual threat.

"Yeah, what about the president?"

"Even her? No one touches my friend." He proud crosses his arms.

"Oh so we're friends?" I ask, joking with him, sensing he's trying to calm me down.

"Of course, the only other smart person in here? I'm not letting you go." He chuckles and I do too.

I notice, I stopped pacing around and my breathing went beck to normal. He notices too, but still watches me carefully.

"Okay... okay." I say nodding.

"Are you sure?" He checks.

"I'm not, but if I think too much about it my legs will freeze and nothing will be done." I shake my head, "let's go."

Boggs lets me pass and when I exit the room Plutarch is there waiting for me.

"Are you ready?" He asks.

I look at Boggs, with supportive eyes he nods slightly, I turn to Plutarch again and nod my head. Plutarch smiles and led me to the controll room, Beetee already there waiting for us.

"We're going to broadcast you to all districts, and hopefully they'll listen." Beete tells me, messing around with wires and buttons.

"What if they don't?" I ask, looking at Plutarch.

"They will." He confidently states.

I take a deep, deep breath and nod. All sort of thing run in my mind. All sort of doubts, but I need to shove them all away and stay calm.

"Just stand over there and, just like Finnick did, don't stop talking okay?" Beetee's instructions are clear, but they make me wonder.

"Finnick?" I ask.

"To create a distraction, let's say, we had Finnick talk to the Capitol." Plutarch tries to explain, simply.

"Finnick... what.. what did he..?" The question is cleat but I don't think I need the answer. I'm afraid I already know it. The only confirmation comes from Plutarch's nodding head.

I feel my eyes burning with tears forming, but I try to collect myself. I let out a puff of air and wipe my face immediately.

"Are you ready?" Beetee asks, I nod, not yet trusting my voice, "go stand over there, and when you see the green light, speak."

I nod understanding and I go to stand where Beetee pointed.

I take deep breaths, my eyes fixed on the still red light, deep breaths, everything is okay, I'm okay, deep breaths, I'm safe, we're safe, deep breaths, I look for Boggs and I see his reassuring nod so I nod back, everything is okay, deep breaths, the light turn green... deep... breaths.

"Hi... uh... I'm Y/n L/n, and unfortunately many of you may know me as Capitol's Princess... I say unfortunately because, that was not a life worth of a princess. I wasn't a princess... I was a prisoner. You know how it feels to not be free, so do I, that's why you're free to believe me or not, because we're fighting for that exact thing: freedom. I'll tell my story to whoever is willing to listen, I hope there's many."

I start telling my story, again, Snow taking me and my brother in after our parents' death... my brother. The threats, the blackmails, extortions, the sellings, Cal...and the tortures.

I can't help the fidgeting hands, I can't help my voice breaking everytime I mention my brother, or everytime I had to perform for a customer, I'm surprised if someone would be able to understand what I'm saying.

I let out a puff of air, I don't even bother trying to hold back tears, they just come out and I let them.

"They made me scared of my friends. Everytime I look at them I... I... it's fucked. I'm here telling you my story, so you can believe me... it's crazy," I whisper shaking my head, "you should fight because you believe in the cause... the Games are not the only horrors happening, everything needs to be fixed, everything needs to change." I turn around, hands on my hips, to calm me down, "I... one thing scares me the most though, I'm afraid they fucked me up so much that I'll never... ever be able to love, or to let someone else love me, because I'm fucked. Unfortunately they did a good job on this. Thanks for listening."

I quickly rush out, I didn't even see if they tried to stop me or not...probably not.

I feel my heart pounding violently in my chest and my breathing is getting heavier. I head to the hospital side of the district, but as I see many of the nurses' faces I get overwhelmed.

Too many people.

I... can't.

"Y/n?" A voice calls me, "are you okay?" Johanna's walking towards me. I stop her immediately.

"Not real.... it wasn't real... right?" I ask.

"What are you talking about?" She asks, "the things thw Capitol showed you? No it wasn't."

"I... I ju-... I..." I collapse on the floor, shielding my head with my hands.

I can hear Johanna talking to me, but I cannae out what she's saying. I'm just protecting myself.

Finnick's Pov

Finnick heads to the controll room, he wants to support Y/n, knowing they wanted her to talk to the districts. He wanted to be present, he know he won't be able to show his face, in case it will set her off, but he wants, he needs to be there for her.

When he arrives he notices she isn't there.

"Where's Y/n?" He asks, worry starting to get its way in his brain.

"Uhm..." Beetee is uncertain on how to tell him.

"Well?" Finnick urges him, and anyone present, for that matter.

"She's wasn't feeling well all of a sudden." Plutarch tells him.

"What?" He's fully worried.

"She started to get anxious, I'm afraid." Beetee says, "she ran out."

"And you haven't thought of following her?" Finnick exclaims, but he doesn't wait for an answer and immediately rushed out, wanting to find her.

He immediately goes to the hospital, he thinks that if Y/n felt anxious she'd go there to get something.

That's exactly where he find her, on the floor, Johanna comforting her, talking to her.

"Listen to me, Y/n... can you hear me?" She keeps saying.

"What happened?" Finnick asks, alarmed.

"I saw her coming in, she was like she was having trouble breathing and then she collapsed on the floor. She asked me of what the Capitol showed her was real..." Johanna explains, still caressing Y/n's back.

"Y/n..." Finnick tries to call her name. Nothing.

"I don't think she hears you."

Finnick shakes his head and kneels on the floor with the two women.

He tentatively holds out a hand to touch her back too, like Johanna's doing. When his hand touches Y/n, she freezes.

"Y/n... listen to me." He says, softly, "focus on my voice, okay?" There's no answer from Y/n, but he keeps going anyway, "you are safe. No one is here to hurt you. You're sa-: his voice breaks a little, like his heart at the sight of his love hurting so much, "you're safe." He keeps going, taking a deep breath. "You are safe, we all are."

"I'm sorry..." it was so faint it's a miracle Finnick heard it.

Y/n slowly move her hands away from her head, but her eyes are still on the ground.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Y/n." Finnick assures her, seeking support in Johanna, who nods.

"He's right, you know." She would say.

"I..." Y/n lets out a big puff of air, "I... could you help me stand?"

"Of course." Johanna immediately helps her stand up, weakly but she manages, "want me to help you back to your room?"

"No... It's okay... Finnick can help me..." Y/n says, catching both former tributes off guard, "If he wants.. of course." She quickly adds, uncertain.

"Of course, I do." He immediately agrees.

"Thanks."

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

Finnick helps Y/n sit on her bed, careful not to overstep.

"Thank you." She softly says, she still can't seem to want to meet his eyes, but Finnick is okay with that, he knows it will take time for her, exactly like it will take time for him.

"My pleasure, my love." He charmingly says. He tries to use his charm to make her smile, which succeeds, noticing her lips twitching upwards lightly.

"I'm not sure I deserve such title after all." She sadly chuckles.

"What are you talking about? Of course you deserve it." Finnick scoffs.

"I can't even look at you, Finnick.." she says, broken voice and tears in her eyes.

"You're saying it like it's your fault." Finnick says softly, "can I get closer?" He asks and when she nods, he sits next to her, "can I hold your hand?" She nods again, "what you've been through is not your fault, not even a little bit. Hear me? You're being so strong, you've always been so strong, to the point of ignoring your own fears, traumas and wounds to help others. You never blame them for feeling and reacting the way they did... so why are you blaming yourself now?" He speaks softly, catching himself before his voice could break too, he takes a moment before adding, "do you remember the tour after Annie won?" He waits for Y/n to nod, "she wouldn't let anyone touch her, you were the only one to get closer, but she-"

"She throw a glass at me..." Y/n says.

"You were bleeding so much, yet you didn't leave her side until she felt safe and... understood." Finnick reminds her, "Peacekeepers threatened to hold her, but you screamed at them to leave her alone. I think I remember you pushing one out of a room too." He lets out a laugh, "you've stayed with her, ignoring the blood, ignoring your pain. And when someone asked you if she apologised for throwing that at you you said..." he trails off hinting to Y/n to continue.

"That she had nothing to apologise," Y/n finishes the story, "it wasn't her fault."

"Exactly." Finnick nods, "so, what I want to say is... you don't have to be strong all the time, you don't have to heal immediately, you can, you're allowed to take your time."

"There's a war starting, Finnick..." she tries.

"I don't care. You're allowed to." He firmly, yet still softly, tells her, "I'm not going anywhere any time soon." He smiles at her even though she's not looking at him.

"Thank you, Finnick." She says, squeezing his hand, grateful.

"Don't mention it," he nudges her affectionately.

Y/n's Pov

As the days pass I realise I don't get nightmares as much as when I first arrived, which makes me hopeful. I do try to remember Finnick's words about taking my time and not rush my healing process.

Unfortunately I can't seem to look at him still, but being near him helps. Especially when he holds my hands, it's like he can infuse me with his hope and apparently it helps calming me.

Tonight, I've been informed, we will celebrate a wedding. I'm not sure as to who's getting married, but the whole district is invited so I'll test myself tonight. If I can go the whole time without feeling overwhelmed, it'll be a victory.

And, goodness, I need one.

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

"You're not dancing?" A voice asks behind me. I turn around to Boggs looking out at the people dancing.

"Never been one for dances, I'm afraid." I bite my lips uncertainty.

"Neither am I." He laughs, standing next to me.

"I heard about what happened in 2..." I casually say.

"Never once a casual conversation about the weather?" He jokes.

"Nope." I say, "plus, I saw Katniss being brought back in that state, I had to ask." I explain, "I'm just glad she's okay. I saw the footage."

"Do you think Snow will think her dead?" He asks me.

"Mh... I can't really say." I say, "no one thought of making a tribute to her or anything like that, so he probably doesn't think so, but maybe he's thinking we're taking our time in announcing her death so that those who don't know can still rely on her, but it's very unlikely." I explain, "but he definitely didn't like the destruction of the weapon supply."

"That's predictable." Boggs agrees.

"Someone's gonna pay in Snow's circle... I wouldn't want to be him..." I say, casually.

"Him?"

"He probably would blame his defense minister... can't recall his name now." I tell him.

"I don't want you to take it the wrong way, miss L/n... but I'm glad you've lived in the Capitol your whole life."He tells me, almost in awe.

"I'm just... I just learned to observe as much as I could." I shrug.

"Well you're clearly the only one here who knows Snow to the bone. You're one of the best asset." He assures me.

"I'm glad I can be of any help." I bitterly say.

"We've talked about this, miss L/n." He subtly scolds me.

"I know, I know." I nods, waving him off.

"So, how are you feeling now?"He asks.

"I'm surprisingly good." I nod, surprised.

"Good enough to dance?" He hints, "with someone who's been checking on you everyday since you got here?"

I laugh, slightly, knowing who he is hinting to.

"You know Finnick is not the only one checking on me everyday, right?" I ask, Haymitch too, oh and you as well."

"Try and ask Abernathy to dance and I'm afraid you'll lose your feet." He jokes, "c'mon, you've been testing yourself tonight, right? Might as well try everything."

He softly pushes me towards Finnick on the other side of the room.

"Hey.." I catch his attention.

"Hey!" He's surprised, but doesn't mention it, "are you having fun?"

"Yeah... surprisingly so." I nod, "you?"

"Same." He chuckles, I know he's looking at me, "are you feeling okay?"

"Yes, yes, definitely, don't worry about me." I tell him and before he can say it, "you'll always worry about me, yes, yes, I know." I chuckle and he does too, "do you want to dance?"

"Uh?"

"Come dance..?" I ask, feeling self-conscious.

"I'd love to." He gently takes my hand and lead me to the dance floor.

As we follow the others dancing, I manage to takes glimpses of his face, of his hopeful face. I divert my eyes immediately, but I can't help the smile on my face. I know if I look at him more my brain will start to wonder and bring me back to the Capitol, but this small, quick moment is enough to bring hope back in my heart.

And the evening goes on, celebrating and for a few moments forgetting the impelling war.

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

I'm summoned to the controll room urgently, I can't tell what might be going on.

As I near the room I can hear voices coming from inside.

"Are you sure you want to send her too?" Haymitch.

"She knows their ways better then anyone on that team," Boggs, "I wouldn't dream of asking this of her, but we need her."

"Send who where?" I ask, entering the room, finally.

"Miss L/n." Plutarch smiles at me, "hope you slept well, you're needed on a mission."

"What..?" I ask.

"We are to go join Katniss to the outskirts of the Capitol." Boggs informes me.

"What?" I ask again.

"Welcome to Squad 451, the Star Squad."

[scribblue]

Like Father, Like Son [A Bitten!Lloyd Fic]

"He was trapped inside himself, forced to bear witness to the loss of his own identity."

Lloyd Garmadon's life, and the fate of Ninjago itself, is altered forever when he is bitten by the Great Devourer.

2,416 Words ☆ Angst, Canon Divergent AU, Lloyd Garmadon needs a hug ☆ Rated T, no major warnings

This is the first of several oneshots I have planned for this AU, detailing important milestones in Lloyd's post-bite life!! Read it below, or on AO3!

𓆩✧𓆪

In a single agonizing instant, Lloyd understood his father.

As the Great Devourer’s fangs pierced through his sleeve and infused its villainous venom into his veins, as he was shaken like a ragdoll and left to bleed on the desert floor, as the first wave of inner turmoil overtook him, he understood it all. Somewhere in his half-awake stupor and blackening heart he found it, a glimmer of empathy at the end of the tunnel. So, this was the reason for his father’s fall from grace. For his poor choices. For his lengthy absence. It was something Lloyd had long been aware of, at least as much as a young child could be, yet nothing could have prepared him for the reality of his experience. 

Pure, unfiltered hatred and vile thoughts clouded an already swirling mind. He felt his morals being corroded away as though he'd been injected with acid rather than venom, stripping him of all sense of self. It was a metamorphosis of the soul he was powerless to stop, and his body was the cocoon he couldn’t escape, forcing him to lay still in the sand no matter how hard he willed himself to move. He was trapped inside himself, forced to bear witness to the loss of his own identity. 

No. No, he had to fight. He had to. Lloyd couldn’t let the venom win. He was the green ninja. He had the choice to be good. He couldn’t let everyone down. He couldn’t let his father down. He had to do better.

Somewhere in the distance he could hear the cries of his friends, the crack of wood as the Great Devourer went back for seconds. The bounty would surely not survive another attack by the giant snake. Lloyd hoped…he hoped…

It was like grasping for a fleeting memory. He wasn’t sure what he hoped for, if anything; it felt so far away. His body was burning hot and wracked with chills at the same time. His vision blurred and darkened at the edges. Was the wetness on his face sweat or tears? 

Someone called out to him. He couldn’t tell who it was over rushing blood in his ears and the violent storm that raged inside him. When he tried to respond, all that came out was a mangled groan. A hand took him by the shoulder and gave him a shake, which he barely registered; in his loss of blood, consciousness, and identity, this body no longer felt like his own. And it put up no fight as his consciousness was finally claimed.

𓆩✧𓆪

You’re a monster now. 

“How is he doing?” 

Despite a soft tone, the broken silence was enough to startle Wu from his trance. He whipped his head up to face Nya, who had entered the room as quietly as she’d spoken and now met his gaze with a worried expression. Wu wordlessly beckoned her closer and she complied, joining him by Lloyd’s bedside. The young boy was swathed under heavy blankets to sweat out a fever, though an elevated temperature was the least of his problems. He tossed and turned fitfully with eyes squeezed tightly shut, muttering gibberish.

“He is as stable as possible,” Wu said. “I wish we could offer more comfort but…I’m afraid we’ve done all we can do.”

Your friends will never trust you again. Your father will be so disappointed. 

“No, no…” Lloyd whined under his breath.

“You can’t wake him up?” Nya said, worrying the hem of her top with anxious fingers. “It’s been a whole day now.”

Wu let out a resigned sigh. “Lloyd is fighting against the venom as my brother did many, many years ago… this is just the beginning of a lifelong battle. If we do not allow him to emerge victorious from today’s struggle, he may never have the strength to fight it at all.” The words were true, despite Wu’s desperate wishes for the contrary. Seeing Lloyd in such a condition brought a wave of traumatic memories to the surface, and threw salt in wounds that never had a chance to properly heal. Wu couldn’t help but blame himself for Lloyd’s condition, as he had for Garmadon’s. If only he had been there.

You cannot fight the darkness in your soul. You must surrender to it. This is who you were always meant to be. 

Nya pulled up a stool next to Wu and settled into it, keeping her gaze trained on Lloyd. “There has to be something we can do.”

“I wish it as much as you do. But I— we were too late.” Wu cleared his throat to banish a slight tremble. “The venom cannot be removed now. He must learn to coexist with it.”

The world will pay for letting you down, and you will be the means for their demise. Pave the path for your future with their early graves. 

Lloyd yelped and began to toss more violently, tangling the blankets with his thrashing limbs. Wu rose to his feet and stepped forward to gently tug the coverings free of his flailing body, then fetched a washcloth from a dish of cold water at his bedside. He wrung out the excess and placed the cool material across Lloyd’s forehead. The relief was immediately apparent. The boy ceased his thrashing and settled into a state of relative calm, and Wu let out a sigh of his own moderate relief, settling back in his seat.

“What does it mean for the prophecy? Is he still the Green Ninja?” Nya asked with marked hesitancy.

That same question had weighed heavily on Wu’s mind in the past hours, and unfortunately, no amount of meditating brought him closer to an answer. “That will be revealed in time. I’m afraid the fate of Ninjago is uncertain, even to me… that said, one thing is clear: we must focus our efforts on Lloyd’s training tenfold. He will need extra guidance to not only hone his elemental powers, but to hone the darkness inside. We must help him find the light.”

Fighting back merely delays the inevitable. Give in. Give up. Accept your fate.

“No!” Lloyd yelled. He lurched upright with swinging arms, an outburst that elicited a jolt from the pair sitting beside him. He maintained the offensive stance for a moment, panting and surveying his surroundings with wide, fearful eyes. 

"Easy, Lloyd," Wu said gently. "You're safe now."

"Yeah, it's alright Lloyd– it's just us," Nya chimed in with a small, somewhat unconvincing smile.

Lloyd looked over at them, expression softening and fists lowering as recognition kicked in. “What…what happened? Where am I?”

Wu rose from his seat and approached Lloyd with a tentative gait. He studied him closely, as though a thorough enough examination would reveal the depths of the venom's effect. “You are in Ninjago City. Tell me, how do you feel? What do you remember?”

“I feel… awful.” He peeled the towel off of his forehead and Nya reached forward to take it from him, dipping it back in the water dish. “I had a horrible nightmare where I was bit by…the…” His eyes widened in a state of sickening realization, which he aimed at his bitten arm; bandaged tightly below the elbow and surely still sore. Faded patches of blood and venom stained the inner layers of cloth. “…I was bit by the Great Devourer.”

So, he was aware. At least that was one less bandaid for Wu to rip off, for lack of a less ironic metaphor. “Yes, I’m afraid your nightmare is reality,” he said. “I’m sorry, Lloyd. The Great Devourer’s venom now courses through your veins as well.”

Nya offered Lloyd the compress, which he stared at blankly before rejecting with a slight shake of his head. She set it aside. “I’m sorry too. We all are. I can’t even imagine how hard it is for you right now. Don't worry though, okay? We’re gonna get through this together. All of us.”

Lloyd averted his gaze to some far off corner of the second-rate apartment building they were holed up in, though his vacant stare was clearly not one of judgment for their living situation. There was anguish behind those eyes, anguish that Wu was most familiar with. That he dreaded the sight of. “Where’s my father?”

Wu and Nya shared a knowing glance, and Nya took it as her queue to exit. “I, uh…think I’ll leave you guys to it,” she said, sparing Lloyd another sympathetic smile and slipping out of the room. 

With Nya gone, Lloyd’s full attention snapped to Wu. “Where is my father?” he repeated with increased insistence.

Wu stroked his beard as he gathered the words to explain. His conflicting feelings about his brother's conflicting actions made it a particularly difficult task, especially with Lloyd’s intense scrutiny. Not that delaying the news made it any more bearable. “...When your father heard of the bite, and your compromised condition, he took the golden weapons and used them to defeat the Great Devourer in your name. His act of bravery saved us all. However... once the dust had settled, he was nowhere to be found. Along with the golden weapons.”

Lloyd’s face fell. In the silent room, one could hear his heart shatter from within. "He...left?” 

Wu didn’t respond. The answer was already evident and hung heavily in the air between them. Garmadon’s decision was not one Wu agreed with, but he wagered that speaking ill of him would not offer any solace; instead, he reached up under his hat and procured a scrap of paper curled into a roll. “I found this at the scene of the Great Devourer's demise. I think you need to read it.” 

Lloyd accepted the paper gingerly and unfurled it with equal caution. His eyes flitted across the messily scrawled ink. 

To my brother,

Take care of Lloyd for me. He will need someone to guide him through this, and, despite our quarrels, I can think of no one better suited than you. My own venom has run too deep, and I fear my presence would influence him in the wrong direction. I cannot allow that to happen. Please continue his teachings in my absence.

To my son,

I love you. I hope you will understand my decision one day, and possibly even forgive me, though it is certainly not owed. I am so sorry, Lloyd. I never wanted this for you. I know how terrifying and isolating it all is. No matter what happens, never lose sight of who you are at your core: a strong, adventurous young man with a heart of gold. Do not let the venom take that away from you. 

You must maintain balance within yourself, rely on your companion's wisdom when yours fails, and keep moving forward even when the road gets difficult. One way or another, I will be there by the end of it. And I will be so proud of you.

It's not your fault, Lloyd. 

Your father always,

Garmadon

Wu had reread the message enough times to nearly memorize it himself, so when Lloyd’s eyes began to well up with tears, it came as no surprise. He was taken aback, however, by the sudden shout of frustration as Lloyd balled the paper in his fist and threw it across the room. “I hate him, I hate him, I hate him!!” he cried, green eyes blazing red like a forest overtaken by flame. “How could he do this to me? How could he leave me again when he knows how much I need him? Doesn't he know how much I need him?!” 

Wu stumbled backwards and instinctively reached for his staff, realizing the mistake too late as Lloyd’s furious expression landed on him and twisted in betrayal. The fire behind his eyes extinguished, leaving a wounded child in its embers. “...You think I’m a monster like him.” His once furious tone was now trembling and dejected.

The staff fell to the floor with a hollow clatter. “Lloyd, no, it’s not like that. I was simply startled. Neither of you are monsters, this venom, it— it isn’t you. I would never�� er, I know you would never...” Wu heaved a sigh. His tangled tongue was doing him no service. "I'm sorry, nephew."

Lloyd held his gaze for a beat before dropping his attention to his wounded arm, curling and uncurling his fingers wordlessly. He didn’t appear convinced, and Wu didn't blame him. Further placations surely couldn't ease such a troubled mind, so the pair remained in uneasy silence, accompanied only by a ticking clock on the wall and blooming dread inside Wu’s chest. He willed himself to fight it, just as Lloyd was fighting his own darkness. Strength was a skill he must model.

Wu turned to survey the room, eyes landing on the crumpled page. He plucked it from the floor and began carefully smoothing it out to the best of his ability. The words were still legible, if a bit creased and stained with teardrops. For this, Wu was grateful. They were important words, ones Wu hoped would one day soothe Lloyd's heart rather than break it. He rolled it back into a makeshift scroll and set it on Lloyd’s nightstand. 

“I’ll still have to fight him…won’t I?”

It was nearly whispered, as though the reality behind the statement was too heavy to bear fully. Wu considered Lloyd thoughtfully, taking note of his puffy, tear-stained face with a frown. “Hm…perhaps,” he admitted. “Although, that is a battle for another day, and one we have ample time to prepare you for. Tonight, allow yourself to rest, Lloyd. Your body and mind are still healing and need time to recover."

Lloyd sniffed and wiped his face into his sleeve. "Okay," he said, and Wu had never heard him sound so defeated. He eased back into bed and closed his eyes, letting out a shaky sigh.

Wu lingered in the doorway for just a moment longer before turning off the light and slipping out to update the others on Lloyd’s condition. He wished he bore more hopeful news. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, to himself or the ninja, their situation had become far more dire. At this time, he could only pray external guidance would be enough to tip the scales of balance back to a steady equilibrium, lest all of Ninjago pay for Wu’s neglect.

Lest the vicious cycle continue.